A Very Happy and Sunny Life

by Wearin Hat

Rating: teen
Tags: Derpy Hooves, Violence, Pinkie Pie, Sex, Tragedy, Twilight Sparkle, Profanity, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Drama, Original Character, Octavia, Comedy, Suicide / Self Harm
Length: 130980

A diary, much like any other, containing the strange story of the oddest resident of Ponyville.

The ponies of Ponyville are typically noted to be the happiest, most well adjusted, and harmonious beings in all of Equestria. Whether this is because of their innate goodness, their close proximity to Canterlot, the continued presence of the Elements of Harmony, or just sheer happenstance, it is not uncommon for other towns to grow jealous of the pillar of perfection that the happy community appears to be.

However, whenever night falls in Ponyville, a different side of the town is exposed. Where the day is dominated by the bustling of ponies throughout the town, the night is occupied by only one being and he is something entirely different than what you would expect to find in the ‘paradise’. Bitter, cruel, rude, and sociopathic, this pony is an example of what happens when harmony fails.

Though his life had always been quiet, monotonous, and unimportant, everything changed as the walls of his sanctuary were burnt down thanks to a hapless accident. No longer hidden away from innocent eyes, Ponyville became a stage of sorts as the stallion was forced to start his life anew.

Take a moment and clear your calendar before you decide to burden yourself with entries from the diary of this stallion. Entries that detail the story of the happiest pony in all of Equestria, Ipsa Unica.

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Cover art by Ghost Townsend

Published 2012-07-24 19:44:01 UTC
Last updated 2015-06-30 19:00:06 UTC

Entry 1

Greetings! I’m guessing you’ve got one or two questions burning through your mind so I’ll get right to it in the next paragraph and those that follow.

My name is Ipsa Unica and I’m your new owner. It is my hope that we will come to know each other casually in the coming forever and thus, should you suddenly begin to go against nature and speak, you may call me Bob.

Me being me, I want to make sure there aren’t any misunderstandings here. You are a book, a diary to be exact. I am a pony, a stallion to be exact. I will write in you, with a quill to be exact. You will be written in by me, with a quill to be exact.

You may find yourself wondering why I bought you in the first place and why I’m talking to you as if you’re just like any other pony in the world. That’s simple, my hardback friend. My house burned down a few months ago and all of my possessions (Both ill gotten and legally acquired.) were lost in the blaze. That included Shirley, my old diary.

I miss Shirley, but don’t let my loving memory of her get in the way of our relationship. I want you and me to be as close as dirt to the ground.

My reasoning for talking to you as if you were a sentient being is somewhat odd, so stick with me. I don’t have friends (By choice and by virtue of circumstance.). My line of work does not bring me into contact with many ponies and the few that I do encounter are not my type. That leaves you...which isn't much of a consolation prize.

This is mainly a set-up page so you’ll know how things work around here. I will NOT write an entry every day. Unless I do, at which point you'll shut up and deal with it. My inclusions into your pages will occur only when I feel there is a need to do so. However, when I do decide to write up an entry, I will do one when I wake up and/or when I go to sleep. Don’t worry about specifics. Let me worry about blank.

Did you get that joke? Cause if you didn’t this is gonna be a long eternity.

If you (Being a book and thus inferior.) are partial to certain things being written into you, then DEAL WITH IT! My musings will rarely be truly interesting beyond my own opinions. I will likely never include any mushy love stuff as nothing of that sort happens to me. Why, you might ask if you had a mouth? Well, despite my dashing good looks, I do not trust mares. I’m not gay if that’s what you’re thinking you naughty book. I know what I like and I know where to find it. The problem is that I just don’t care....and mares have a tendency to stab you in the back when you aren't looking, but I'm sure you'll come tom understand that soon enough.

My life (And your life by proxy.) revolves around my work. I am Ponyville’s official street cleaner. I go around town in the dead of night and pick up trash and the like. My daily schedule is as follows:

4:40-4:50 PM- I wake up

4:50-5:00 PM- Diary time

5:00-5:30 PM- I eat breakfast

5:30-6:00 PM- FREE TIME

6:00-7:00 PM- I do housework and fix anything in need of being fixed

7:00-8:00 PM- FREE TIME

8:00-9:00 PM- I eat brunch

9:00-9:30 PM- FREE TIME

9:30 PM-1:00 AM- Work

1:00-1:30 AM- Lunch

1:30-5:00 AM- Work

5:00-5:40 AM- Dinner

5:40-5:50 AM- I get ready for bed

5:50-6:00 AM- Diary time

6:00 AM-4:40 PM- Sleep

I follow this schedule to the best of my ability. Sometimes I’m off by a few minutes.

My list of acquaintances (Remember that I have no friends and am thus forever alone.) and what they are useful for is as follows:

Big Macintosh is a very large stallion who could crush me very easily. I like him. He is the primary proprietor of Sweet Apple Acres apple orchards and supplies Ponyville with apples, apple products. and apple accessories. I buy apples from him, though I am willing to deal with his little sister Applejack should I have no other choice. Every Thursday (This where it gets dicey as I have little care for the traditional order of the days of the week.) I drop my cart off at his barn loaded with organic compost that he can make good use of. In return, he delivers my cart back to me and gives me a discount on apples, apple products, and apple accessories.

Mayor Mare, a really old bitch of a mare, is technically my boss. I work for the township of Ponyville. It is rare that I deal with her personally, but I usually have to meet up with her at least once a month to get paid for my labor. Do not be fooled! She is still a mare and thus I do NOT trust her!

Twilight Sparkle is the only mare I willingly deal with when other options are available. She provides me with books (Like yourself!) to use for whatever I need to use them for. Whenever I have something to say to Mayor Mare, I usually go through Twilight by leaving her with my message. Do not be fooled! She is still a mare and thus I do NOT trust her!

Applejack is pretty much a female version of her brother (Ew, nasty thought.) as she serves the exact same purpose that Big Macintosh does. The only difference is that I’d rather deal with him instead. However, I am willing to overlook her gender as she, like Twilight, seems to understand that I do not trust mares. Do not be fooled! She is still a mare and thus I do NOT trust her!

The most important associate of mine is Carty; my ever faithful cart that I use for work. He is the hardest working thing to have ever existed and is pretty much the only thing that survived the fire. I love him so. Unfortunately, Carty has a nasty habit of being shifty and mysterious.

Now you’ll probably want some details about your new master. Well, for starters, I’m a stallion, so you know I'm of a high quality. I’m about twenty years old or so (I stopped counting at fifteen...I think.). My mane is beautiful and my tail is just as beautiful. I have eyes the color of ripe bananas and my coat is delightfully beigeish. As for my cutie mark, I do not have one. Yes, the great and powerful Ipsa Unica is a blank flank! However, this does not concern me as I do not care.

By the way your binding is looking at me I can tell you’re looking for some explanation why I just gave you details about my hotness. This, like so many other things, is quite simple. Should you ever run into any female books or pamphlets, you are to give them that information. Also, should my body need identifying then that's where you come in, but my virginity concerns me more than my mortality does.

Don’t look at me like that! Inter-species relationship apparently happen! Twilight’s slave is a dragon and he crushes pretty hard on a snobby unicorn mare. And no, by crushing I do not mean that he is literally crushing her. That would be weird and probably frowned upon.

Now, before I take my leave for work tonight, I will leave you with a list of ponies that I hate the most and you are to avoid asking me about should you ever get a mouth.

Carrot Cake is the co-owner and co-operator of the local diabetes store Sugarcube Corner. His jaw is angular. I do not like that.

Cup Cake is the co-owner and co-operator of the local diabetes store Sugarcube Corner. She is fat. As in, I'm not sure how they make a profit with her eating the merchandise. A rotund booty is fine, but a sickly one bulging with fat is disgusting.

Pinkie Pie...no...just no.

I would like to add myself to this list as sometimes there is very little that irritates me like I do.

My Daddy dearest makes it onto this list. I mean, I can recall far too many personality quirks about him that I may hate, but he did run off with my only friend at the time and we'll focus on that.

Just to make sure we're clear on this issue; we are never to deal with the likes of Pinkie Pie.

And the utter bane of my existence is the wall-eyed retard of a mare named Derpy Hooves. She burned my house down, enough said.

I’ll be back later to get some sleep. I’m afraid that this entry will be the only one for the day. Or not, I don’t know. It probably will be the only one due to me having to go buy you earlier.

Entry 2: Break-It-Down!

Remember when I said that I would probably not be doing an entry before I went to bed? Yeah, I lied. Cause I'm totally doing another entry for today.

Here’s an interesting detail that I failed to tell you in the prior entry. You see, my job as a street cleaner entails that I patrol Ponyville during the night. In my patrols I am tasked with picking up any trash I see. Though the majority of my finds are organic in nature and thus go in Carty, I do find a good number of other things that also go in Carty. These things include jewelry, gems, metal stuff, broken pieces of wood, wooden stuff, and the occasional piece of cloth or something. That stuff belongs to me when I find it. I usually bring in at least three or four valuables that I can sell for some food money. Tonight was no different.

My haul included a cowpony hat, what appears to be a violin bow, a pair of reddish glasses, a locket of some sort, a pocket watch, a button, this weird jewel encrusted bowtie, and this awesome length of rope. Let’s do the Break-it-Down game…HOLY CRAP! This will be the first time you get to play the Break-it-Down game! How exciting! Alright, you play this game by listing out my finds for the night and I examine them closely and determine their value and what it is I want to do with the item. Sounds fun, right? Don’t answer that, you’re a book, just keep your opinion to yourself until I get more used to having a new book around the house.

Let’s kick this into gear by starting with the pocket watch. It’s an older design from what I can tell and is engraved with the likeness of Princess Loopty-Spooker (I have long since forgotten her name.). What made it stand out so well in the dim light my lantern provides is the fact that it’s made out of silver or something like that, which means this one will bring in a pretty bit baby! It’d be worth more if it worked, but I’m not a clock master. Maybe there’s somepony here in town that can look into that for me? I think I can recall that Mayor Mare having some nerd like that as her little butt-buddy or something. Perceived value: forty bits in the current condition and maybe seventy bits if it works.

Next on the docket are the glasses. These things are ridiculous and make me look feminine. That being such, I can safely say these belonged to a mare. They’re nice too, not prescription so that means that other ponies can see through them just fine. It’s unfortunate that I found them caked in mud (At least I hope it was mud...) and all dirty. They cleaned right up though. Nice and shiny! Shiny sells, it sells big time. Perceived value: thirty bits.

Now for one of the more exciting finds of the night; the button! This thing is super sweet! All blue and stuff! It’s going straight into my button collection. Perceived value: priceless…to me at least.

I’d like to maintain this high I’m on right now, so the rope is next! It is not very often I find awesome stuff like this. What makes it so…stunning is that it’s all blue and stuff! Not in the way the button was blue and stuff, but this rope glows in the dark. That’s how I found it. Quite the find if I must say so myself. Not sure what to do with it though. There’s not much of the rope and it surely wouldn’t be of any practical use besides being all glowing and stuff. I suppose that Twilight could find something like this interesting. Perceived value: five bits.

The most disappointing object tonight is the hat. I recognized this thing the second I saw it. You see, this hat appears to belong to Applejack. I have no use for this stupid thing and thus I only have the option of selling it. Making this worse is that the Apples don’t have the kind of spending money I think this thing is worth. It really is a nice hat and was stitched together carefully and was made to withstand constant use. It’s so freaking unfortunate is that I can’t get what I want for it. However, I can’t let it lay around in my house because I do not want it lying around. Perceived value: twenty bits, but I suppose I’ll sell it back to the Apples at about…fifteen bits.

On the subject of expensive cloth, the bow tie looks to be the most promising of the items I found…disregarding that awesome button. It’s a red tie that has a great many of gems sewn into it. This gaudy thing is clearly the property of Ponyville’s very own Rarity. Figures I’d find something of hers lying in the filth. Seems fitting really, such an ornately designed thing covered in muck and grime after spending a day getting trampled on by ponies. Did I mention that I don’t like her at all? Like, even when I compare her to other mares (None of whom I trust.) I still can’t help but feel like she sticks out for being so worthless. I mean, how is being a fashion designer even worth anything to the world in proper? It’s not like she could use her sewing skills to stitch up wounds or anything like that. Anyway, back to the item. Perceived value: seventy bits, but I’ll mark it up to one hundred just for giggles.

The locket seems pretty interesting. It’s an old looking thing, the kind you have to pry for hours to open up. The picture inside is an old one that appears to be of a couple with a little unicorn filly. Meh, it’s always something mushy like that. I found this thing trampled deep into the ground with a lot of broken wood and torn fabric that’s of no use. There seems to an engraving of sorts or something like that, can’t read it though. Not like I care. It’s probably some sort of loving family heirloom or something similar to that. Perceived value: forty-five bits.

What’s left…no, I already did the button…hm…OH YEAH! I found this violin bow or something like that. Another nice find if I must say so. This thing was clearly made in Canterlot, as indicated by the ‘Made in Canterlot’ inscription, and is nicely crafted out of some weird wood I’ve never felt before. It seems to be custom made due to the gold lettering on the side spelling out the name Octopus or something to that effect. I can’t really tell due to the dried mud that won’t come off. Perceived value: thirty bits dirty, fifty if Twilight can clean it.

I love that game so much. Most of my income comes from this crap and most of the fun comes from me pricing it. The best part is that I only have to deal with one pony in the entire transaction; Twilight the Nerd. My effort goes into finding this stuff and then pricing. What I do is I take all of my finds over to Twilight Sparkle, you know…the nerd at the library that acts as Mayor Mare’s proxy, and then I sell them to her and she does whatever she wants at that point. It’s a great deal I've got worked out. You know, for all her smarts she can be really stupid and naive about stuff.

As much as I’d like to continue going on and on about how awesome I am, sleep awaits me and I’ve got to hurry as the birds have already begun to chirp. I’ll start thinking of a name for you and I’ll let you know what I come up with.

Entry 4: Look`N`Find

So this nightday (Yeah, I’m doing that now.) was a bust. I didn’t find a single damn thing out there! I mean, sure, there was plenty of trash to pick up, a lot of broken pieces of wood, and this bow-tie and collar thing. I can’t sell any of that! Not even Twilight would buy that damn bow-tie thing. However, Twilight did buy all the crap from yesterday for about two hundred and eighty bits. That should sustain me for awhile, which means I don’t have to worry about collecting things until I need to.

However, my misfortune was countered by what I DID find daynight!

There must have been a big party in town or something as there was wood and debris everywhere. What caught my nose was the strong scent of hard cider in the air. I haven’t had a good drink in a while so finding a crate of that stuff would wonderful!

All I found were traces of it spilled on the ground. This would be bad if I didn’t find something conspicuously similar to a trail leading into an alley where I could hear muffled groans and moans.

Do you know what that means Booky? JACKPOT!

I stealthily trotted into the alley to get a better look at the lovebirds and what I saw and heard did NOT disappoint! There were two ponies of unidentifiable gender leaning against each other on two legs each. One of them was pressed submissively against a wall while the other one went to town on the other one’s neck. The moans revealed to me that it was a mare and somepony. Best part? She was totally rocking an English accent. Couldn’t tell much about the other pony though.

My observations were ruined when one of them saw me. Being the master of everything that I am, I played it off beautifully by spotting the discarded bow-tie thing and picking up with an inconspicuous hum going through my being. I even chased after them in a yelling fury, “You damn kids need to stay indoors at night and stop messing up MY streets!” Priceless.

It’s been too long since I last found a couple getting busy in the street. I used to find things like that all the time. I guess they’re all getting cleverer.

More importantly, I’m due to take all this organic crap over to Sweet Apple Acres with Carty tomorrow. You know what that means? FREE CART INSPECTION! Carty’s been looking a little on the broken side as of late and I figure that Big Mac will probably jump at the chance to fix him right up for me!

I’m sorry (Not really.) I don’t have anything of interest to report this daynight, but I promise that tomorrow will be far more interesting! Who knows, maybe I’ll initiate plan MUFFIN DESTROYERER tomorrow and finally kill that annoying mailmare. I’ve been wanting to drop something heavy on that retard’s head.

Sleep time.

Entry 5: The Day That Will Live in Infamy

It's Pancake Day! My favorite day of the month!

I mean, yeah, I suck at making pancakes and I tend to screw it up more often than not, but that doesn’t mean I don’t love it. It’s kind of a personal thing, so it’s ok if you don’t understand.

Shirley understood, just saying.

Anyclue, this nightday proves to be an interesting one for your's truly. You see, I'll work my usual work that I usually work and it will be the same as usual. However, I’m gonna head out a little bit early to see if I can perhaps spot the mare from the alley. If I hear her wonderful voice then I'll totally remember her.

English accents are hot as crap.

What’s my plan, you would ask if you had a mouth? Well, I’m going to wear that stupid collar thing I found. You see, I’ve theorized that the mare was wearing it and it got torn off in the throes of passionate passion.

I would like to meet that mare. If only to spread the word that she was totally getting it on with somepony in an alley.

What’s that? Am I worried that doing something like that would harm my image? Silly Booky, I don’t care about my image to those ponies. I go out during the time where they are all sleeping, my work entails me cleaning their filth, I’m a blank flank, I’m rude, and ponies seem to be aware that I am not particularly fond of a certain blond retard and they seem not to like that.

OH! I have something I forgot I wanted to tell you! I…wait…I found…no, I made…well crap, I think I forgot it again.

Anyswayze, I will be attempting to initiate plan MUFFIN DESTROYERER this nightday if I can find big enough rocks. I don’t like to initiate something I'm not prepared for.

Wait, what happens if I accidentally fix whatever the fuck is wrong with her eyes by crushing her head with a rock? I don't wanna help; I wanna hurt!

Hmph, forget it, I'm not gonna waste my time on that retard!

Hey, wanna know something weird? That retarded pegasus has a filly. A FILLY! HOW ABSURD IS THAT?! Who in their right mind would do the dirty with her? Unless it was pity sex, which is totally honorable if done for the right reasons, however, if that’s the case, then she broke the cardinal rule of pity sex; she didn’t abort the foal.

Don’t ask how I know about any of this stuff -the stuff about pity sex- as being a stallion kind of just ensures you know these kind of things.

You know what? Despite it being Pancake Day (I’m still getting all fuzzy inside just thinking about it.) I want to bring the mood down and get serious in the next paragraph, do you mind?

Of course you don’t, you’re a book. You don’t have opinions.

Shirley had opinions. Just saying.

This is my first P-Day without her and it’s a lot harder than I thought it would be. I mean, you never realize how much you love somepony until they're gone, right? It was that way with my Mom, but that wasn’t anypony’s fault.

Sometimes bad things just happen to good ponies. Other times, pissed off bees suddenly decide to murder the crap out of your mom. This is kind of like that though, I mean, I never realized how much I loved Mom until she was gone. I never really appreciated Shirley, not as much as I should have. She listened to me, a lot better than you do, and she was there for me every day of my life since I acquired her through a totally legal dashngrab.

Do you know what I mean? You’ve lost somepony before, right? I mean, you aren’t much of a talker, but that can easily be attributed to your existence as a book. Shirley didn’t need to talk, we understood each other so well that words weren’t needed. Do you know where I’m coming from?

I remember the last P-Day; it was a nightday, just like this one in fact. I was sitting at the table eating my pancakes while Shirley and my button collection sat in the other room being all cool and stuff. Heh, you never really realize how safe you feel until what’s most important is taken from you. Though I suppose I already made that point earlier.

I’ll miss her Booky; I’ll miss her every day of my life, which is mostly why I can’t forgive that blasted whore with the messed up eyes. Stupid wretch, you figure they would cut her wings off or something like that. She can’t fly at all, I mean, AT ALL! I bet you all the bits in somepony else’s house that her filly is ashamed of her mother. I would be, especially if my mom destroyed some awesome stallion’s house and all of his possessions (Withholding Carty as he was too busy being broken to be on fire.). No, all my amazing Mom did was get stung to death by millions of bees.

Yeah, a lot better than having a retarded mom.

Listen, I’d like to stay and muse about that walking mistake, but I have to slip into that bow-tie thing and acquire some sweets to commemorate Pancake Day.

Entry 6: Smashing!

You know how sometimes things go right? Well, this daynight was not one of those daynights where that happened. I’ll make sure to tell you all about it after we play the Break-it-Down game.

Alright, let me get myself psyched to do this…it’ll take a minute.

My haul: a bouncy ball, a gold necklace with a jewel shaped like a butterfly, a safari hat, a yellow button, and a gold lyre. I know; it’s a weird stash. Alright chum, LET’S DO THIS!

I’ll start with the button. Can you say winning? Cause this is totally a winning moment for me. I can’t say I have any yellow ones in my collection yet. There were a few in my old collection, but fire saw to fix that situation. Perceived value: priceless…to me at least.

The bouncy ball is pretty disappointing for a find. It’s one of those that looks cheap as crap and is generically colored to capture a foal’s attention. I even tripped on this stupid thing. It’s pretty bouncy though, which is a good thing. Perceived value: five bits.

I love the safari hat. It’s one of those gimmicky things that you (By that I mean ponies, not books.) wear during safaris. I’d wear the crap out of this thing if it wasn’t too small for me. Weird thing, it’s well made though, which means it won’t break the first time one of those zebra savages tosses a rock at it. Perceived value: fifteen bits.

The gold lyre is probably the most valuable find this time. I mean look at it, it’s spectacular! Beautifully made and masterfully crafted with love and care. This beauty is even in tune…I think. I don’t know how string instruments work. I mean, I play a beast kazoo, but I wouldn’t call myself the new genius of this musical generation. Anyzoo, this thing is wonderful. What pony in their right mind would throw this thing out? Oh well, their loss. Perceived value: seventy bits.

I find this last piece to be gaudy as anything else I’ve ever found that belongs to that seamstress. It’s all gold and clunky, which is kind of offset by the butterfly-shaped jewel in the center of the plate. I’m really at a loss for what to price this stupid thing at. At first I was under the impression that I had just found the source of my income for the rest of my life, but when I brought it home and got a good look at it I found myself verily disappointed. Stupid thing, you’d figure the previous owner would’ve at least had the manners to throw it in the trash rather than into a bush where I’d have to get cuts and scrapes getting it out. Perceived value: fifty bits.

The lyre and button made this a very successful daynight and is only partially offset by the disappointment of the ill-fitting hat and the gaudy jewelry. I’ll take this crap to Twilight tomorrow and milk some more bits out of her.

Alright, back to business as stated in the first paragraph.

My nightday started off pretty fine I suppose. The bow-tie thing didn’t really fit all too well but it didn’t look like it was forced to stay on so I was able to roll with that. Normally when I go out that early, I get just a few strange looks as I suppose everypony has some sort of opinion about the strange stallion who never comes out during their waking hours. You can tell that this nightday was no different. Heads turned to my direction everywhere I went. I’m not sure whether or not it was the bow-tie thing I had, the fact that I hadn’t made a real public appearance since the fire, or the fact that my appearance approaches godlike levels of hotness. All I do know is that more than a few blasted mares kept their eyes on me. There was only one real pleasant part when a really nice stallion gave me a rose.

A rose, can you believe it? I might start wearing bow-tie things a lot more if it means free stuff!

Anyflu, I made my arrival to the dreaded Sugarcube Corner after a five minute trot. Luckily Pinkie Pie didn’t look present, however, she’s like the Spaneighsh Inquisition; you never expect her. I used my bits (The magic of my new bow-tie thingy didn’t seem to work on the fatty behind the counter.) to buy myself a small cake (I got a small as I didn’t want to end up like the fatty.) and I decided to sit and eat it in the shop. That was a mistake.

I didn’t even get to start eating my blasted treat before I felt a pull on my tail. As Celestia deemed fit to have happen, there was a baby alligator clenching my tail in its mouth.

You see, I have a seventh sense (My sixth being the ability to talk to fish that have fully paid their mortgage.) that allows me to predict oncoming annoyance. It never seems to work in my favor as it only activates just as the annoyance is occurring. Case in point, it only started tingling when I saw the pink tuft of a mane flash before my eyes.

Pinkie and I shared a stare that I believe chased away some customers.

I do not like Pinkie Pie. I do not like Pinkie Pie. I do not like Pinkie Pie. I DON’T FUCKING LIKE PINKIE PIE!

Before allowing her the opportunity to speak, I kicked the alligator off my tail and began to make my way out of the establishment with gusto. That, however, did not stop her. No, she couldn’t just leave well enough alone. She appeared before me gibbering something vaguely threatening about me having to warn somepony named Gummy before I play tag with him.

Yeah no, I wasn’t gonna endure her any longer than that. So, I introduced my cake to her face and started making my merry way home, though I could hear Pinkie giggling (She's insane.) through the icing of my cake. As I left, I could see several ponies rushing by me and could hear hushed voices talking to her, likely discouraging her from following me (Good advice.).

Things only escalated from there as a group of mares tried to get in my way and look me down with their silly looks of anger. One of them, a grey mare with a black mane, got a good look at me and rushed away with what I recall to have possibly be a blush. I guess she couldn’t take the hotness (Few can.). The other mares stood their ground. At least they did until I didn’t stop moving. I’m guessing they weren’t up to the challenge of stopping the unstoppable. That’s not to say I wasn’t accosted, as I most certainly was. And to make things just ever so special it was by the one mare in particular that I could go the rest of my life without seeing.

I know what you’re thinking; it has to be Derpy, right? No! You're being a stupid book, Booky! My encounter was with the rainbow colored lesbian that likes to pretend she's a superhero.

Here’s how the encounter went:

"Hey, what’s your deal?" (Cause, you know, she wouldn’t be a real lesbian if she wasn’t a tomcolt.)

“My deal, not that it's any of your business, is that Ponyville leaves me alone and I leave it alone. Have a nice day, sir.” (Ain't I a stinker?)

Her totally unnecessary reaction? Buck to the face, like, to the FACE! MY FACE! She followed that up by pinning me down and spewing crap from her mouth.

In hindsight, it was very nice of her to put her face right in front of mine. It made punching her with my head so much easier.

HISTORY LESSON! Daddy dearest may have never loved me, but the useless sack of crap at least taught me to fight back. You know, by fighting me. Such a good father he was, it’s just too bad I never got give him one last buck to neck before he ran away to Las Pegasus with a mare two years my junior.

Why was that lesson needed? Well, my good friend, my fights with Daddy dearest taught me that while pain was nice, hurting your enemy wasn’t as good as paralyzing them. So I followed up my first hit with a good buck to the spot between her wings. I was rewarded with a delightful scream.

Hm, I wonder if she’s into being dominated or being dominant…I guess it would've be in bad taste to ask her.

Her reaction, while appropriate, is what ruined my nightday. She managed to close the distance really quickly and tried to tackle me to the ground, but…you know…she missed me...kinda. You see, when she skimmed my neck with her hoof, she ripped off my bow-tie thing (I hadn't even gotten a chance to name it yet.).

I didn’t like that. Not. One. Bit.

I responded as any mature stallion would and went to town on the first leg of hers I could get in reach. She won’t be walking without a limp for some time, that’s for sure.

I’m not stupid, just ignorant, and this was not a time where my ignorance shined through. I’m very aware that the lesbian is the Element of Loyalty and thus would receive assistance before long. So I made like a leaf and got the fuck out of there at a casual pace. I think my hits did their job as she didn’t even try to pursue me. She just kind of curled into a ball and whimpered like a dog (Fitting.).

Needless to say I was avoided on my way home and nopony came to see me. That’s what surprised me. I was expecting at least some sort of encounter where I would have to explain my actions. Luckily, I only acted in self-defense. Granted, I probably went a little overboard when I tried to break the lesbian’s leg, but she killed my favorite bow-tie thing and thus earned her punishment.

My work went about as you’d expect it to after that debacle. I recall there being some commotion coming from the library as I went by. I was honestly a little curious as to why Twilight would be having guests that late in the daynight but I decided to keep going on my merry way. If she's into having orgies in the middle of the daynight then that’s her thing.

As I said earlier, this daynight was the time of the week where I was to leave Carty and the organic crap at Sweet Apple Acres for Big Mac. That trip was boring as crap. I’m lucky Carty didn’t break down on the way there considering his tendency to do so. Oh well, that’s how the cookie burns I suppose.

I had some time to think about Shirley on the walk back. It was really nice. As bitter as I am about being anywhere but my humble abode, I really do enjoy the sunrise. It’s so pretty. What I don’t enjoy seeing is that retard soaring high in the air on her mailmare duties. What really sucked was that she was out of reach of any rocks I could throw. Smart retard, real smart, I’ll be sure to get you eventually.

That’s it for this daynight, thanks for listening. Your willingness to let me sit here and moan and groan about my life is quickly earning you brownie points.

Entry 7: It Hurts So Good

You know those mevenings where you wake up and feel like something is amiss? A feeling that perhaps something within your world is not the way it should be? My mevening started like that. At first I thought I had been robbed or something, but I quickly ruled that out as I have keep nothing of value in my house. Well, nothing besides you, my button collection, and that crap I found last night. So I decided to make sure nothing was missing.

That search went on for about twenty minutes before I realized something odd; my face hurt like an ugly pony’s mirror. Curious, I decided to take a gander at my grand appearance and was met with the horror that is my slightly swollen face. As it turns out, that lesbian had a really strong buck as the spot she nailed (Sex pun aside.) on my cheek is seriously a little fatter than the other side. I’m lucky I’m not sporting a lopsided face or something disgusting like that.

Don’t worry your pretty little pages about me. It hurts like depressed teenager’s life, but I’ll live. However, if you’re feeling pretty sore about what that filly-fiddler did to your bestest friend’s cheek, rest assured that she is probably in considerably worse pain. Trust me when I write that; she’s a pegasus and I’m an earth pony, my legs were built a lot stronger than hers.

Aright, now where was I? Oh yes! I hadn’t even started before I started whining like a mare at chipping a hoof.

This nightday is going to be pretty weird. You see, Carty was not returned to me by Big Mac as usual. That means something must be wrong and that has made me a little bit worried. Carty may be a jerk, but he’s been loyal since day one. I’ll need to make sure everything is okay at some point, an easy task considering that either Mac or Applejack run their apple cart in the market place. I’d have to leave rather early to catch them before they leave, but this only works into my favor. You see, my bookish friend, there are three items on my agenda this nightday. The first should be obvious; I’ll drop by the library with the crap from last night and squeeze Twilight out of some bits. What should come as a surprise is the second objective; I’m going to pay a visit to that horrid seamstress and see if I can’t get her to make me a bow-tie thing. Yeah, that’s right, I liked wearing that thing. Too bad the lesbian had to go and rip it like I was some pretty little filly waiting to be bedded. That brings me to my final item of importance; I’m gonna send the lesbian some flowers as a peace offering.

Hey Booky, do you know what time it is? EXPLANATION TIME!

As much as I detest socializing with the boorish mares (Pretty much anypony not named Twilight, Applejack, or Mayor Mare...nah, never mind, I detest socializing with ALL mares.) I feel that it would be in my best interest to take the high road here.

Remember how I said that the lesbian is the Element of Loyalty? Well, that means she is friends with the other Elements of Harmony. That means she is friends with Twilight. Twilight, as you might remember with your bookish memory, is Princess Celestia’s personal student. This means that by forging a peace with the lesbian, I can hopefully avoid the ire of the Princess. I’ll probably still get attacked by a few angry ponies or something like that, but I can handle the average pony. Remember, I’m not a stranger to getting in unfair scraps. I am, however, a little out of my league when it comes to royal guards.

Booky, I’m really not going to enjoy this nightday. I haven’t considered that Twilight might be peeved to know that I hurt one of her friends. However, her smarts (Or lack there of.) should at least make it easier to convince her that I was on the defensive in the fight.

Convincing Applejack of the same shouldn't hard (Ha, I wrote hard.), either. I’m aware she and the lesbian are friendly. Hay, they probably fuck each other every day. What’s going to work in my favor is that Applejack seems to understand me pretty well…or…well…about as well as a mare can. She gets that I don’t trust mares and that I have some quirky (At the very least.) social habits not normally found in your average pony. That should at least lend to her keeping to herself about the matter and remaining polite as usual. Who knows, I might even buy some apples this nightday. However, there’s always the chance that Big Mac will be running the stand this nightday, which would relieve me of the duty of convincing that bitch of anything.

I’ve got to go do all of that now. No time for breakfast, which sucks considering how vastly ruined my P-Day was.

Entry 8: Inexplicably Good Nightday...

First things first; I look absolutely stunning in my new bow-tie thing! Rarity may be ultimately useless but when it comes to clothing, she really knows how to prove a pony wrong! I mean, I’ve always thought she was one to force her opinion on others rather than allow them to have their own thoughts. I’m mature enough to admit my mistake in assuming that about her. You see, she tried to make my bow-tie thingy all gaudy and crap and I said no. Apparently, my rejection was all that was needed as she kinda backed off after I told her (In no uncertain terms.) that I was not going to let her ruin it with gems and crap. It was almost magical! She even seemed frightened to disagree with me, which I find to be an amazing trait that does a great deal to redeem her in my eyes. I might just have to make a habit out of not talking crap about her now that I know she has such a positive attribute to her personality.

That wasn't even the only exciting part of my nightday. You see, practically every stop I made was met with some sort of greatness. However, I’m getting ahead of myself. Sometimes I can be pretty selfish and I don't want you or Carty feeling left out anymore.

How was your nightday? Did you have fun with the button collection?

You didn’t throw a party did you? Booky, did you throw a party in my home whilst I was away? For crap’s sake, you DID, didn’t you? That's messed up, Booky. I don’t know how I should feel about that.

No, don’t you say a word. You don’t get to talk for now.

Since you're in such big trouble, I'm gonna go ahead and tell you about my nightday. Let me start with the first stop I made; the Apple family’s cart in the market.

Have I ever mentioned the market to you before? Wait, what am I doing? You’re grounded from trying to talk. So just shut up and let me tell my story, GEESH!

Anypoo, I’m starting to like going there as everypony seemed pretty dedicated to either avoiding me or staring at me from afar. I’ve always known my hotness was great, but I never really comprehended the power of it until this nightday. Luckily, Applejack (The lesbian farmer.) didn’t seem to be affected by it to a great degree. Disregarding a few nervous ticks that were evident in her facial features (Must suck being a lesbian AND a retard.) , the mare (I hate that word.) was pretty normal.

Remember how I said Carty was a nuisance? Oh, wait, that's right, you're grounded from talking.

Well, according to Applejack (The farming lesbian.) he decided to go ahead and shatter his axel the very second Big Mac touched him, which was great news considering that I had work this daynight and Carty is pretty much the only thing I own that makes it possible. However, I dealt with that hurdle when it came time for me to cross it.

What is very sad is that she said that it will take at least until tomorrow to get Carty back into working condition. I swear that guy has it out for me sometimes, which, I suppose, is why you’ve never met Carty. He was never too fond of books, not even Shirley. I think it’s because his mom was killed by a book or something. Not too sure about that though, you know how he can be.

Anydew, I bought some apples so that I could have something snack on as my quest continued. It took a little while before my trek was directed towards the Carousal Boutique (I think a grew vagina by just going in the door.) where, as you know, I ordered and received my bow-tie thingy.

That was exciting stop number two for me. I know, the first one didn’t seem too exciting at first but I quickly came to understand that I was just happy to know that Carty was okay and would be rolling around before too long.

Have I mentioned that Rarity has a little sister? Oh? Not gonna fall for it? Hm, there might just be hope for you yet.

Anystay, she does and I must say that she’s really weird. All it took was one look at me and the filly was pretty much struck silent and dumb (More like dumber considering the fact that's she's a filly.). Like I wrote earlier, my hotness is legendary, but I was not aware that it extended to fillies as well. I must admit that freaked me out a great deal as I’d rather not be sent to jail for fooling around with a filly, that’d probably not win me any friends amongst the inmates and whatnot.

I decided to leave Twilight (The nerd.) for last as I figured that the library would be open the latest. At the very least I could still break down the door to do business with the mare within if I couldn't get there in time. However, I didn’t want it to come to that. Instead, I went to send flowers to the lesbian (The gay one, not the farmer.) I destroyed with my super-hooves.

Are you ready for exciting moment number three? Hm? You sure you don't wanna say something? Alright, if you insist on being quiet then I guess I'll just continue.

Exciting moment number three came when I arrived at the flower stand run by the mare (I hate that word so much.) named Rose. I ordered some posies...I think, I wasn't paying attention. Instead, the sound of an English accent somewhere behind me caught my ear. Upon further investigation I found that the voice belonged to the grey mare from yesterday! She was the one who ran away from me! I’d have asked Rose about her name but I think she was too stricken by my hotness to talk as she never said a word beyond asking who the flowers were for. She seemed to lighten up when I told her they were for Rainbow Dash (You know her as a lesbian.).

This adds a whole new thing to my daily thought list. I mean, I never expected to find the owner of the hot accent and yet I did! There’s no way I’ll be forgetting her face anytime soon. I’m gonna make it my personal goal to hear her use that accent towards me, preferably in some sexual manner in which I may take extra pleasure (Hopefully of the sexual kind.) in.

Lastly, I dropped by the library to find a very angry nerd. Can't fathom why, though. Must be her time of the month. I’m not sure; she was just really upset when she saw me. That was until I revealed my payload.

As expected, she bought my entire supply. Well…not my entire supply.

You see, the nerd pretty much screamed when she saw the necklace thing. I wasn’t sure whether or not she was
about to die or not, but I know now that she wasn't merely being over-dramatic. The necklace that I thought was worthless was actually one of the most important items in history. Yeah, that’s right; it’s an Element of Harmony (The Element of Kindness to be exact.). Now you must be mentally (As you're still grounded.) asking yourself whether or not this affected the price of the item. You bet your reference guide it did.

Now knowing the importance of the necklace, I upped my price to about two thousand bits. Ha, you should’ve seen Twilight’s face. She was happy that I found the stupid thing and pissed when I told her the price. However, what got me pissed off was that she wanted me to give it to her. The nerd even tried to guilt trip me. I'm shocked anypony would stoop so low, let alone a mare (I'm not really shocked.).

So, rather than just hoof over the element, I decided to hang on to it. I told her that I was going to keep it until some other pony could afford my price. This, of course, would require my socializing with other ponies but this is totally worth it. If I can get somepony to buy this off of me then I won’t have to work for the rest of my life!!!!

No longer seeing a point to standing around in the library, I decided to come home and get to work so that I could enjoy my attire. Though she didn’t say a word as I left, I can’t help but get the feeling that Twilight will be concocting some sort of nefarious scheme to get the Element of Kindness off of me.

Work was about as boring as ever. I had to take two buckets with me and use my saddlebags to make up for the lack of Carty. That really sucked, but there wasn’t much mess for me to take care of. The worst of it was at the hospital where there was some broken glass and a lot of gauss strewn about the ground alongside a random muffin.

This is where my entry for this daynight must end. I will, however, leave you with one more bit of thought material; the sight of the muffin gave me an idea.

PLAN MUFFIN DESTROYERER

Phase One: Develop Plan

Phase Two: ???

Phase Three: Profit

Entry 9: Inexplicably Bad Mevening...

I must admit that I haven’t slept that well in quite some time. Maybe it’s a sign that things are going to start turning around for me? It’d be about time for something like that to happen. On top of losing my home, my possessions, and Shirley to a fire, I’ve pretty much had a craptastic life. It’d be wonderful if things were really starting to go my way.

You know what? I’m not going to sit here and complain like a mare or something. No, I’m not gonna let this get me down. I’M INVINCIBLE!

Alright, let’s plan my mevening out. I want to hit the town again to see if I can find any buyers for the Element of Kindness. That's gonna suck cause Ponyville isn’t really known for wealthy (Or, disregarding myself, physically attractive.) citizens. My first targets will be the few that are significantly wealthy. Filthy Rich is rich enough to qualify for at least two of those few. The only other obvious candidate is Rarity. She’s into gaudy jewelry and that must mean she's gotta be loaded in some way. Likely has something to do with the 'special measurements' I'm sure she gives to customers who pay an extra bit or two. Unfortunately, I can’t really recall any other ponies with significant wealth.

I could always go find the pony it belonged to and see if I can’t squeeze the two thousand out of her somehow.

Meh, I don’t like dealing with thoughts like those. I hate dealing with ponies and I dislike being social. So you can easily see why I’d be so hesitant to go galloping out screaming that I’m looking for somepony willing to spend a fortune to buy the Element of Kindness.

My nightday should be boring as crap. I kinda want to stop by either Sweet Apple Acres or the Apple family stand in the market so I can inquire as to Carty’s condition. Despite my rest being the best I’ve ever had, I must admit that I had trouble getting to sleep at first due to worrying about him. I mean, Shirley meant a whole lot more to me than that troublesome cart but I can possibly overlook how loyal he's been to me.

Other than that I have no clue as to what to do until work. I could always take a stab at plan MUFFIN DESTROYERER or something of the like.

You know what? I kind of like that idea. The only thing more tempting than achieving divine retribution against the retard is to go find that grey mare with the hot accent.

I hate it when my nightdays are like this. You have things you want to do, but you can’t seem to formulate plans or make choices. I mean…the fuck?

Is somepony knocking on my door?

Why the crap would anypony bother me this early in the mevening?

I’ll be right back, Booky. I’m gonna go see who this is. If I'm not back in five minutes then take care of the button collection.

Booky…do you know how sometimes things suck? No, its ok…you can talk now if you’d like to…you’re ungrounded. Still no answer? Oh, well, let me calm down before I get into what just happened.

Alright, I think I’m as calm as I can be at the moment.

I opened the door to find five of the six Elements of Harmony and two royal guards waiting for me outside. Seems like overkill, but I suppose that's just how the conspirators operate. Turns out I was right when I mentioned that Twilight was fast on concocting a plan for getting the Element of Kindness from me.

Let me set the scene for you:

Standing outside my house were seven ponies with determined expressions on each of their faces. On the furthest left was the first of the two guards I noticed. He was absolutely packed with muscle and I feel that angering him would’ve been the equivalent to having a rock dropped onto my head (Incidentally his face reminded me of a rock that I see out near Sweet Apple Acres.). The other guard was on the furthest right of the group. You see, I recognized this formation from back before my dad pulled me out of school. These guys were in flanking (Hehe, flank.) formation.

Am I really considered so dangerous to those royal bitches that an actual death-squad was deemed necessary? I don't know whether to be flattered (Or flattened for that matter.) or disturbed by that.

Applejack seemed to be the only one genuinely happy to see me in some form. However, ignoring that orange slut's expression, it was I who had the genuinely happy look on my face. Why? Well, my bookish companion, it took me less than a second to notice she had Carty with her. What can I say? Despite the massive possibility of being killed by royal guards I was still overjoyed at seeing the old fella sitting there all healed and better.

Rarity looked positively uncomfortable (Honestly, can high-class whores like her ever actually BE comfortable?) being there. This is going to be some sort of turning point for me as my hotness must be toned down a bit as she looked paralyzed by it. However, I could still see the look of true determination on her face beneath the frozen expression of angst. Whatever she was here to accomplish would be something she would see through to the end.

Hiding behind her was a pony that I can’t recall ever having met before. She’s all yellow with a pink mane and tail. She’s also a pegasus, so yeah, weird. The only time she even tried to be brave was when I hoofed over the Element of Kindness, which means that she must be Fluttershy, the pony who owns the thing according to what I’ve had yelled at me.

Seeing Pinkie Pie pissed me off. I mean come on, if Twilight wanted back up or something then she could’ve easily grabbed as many stallions as she wanted. Bringing that pink nuisance was absolutely not needed. Well, I suppose I’ll go ahead and detail the scene further for the sake of the atmosphere of the story, she was bouncing up and down with an eager smile on her face. Yeah, the same one as usual.

Twilight looked beyond pissed beneath the veil of calmness she was wearing. What’s her deal? I mean come on; I have literally done nothing to anger her in my entire time of knowing her. Sure, I’ve slighted her on the price of stuff I sell to her sometimes, but that’s just business, nothing to get emotional over. You see, you can’t trust mares, Booky. One moment everything is fine and the next they are plotting your death. Then again, perhaps she was little miffed that I hospitalized one of her friends and then showed up at her doorstep with the Element of Kindness. I can almost rationalize her rage in that sense. However, I’d like you to please notice that I put ‘almost’ in that sentence.

As I expected, Twilight did most of the talking. She told me that the Elements of Harmony are the exceptions to my agreement with Mayor Mare that anything I find on duty belongs to me. Her follow-up explanation was that my failure to hoof over the necklace would warrant action from the two burly guards she brought with her. Not wanting to be awkwardly smothered by two mountains of muscle, I calmly gave up what was supposed to feed me for the rest of my life.

Never one to expect anything positive, I was expecting her to force me to apologize for hurting their lesbian friend. You could say I was wrong with that expectation. Twilight told me that Rainbow greatly appreciated the flowers I sent her and that she wanted to apologize for acting without thinking. I was mysteriously getting the vibe that I was being lied to. Oh, that wouldn’t be good for our relationship at all. If she was really lying to me, then whatever trust -count that as being just above none- I had would be lost immediately. However, blatant lie aside, I knew a catch was coming. To be honest, I’d be willing to bet on Celestia’s festering teat that my eighth sense would be to know that a catch was coming. Now that I think about it, that would make me a really good baseball player….huh…well, that’s thought for later. For now I must focus on this entirely fair and not at all upsetting encounter. The catch finally arrived when Twilight demanded that I apologize to Pinkie Pie for the cake thing, yep, things were quickly dissolving into one of those cliché situations where the protagonist gets humiliated for no reason at all.

I swear to Celestia that I wanted to become a drunk after that; I still kinda want a few drinks. Let me just go ahead and clear up the murky water so that you and I have an understanding; I DO NOT LIKE PINKIE PIE! I HATE HER AND I HATE TAKING TO HER! THUS, THEREFORE, HENCEFORTH, AND FOREVERMORE, INTERACTIONS WITH HER ARE VERY PAINFUL FOR ME!

Luckily, for fear of being destroyed by the two stallions, I managed a polite apology that Pinkie didn’t accept. Yeah, you read that right. She didn’t accept it. Her conditions for accepting my apology were that I allow her to throw a party for me, that I attend said party, that I eat some of her specially made cupcakes -a prospect I still find to be eternally unnerving for some reason- that she would make for my party, and that I apologize for not finishing my game of tag with Gummy.

There are certain things I’m capable of enduring: nerds going on rants about things I don’t care about, clichéd classical music, smelly crap, smelly trash, smelly crap in smelly trash, burning alive -I said endure, not tolerate or forgive- alongside my possessions, Carty’s shenanigans, large quantities of alcohol, and the constant drone of what I can only assume is impending insanity. As you’ll notice, Pinkie Pie and being humiliated are not among those certain things. You see, despite my wonderful life, I am usually capable of brushing off the dust and continuing on like a champ. Notice that I used the quantifier ‘usually’. This was not one of those ‘usual’ situations. No, Pinkie crossed the bucking line on this one and I was either going to let her know just how much she means to me or regrettably shove my own hoof down my throat so as to put myself out of my misery. I chose the former as you have probably guessed by this point.

So, being the reasonable stallion that I am, I slammed my door shut as hard I could into her damned smiling muzzle. I really hope Pinkie got hit by the door when I did slam it. It’d be nice to know that I’d set her straight with a healthy thunk to the head. Maybe that’s why she’s so unbearable? I can definitely imagine seeing her shoot out of her mother and smacking her head on a rock or something and then absorbing some evil demon so that said evil could be used for her own nefarious deeds. Who knows, I could end up a hero if that’s the case.

I’ve ignored their further attempts to get my attention. From the sound of the knocking I can tell that the guards aren’t the ones doing the knocking. My house would collapse if they were. Knowing that, I’ve deduced that it must be either the brave Applejack or the retarded Pinkie Pie trying to get my attention, which is great, as that means that I can ignore it with no fear of legal ramifications.

You know what, Booky? I’m gonna not work daynight. I’d rather just stay inside and totally sulk for a bit. Giving up my ticket to a life of leisure and what little dignity I had left was trampled by Pinkie Pie has ruined this mevening and thus my entire nightday.

I’ll get back to work tomorrow. Oh yes, tomorrow will be a day they won’t forget. I’ll set out like a stallion on a mission, cause…you know…I’m a stallion and I’ll be on a…you see where this is going. You see, I’ve got some plans now. Let me list them in order of ferocity with which I intend to pursue them with: MUFFIN DESTEROYERER (that retard is gonna get it good), PINKIE-BREAKER -yeah, she’s gonna regret making me apologize-, and GETTIN’ BUSY -this one will take some time, I’d rather not force the grey mare and I’d like at least one ally I can use for my benefit-.

Entry 10: Inexplicably Strange Daynight...

As you probably know, I didn’t stay home daynight like I previously said I would. You’ll have to forgive me for the lie as I was practically crawling up the walls. As you probably also know, I left home for work a lot earlier than I usually do. My reasoning behind my early departure was stated in the second sentence. Now, ignoring your questions, my daynight was absolutely filled with odd happenings. Shall we? Of course we shall, I’m the one calling the shots after all. Be warned, Booky, this one will be kind of long…which is exactly what she said (Ha, get it?)…which brings forth the question as to why she would be warning you of something being long…if you don’t mind, I’m just gonna ignore that this sentence ever happened.

First order of business, I left the house around seven PM or so. If you’ll pull up the file of your archives about my schedule you’ll recall that is when I usually have some FREE TIME scheduled. That worked wonderfully for me in terms of the schedule. However, I had absolutely no intention of returning home after spending the entirety of my mevening and a significant portion of my nightday locked up inside. That being said (In this case, written, I guess.), the first thing I’d like to report on is Carty’s condition.

Applejack’s comments about how Carty broke had gotten me worked up into quite the emotional state. Being the worrywart that I am, I couldn’t help but expect the worst when I finally got a good look at him when I left for work. And no, I did not get a good look at him earlier when I was confronted with what was apparently expected to be a necessary number of ponies. To my great relief he came away from this one relatively unscathed. Save the obviously replaced axle and a few new spokes in the wheels, Big Macintosh worked a miracle on my dearest friend (Do not even start with me right now, Booky, Carty and I work together and thus share a bond you will never understand.) and I feel obligated to do something nice for him and his cool family. Tartarus, even Applejack deserves something special for her share of the work. Perhaps I could treat the four of them (Could be more if they’ve been hiding some more family members over on that farm of theirs.) to a proper dinner not cooked in some farmer’s kitchen.

With my heart warmed from being reunited with Carty, I set off for the market with him in tow. Before you ask, yes, I did remember to wear my totally awesome bowtie thingy, which, I suppose, helped a great deal in not scaring off the few ponies I could see on the street. There were a few jerks that dove out of sight when they noticed me. Do they think I am an Ursa Major or something like that? Idiots, that’s what they all are. Unless their names were either Derpy Hooves or Pinkie Pie, I was of no threat to them. The few that didn’t dash away were pretty cool as they stared at me, ignored me, or waved semi-genuinely at me. I even saw that nice stallion who gave me the rose. If I wasn’t on the job then I’d gladly have thanked him once more for his kindness. What threw me off my game was the waving. Honestly, I’ve never been openly welcomed into Ponyville which, coupled with the fact that nopony had waved at me since my arrival, produced the most awkward nods of acknowledgement to have ever existed.

Anycrew, my first destination was the one I ran across first; Rose’s flower stand. I’m assuming that I should’ve felt lucky or something that she was still open, but I can say that I felt nothing of the sort. Why, you would ask if you had a mouth? Well, it’s really simple my dear tome; I hadn’t quite recovered from the humiliation from the mevening and thus was kind of emotionally dead. Before you get all worried about me, my emotional deadness was actually helpful when I dealt with Rose. It allowed me to avoid having any subtext of fury or depression in my voice and instead helped me produce a tone of voice that sounded almost happy. I must point out that I used the quantifier ‘almost’ right there.

Rose, in a move that will probably haunt me for eternity, actually smiled a REAL smile. How could I tell? Her eyes, those damned happy eyes. A pony can lie all they want, but their eyes will never display anything but the truth. I really wasn’t prepared to deal with such surprises when I left the house this nightday and thus responded in the best way I could; a nervous smile. I’m good at those. I pull one off every time a mare I have to rely on a mare for anything. Rose didn’t seem to be wise to my dilemma and asked happily if I was there to get some more flowers for Rainbow Dash. In that moment I felt betrayed by fate as I missed a true opportunity for some quality rudeness. If only she hadn’t tacked on the lesbian’s name then I could’ve responded with the most sarcastic things I could think of, but no; she had to ruin my fun without even knowing she was. Or did she know and was only the latest part of the conspiracy to make my life suck more? Hm, food for thought, after all, mares are not to be trusted.

My reasoning behind getting the lesbian some more flowers was very sound; I need allies. I’ve hinted at this before when I mentioned plan GETTING’ BUSY. In the coming months I’d like to have at least one or two ponies actually on my side in an issue. Twilight is out of the question as she seems eternally pissed at me for one reason or another. Rarity, despite having earned the slightest bit of my respect, is still out of the question. She needs to prove to me that she’s loyal beyond opinion and thus will be able to side with me when I’m clearly in the wrong. That Fluttershy mare is still a bit of a mystery. I’m not sure if I hate her, fear her, love her, or unbiased towards her. Thus I cannot rely on her (Please refer back to my statement regarding the level of trust mares naturally receive from me.) to be in my corner. Pinkie Pie…well…she’ll probably be in the corner across from me. Applejack’s already earned my trust by being useful and not stupid. The lesbian is a different story. She seems like the most brash and confrontational out of Ponyville’s ponies (She even stood up to me when I was clearly in the right.) and thus would be a valuable ally in a problem. Not too sure about Mayor Mare. She’s kind of like Fluttershy in that regard as I’m not sure I want to have her in my corner. Here’s my ally count as it stands:

Big Macintosh (I’m pretty sure he trusts me, though I’ve been wrong before.) and Applejack…that’s pathetic. Especially when you consider that I’ll be taking my vengeance on the retards eventually and I do not plan on being merciful with them. What could be problematic is that both seem pretty popular and thus have a lot of support. That being such, I need some allies I can trust. That’s where the lesbian and the English-accented mare come in. They’ll be very useful when the time comes for me to exact my vengeance. I’d venture to say that Rose could be a definite candidate, but with this new possibility of her being a part of some sort of mass conspiracy to assure my despair, I feel that I cannot trust her at all.

After my dealings with the ‘mole’, my nightday was to proceed swimmingly towards my goal of thanking the Apples for their care of Carty, but that was not the case. I must admit that one of the three encounters that postponed my goal from being reached was actually quite enjoyable and provided me with a victory all its own.

While I could rationalize the waving and smiles as being paranoid acts performed to drive me away, being directly approached by two mares was harder to understand. Before I get into that whole bit of philosophical ravings, allow me to detail the scene for you as I have done with the first two items of this list.

I was walking away from the flower stand having just purchased some daisies (Once more I have no clue on whether or not they were actually daisies.) for the lesbian when I heard a declaration that proves the failure of the Equestrian education system, “Hey you, Mr. Guy!”

Let that sink in. Absorb those words and understand that a mare deemed educated enough to walk amongst other ponies screamed them in the market. Should I be ashamed? I mean, ‘Mr. Guy’…why not just leave it at the ‘Hey you’ part? Why tack on the redundant title? However, I’m trying to relate to you the story of my nightday. There will be time for these thoughts later during my sleepy sleeps.

The source of the accursed words was a very oddly colored unicorn, which is saying a lot in a word very vibrant with colors. I would’ve reacted with disgust towards her insult to all things vocal had I not been so stricken upon seeing her. Well, that’s not fair, she’s nothing special. That being such, the thing that had me stricken was the pony standing next to her with a thinly veiled embarrassed look on her face. Yeah, I can tell you’ve got it all figured you little scamp; the pony standing next to the destroyer of the beautifully spoken word was none other than the grey mare with the hot English accent. Heh, seems pretty funny now that I think about it. I finally get to meet the source of that hot voice and she has to be standing next to a mare that was singularly responsible for destroying the work of generations of linguists who worked themselves to death making our language beautiful and efficient.

Anydoo, I can definitely say this mare (The one with the hot English accent, not the murderer of words.) is a lot hotter up close. However, in favor of avoiding a few cold showers, I shall continue on without a physical description.

Though I was able to hide my amazement pretty well, I’m pretty sure they figured something was up as the cyan one kind of beamed awkwardly at me in greeting while the hot one let it slip that a blush was hiding in her face somewhere.

She’s so freaking hot! She definitely pulls off the bowtie thing (Just not as wonderfully as I do.)!

What they wanted was to thank me for finding their instruments for them, the lyre for the not-hot one and the cello bow for the hot one. Their reactions kind of stumped me as I wasn’t sure whether or not Twilight revealed to anypony where she found the wonderful things I sold to her. They told me that the uglier of the two asked the nerd where her lyre was found and Twilight could only tell her that I had found it. I’m assuming the hot one figured it out pretty quickly that I was the culprit who had found her precious bow.

Anyglue, they thanked me and tried to be on their merry way, but I wasn’t having any of it. I ‘kindly’ ushered the ugly one (Whose name I learned is the amazingly clever Lyra.) away by directing my comments at the grey mare (Whose name is Octavia, not Octopus as I previously thought.).

To make a short story even shorter, I asked her out and she agreed (A little hesitantly, but that’s to be expected since I caught her in an alley having somepony suck snake venom out of her neck.). She told me that she was free Saturday at noon…which is right in the middle of my sleepy sleeps. However, I’m fine with that. If it means getting me some quality strange, then I do not mind. I’m afraid some finesse will be required as I’m not looking to dispose of her afterwards. I’m looking for an ally and thus I’ll need to proceed carefully.

Well, as you might be able to guess, that little encounter left me practically giddy…or as giddy as I can get when buttons aren’t involved. Aha, I can see your binding twitch in anticipation, you know what happens next don’t ya boy? I’m glad to see that one of my amazing super senses is rubbing off on you. You see, no sooner had Octavia left my presence did my annoyance radar begin to go off. As if she had planned it so, Pinkie Pie appeared beside me just as my extra sense kicked in, which is the perfect conclusion to a truly happy moment.

The amount of sarcasm in that paragraph is painful.

I bet you’re wondering the exact same thing I was wondering when she spoke up; what was her excuse for cutting in right there? According to her, so you know it will be reasonable and logical, she had been following me since I left home and had been waiting on me to get into a good mood before approaching me. Remember, in the second-to-last paragraph, when I said it seemed as though she planned it? Well, I was right. To be honest, I believed her when she explained that. It makes total sense that she would wait for the exact moment I was actually happy to appear and ruin it. I’ve begun to actually expect her to ruin ANY happy mood of mine. Short of burning me alive, that mare has put me through some of the most strenuous mental trauma I’ve ever been through. That’s not to say the pain Derpy put me through was any less, but it’s to say that Pinkie hasn’t physically burned a house down on top of me.

It is here that I must mention the oddness of her appearance. I can honestly say that I’ve never seen her look unhappy (Not that I've ever wanted to see her, but if I ever did want to see her then that's exactly what I would want to see.). Do you want to know what else I can say honestly about that? I can say that I’d never been happier to see her in my entire life.

She spoke really slowly and was obviously trying not to either sing a song or cry. Despite the circumstances surrounding that encounter, I must say that the pink demon actually did something smart in waiting for me to be happy before talking to me. Otherwise I might’ve done something she would regret. I listened to what she had to say (Not that I had a choice as I am well aware how fast that freak is.) and she actually managed to surprise me when she apologized. Now ponies don’t apologize to me very often and I’m a little unsure of what a genuine one looks like, but her eyes told me that she was being serious. She honestly felt guilty that she had humiliated me and that her being herself irritated me so.

Let me warn you now that I broke character when I talked to her. It wasn’t much (As anything more would’ve provoked untold horrors in the fields of made-up curses and vulgar threats.) as my feelings for her will probably never go away, but my words were true and sincere. I won’t repeat what I said as I don’t want that memory in your archives, but I will write that I said something that meant that I didn’t really hate her for who she was, I really only hate her because she behaves like that towards me.

To her credit, Pinkie seemed to immediately understand what I said and quickly backed off with an appreciative smile on her face. If she hadn’t utterly destroyed the happiness I was enjoying before then I might’ve straight up killed her right there. However, I had a full daynight’s work ahead of me and was riding high off of the Octavia encounter. Short story shorter; Pinkie got lucky. The same, however, could not be said for me as Celestia saw fit to just absolutely ruin whatever happiness was left in me.

Now I’m not one to get scared easily and it is rare that a pony can truly sneak up on me, but this one moment proved to be the odd one out as I was frightened out of my soul by the sudden appearance of the OTHER mare I hate.

I hate her so damn much. Booky, can you even comprehend the level of my hatred? Can books comprehend? Can books even hate? These are questions you should mull over…that is…if books other than Shirley can mull things over.

I will never know what possessed the retard to fly up behind me and wait for me to turn around. Furthermore, I will
never know why she chose to do so with an envelope clenched between her damn jaws. As a closing note to this paragraph, I will never know why I didn’t just rip her eyes out right there and stuff them down her throat (Though, in hindsight, there being a letter in her mouth would have made such a task difficult.).

The letter being in her mouth proved to be a blessing as it shut her up long enough for me to regain some composure before she could voice whatever retarded thought was running through her retarded mind as she wore a retarded look of nervousness on her retarded face. If I didn’t know any better (Which I do.) then I’d rationalize her retarded choice of action by saying that the letter was for me and she simply chose to deliver it safely in front of witnesses. Nope, my mind told me that wasn’t the case; she was just being retarded.

Allow me to immortalize my words that I spat angrily at her face, “NOT IN THE MOOD!” I’d like to think I was loud enough to create an echo as that would mean that my beautiful declaration could be heard by the mountains and thus remembered for all time.

Rather than wait for the inevitable accosting, I practically smacked her in the face with Carty (I won’t miss next time.) when I trudged around her quickly with my wooden friend behind me. And no, I didn’t have a destination in mind; I simply needed to get out of there and into a place free of retards. My instinct led me to the library…a move that proves that fate is cruel as I ran into the two Apples I was looking for in the first place.

As it turns out, there was some sort of party going on at Twilight’s, which explained why I was running into so many damn ponies. Applejack and Big Mac were on their way there when Applejack saw me. How do I know it was her that saw me and not just Mac pointing me out to her? Well, my bookish friend, I figured that little bit of information out when she called out to me sounding kind of concerned. I probably would’ve ignored her if not for her brother thankfully changing the topic of conversation from why I was hiding in my house to how Carty was doing.

Words cannot express how grateful I am to those two for looking after Carty for me. I don’t know what I’d do if he broke in a way I wouldn’t be able to fix him. If it weren’t for those damned doctors stopping me then I would’ve killed myself in the hospital after the fire. Living without Shirley was really hard…it’s still hard, but not as hard. Losing her was like having a piece of my soul ripped out. The ONLY reason I didn’t end it after I got out of the hospital was because I knew I still had Carty. I don’t know if I can survive losing him…no offense to you, but you don’t quite mean enough to me to get me to think otherwise. Don’t worry though; I’ve still got Carty so I won’t be offing myself anytime soon.

The Apples accepted my thanks with gusto. I honestly hope I never have to do that again. Not that I wasn’t really thankful for what they did or because saying thanks was hard or anything like that; I just don’t want to need their services to fix Carty again. I’d prefer him to stay in a healthy state from now on. I’m actually amazed I didn’t tear up when I was thanking them. Probably good that I didn’t as they probably already think I’m crazy. Can’t blame them, they don’t know Carty like I do and thus can’t comprehend how much it means to me that he’s back in top form.

I didn’t have anything else weird happen until much later in the daynight, but that can wait. Do you know what time it is, Booky? That’s right; it’s time to BREAK-IT-DOWN!!!!

My haul daynight is a bit strange, so prepare for the strangeness. The majority of my finds came from a ripped saddlebag that I have concluded belongs to Twilight. I found the remains of that poor piece of fabric strewn across the ground outside the library when I was on my way back to the house. It’s unfortunate that only four of the items in the destroyed thing are worth any amount of bits. However, the other items within the wreckage of the saddlebag will most likely prove themselves useful in time. Here’s the list: four books, a scroll, an envelope, a white button, a doll, and a misplaced piece of mail (Cause it’s inconceivable that a certain retarded mailmare would drop anything.).

I’ll start with the doll as it’s the weirdest thing I found. It’s crudely made, really old, and seems to have been played with a great deal. This thing is a piece of garbage. I can only hope that Twilight can use her conveniently infinite amount of spells to fix this stupid thing up and sell it to some desperate mother looking for a last minute gift for a bratty filly. Perceived value: five bits, but I’ll mark it up to ten bits.

I love the fucking button! Out of all the buttons I have ever found this is easily the nicest. It’s a pearly white thing that feels as though it is actually made out of pearls or something. Isn’t that sweet?! Perceived value: priceless…to me at least.

The books are odd and I’m not sure at what to price them, so, like everything else, let’s take a good look at each of them.

Of the four books, ‘Daring Do and the Secret of the Amethyst Pony’ is the one in the best condition. This thing looks like it’s in brand new condition. I don’t care much for the series or the liar that writes them (Yeah, she calls them fiction, but I know the truth.), but I’m not stupid enough to not know how valuable this thing is. Want to know this oddest part? This book is autographed by Daring Do herself and is signed to Rainbow Dash. This means that Twilight specially ordered this thing for the lesbian. While this severely limits the value, my dastardly brain (How I love him.) has decided to take advantage of this. I’ve got some wrapping paper around here somewhere for Hearth’s Warming Eve that has a bunch of pictures of wagon wheels (That’s what Carty likes his gifts to be wrapped in.). What I’m going to do is wrap this thing up and sign it as being for the lesbian (I’ll use her real name as a precaution.) from Twilight and me. I can’t in good conscience just hand this over as a gift from me as Twilight knows otherwise. Plus, I need to convince her to let me get away with it. Perceived value: it's gonna be a gift, which means it doesn't have a price.

The second book, ‘Space Time and Other Universal Mysteries’ is the one I’m going to mark the price up on. This thing doesn’t look to be in horrible condition and seems well read. I’m sure Twilight will be willing to pay extra on as it seems like something she’d want to keep. I’ve never seen the importance of space time or any of that other universe crap. This is Earth and we’re in Equestria; not space. However, that’s a rant for another time. Perceived value: thirty bits, but I’ll mark it up to forty bits because I'm a stinker.

‘Oh the Wonderful Places You Will Go’ is the third book of the four Twilight’s bag ushered forth. I remember this thing from my foalhood…I hated this book. False hope is written all over and inside of it. I never liked reading that Dr. Hoof crap and if I didn’t need the bits then I’d utterly destroy this crap. Perceived value: ten bits.

The final book is one that I can appreciate, ‘Love’s Secrets: The Guide to Making Your Special Somepony Scream in Pleasure’. My Dad used to own a copy of this manual…well…he did until I stole it and read it thoroughly. This thing is quite informative and I must say that I learned quite a bit from it. It’d have been more useful if I wasn’t still a virgin, but I’m sure that knowledge will be more than helpful in my date with Octavia. Perceived value: thirty bits.

Whilst Twilight gets to keep her name on the tag of the book gift, I think I can still win in the end. That piece of mail that Derptard lost contained some sappy postcard with two tickets to the Wonderbolts’ next big performance. Disregarding that crappy postcard, I’ll make good use of those tickets with the lesbian. I’ll send some more flowers with these tickets tomorrow. She’ll definitely get a kick out of that. She makes absolutely no effort to hide her obsession with those idiots so she’ll definitely appreciate it. Here’s a bit of a problem though…what if Octavia wants to go? Nah, she doesn’t seem like that kind of mare. Perceived value: priceless…to the lesbian at least.

There were two other items in that saddlebag that will prove to be useful as bargaining tokens in the future. However, I’m not sure they have any monitorial value and I will thus put them away somewhere in my little paradise of a house. There’s a scroll and an envelope containing a letter, the scroll is authorized by Twilight and the letter is not signed. The scroll is a note for Princess Celestia…which…you know…could get me killed if anypony discovers I have it...something of which I will keep in mind. The letter contained in the envelope is an anonymous love letter. I’m a little confused about that one as I’m not sure any stallion in their right mind would fall in love with Twilight….just saying. Here’s what the Princess’ letter says:

Dear Princess Celestia,

The situation regarding Ipsa Unica (Oh great, she's talking to the royal bitches about me.) has concluded, but I’m afraid that its conclusion did not sit well with him (Probably not.).

Along with Fluttershy, Applejack, Rarity, Pinkie Pie, and the two guards you sent, I confronted Ipsa at his home about giving us the Element that he found and demanded a ridiculous amount of bits for. As you know, I was initially very nervous about confronting him as he acted in a hostile manner to both Pinkie Pie and Rainbow Dash. Though his attack on Rainbow was evidently in self-defense, I was still on edge as he might've perceived our showing up as an attack (No, why would I possibly think that? I thought it was a charming way to ruin my life.). Luckily, Applejack had the amazing forethought to bring Ipsa’s cart that she and Big Macintosh were fixing for him. This seemed to calm him enough to be civil. I’m pleased to admit that he gave the Element of Kindness back to Fluttershy without a fight (Like I had a choice! It was either that or being destroyed!), but it’s what happened afterwards that has me worried.

Seeing nothing wrong of it at the time, I asked that he apologize to Pinkie Pie for throwing his cake at her on Wednesday afternoon (Shows how smart she is.). While he did actually say he was sorry, as begrudgingly as he could, Pinkie demanded that he also attend a party of hers and other odd requests along with the apology. In reaction he scowled angrily and slammed his door in her face (Seriously, who the fuck wouldn't do that?. I’m very worried as his behavior towards Pinkie has become more and more volatile as of late and that goes without mentioning the grudge I’ve sensed he has been holding for Derpy Hooves.

He only seems to mildly dislike Pinkie and I’m very uncertain on what he’d do to a pony he really dislikes should he choose to become violent (Oh, she’ll see, they’ll all see.).

I’ll keep you posted about this as you requested. And to answer your question, no, I do not believe that we are in need of having him trailed by some of your guards as these last few encounters seem to be misunderstandings (I was not aware that I was being considered for royal stalking…I guess I owe the nerd for saving my flank.).

As for Rainbow Dash, I’m very pleased to admit that her condition has improved dramatically since the incident. They actually let her out of the hospital today as her injuries have healed splendidly. She’ll have a limp for another few days (Called it!) which means she’ll have to take it easy when she lands and takes off, but everything else is fine and ready to go. Pinkie even decided to throw Rainbow a party tonight at my library to congratulate her on the quick recovery. I can’t wait for that! I even got Rainbow an autographed copy of the latest Daring Do book as a present to keep her out of the sky long enough for her leg to fully heal (That would be ‘we’ who got her that book. I hate it when ponies try to take credit for something they didn’t do.).

A final point I’d like to touch upon regarding Ipsa is that he has shown that he is not a coldhearted stallion as I had previously feared, in fact he seems to be showing a genuine interest in wishing Rainbow good health as he has sent her flowers two days in a row now. I’m surprised that she’s been receptive of his apologies as Dash tends to be the one to jump to conclusions, usually bad ones that end up getting her in trouble. His actions still confuse me, but I’m glad to see that he has some semblance of a heart (An icy, cold, black one, but I suppose it still counts as a heart.).

Love,

Your Faithful Student,

Twilight Sparkle

I’m not going to lie, that letter surprised me. I should definitely keep on the low now that I know that Princess Celestia wants me followed. By the way, that’s my proof that there is a conspiracy with all the mares. Even the ruler of the country is in on it!

The love letter is a lot shorter and really corny. I’m also pretty sure that whoever wrote it has some experience with writing as it is actually kind of well written. By that, I mean it doesn’t look like a retarded foal got their mouth on a quill and decided to draw fun shapes on paper. Take a look:

Every time I see you my heart melts and I want to scream that I’m sorry. If I had the stomach to do so, I’d find you right now and tell you again and again how sorry I am. I know I’ve told you this almost a thousand times by now, but I can’t help but get the feeling you never listened. It wasn’t my intention to harm you. I just don’t know what went wrong.

I wish I had the courage to tell you that I look at you as often as I do, but I’m frightened of how you’ll react. My friends tell me that I should just forget about it and just move on, but I can’t forget about you. I wish I had the heart to say all of this to your face, but this will have to do for now.

With Love,

Your Secret Admirer

That. Absolutely. Is. The. Corniest. Thing. Ever. Written. Period.

I’d love to go on with ripping on whoever it is that wrote this but sleep calls and I’ve got a date at noon. So see you…wait…I’m forgetting something…something important. Well crap, I’m too tired to touch upon it now. I guess I’ll get into the details in tomorrow’s mevening entry. However, I want to leave you with a better cliffhanger than that; I found an abandoned filly daynight and she’s currently staying with me. I’m not sure about what to do with her, but I’m sure I’ll figure something out tomorrow.

Time for the sleepy sleeps.

Entry 11: So...Very...Tired...

Can you say best date ever? No? Oh right, you’re a book. How silly of me, I’ll have to remember that one. Thanks for reminding me Booky; I promise I won’t forget again.

As you can tell, I’m extremely excited over how well my date with Octavia went. Despite the constant presence of a white mare with blue hair and sunglasses (She couldn’t hide from my piercing gaze, conspirators never can.), Octavia and I hit it off pretty well. Alas, I’m still a virgin, but that can be solved in time. However, I now have a possible outlet for that special kind of frustration. Luckily, I remembered to tone down my hotness for the date. That way I can unveil the entirety of the hotness at a later date when she is more taken with me.

I learned a good deal about her while we conversed and ate. I’ll make a list so that I can have a reference to rely on should the information become needed: her favorite color is burgundy, her favorite instrument is the cello, she plays the cello, she’s a year older than me (At least I think she is. I still haven't figured mine out yet.), she lives with a roommate here in Ponyville, her roommate’s name is Vinyl Scratch, she dislikes Vinyl’s music, she isn’t fond of Pinkie Pie’s behavior (I practically swooned right there.), she was trained to play the cello in Canterlot, she was originally born in Ponyville, her cutie mark (A treble clef.) symbolizes her musical talent, she’s terrified of spiders (By Celestia’s odious teat I think I’m in love!), and she is fond of winter.

You have no clue how much I wanted to grill her on that night in the ally...you know…the one where I caught her getting necked by somepony. I don’t think she’s overly fond of me though. According to her, as this was a question I actually did ask, the ponies of Ponyville aren’t too sure of what to think of me. She said that the majority of the town felt bad for me after the fire and many wanted to help but just didn’t know how to approach me. I relayed to her that was a good thing as I generally don’t like being approached. All in all, I’m apparently quite the urban legend as foals think of me as a vampire and other silly things like that.

Things got kind of serious when she asked why I had attacked Pinkie and the lesbian. First off, you cannot attack somepony with pastries, it just wouldn’t work. Secondly, I must remember to take note that she did not seem to approve of the way I got angry when talking about the Pinktard. Lastly, I do not like Pinkie Pie. That last one is more of a reminder as I don’t want that information to EVER be overlooked.

To be honest, I’m really glad that I asked her out. Yeah, I lost a lot of sleep and I’m still really tired despite having just gotten out of bed, but I never get to go out to places and I even neverer get to hang out with anypony. I must also mention that the expressions on everypony’s faces at seeing me in the daylight were priceless. It was like they were seeing a ghost or something.

Oh! I saw Twilight while I was out earlier. She looked like she wanted to have a word with me, but the second she saw Octavia she kind of got this retarded look on her face like she had no clue what to think about what she was seeing. I was hoping she would come over and say hi so that I could relish in audibly saying I was on a date, but she chose to trot off with a weird smile rather than pursue whatever was on her mind before.

Being the gentlecolt that I am, I escorted my date home (With that stalker pony lurking just out of view at all times.) charitably. She said that she really enjoyed our lunch and that she’d had more fun than she had personally believed she would. What really caught my attention was when she said that she’d be very open to going out again sometime and then (Get ready for this.) she kissed my cheek before heading into her abode.

She kissed me, she really kissed me! A mare kissed me! A female pressed her lips against my cheeks! If I was a pegasus, which I am thankfully not, then my wings would’ve fired off like fireworks! I’m not one to blush and I can’t recall a pony ever seeing me blush, but that provoked a change of color beneath my fur. My face heated up like it was on fire and my pupils shrank so much that it kind of hurt. I think she noticed as she started to giggle before closing the door. Do mares think blushing is cute? Why would that be the case? I don’t know, but that’s a lesson I’m going to remember.

As much as I would’ve liked to see the sights of Ponyville in daylight for the first time since whenever, my fatigue hit me hard and made me drag myself towards my beloved house. I saw a few ponies (The white pony with the blue mane from before was noticeably absent at that point.) on my trek back to my shelter. To my shame, I was only able to put a name to a few of them. However, I did see a few familiar faces that waved in surprised (Remember how I said it was like everypony was seeing a ghost? Well, yeah, there you go.) greeting. I recall seeing the bane of all language, Lyra, hanging out with a mare whose voice will haunt my nightmares forever. Honestly, who would’ve thought that the killer of words would spend time with a pony whose voice was an abomination?

There are a few little quirks about a few ponies I saw that I must mention. Rose, the traitorous mole, tried to hide a blush as she giggled at seeing me. That was very ridiculous of her; my hotness wasn’t even that high at the time. I can only assume that her giggles were some form of sign to her superiors that their target was in the open. Nothing peculiar happened, but it is terrifying to know that something COULD happen. Applejack gave me a hearty wave when she saw me slunk by her stand. If I didn’t know any better (I don’t think I do this time.) then I’d say she thought she and I had become friends. Maybe I could say that about Big Macintosh, but I don’t know if I’d go as far as to say I was friends with her.

It is at this time that I must thank Celestia/Loopity-Spookter (Whichever of them were behind the blessing bestowed upon me earlier in the market.) as I mistakenly locked eyes with Pinkie Pie from across a crowd. I didn’t mean to do it, I honestly didn’t. Booky, you have to believe me. I would NEVER purposely invite her annoyance upon me. My luck kicked in when she didn’t come after me. I can say that I feel lucky to be without a migraine right now.

As a final note on the happenings of my venture into the light, I noticed the lesbian was doing something in the sky and she noticed me noticing her. If a word exists that describes what a blush looks like on a furious pony’s face, then I’d like to know it. Never one to invite annoyance upon myself (As previously stated.) I simply nodded a greeting to her before continuing my way home. She’ll warm up to me, if she already hasn’t that is. Once I send her the flowers and tickets she’ll probably be giggling awkwardly whenever she sees me.

That brings me to the next topic of conversational rants in a book I have come to call my friend; the filly I found during work last daynight.

She’s an odd little thing, all purple and crap. Her mane is the cool part though as it is a deeper shade of purple from her body with light pink tips at the edges. As you’ve probably guessed by your observations, she’s a unicorn. I don’t know if that’s important or not, but I’m sure it will help when I throw her back out onto the street as unicorns are hard to miss.

Her mannerisms are really weird as well, it’s almost like she was tailor-made to not be noticed. Not once has she even uttered anything other than a few grunts, eeps (Whatever the fuck those are.), squeaks, and chirps. To be honest, I don’t even think she CAN talk. I’ve asked her for her name almost five times now and I’ve gotten nothing but a blank stare in return. It could be possible that she doesn’t speak Equestrian but that’d be dumb. Plus, even if that was the case, that doesn’t mean she wouldn’t be capable of spouting off gibberish in whatever savage tongues exist beyond Equestrian. She doesn’t even seem frightened to be around me or anything like that. It’s always the exact same damn stare…well…not always. Sometimes she graces me with a curious look that begs me to tell her what it is I’m doing or what something is that she is looking at. Her eyes are adorable though, that’s how I got persuaded to bring her home with me.

I found her curled up inside of a broken wooden crate that was begging to be put into Carty with the other garbage. She was shaking and seemed pretty much scared out of her mind. Seeing as she doesn’t seem homesick or anything, I’m going to conclude that she saw a spider or something. She stopped shivering (She was crying too, which I found out shortly after she looked at me.) when I told her to get out of the crate. I was going to just dump her out and continue on my merry way when I saw those damned eyes of hers. It was like she wasn’t as scared as she was when I found her. Weird, right? She seems to really like me being around her. I’ll continue on that in the next paragraph.

Not once since I told her she could stay with me until the morrow (Which has extended until later in this entry where I’ll decide her fate.) has she left my side. She’s always either a few inches beside me or within close viewing distance. I’ve learned this also extends to hearing as she got upset when I tried to use the toilet with the door closed. I had to freaking sing to her to get her to stop sobbing. By the way, that hasn’t ceased yet. Right to my left she is currently resting her head on the arm of my couch watching me write in you. To be honest (I’m being really honest this mevening.), her constant attention isn’t as weird or annoying as I thought it would be. I hardly even notice her until she scares the crap out of me by way of me forgetting she’s there.

I have no clue how that’ll work out when I go out on the town. She was asleep when I went out for my date at the unlawful hour of noon. Her issue with having me around is actually kind of severe. You see, I decided to let her take a bath last daynight (As she kind of smelt of bad smells.) and she wouldn’t even stay in the water unless I was in there with her. And when I was sitting beside the tub awkwardly trying to give her privacy? She sat in the water and stared at me. Yep, I can tell you know where this is going. I had to bathe her. Me bathing a filly, I swear I felt like I was in some sort of weird dream. It worked, though, as she stopped staring and actually started to play with the suds in the tub (Don’t judge, Booky, I like bubble baths.) which made me practically sick with the amount of cuteness she displayed whilst doing so.

Here’s the problem though; what do I do with her? Do I just leave her in the street? Do I go out to the market and declare that I’ve found somepony’s foal? Do I sell her to Twilight like I do the rest of the crap I find? That’s it! I’ll take her to Twilight!

Being a proxy to Mayor Mare must mean that the nerd would know what to do in this situation. Maybe I can just leave the filly at her place and wash my hooves of the affair? Yeah, that’d work. If I can get Twilight to buy trash on a daily basis, then I’m pretty sure I can pawn off a foal to her. It’ll still look really weird having her out there with me in town. Maybe everypony won’t notice? Yeah, that should work. Fate’s usually cruel to me, but I’ve apparently entered a lucky streak and it could work to my favor.

Alright, now that I’ve got that out of the way, let’s plan my nightday. First I want to head out to Rose’s stand and send a final batch of flowers to the lesbian with the Wonderbolts’ tickets. I’ll be sure to send her something different than posies this time, perhaps some orchids or something like that? After that I might swing by the Apples little set up in the market to grab some snacks before making my way to the required destination for nightday; Twilight’s.

My dealings with her will be weird nightday as I’ve got to be able to somehow keep her calm when I reveal that I have in my possession a letter from her to the Princess. I won’t even charge anything for the return of that scroll. I’ll be coy about the love letter; maybe I can milk the identity of the intended target of the letter or of the sender who sent said letter. However, I’ll have to play everything cool as the filly must take priority as I doubt she’d wait outside for me to get done with my business talks with the nerd.

This is all going to pay off for me Booky! When I get home daynight, I will be richer, filly-less, probably really tired, and I’ll have taken the next two steps to winning the lesbian’s allegiance. Once I’ve assured her alliance, I can begin to make my move on plans PINKIE-BREAKER and MUFFIN DESTROYERER!

Entry 12: D'awww

This was not how things were supposed to turn out, not at all. Sure, almost everything happened the way I wanted it to, but the ONE thing that I needed to go my way DIDN’T go my way. By that, of course, I mean that the filly is still in my possession.

Fucking Twilight Sparkle, I’m so not fond of her right now. I went to her, just as I said I would, with that filly riding in Carty, an experience she really enjoyed it appears, and then Twilight just up and decides to be useless to me. At first she’s all shocked and curious that the issue I’m consulting with her about is the one that it is. I don’t blame her for that one, I had never expected to have to do deal with some runaway filly, but the least she could’ve done was actually HELP. No, Twilight did a little examination on the filly, so as to determine if she was healthy or not, and then informed me that she would ask around town about anypony missing a filly. Shouldn’t be so hard, right? WRONG! As it turns out, my schedule finally turned on me and the nerd told me that the filly would have to stay with somepony for another night due to how late it was. She offered her home to the brat and you know what the filly did? That stupid little foal clung to my leg and cried. Yep, cried. So, until tomorrow at least, I’m stuck with her.

Celestia help me that crying crap got old quickly, but there’s nothing that could be done about it. If giving Twilight some time to find this twerp’s family will get her off my hooves, then I’m all for suffering until tomorrow.

What’s that, Booky? Didn’t I have something important to do with Twilight other than the brat? Why yes, I did! Thanks for reminding me! That earns you one brownie point! You’re almost there, bucko!

After getting the filly to shut up (I had to sing in order to quiet her. Well, it was more like mumbling, but you get the point.) I began to conduct business as usual with Twilight. Her reaction to my having the books was hilarious. That stupid mug of hers held a look of pure confusion until the annoyance began to peak through her features. Seeing that, I immediately sprung the surprise that she would only be getting three of the four books back by way of bits. The last one would be free of charge but came with the conditions I told you about last daynight. To put it bluntly, she was not amused. She tried to lecture me about the morals of my actions but I silenced her pretty quickly by telling her that I was not only in the right in this matter but that I was doing a good deed. Also, I told her that I REALLY didn’t care about learning a lesson nightday.

I found the book in the street; therefore, it belonged to me. Rather than take cash for the return of the book, my conditions were that Twilight gift the book to the lesbian as she had planned, only with the wrapping paper and tag I provided. As you can see, my action was not only logical, it was charitable.

What peeved me was that she dared to question me about why I was being so forthcoming with her friend. In her defense, she did raise a good point by correctly remembering my distrust of mares and my overall sour disposition towards ponies in general. However, that didn’t exscuse her unspoken accusations. As much as I would’ve liked to slam her hard for daring to assume I’d do something to harm her friend, I felt as though having the Princess’ student be neutral (If not friendly.) towards me would be most beneficial. Knowing that, I worked up some sort of sob story about how I felt horrible for hurting her and that I was only doing what I thought would cheer her up and help her forgive me.

Booky, do you think I should become a writer or something? Do you think lying is my special talent? What would a lying cutie mark even look like, a politician? Cause that was a very well crafted one that I pulled out of absolutely thin air. Not only do I not care that I hurt her (As I recall, that was the plan when she ripped my previous favorite bowtie thing.) and humiliated her, but I am in no way trying to cheer her up or have her forgive me. I only want the lesbian to act in my defense when the time comes for Ponyville to collectively ask, “Why would you do that to our precious mailmare?”

My exscuse seemed to work relatively well, but Twilight warned me that she was only being protective of her friend. That was where the cookie crumbled. My theory is that she got pissed earlier when she saw me with Octavia despite apparently (In her eyes.) having the hots for the lesbian. However, there is the question of that weird smile she had…

As much as I would like to say that was the end of my frustrations with her for today, there were still issues to be had. Namely the scroll she had intended to send to Princess Celestia. She didn’t seem too affected by the knowledge that I had read the thing and I can only assume that is a consequence of her probably already having figured I had it. I am under the belief that I mentally broke her in some way as the only reaction I managed to draw from her for the rest of my being there came when she bought the doll from me. The way she hugged that thing was weird, it was like she loved it just as much as she would a pony. Weird, who would treat an inanimate object like a pony, right?

Despite her oddness, the rest of my nightday went pretty well. Having the filly riding around in Carty provided me with a few stares that made me skittish. What seemed to work in my favor, however, was that the filly’s presence absolutely shocked Rose (The undercover mole for the conspiracy against my happiness.) when I went to send the final batch of flowers. She saw me coming and got her newly acquired creepy smile going, but I can only assume that didn’t take her very long to notice the foal in my cart. Oddly enough, she never questioned me about her and only took my order quietly, all the while apparently holding back tears or something. Mares are weird, Booky….especially the ones that conspire against me.

After my jam-fest with Twilight, I decided to make an executive decision regarding the filly. You see, I can’t have the filly running around with me, until tomorrow at the earliest, looking like some commoner or something like that. I’ve got an image that I need to maintain after all. Knowing that, I dropped by Rarity’s shop (I almost lost the filly a couple of times due to her blending in with the color of the building.) with the intent of doing business. I was greeted by the same lame sing-song greeting Rarity used last time, she even stopped dead in her tracks when she saw me standing in her doorway like she did the first time I walked into her establishment.

I think I’ve been completely wrong about Rarity. Out of the ponies I deal with, she is the only one who is both struck by my presence and respectful towards me at the same time. I really like that quality. Granted, she asked me where I got the filly from, a question I’ve grown to loathe, but she never ONCE brought it up again after I explained it to her. How cool is that?

Anykung-fu, I acquired the filly a bowtie thingy like the one I have and she looks wonderful in it. At least now I don’t feel bad about showing up in public with her by my side. That doesn’t mean that I will tolerate this situation for long, but it means that she is going to look good until I’m fed up with her.

I’m sad to say that I didn’t really see anypony else that I recognized or wanted to recognize. At several different points I swear I was being followed by a pegasus or something as there was this weird cloud with eyes following me everywhere. Perhaps my gifts have been failing…I mean, the lesbian apparently isn’t the smartest knife in the coconut drawer. What if she thinks I’m only trying to accomplish something rather than trying to make her my friend or something more if she sees it that way? I mean, yeah, I’m not trying to make her my friend or something more and I am indeed attempting to accomplish something, but that’s no excuse for her to be suspicious like that. Plus, it’s rude to just follow somepony around like that.

The pickings daynight were pretty bad in terms of stuff to sell. I mean, I did find a bag filled with fresh muffins, a blanket, and a potato. I’m a little perplexed about the muffins, but I’ll let it slide this time. There isn’t a thing wrong with having something to snack on while working. The blanket wasn’t a very nice one and I don’t think I could even get a bit or two out of it. Don’t get me started on the potato…I hate potatoes…they freak me right the fuck out.

As useless as my findings were daynight, the items I did find found good use at different times each. The muffins fed me and the filly, the blanket allowed the filly to sleep in Carty, and the potato allowed me to test just how far I could toss a potato. Ah, I see you’ve noticed the oddity of that sentence. I had to bring the filly with me during my route daynight and she couldn’t hang on very long. Around two or so she could barely walk so I tossed her into Carty and draped the blanket over her. D’aww, I know, ain’t I the nicest pony in the world?

Tomorrow should prove to be interesting in some form or way. I’m going to have to visit Twilight and get a handle on the situation regarding the filly. Also, I think I’m supposed to get paid by Mayor Mare sometime soon or something. I guess that since I am going out for those errands tomorrow, I could go see Octavia and see if we could do what she considers to be dinner or something. I refuse to be awake at noon ever again…just the thought makes my fur squirm.

Entry 13: Why Must I Squirm?

Sometimes I like to think Mom would be proud of me. I like to sit around and just remember that smile of hers. It isn’t always easy as I’ve blocked out a lot of those memories, but the ones I can recall are pretty much treasures to me. Sometimes I feel cold and empty inside and I can’t help but remember her and feel the pain slip away. That’s what love is.

Heh, she used to make the absolute best pancakes in the world. Even that crap of a father of mine enjoyed them. Fuck, he even ate breakfast with us when she made pancakes. I suppose she wasn’t the best cook in the world, but she was the best cook in my world.

She made everything better. A rainy day to anypony else meant water and wetness, to her it meant we could play Super Stallion. I miss the games she used to play with me. True to form, even the ones that were stupid for the foal version of me were fun with her.

In a way I still haven’t gotten over her passing. Sometimes I wake up and expect to hear her cheerful singing in the kitchen, other times I wake up and wish I could hear it. A thought of her rushes through my mind with every bite of any pancake I ever eat. That crap even happens with things that you wouldn’t think it would happen with. I’ve even gotten sudden memories from just tossing chunks of wood into Carty. Bees are the worst though.

I've never been good with those damn things and it got worse after she died. It’s why I hate pretty much all insects everywhere. When I hear the buzzing of tiny wings, I lose it. I also hate trees because of it; now that I think of it, if it weren’t for the necessity that Twilight served, then I’d never go anywhere near that fucking library. Not only is it a tree, but it has a fucking bee hive right there in its branches!

See? I want her right now, I want to feel her warm legs wrap around me to wash away all of this crap. I’d even tolerate being in my father’s presence if it meant going back in time before she died. I know it’s a fools dream…I can’t help it though…I want my Mommy back…she’s the only good dream I ever have.

That brings me to why I’m depressed right now. I’m sure you’ve been wondering that up until that point and are probably eager for an answer, but give me a second, Booky. It isn’t easy missing your mom…especially when you remember that you haven’t even thought about her for almost two months…

Around noon (An evil time of day.) I was woken from my slumber by somepony knocking on my door. Can you guess who it was? Go on, I’ll give you a chance to guess it. No? Okay, be that way you freaking stick in the mud.

Standing on the other side of my front door was none other than fucking Twilight Sparkle. Yep, I can tell you know just how happy I was to see her. Being the kind and understanding pony that I am, I greeted her with a simple, “WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU WANT?!” Do you think she caught on that I was a little upset at being bothered in the middle of my sleepy time? Cause I think I could use a bit more subtly.

She told me that she was here to take me to go and meet somepony named Miss Cheerilee. Let me rephrase that, she was here to take the filly to go meet somepony named Miss Cheerilee. I had to tag along for two raisins…I mean reasons…forgive me, I haven’t had breakfast yet. One, the damn foal won’t go anywhere without me right fucking next to her. Two, apparently Cheerilee needed the presence of the filly’s legal guardian or something, which I technically am until the girl’s family shows up looking for her.

Let me tell you who Miss Cheerilee turned out to be and why I don’t care much for her. You see, when I was a foal, I went to school for a little while before Daddy dearest decided my education wasn’t worth the hype everypony was giving it. While in school, I had classmates of similar age to myself. One of them, apparently, was Miss Cheerilee. I’m sorry, let me use her full name rather than formal crap; Blossom Cheerilee. If she went by Miss Blossom then I probably would’ve recognized her before I had to fucking meet her. You see, she was one of the last foals I remember talking to before I decided that isolating myself would be fun. Thus, she is not somepony I would usually associate myself with ever.

What she had to say didn’t fucking help either. Apparently there’s some law or something about foals being in school nowadays. WHERE THE FUCK WAS THAT WHEN I WAS A FOAL?! SEE, DO YOU FUCKING SEE?! THERE’S A CONSPIRA-FUCKING-CY AGAINST ME!

Sorry about that…I don’t quite know what came over me there for a second. Where was I? Oh yeah, that crap.

School starts at 7 in the bucking morning. Yep, my sleepy time. Guess when it ends? THAT’S RIGHT! 3 in the fucking afternoon! I will be getting less sleep because of this crap! Want to know what else Celestia saw fit to have happen to me in that damn meeting?! I have to ATTEND CLASS until that fucking filly can sit in class without me. When Twilight suggested that as an answer to the filly’s reluctance to leave my side, I felt like bucking the foal in the neck and being done with it. My damned fatigue at being woken WAY TOO DAMN EARLY stopped me doing so.

There were two positive notes about waking up so damn early and being about town. One, Twilight happened to have my payment for my work this month! FUCK YEAH! FIVE HUNDRED BITS RIGHT INTO DRAIN! Oh, I didn’t mention that yet? Having a filly in the house has forced me to accommodate for her Celestia-damned gluttonous hunger. The other good thing was that I got to run into Octavia, who actually seemed happy to see me! Yep, I’m feeling good about plan GETTIN’ BUSY!

She and I scheduled dinner at a café around five tomorrow. That’s great, gives me two hours to clean up after getting home from fucking school. What’s that you say? Why will it take me two hours to wash up? Well, my bookish friend, I’ll have to personally bathe the damn filly and thus bathe myself afterwards as she’ll get me covered in bath water. Oh, if you haven’t figured it out yet, I have to take her with me on the date. Yep, getting laid is going to be REALLY HARD (Heh, I said hard.) with her around. Oh well, at least she seems like she can tolerate the nuisance better than I can.

And no, that damn filly has yet to speak a single damn word. Want to know something funny? That little aspect of her personality that I’ve cherished up until nightday has a nasty side-effect; nopony knows her bucking name and she kind of needs that.

When it comes to names, I like to stick to my family’s tradition of using ancient Equestrian to name new members of the family, even if they are temporary. Mom named me using that tradition.

What, didn’t Ipsa Unica strike you as being an odd pony name? No? Well, how high society of you, Booky. You’ve actually just earned another brownie point! Only a few left there, old chap!

Now please, allow me to elaborate as to what my name means in ancient Equestrian; Ipsa Unica stands for ‘very unique’ in that old language. Oh, no, you don’t have to tell me; I’m well aware that it’s an ironic name for a blank flank. I don’t bucking care, my Mommy thought I was unique and that’s always mattered to me more than some stupid picture on my plot. As for the filly, I went for something similarly symbolic whilst retaining a redundancy to make me smile every time I hear it being said; Vocem Non, which means ‘no voice’ in ancient Equestrian.

Unfortunately, Blossom seemed to remember why my name was ancient Equestrian as she apparently couldn’t help asking me how I’ve been since Mom died. REALLY? THAT’S THE FUCKING QUESTION SHE HAD TO ASK?! Well, being the level headed stallion that I’m known for being, I answered her as politely as I could, “I’m glad you asked, Miss Cheerilee. I’ve had my house burn down on top of me, I’ve almost burned to death in a slow inferno, I lost all of my most important possessions, I’m still a fucking blank flank, my father was an abusive fuck, I had to wonder daily whether or not I’d fight him, he left me home alone to go run off with a mare two years my junior, I’ve got Celestia’s personal negative attention apparently, and I lead a charmingly lonely life. That about answer your question?”

Yep, I went there. I stormed off with the filly (Who I must remember to starting labeling as V cause single letter name’s rule.) in tow. Luckily I ran into Octavia and was able to put that whole crap behind before coming home and crying myself to sleep.

Now, what does my nightday look like? Well, I no longer have to go talk to Twilight, Mayor Mare, or anypony else. So…I guess that leaves…shopping for school supplies…yay…

Author's Note

Greetings true believers! It is I, the great Wearin Hat! I just wanted to thank everyone for reading and loving this story. It really touches me that you guys like it. My greatest joy in life, besides banana pudding, is knowing that I've accomplished something. When I see your positive and humorous comments, I can't help but know that I've made you all smile in some way. Whether that be through Derpabuse, Pinkabuse, Dashabuse, or anything at all.

However, I do have a request that I must make before I sign off and leave y'all to your ditry bits. Share this story. Share with your friends, family, loved ones, hated ones, allies, enemies, angels, demons, Celestia, Luna, or your Aunt Sasha. Share the story of Ipsa Unica, the Happiest Pony in Equestria!

That's all for now true believers. This is Wearin Hat signing off for now.

Hats off to ya!

Entry 14: Nope, Not Dead...Yet

I’m tired. So…very…tired. Why can’t everything be simple and not hard? It really would make me happy if I didn’t have to be exhausted right now. For the sake of crap, it isn’t even my damn job that’s making me all tired all the time. No, I have THE easiest job in the entirety of Ponyville and I have nothing but praise for it. I know what you’re thinking; if not my job, then what could possibly be making me whine about fatigue? Well, let me tell ya, being me isn’t as easy as it used to be.

Ponies used to never even give me a second glance. I’d go shopping for food and they’d only give me what I needed and leave me be. Nopony would wave to me in greeting, nopony would try and make awkward small talk, nopony would tackle me to the ground in thanks, and nopony would bother me. My life was like an afterthought that only occurred to those that had to deal with me. Mayor Mare and Twilight were forced to deal with me due to my occupation and, in Twilight’s case, the lack of Mayor Mare’s availability. Big Macintosh and Applejack were forced to deal with me because they sell food and because they take organic stuff from me that I pick up during my route. That was it. Nopony else ever thought of me. That was before the fire.

Here is the list of ponies that I must deal with on an almost daily basis: Twilight Sparkle, Mayor Mare, Big Macintosh, Applejack, Rainbow Dash, Rose (Not entirely sure if that’s even her name at this point.), Spike, Rarity, V, Octavia, and now Blossom. Crap, even Pinkie Pie seems intent on bothering me by staying within eyesight. Thankfully she doesn’t choose to approach me, but just seeing her is painful enough. I’m lucky that retard doesn’t insist I deal with her. Worst part? I’ve apparently now got Princess Celestia’s attention…in a bad way. That’s too many annoyances. Far too damn many.

You may be wondering what it is that’s made me so tired; allow me to indulge you into the happenings of my nightday and daynight.

It all started with me heading out with V to get her some school supplies. I will admit that I enjoyed myself far more than I should have as we made a very important stop by Rarity’s to get some new bowtie things for me and the brat, two new saddlebags for me and the brat, and a brand new blanket for me. I’m very impressed with what the unicorn churned out. Seven brand new bowtie things for V with each being in a different color and different designs, three new bowtie things for myself with each being the same color and design, a beautifully stitched white saddlebag with gold lining for V with a heart shaped clasp, a generic saddlebag for me with a clasp shaped clasp, and a blanket that isn’t finished yet. I was really amazed she was able to actually finish the order within an hour. However, given the size of the bowtie things and the non-complicatedness of the saddlebags, it isn’t really surprising that they’d be easy to make. The blanket is another story. Rarity said it would take her another day to complete it to my specifications. I asked her to make the softest and most comfortable pink blanket that she could. I’m really eager about getting that thing. Once I have it in my possession, I can give V the crappy one that I found in the street.

I’ve actually taken quite a liking to visiting Rarity. Though ponies seem to be actually willing to give me a chance by being friendly, she is the only one who seems legitimately respectful and fearful. What’s actually a little weird is that she doesn’t seem as scared of me as she was before. It must have something to do with being around my hotness so much. I used to think my hotness would be almost radioactive for anypony to be around it long enough, I suppose that I can now say that my suspicions were true.

Afterwards I dropped by Rose’s stand and got five posies for me and V to snack upon. I swear, Rose gets weirder and weirder every time I stop by her stupid stand. She must be a new operative for the conspiracy as she’s not very good at hiding the fact that she’s hiding something.

I spent almost five minutes looking for a place that sold pencils or paper. This crap is too stupid to be true. I couldn’t find ONE damn place that sold either. Can you believe that?! To say I was displeased would be correct as I honestly haven’t really cared too much about this whole thing since the duty was unceremoniously put upon me. So, rather than make a scene in town, I decided to go to Twilight’s library since there is literally nowhere else in Ponyville I could think would have the materials I want.

This visit turned out to be the MOST BORING THING EVER! Well, I wouldn’t say ever. I have yet to sit through an entire day of school watching colts and fillies listen to a mare drone on for hours. The only thing that stupid nerd could talk about was how happy she was that her brother was coming for a visit. Yeah, I couldn’t even try to give a buck on that one.

Luckily, the nerd had exactly what it is I needed and seemed more than happy to see that I was actually doing what she had told me was my duty to do. Yeah, that’s right bitch, believe the illusion I have concocted. The very second Celestia takes her eyes off me the restraints come off and I’ll have my vengeance.

Oh wow…that was dark…like…really dark. I’m not even kidding right now…that sounded straight up villainous! Huh, that’s definitely food for thought.

My biggest mistake of the nightday turned out to be me taking my damn time in getting home with the brat and my new purchases. You see, if I had only trotted a little bit faster then I wouldn’t have had the pleasure of being tackled to the ground by a certain lesbian I had to remind myself not to kill in my rage.

There is some good news, rather than attacking me for whatever contrived reason she could concoct, the lesbian was actually trying to hug me and had simply failed to watch her speed. I’m all for mares rubbing up against me and everything but I do not like being pseudo-raped by an overly energetic lesbian.

According to her hurried speech (She was very excited as I referenced above.), she had only just this an hour ago received a package from the Derptard that contained the flowers and tickets that I had sent her. She told me that she had been meaning to thank me for the flowers I had been sending and that she REALLY (She stressed that part.) wanted to thank me for unexpected gift of her newest Daring Do book. Now these are her words and not mine, so please forgive the unpleasantness of her word choice and usage, “And when Derpy delivered some more flowers from you that also happened to come with some freaking Wonderbolts tickets, I practically EXPLODED FROM THE AWESOMENESS!” Her addition to that pleasant exclamation was almost as bad as the Lyra the Word Killer’s little priceless quote, “YOU-ARE-WITHOUT-A-DOUBT-THE-RADDEST-STALLION-I’VE-EVER-MET-AND-I-WANTED-TO-SAY-THANKS-AND-MAYBE-ASK-IF-YOU-WANTED-TO-GO-WITH-ME-TO-SEE-THE-WONDERBOLTS-IN-CANTERLOT-ON-WEDNESDAY?” If I did not require her alliance, then I would’ve bucked her mouth shut for that crime against the spoken tongue.

If you couldn’t quite catch what she was trying to get across, allow me to spell it out for you; she was really grateful for my final gift and wanted to have the second ticket and go with her to Canterlot on Wednesday to see them with her. That better?

Seeing my opportunity to seal the deal with this alliance, I accepted with the most sincere smile I could manage. Of course this means that V will have to come along with us if she’s still stuck in my damn house. I don’t mind that fact though, she’s already quiet as a damn mouse and I doubt she’d ruin anything for me.

The rest of the nightday passed on without incident after the lesbian finally left me alone after being REALLY grateful and happy with me. All that really happened was that I put my new purchases away and set Carty up for another daynight of work.

As usual, the filly never uttered a word beyond the simple whimper or chirp or something. I swear, I like the silence but her muteness is really depressing. She’s old enough to be getting her cutie mark now and thus there is absolutely no reason that she should be a fucking mute. Oh well, it's not my problem and hopefully it remains that way.

My haul daynight was really unimpressive. I didn’t bring home anything worth going nuts over. Here’s what I brought home: a bowling ball, a Princess Celestia doll, and a wizard hat. This has been an odd three weeks or so in terms of finding things. I used to get a steady supply of stuff I could sell for twenty bits a piece and crap, but now it’s either priceless treasure (Of which I give prices to despite being priceless.) or useless crap that I have no use for. Daynight was another of those daynights. However, there are two items of note that did not make it back to my sanctum after being found. I’ll get into those after we play the break-it-down game.

Alright, let’s do this; BREAK-IT-DOWN!

The doll is pretty freaking sweet if I must say so myself. I was not even aware that they made these kinds of things, but I’m not surprised now that I know. Celestia’s the ruler of our country and is beloved by her many subjects, me not being among them. Don’t get me wrong, I fear her power and authority and I think that she has the sex appeal that any mare would kill for, but her hips hide something that I don’t think she is entirely aware isn’t completely hidden. You see, I’ve never met the Princess personally (Something that I wish to say for the rest of my life.), but I’ve seen her in town once or twice and I’ve noticed something rather telling about our ruler; her hips have the tell-tale sign that she is undergoing a diet of some sort. She appears just fit and thin enough to derive attention away, but the little roundness of her royal booty is one that I’ve grown to recognize due to the fatties I’ve seen in my lifetime. Think of it as trying to hide a horrendous mane cut under a hat only for it to pour out to the side and still be slightly visible. That being said, this doll is not anatomically correct as it lacks the size of her royal booty. Perceived value: ten bits.

The bowling ball is something that I don’t find interesting at all. I’ve never liked bowling. I just don’t get the point of the three holes on the ball and how they supposedly relate to how you roll it. All I’ve ever done successfully with one of these was to drop it off a roof and splatter a watermelon. This thing isn’t quite fit for that task as it seems kind of small for a stallion or mare. Also, the quality of the item seems to suggest that it hasn’t been inside for ages and thus was victim to the weather. Perceived value: ten bits.

At first I was really excited about the wizard hat. I’ve always wondered if they actually made these for real wizards to wear during their wizarding times. To my disappointment, this stupid thing looks to have been ravaged by something with claws or something like that. A real wizard hat would be magically indestructible. Which means this is a cheap knock off. Perceived value: one bit.

So yeah, not really a productive night in terms of what I could bring home with me. However, that’s not to say that I came home broke.

The two items I found that I didn’t end up bringing home with me were very useful to have out there in the daynight. Once more it seems that somepony (I’ll get to that in a minute.) dropped a bag of freshly baked muffins. These were very nice for me to find as I was starting to get hungry while V’s stomach had been growling for an hour or something. The second item I found was the one that will pay for the trip to Canterlot on Wednesday. It was a really nice silver sash-thing with a sparkle design on the center of it. I’ll elaborate in the next paragraph as I’ve grown tired of this one.

Having just found the muffins, I continued on my route as usual with V sitting happily in Carty munching on one of said muffins. I’ve actually grown quite fond of her presence. Even though Rarity, Applejack, and Octavia are fine enough company for me to suffer through without complaint, V is like something out of a dream. She does what I say, she listens to me when I speak, she doesn’t talk, she’s always in a chipper mood unless she isn’t in one, and never makes ANY objections to ANYTHING I do or choose to do. I’d kill to know a mare like that. The only time I regret her presence is when I try to do anything by myself. V simply must be with me at all times or she gets incredibly upset.

I still can’t imagine who would throw this filly out on the street. I mean yeah, I plan on doing the same thing when Twilight figures something out about what to do with her, but that still seems a little cruel. I’m at least throwing her out to a home that will house her. It actually makes me a little sick to think of somepony abandoning this little girl the way they did. To be honest, I’m really pissed that I can empathize with her on that issue. Nopony should be mistreated by a parent. Sure, I had Mom and I was happy, but that ended and I was left with Daddy dearest who liked to show me his love with his hooves.

…Did I just tangent for a second? No, I mean, did I seriously just get side-tracked by this crap? That’s weird…I better get rid of this filly before she causes me to do something I’ll regret…something that’ll make her parents regret their decision even more.

Where was I? Oh yes, the library.

Well, I trotted past the library as I normally do and I noticed that, as usual, the lights were all on. That usually means she is having one of those late night orgies she likes to have. I’d rather not ever know what she gets up to in that place when the town goes to bed.

Anyblue, the lights being on made something on the ground sparkle. I picked it up and it was the silver sash thing with the star emblem on the centerpiece. From what I could gather at the time, the thing must belong to Twilight as it was lying directly under her balcony which led me to the realization that she must’ve draped it over the railing of the balcony where the wind blew to the ground. I also came to the quick conclusion that the thing was important to her as I didn’t make it five hoofsteps before I heard her yell my name from said balcony.

She didn’t waste a single second in teleporting over to me and scaring the crap out of both me and V, Carty was fine as it takes a lot more than that to startle him. Normally she would probably have been concerned that she had done something really stupid, but daynight seemed like one where she didn’t even give the thought of remorse a second glance. From what I could gather from her begging tone of voice, the sash belongs to her visiting brother (I was not aware Twilight was into that kind of thing, but I am not surprised.) who had apparently lost said sash whilst helping his sister find a book on (Yeah, I wasn’t gonna believe that after having the thought of her nasty deeds in my head.) the history of the article of clothing.

I can see that you know where this is going.

Being the important object it was, Twilight wanted it back. Well, my dear friend, I quickly recalled that the item in question was NOT an Element of Harmony and did NOT belong to the Princess in any way and was thus MINE according to law. This meant that I did not have to simply give back the thing without getting anything for it. Yep, that’s right my dear friend, she had to pay this time. And pay this time she did.

After an agonizing five minute wait, Twilight finally gave in and bought the sash back from me then and there for TWO HUNDRED AND SEVENTY FIVE BITS! You could say that I was ecstatic about the exchange and I probably would’ve spent the rest of the daynight skipping like a certain pink retard had it not been for the briefest glimpse of a stallion glaring at me from the window of the library. Seeing him sent a shiver through my body as, remember as I said before about not wanting to know the nerd’s fetishes, I realized he was her brother….the brother she was letting join her nightly orgy…you know…the orgy from tartarus.

Before I pass out for an hour (I’ve got to make sure I’m awake for school after all.), let me leave you with the realization I had about the muffins I’ve been finding. Written on the bag (I’m not sure whether or not the other bag from the other daynight had it too.) was the accursed name of one Derpy Hooves. Yep, the retarded bane of my existence. It seems she’s too retarded to keep track of her belongings as she heads home all the time. I mean come on; even I know the retard adores muffins. So she has to be pretty damn stupid to go and lose another bag of fresh muffins. Freaking retard.

Entry 15: BLARG

GAH! GUH! GUBBA DUBBA SHUBB! GLAH! BLABIDABA! FLIPIDITY (GWAHAHABABIDTY MIJIILOPOOP!) FLOPIDITY SHOOP! SHOOP! FLAH! PLAH! PAH! KALARTIGARIGAHLIMANITARP!

…Sorry about that Booky…I just…had to get that…out of my system…hold on…I think I’ve still got some left…

MEH! NIKLAPTABART! FOOP! FOOPTY POOP! PLOP! ZIGGY PIGGY WIGGY SHOOP! GLARP!

…There…that should about do it…now…please give me a second to compose myself before I go on…better make that two seconds…

Alrighty then, I think I’m good now. Let’s do this!

This my first mevening after attending school with the brat. I believe it will never be an experience I will ever truly enjoy. It goes without saying that I’m tired as crap and that my patience is kind of whittled to a dangerous low. However, things are still salvageable as, despite my tiredness, my level of fatigue is actually pretty low. I won’t go into details but I will mention that being treated to a very warm breakfast by Blossom (I refuse to call her Miss Cheerilee unless I’m in class.) helped immensely.

To be honest, the majority of the time spent in class was actually rather interesting and I found it to be only mildly unbearable. The worst part was that I firmly had the attention of every filly and colt (With the obvious exception of V as she is apparently best filly.) in the class. Blossom introduced V to the class to some success; everypony there seemed legitimately interested in meeting her. That kind of fell apart when Blossom mentioned that V doesn’t talk much (Try at all.) and two fillies scoffed and started whispering insults about V to each other. I can’t believe how much I missed witnessing the cruelty of foalhood firsthoof.

Well, their little gossip stopped when Blossom gave the class her (Fake.) reason that I was there; the school’s new Building Maintenance Manager….which one of the colts (A dapper young fellow by the name of Snails.) correctly relabeled as being the school’s new janitor. Well, the fillies’ gossip didn’t actually stop there. It really stopped when she announced that I was also V’s caregiver. I suppose they weren’t expecting that one. Allow me to explain in the next paragraph.

Throughout the course of the day I came to understand that my reputation amongst the foals of Ponyville is indeed as dubious as I had previously thought. Many had no clue that the creepy blank flank who only came out at night was actually me. Some were beyond terrified by the no doubt flattering stories made up about me. Three fillies in particular (Two of whom I kind of recognize, but more on that in a moment.) seemed very interested in the fact that I was still a blank flank. The two who sat there coming up with insults for V are the two who will eventually receive my wrath. You see, I know all of this because I don’t think any of them realized that I could actually hear their whisperings pretty good. Brats, they probably expected to me to have degenerated hearing or something old ponies have…I’m not old…I’m refreshingly aged to an acceptable point...I think.

Anypoo (Ha, I said poo!), the two fillies seemed to abandon their conversation about V as they went on for about two hours how fitting it was that the school janitor was a blank flank whose house burned down. Yep, those two. Diamond Tiara and Silver Spoon.

Current targets for my eventual rage fueled vengeance: Derpy Hooves, Pinkie Pie, Silver Spoon, and Diamond Tiara.

Well, after their two hours of trash talking about the new janitor (If you can’t see what I did there then I believe our partnership has come to a close.) I found that the foal sitting nearest to my chair in the corner (A pegasus named Featherweight.) is gonna be my favorite out of this class. This kid knows the most interesting thing I’ve ever heard; photography (Which I am in no way lying about.). It goes without saying that he will be a focal point for me during the boring moments of class. If I recall correctly, my note passing skills are the best in history so our correspondence will go unhindered by Blossom’s teaching. However, I do not think I can declare him a friend or an acquaintance or anything like that as he happens to be head of the school newspaper and I don’t trust reporters. Seriously, reporters are like mares with cameras. Not only will they betray your trust, but they’ll document it while they do.

Other than the two hours of listening to two targets make things worse for themselves and trading humorous jabs with my boy Featherweight, my time was taken up by observing the strange actions and reactions of three fillies in particular. The group is made up of an orange pegasus, a yellow Earth pony, and a white unicorn…cause…you know…it’d be offensive if any race was left out of their group.

Nope, not gonna go on one of those tangents. I’ll save that for later. I’d rather focus for now.

I recognize the unicorn and I kind of recognize the Earth pony. Obviously, the unicorn filly is Rarity’s little sister Sweetie Belle. I kind of like her a little bit. The few times I’ve ever encountered her at Rarity’s she’s been just as respectful as her sister and has thus earned my patience. However, I’m sure that the coming week of school will prove me wrong about her…cause…you know…I’m such an optimist and everything.

The Earth pony seems vaguely familiar. I believe she’s Big Mac’s little sister, but I can’t for the life of me think of her name. Oh well, not important.

I don’t recognize the pegasus and I can already tell after observing the way she talks and moves that she is a careless tomboy…you know…the kind that leave the town in shambles come nightfall.

The only reason I’ve taken the time to point them out individually is because they have become V’s very first friends and I’m sure my interactions with them will not be kept at the preferred maximum of none. Luckily, they were too focused on bothering V to talk to me, which means that I should be proud that V’s finally starting to earn some brownie points of her own.

However, my interactions with the foals only took up maybe three hours at a combined total. Sure, that’s not including the messes I had to clean up that were obviously intentionally made by some fillies or colts. To my pleasure, Blossom allowed me to address the class personally about the issue of cleaning their messes. Allow me to recount to you my wonderful speech, “Hello class, as your teacher has already informed you, my name is Ipsa Unica, but you may call me Mr. Unica. I will also go by Sir, Mr. Bob, or Sire. The reason I am here is because your teacher has hired me as the school’s new Building Maintenance Manager. That means that I’ll clean whatever messes are made so that you all can focus on the learning part of being smart. However, do not take me lightly. Should I catch ANY of you intentionally making a mess, I’ll MAKE you clean it up for me. I know what you are all thinking, that I’m mean and that a punishment like that is pretty harsh. Well good job on spotting the obvious. If you do not want to clean your mess then I propose that none of you make a mess intentionally.” The looks on their faces were priceless.

As I was saying before I kind of veered off…yeah…my time was spent rather boringly during class. Since I have absolutely no interest in learning anything cause I am smarts, I spent the majority of my time eyeing Blossom’s body. I must say that she has filled out wonderfully since her time as a filly. I am particularly impressed by her sizable backside. Oh, you didn’t know? I’m all about booty.

I’m gonna take am minute here to thank Celestia for mares with sizable backsides. I mean, they really make going to the market worth it. And no, I’m talking about fatties like the one over at Sugarcube Corner. I’m talking about mares like Blossom, Applejack, the mare who sells bonbons, and the mare who sells carrots. Oh, and of course I can’t leave out the heavenly booty of our ruler.

What’s wonderful is that Blossom becomes so engrossed in teaching that she really loses track of time and position of her body. More than once I was treated to a nice view of her marehood and I must say that I am satisfied with the quality of attractiveness she has. If not for Octavia’s firmly toned body then I’d definitely turn plan GETIN’ BUSY towards Blossom. In fact, once Octavia wises up and betrays me like every other mare ever has, I will indeed try my hoof at getting some quality strange from the teacher.

Oh my, am I the only one who just had a shiver run up their spine?

Speaking of Octavia, our dinner (As she would define it.) date is scheduled to occur in five minutes. That means that I can’t linger this mevening.

My parting words are more of reminder for me than they are for you. My plan is to escort Octavia home after we eat and, assuming she doesn’t jump me like my dreams would have believe would happen, I’ll get straight to work as early as I can. I want to turn in at least two or three hours early so that I can actually get some damn sleep.

Now if you don’t mind, I’m afraid my hotness alone won’t burst Octavia into flames of arousal. To counter whatever mental resistance she has set up, I’ve decided to turn my SWAG on. Yeah, if I don’t get laid nightday then I’ll be really disappointed. Let’s hope V doesn’t screw things up…

Entry 17 - Kharma, What Exactly Did I Do To You?

Booky, I’m scared that I’m growing a conscience. I know it’s a farfetched idea if I ever could imagine it, but I’m scared that it’s true. And you know what? I don’t like it. I’ve never really cared for the well being of somepony else and I never intended to start doing so, which is what has made the events of my second day at school practically damning.

The day started out as the previous one had. I arrived shortly before any of the foals started to show up and I took my spot in the corner while V patiently sat in the desk nearest me and doodled to distract herself. Blossom, of course, was there before we were and greeted us kindly before sharing her breakfast with us…well…more so she shared it with me as V was too busy drawing to notice the food…which is kind of cool I suppose as she ate most of what I made for us to eat before we left.

Ever being efficient with the managing of her time, Blossom took this opportunity to tell me that Twilight had been hoping to talk to me at some point yesterday and hadn’t been able to do so for whatever reason. She told me that nopony had yet to come forward declaring V as theirs and that nopony so much as recognized her. That was disheartening for me to learn as I had been hoping to get the poor girl back to her rightful home.

There’s your first clue.

No longer is my desire to rid myself of the brat a product of my dislike to her presence or to the idea of paying for her food. I found this incredibly disturbing as I was ACTUALLY WORRIED about her.

Let me put this into perspective for you; the last pony I even had half a crap of care for was killed by a swarm of pissed off bees. So, for me to suddenly feel my heart wretch in the slightest of ways hurt my mind terribly. Also, a bit more disturbingly, I was a bit relieved when she said that nopony had claimed her yet. You see, I’ve diagnosed myself as having some sort of attachment issues or something of the sort. To be blunt; I do not like being abandoned or left behind. Not. One. Bit (And you know how much I like bits.). So, as you can probably tell, I was frightened by the feelings I was feeling. And no, I didn’t reveal any of that to Blossom. You can’t trust mares, Booky. Not even the ones that you want to.

Luckily she failed to pursue why I was so affected by what she said. Why, you would ask if you had a mouth (A problem I hope to solve at some point and time.)? Well, you remember that collision I had yesterday? The one that made me bleed my own blood? The one with the retard? Well, it turns out my nose decided to go and swell up noticeably. Not too bad though, just enough for somepony as observant as Blossom to point out.

I managed to satisfy her curiosity by stating that Derpy Hooves hadn’t been watching where she was flying. To be honest, I was in no way surprised by how well she took that explanation. I’ve long since assumed that retard to be a public menace and thus notorious for her buck ups.

Shortly afterward, the students started to arrive. They all greeted Blossom with sickeningly cheerful nuzzles and hugs. I’m super happy that they mostly greeted me with waves from across the room. I say mostly because V’s three new friends came over and said hi to her happily. This was essentially my introduction to the Cutie Mark Crusaders (Ugh, the corniness of that makes me want to vomit.) and it actually went quite well. Despite the sincerity of their happy greeting, I paid little mind to the three of them. Thankfully they seemed more interested in taking V with them to sit next to each other in a square.

What surprised me was that V accepted their invitation excitedly and disappeared quickly after making sure it was cool with me. The only reason I’ve noted this little moment is that I felt that same pang of emotion in my heart from before. I’ve been confused as to what emotion I had been feeling and I still don’t have a clue.

The only other ponies not to greet me with a wave were my two targets for vengeance. I was happily distracted from my emotions when I noticed how depressed Diamond Tiara looked. It’s unfortunate you couldn’t see the look on her face whenever anypony would ask her where her precious tiara was. BUCKING PRICELESS! What really attracted my attention was how down and out she appeared to be. I’ve lost treasured belongings before (In fact, I lost a whole house full of them.) and the grief she was feeling was obviously not entirely one born out of loss.

To my horror, there was to be very little actual teaching today and a lot of mental trauma for yours truly. You see, Booky, Blossom hushed everypony up once they were all present and alerted the class to the fact that today was the shared birthday of three of the students: Truffle Shuffle (A fat colt with a fork and knife for a cutie mark.), Rumble (A pegasus who apparently has wings. Freak.), and (Conveniently enough.) Sweetie Belle.

You may be wondering why I mentioned that I endured any form of mental trauma. Well, just give me a second. You’ll see what I meant.

Blossom apparently does this for all of the foals whenever they have birthdays and she was excited to have a day where she did no teaching. I was at first confused as to why she would rather deal with a bunch of crazy foals trotting about having fun while she tried to keep an eye on all of them. The answer to my query came in the form of a certain pink maned demon that my Annoysense failed to warn me about again.

Yep, that’s right; somehow I had overlooked how Ponyville’s party pony would obviously be in attendance at a party for three foals.

So there I was, cowering in the corner whilst everypony played party games and the like. They all seemed to be enjoying themselves. Obviously, the Cutie Mark Crusaders (Ugh, that damn name, I hate it.) were having the time of their lives. What made the experience slightly enjoyable for me (Your second clue.) was that V was constantly at their side. Once or twice I even managed to overhear them talking about making her a member of their group, which is something I have been having mixed feelings about. Featherweight wasn’t able to hang out with me at all during the day as he was kept busy by taking pictures of everypony (Excluding me. Little prick. What, am I not pretty enough for your pictures?) enjoying the party. Blossom was kept preoccupied with all the games the kids were playing and pretty much kept her eyes on the proceedings. Despite her business, it was clear to me she was enjoying herself just as much as her students. Unfortunately, the mass of foals running around like mad ponies kept me from getting a constant view of her body, which meant spending the day checking her out was not an option. Pinkie Pie…well…she was everywhere at once. There wasn’t a single pony that was there that managed to avoid having to endure her presence, I included. Luckily, the retard quickly realized her mistake upon speaking to me and darted to the other side of the room to keep a good distance. Crap, even Diamond Tiara and Silver Spoon were enjoying themselves. I was the only one who wasn’t.

The reason I even bother mentioning any of that (Beyond the need to vent about Pinkie’s painful inclination to appear when I don’t want her to.) is because of something that happened during the festivities.

Being the bitches they are, Diamond Tiara and Silver Spoon decided to mercilessly make fun of the Cutie Mark Crusaders, namely Sweetie Belle. None of the foals said anything so I assumed it was just the norm that they got bullied. Everything changed when they set their eyes upon V. I don’t know what it was that made them feel the need to accost her, but they did and they didn’t hold back.

Orphan. Daughter of a loser. Blank flank. Mute idiot. No-brained idiot. Those and many other really bad insults were ones I can barely recall hearing through the noise. I don’t know how long it took, but eventually, I noticed that they had V crying.

Yeah no, I didn’t let that go on for too long.

Here’s clue number three, my feelings upon seeing all of that. Of course, I didn’t even bat an eyelash at anything they said towards Sweetie Belle, Apple Bloom, or Scootaloo, but I couldn’t help but feel very warm at seeing them berate V.

I know, warm isn’t a good descriptive word to use. All I can really tell you is that my ears throbbed, my eyes felt really hot, my chest was hot enough for me to start sweating, and my eyes were twitching a lot. I don’t believe I’ve felt anger like that since I was little. It was so pure, so very potent. And I felt all of it.

What does that mean, Booky? Am I starting to care for that filly? I would rather that not be the case considering her eventual departure back to her original family, but I can’t shake the feeling that something has changed. Some dynamic about my life has altered beneath my very own damn nose and I don’t like it.

You may be wondering how I’m not in jail or something after feeling that much anger and having my amazing track record at self-control. Well, that’s very simple my bookish friend, my mind wanted to see Diamond hurt. I wanted her to cry and cry and cry and cry and cry and cry and cry and cry over what I would do in retaliation. However, somehow I retained my wits and thought of some way that I could do that and remain free.

You see, I had brought the tiara I had found with me to school in case I thought of a way to use it to make the bitch feel like crap and I remembered that quickly. I’m actually really surprised I went with the course of action that I did.

Pay attention, Booky. The next paragraph holds your next clue that something dramatic and weird is happening to me.

I made my way over to the group (Being made up by Scootaloo, Sweetie Belle, V, Apple Bloom, Diamond Tiara, Silver Spoon, and some other unicorn filly.) with my saddlebag containing what used to be Diamond’s tiara. They’re taunting ended pretty quickly as the two bitches tried to save face with an adult being present. I ignored them entirely and told Sweetie Belle that I had a surprise for her. Breaking every code of honor I’ve ever sworn by, I reached into my saddlebag and gently grabbed the tiara before hoofing it over to the white filly. I told her that it was a gift from both me and V. To put forth an air of innocence and to calm V, I wrapped a foreleg around the little quiet thing and hugged her close.

Sweet Celestia’s royal booty…I feel like vomiting even thinking about it.

The hug. I feel like vomiting because of the hug. Not the booty.

Everypony in that little grouping knew exactly what the tiara was and who it had previously belonged to. Scootaloo, Sweetie Belle, Apple Bloom, the unicorn filly, and Silver Spoon were all struck silent by my gift whilst Diamond Tiara was so pissed off that she could hardly speak. I explained to them that V and I had found it while I was working and that she figured it would make a great gift for Sweetie Belle.

Before anypony could properly react, Diamond practically erupted in rage. She probably would’ve hurt somepony had I not informed her that my contract as a town employee explicitly stated that any item I found during my duties (The exclusions being things belonging to Celestia and the Elements of Harmony apparently.) would come under my ownership and be subject to do whatever I want with. She left shortly after my explanation.

The fillies around me erupted into joyous clamor that’s starting to make my fur squirm at the memory. Sweetie Belle almost tackled me with a hug while Apple Bloom and Scootaloo climbed onto my back and sang praises to me. The unicorn filly at least had the presence of mind to make sure that V was ok.

Don’t worry; V was absolutely fine once Diamond and Silver left. They expressed amazement that somepony would stand up to that bitch (They used a different word.). I got out of there pretty damn quickly. Not that I don’t like being worshipped. I just don’t like having fillies use me as a jungle gym.

Though not of importance, I feel obligated to mention the awkward stares Blossom and Pinkie Pie gave me from across the room for the rest of the day. Using my ninja skills, I managed to remain alone in my sacred corner for the rest of that horrid experience.

Honestly, as much as I like staring at Blossom’s flanks, sitting through school isn’t something I’m incredibly fond of doing for too much longer.

When it was (FINALLY.) time to go, I was once more accosted by the Cutie Mark Crusaders (I die a little inside each time I write that.) and two of their friends (A filly with glasses and a terrible lisp and the unicorn filly from before.) I don’t know the names of. They once more thanked me and V for the gift and BEGGED ME (I am NOT kidding about that part.) to let V go with them to enjoy Sweetie Belle’s private birthday party back at wherever they were gonna do it. I honestly didn’t pay attention too well right there. They either said the party was at Carousel Boutique or Sugarcube Corner…not that I’d got to either event. To get rid of them, I told them that it was cool with me.

Here’s where the trail of clues ends. Though I didn’t consider it at the time, there should’ve been no way in tartarus that V would want to go without crying all the time. She’s bawled her damn eyes out over me being in the damn bathroom alone. It only occurred to me when I got home that she had not only spent the whole school day away from me but that she was now in a different part of town. I felt proud of her that she could be without me and not whine.

CAN YOU BUCKING IMAGINE THAT CRAP?! ME, PROUD OF SOMEPONY ELSE?! WHO THE BUCK AM I AND WHAT DID I DO WITH ME?!

Even right now that brat is over wherever the party is being held. I haven’t heard a single word from anypony and so I can only assume that means that she isn’t making a scene or anything. Plus, I can take solace in the fact that Filthy Rich (Diamond’s dad.) hasn’t sent the authorities after me for one reason or another. That’s great news, as that means that he knows how the town charter freaking works. Maybe he can teach that little bitch of his something?

I’m still pissed over my decision over the tiara. Yeah, what I did was heartwarming and other disgusting traits, but I could’ve just as easily sold it to Rarity or Twilight for a high sum. Crap, I could’ve even sold it back to Filthy for an unholy amount of bits.

You seem confused; allow me to explain the situation to you.

I’m running out of money.

I checked my savings earlier when I got home from work and I’ve found a disturbing fact; V’s making me go broke. Spending money on food for both of us while also paying for our bowtie things, our saddlebags, and my blanket (That I still need to go pick up whenever I have the time or patience to do so.) has ruined my money pit.

As I mentioned previously, my latest paycheck barely managed to supply me with enough food for two weeks or so and I haven’t found anything of high value lately.

Sure, I found that sash thing that Twilight paid an obscene amount for, but that’s going to pay for the train fare, housing, and food. I’m not even sure if V can attend the Wonderbolts’ performance now that I think about it. There were only two tickets and the second one is mine.

I was originally planning on finding a nice looking hobo (Hahaha, what was I thinking? A nice homeless? What is this, a fairy tale?) to look after V during the show, but now I don’t think I can do that. I’ll have to buy her a ticket, which will probably obliterate any funds I’d have left.

I’m grateful Rose gave me money yesterday for the date….still confused, but grateful.

I’ll definitely have to kick it up a notch when I get back from Canterlot on Thursday or whenever.

Who knows, maybe Twilight will find V’s family during that time. That’d sure as tartarus set my money problem straight.

Well, that’s depressing to think about. Let’s focus on my nightday….never mind…I don’t have anything planned…until work that is. Work’s gonna suck daynight. I’ll have to start early to finish early so that I can be ready to depart on the Friendship Express at the time the lesbian told me to meet her there. I’ll catch some sleep on the train though, so no big deal.

I’ve decided to bring you with me…which might be something I’ve already told you about…I’m not sure as I’m very tired and annoyed.

That’s it for now…I’m gonna try and catch some sleep before V gets back. That way I can kind of be rested up for work.

Entry 18 - Return of the Derptard

Sometimes I miss how quiet it is to not be insane. Not that I’m insane, daynight just happened to be one where my mind was free of the voices that are always screaming at me. And no, I’m not insane. Those voices are called thoughts. They said so themselves and if you can’t trust a thought, then nothing is sacred anymore.

Anybamboo, there’s a reason I’m in such a chipper mood this evenoring. However, I’m not just going to tell you about it. No, you’re gonna get a chance to guess. So go ahead, try your luck.

Booky?

Booky, you there?

Equestria to Booky, this is Commander Bob Sheppard, please respond.

Nothing?

What was that, Booky? Sorry, thought you spoke there for a second.

I’m gonna have to tell you, aren’t I? Thought as much…lazy bastard.

As you have probably noticed, V has not been home today…well…not for long. She was here earlier, but I’ll get to that in a second. Yes, I have (Disregarding you and Carty.) been alone for the better (As in quality, not quantity.) part of the day. During this time I’ve been able to…you know what? Buck it, I’m just gonna get to the story as there’s no point in explaining this now and then describing it later.

As you know, I came home from school without V and went straight to sleep. When I woke up, I went about doing everything I usually did in the mevenings before V came into my life. You know the routine: wake up, write a diary entry, eat my version of breakfast, and then other stuff. I was actually primed and ready to go and retrieve the blanket I ordered from Rarity when Celestia decided to throw me a freaking bone for once.

Let me stop myself there so I can muse about that little injustice. Why can’t luck find me more often? And no, I’m not talking about my innate ability to survive fatal damage. That’s not luck; it’s annoying. I’m talking about real luck. The kind of thing that says I’ll find a random bag of five hundred bits just sitting in the road one daynight. You know what I’m talking about; the kind of thing that seemingly visits everypony in Equestria daily….everypony except me. Yes, I managed to snag Octavia, but you fail to see what I see. I bet you five bits that something besides me will ruin that for me in the next week or so. In fact, I can almost guarantee that it will happen. My only hope is that I get to roll around in the hay with her before the natural order is restored.

I suppose I can classify finding V as something of good luck. She’s been an absolute dream to have around. You know I mean that cause I wouldn’t say about anypony else. For the first time in a long time, I don’t mind having her around, which is great.

Heh, without realizing it I have just constructed a nice transition into the previous topic. I’ll award myself twenty thousand brownie points for that.

You see, as I was preparing myself to leave and achieve ownership of that blanket, I was interrupted by somepony knocking at my door. Let me tell you something, I LOVE answering the door. It’s literally the only time I get to be as rude as I want to be without getting in trouble. Unfortunately, I didn’t get a chance to yell greet my visitor with my usual charm as they spoke first.

Let me go ahead and state that what followed the opening my front door was possibly the most awkward game of Glass Half-Full/Glass Half-Empty: The Game of Optimism vs Pessimism ever contested off of the pro-circuit.

Standing there on the other side of my front door were four ponies. I will describe them in ascending order of aggravation. Standing at the front of the group was none other than V. She looked positively ecstatic and beaming with (Ugh.) happiness. However, this (Ugh.) happiness appeared to stem more from anticipation rather than actual joy over something happening in front of her. Standing to my left of her was the pony who had evidently knocked; Rarity. Looking as gussied up, as usual, the rather fetching unicorn was painted with a look of genuine happiness and minimal fear to see me. Now that I think about it, that fear seemed more like anticipation than anything else. Makes sense considering that she had my blanket folded neatly in her saddlebag. She was probably nervous to see that my specifications were met. Standing next to V was the unicorn filly from school. For the life of me, I can’t recall her name and it wasn’t mentioned in the following conversation. She seemed just generally happy if not a little anxious to be near the house of the Night Wanderer (The nickname I’m assuming the town refers to me as in passing.), which is good cause the last thing I want is a bunch of fillies and colts annoying me. My strangeness has always kept them away on Nightmare Night and I intend for that to always be the norm. The fourth pony was one I didn’t entirely notice until my brain decided to notice her. I’ll just go ahead and state that Derpy mustn’t be as retarded as I paint her out to be. Whenever she feels the need to bother me, the bane of my existence seems to time it so that there are witnesses to prevent me from getting away with whatever crime I’d be charged with once ‘dismissing’ her.

It was mostly Rarity and me who did the talking. She told me that she was here to thank me dearly for the extraordinarily generous (Her terminology.) gift I had given Sweetie Belle earlier and for standing up to Diamond Tiara for the girls (A generalization that I’ve taken to assume to Sweetie Belle, Scootaloo, Apple Bloom, V, and the unicorn filly.). Impressed with my actions, Rarity even told me that the blanket would be free of charge, which was wonderful as that means I can buy food now. However, beyond the obvious observation that she was escorting V home from Sweetie Belle’s birthday party, Rarity’s presence didn’t explain Derpy and the unicorn filly’s being present.

Let me cut to the chase and avoid the awkward small talk that led to me getting to the REAL reason I was being bothered. According to Rarity, Sweetie Belle requested a slumber party for her closest friends to be held at Rarity’s shop/home/thingy. Apparently that list of friends includes V now. To be honest, when she said that, I wanted to kill myself as the only rationalization for their annoying me was that they wanted me to attend the event so that V wouldn’t raise tartarus or something. Yeah no, I don’t do the chaperone thing. Ever. However, much to my pleasure, they were there to simply ask my permission for V to attend. That’s where a snag was found.

As you know, I’m scheduled to leave for Canterlot with the lesbian (Note to self; do not call her a lesbian when in her presence.) in about ten minutes or so. Originally, that meant that V was scheduled to leave with me. That presented an obvious problem as there was no way in tartarus I’d go out of my way to retrieve her just to walk all the way back across town to board a train. Rarity, being the awesome pony she has become in my eyes, provided a solution as she said that she’d be more than willing to watch V for me until my return. Derpy offered too, but…yeah…I decided to go with Rarity. What surprised me (And made me proud despite my misgivings about having such feelings.) was that V didn’t even hesitate to hear about that. All she did was hug me tight before running into the house and grabbing her crap and hug me again on the way out.

Who knows, maybe she isn’t really a mute. Maybe V has just been really shy or really traumatized by something and only through the constant love and care given by me can she overcome it. Or, as I’m guessing is the case, she really IS a mute and has simply become comfortable with her surroundings.

I know what you’re thinking; how does that explain Derpy being there? Well, my friendish book, the unicorn filly apparently wanted to give V some company on the trot over to my house and that prompted Derpy (Who I learned was the filly’s mother.) to tag along as well. Still not make any sense? Good, cause I don’t get it either. I just chocked it up to her wanting to annoy me.

Anycue, Rarity’s absolutely awesome offer freed me of the burden of lugging the filly around Canterlot and paying for her. If I didn’t know any better (I don’t.), then I might be willing to believe that Rarity was flirting with me, especially after I saw her blush at my affirmation that the blanket fit my specifications. However, that raised a significant problem for me. With a new avenue for plan GETTING’ BUSY opened up, I had to take precaution to make sure I didn’t ruin it for myself.

Let me explain.

As stated earlier, something is bound to ruin what I have with Octavia and I want backup plans for in case I don’t get some quality strange from her. I’ve only got a few at the moment. Blossom is a definite possibility with her shapely booty. Applejack would’ve been my next guess after Blossom. Try and remember that this list will only contain mares that I don’t have to forge a relationship out of. Blossom knows me from foalhood and I’m an acquaintance of Applejack’s brother. I suppose that means that Twilight becomes a possibility due to our already established acquaintanceship. Unless the lesbian is truly a lesbian, then I suppose she makes it onto this list as well. Alright, let me just spell it out for my own benefit. Blossom, Applejack, Rarity, the lesbian, and Twilight. Yep, that looks about right.

If it wasn’t for the fact that she happened to be a mare, then I might be willing to make Rarity my friend. Oh, I kind of jumped right into it, didn’t I? Well, let me fix that.

I thanked Rarity for her offer and accepted graciously whilst also offering my services in any way to repay for her kind deed. She rejected my offer and said that she would think nothing of it and that it would be her pleasure to have a filly as quiet and non-destructive (I still don’t know why she’d go about describing V in that way.) around her shop/home/thingy.

Fittingly, Derpy insisted on staying to satisfy a curiosity that she had been nursing for a while. I had to fight every urge in my body to slam the door shut in her face once she was alone. However, she managed to catch my attention when she mentioned that she was actually checking to see if I had found any dropped letters in any of my recent shifts. Being the professional I pretend to be, I told her that I had in fact encountered a few pieces of mail a few days ago. When she persisted in knowing which ones I found, I told her that I found three to be exact. One was a stupid postcard (That came with free Wonderbolts tickets that I failed to tell her about.), the second one was a letter to Princess Celestia (With yours truly being the subject matter.), and an anonymous love letter. I kind of zoned out after I revealed all of that, but I recall she left in a hurry with a blush on her retarded face for one reason or another. I can only hope that her hurried departure was due to me farting or something.

With that out of the way, my entire schedule became free of V and thus I didn’t have to account for her presence.

That helped me get through my shift in record time.

There was, however, one little hiccup that occurred that I think you would like to know of.

As I was making my way past the Carousel Boutique, I noticed that there was a tent set up behind it that had the sounds of muffled laughter within. I didn’t have long to wonder exactly what the crap was going on before Carty decided to sing the sleeping residents of Ponyville the song of his people. That prompted the giggling to stop and for the appearance of six fillies to poke their heads out of the tent to investigate. It only took me a second to notice that one of the silhouettes was sporting a tiara. Yeah, I can tell you know what happened.

In the span of only two seconds I was bombarded with two different fillies hugging me in greeting. One being the welcomed embrace of V and the other being the surprising embrace of Sweetie Belle, which I’m proud to admit didn’t get turned away due to a fear induced attack. I actually managed to return the motion to the two (Lacking the emotion of course.) before getting back to work. They tried to keep pace with me but gave up quickly for one reason or another. I’ve felt kind of bad since that incident. I’m sure Carty would’ve loved to say hi or something, but I was simply in a hurry to finish up in time to wash the smell of crap off of me before having to sit on a train for an unknown period of time.

With that out of the way, I feel you may know what’s about to happen. BREAK-IT-DOWN!

My haul daynight was nothing too special. However, I must say that the majority of what I found daynight was actually pretty nice in quality and will probably allow me to pay for food for at least another week or so. That being said, here’s my haul: an ornate mirror, an hourglass, an abacus, a solid gold bar, and a gold medallion.

The abacus is weird as crap. I have never seen one of these close up before and I can honestly say that I have no damn clue how it works. From what I can remember, nerds use these to do math stuff with math things and it makes math numbers or something. I don’t know. It’s got a nice make to it though. Every piece is painstakingly carved from wood (Presumably from Whitetail Woods due to the texture and lack of decay.) using unicorn magic. The framing is your typical brown that comes from wood, but the little pieces making up the complicatedness of the device are painted red, blue, yellow, and white. The bars that those pieces are resting on seem to be made out of wood as well, but appear to have been reinforced with something to prevent snapping. Perceived value: Thirty-five bits.

The mirror is interesting as I’ve never really found anything this ornate before. It appears to be made of brass or some other metal of that sort and is absolutely COVERED with depictions of the Princesses and other stuff. I wouldn’t really get too excited over this if it wasn’t for the fact there was a handsome stallion looking back at me from the mirror. Yeah, that just happened. Perceived value: one million bits if I can get the stallion to stay in the mirror, but seeing as that won’t be the case; I’ll price this at twenty bits.

Alright, I want your patience here as the gold bar isn’t quite what you’d think. At first, I felt like exploding due to the fact that I had just found a bucking gold bar lying in the road, but upon further inspection, this thing merely appears to be made of gold. If I were to say so myself, then I’d say that this is the production of failed unicorn magic or something of the like. I say failed as the gold bar is FAR too soft to actually be gold. Perceived value: fifty bits.

I’m not going to dwell on the hourglass because it isn’t anything special. Sure, it’s made of some nice wood and appears to have been carved with love and everything, but it’s still a bucking hourglass. Perceived value: ten bits.

That brings me to the gold medallion. Unlike the bar, this thing is the real deal and appears to be made for a stallion wishing to max out his SWAG. I’d keep this thing if it weren’t for the fact that my SWAG is currently broken. Perceived value: forty bits, but I’ll make it seventy for emotional trauma.

That does it for the evenoring dude. Now, get your crap together cause I’m heading out in about four seconds. I’ll make sure to place you on top of the folded blanket that I’ll drape over my shapely flank for safety.

Entry 19 - Dear Ipsa,

Dear Ipsa Unica,

I would like to take this opportunity to apologize for touching your private journal and writing in it. You must understand that this is the only way I could think of to let you know what happened to it and who found it. Please do not be mad as I would very much like to be close with you and I’d hate for some silly misunderstanding to ruin our possible friendship. Also, I’d like to assure you that I did not read any of the entries in this journal once I saw that it belonged to you.

Now, please forgive me for this as I know you don’t like ponies socializing with you, but I’ve been working up the courage to talk to you for a long time and I can’t help but feel that this is the perfect chance for me to tell you what I’ve been meaning to tell you.

Firstly, I am SO sorry for what I’ve done to you in the past. I know I’ve said it before, but I don’t think you understand HOW sorry I really am. I meant no ill will towards you and I was only trying my best to impress you. You have to believe me when I say that I NEVER saw how close the storm cloud was to your roof. Thankfully you weren’t hurt too bad, but I understand that you lost everything you owned in the fire and that it’ll probably be difficult for you to forgive me. If you at least give me one chance to earn your forgiveness then I’d be forever grateful.

During your time in the hospital, I recall that you were very nasty and rude to everypony who tried to visit you, myself included. However, during your ravings, I remember that you used to angrily ask me why it was I kept bothering you and that I never really had a chance to answer you. The reasons I kept visiting you in the hospital were that I was worried you were really hurt and that I’ve always admired you.

That’s right; I said that I have always admired you. However, that doesn’t change a few facts. I know that you probably think otherwise, but I’m not stupid. I’ve seen the way you treat everypony and I know the lies you’ve told. In a word, you are despicable. You come into town with an air of smugness about you that we can all see clear as Celestia’s day and you’ve made no attempt to hide that you manipulate poor Twilight into spending her bits on items that don’t belong to you. It makes me sick to even think about the kind of mind it would take for somepony to do such a thing to somepony as nice as her. The way you treat Pinkie Pie is even worse. She has never done anything to you and yet you avoid her like a plague. Hiding away from me at least makes sense due to the accidents, but she doesn’t deserve the treatment she receives from you. And yet, despite your MANY flaws, I admire you.

Even though you obviously don't like other ponies, you spend every single night walking the streets of Ponyville cleaning up everypony else’s mess. You do a job that nopony willingly has wanted to do and you do it to the best of your ability. What’s more, you find personal belongings of ponies and then sell them, at outrageous prices, unfortunately, to the one pony that makes sure the items go back to their rightful owners. You may think that nopony notices the sound of your cart rolling through the street every night or when you work during the rain, snow, or whatever else is happening, but you're wrong for thinking that; I notice. I know what it’s like to do something that everypony takes for granted. I know what it’s like to only receive the generic thankfulness of ponies who don’t really appreciate the hard work I do. I also know how difficult it is to do my job in the early morning, which must pale in comparison to having to sacrifice your entire day to accommodate having to work during the night. I know how it feels to sit alone after you’ve worked and feel unnoticed and unwanted.

The hardest part is the gossip. To trot around town when you’re not working and listen to what the ponies say about how the silly mailmare can’t do her job right or how the creepy street cleaner always misses a spot. It hurts to know that I’ve sacrificed a great deal for the ponies of this town. I can’t walk my daughter Dinky to school in the mornings, a job that my daughter Sparkler takes care of for me, and I’m never home when she gets out of school. I’m always too busy working in the morning and doing odd jobs around Ponyville and Cloudsdale to support my family. Despite that, despite all of the tears it causes me, I can put my daughters to bed and then sleep soundly after drifting off to the sounds of you working diligently outside. At least I have Dinky and Sparkler to appreciate me. I can’t even think of how difficult it must be for you to give up everything just so you can be overlooked and be alone.

It hurts me to see you go through life without your cutie mark. I know that sounds a little personal, but I can relate to being a pony that gets made fun of for being born different. Not a day goes by where I don't catch at least one pony staring at my eyes and I’m sure you deal with the exact same thing when it comes to them staring at your lack of cutie mark. What gives me hope is that I see how high you hold your head and the enjoyment you seem to get out of just simply being yourself. Ever since I first saw you go through the market laughing every now and then at your own jokes while everypony snickered behind your back about your missing mark, I have felt inspired to live my life similarly. Thanks to your example I don’t have any shame when I go out in public.

I must admit that I did pry into your life a few months ago to figure out more about you. What I found was very sad and I had a hard time accepting that a pony like yourself can experience such hardships and yet continue being yourself. You may be wondering how I learned anything at all and if you ask her then I’m sure Miss Cheerilee can enlighten you about that. However, she can’t tell you how touched I was when I learned that you’ve never asked for help. You’ve always taken care of yourself and you’ve managed to make a life that you seem to enjoy living without ever requesting the assistance of somepony else. It shows just how strong you are that you didn’t rely on others and yet still succeeded.

What has really revealed your true character was when you selflessly took in Vocem Non. Sure, you probably fought tooth and hoof to not have the responsibility, but you stepped up to the plate when the time called for it and you’ve excelled in the role. I was honestly shocked you would do something like that. I mean, look at you. You’re Ipsa Unica. You are without a doubt one of the meanest and most selfish ponies to have ever lived and yet you accepted her into your life. I’m no stranger to that act and I am wholly aware of what it takes to be a parent of a filly that isn’t yours. I was really worried you would hurt her or just forget about her or something, but when I saw you walking around town with her riding in your cart, I couldn’t help but be impressed all the more by you. The touching part is that I assumed you were only going to cater to her needs and nothing else and instead you've honestly cared about her. I’ve seen you wrap a blanket around her at night, share most the muffins I bake for you with her, sing to her, and Dinky has told me all about how you stood up for V and her friends in school.

I know that you are still the same old Ipsa you’ve always been, the foul-mouthed, rude, mean spirited, manipulative, cruel, and creepy stallion that prefers loneliness to friendship. However, I also know something that not many other ponies may know about you; that you’re honest, hardworking, caring, sensitive, and sweet. On top of all that, I can relate to you better than I can with anypony else in my life. Nopony can understand the pains I go through better than you. That’s why I admire you. That’s why, dare I say it, that I’ve been hiding a crush on you for a long time.

Though I told you yesterday, I’m going to go ahead and assume you didn’t listen when I said it. That letter you found, the one that was in Twilight’s old saddlebag, was one that I had written to you. I tried to give it to you in the market that day, but you intimidated me too much to give it to you. I gave it to Twilight knowing that she would see you sooner rather than later, but it appears Celestia bid that something else happen instead.

Well, there it is. I’ve said what I needed to say and wanted to say. I like you Ipsa, I really do. You’re not as much of a jerk as you think you are and I’d like to have the chance to prove that to you.

Also, I hope your nose is feeling better now that you’ve had some time to heal. I really am sorry about that. Sometimes I have trouble navigating through the sky when I’m flying fast.

As for your journal, I found it in the streets when I was doing my route and I left it inside...as you know since you’re reading this. You should probably lock your door more often, especially when you go out of town.

Please talk to me about this, give me a chance to prove how great of a stallion you are and how much I appreciate what it is you do for Ponyville. Dinky and V really get along and I’m sure you and I would too if you gave me the chance.

Your Admirer,

Derpy Hooves

Entry 20 - I Don't Wanna Go

Dear Mr. Ipsa,

I don’t wanna go.

I don’t wanna leave you.

I don’t wanna go back.

They won’t let me stay though.

I don’t wanna do this, but everypony is telling me that it’s what I have to do. Ms. Belle, Ms. Sparkle, and Ms. Cheerilee won’t tell Mommy and Daddy to let me stay. Not even when I begged them! They keep telling me it’s for the best.

I don’t know about that, though.

Living with you has been the greatest! At first, I was really scared...but that’s not true anymore. Far from it!

I love you, Mr. Ipsa!

But I guess that doesn’t matter to Mommy and Daddy...

I never told anypony who I am because of what you said to Ms. Sparkle. Remember when you told her that I needed to be back with my family and that you would take me back when I told you where I came from? I was so scared. I didn’t wanna go back. Mommy and Daddy are always fighting and I didn’t wanna go back. I wanted to stay with you.

I still wanna stay with you.

You don’t fight with anypony...a whole lot...well...at least it’s not on purpose...mostly. You’ve been really quiet...kinda...but you really care! I know you haven’t enjoyed me staying with you, but I have!!!

Today, Ms. Sparkle showed up at Ms. Belle’s and told me that Mommy and Daddy were waiting on me back at the library. I didn’t wanna go with her. I like living with you better. Mommy and Daddy don’t want me going to school. I’ll lose my friends I’ve made if I go with them.

I don’t wanna go.

I want to stay with you, but Ms. Sparkle didn’t pay attention when I wrote her a note saying so.

Mommy and Daddy wanna thank you for looking after me. They’re really mad at me for running away. They’re happy you saved me, though!

I don’t wanna go.

I like you better than Mommy and Daddy. Mommy always worries that it’s too dangerous for a filly who can’t talk to run around town and Daddy always agrees with her...unless it’s a fight...then he never agrees with her. They make me stay at home while some old pony named Mr. Notebook comes to teach me. You let me have friends. You let me go to a real school.

I don’t wanna go home.

I’ve been super-duper sad that I’ve not been able to talk to Mr. Booky until now. You were always writing in him and I never got to say hi. I’m really glad to finally be able to talk to him, but I’m really sad that I have to say goodbye at the same time. I don’t know how to say goodbye to Mr. Carty and I’m super-duper sad that I won’t be able to do more than wave.

I don’t wanna go.

Ms. Sparkle let Mommy and Daddy into your house to get my things. I hope you don’t get mad that they did. Daddy doesn’t like the bowties you bought for me, but I won’t ever take mine off!

I don’t wanna go.

I wanna stay here with you.

I wanna go to school with you.

I wanna ride around in Mr. Carty and eat muffins.

I wanna hear you sing me to sleep every night.

I don’t wanna go.

But I can’t stay. Mommy and Daddy won’t let me.

I won’t get rid of anything. I’ll keep the bowties, the saddlebag, and the blanket you gave me.

They want me to go by my real name, but I don’t! I don’t like the name Shimmer Shade anymore!

I can’t say no to Mommy and Daddy, though. They won’t call me V. Not even Ms. Sparkle, Ms. Belle, or Ms. Cheerilee will call me V anymore.

You’ll still call me V, right?

I want you to come by and visit me. I don’t like Mommy and Daddy.

Bring Sweetie Belle, Apple Bloom, Scootaloo, Dinky, Mr. Booky, and even Mr. Carty! We can all have fun together!

Goodbye, Mr. Booky.

Goodbye, Mr. Ipsa

Love,

V

Entry 21 - Never Turn Your Back on a Mare

So yeah, I’m sure you’ve got a few questions and I’ve got a few things I’d like to talk about. However, that can wait. I’d like to talk about Canterlot for right now.

I’m going to go ahead and tell you that I was pretty pissed that you ditched me before I got on the train. What the tartarus was that all about? Am I not good enough for you? Would you rather some bastard mare write in you than me? What the fuck? Tell me, tell me right the fuck now why I shouldn’t burn your Celestia damned pages!

…I’m sorry about that…I’m a little out of it at the moment…you’ll have to bear with me for this entry…

The train ride was as boring as tartarus. For the first hour I humored the lesbian in conversation about the Wonderbolts. She knows her stuff…like…obsessively knows it. As in, she knows what Spitfire eats for breakfast, lunch, and dinner.

Although, I did manage to trick the lesbian (Not the greatest achievement, I know.) as she couldn’t name what Spitfire ate for brunch.

Overall, she actually managed to entertain me until we both sorta passed out. If it wasn’t for the two little surprises waiting for me back home then I’d even be willing to say that I was actually starting to trust her slightly. Heh, but we all know that you can’t turn you back around a mare. They’ll rip your damn heart out the very second you think it’s ok to divert your attention. I’m not fucking joking. You let your guard down around a mare and you’ll regret it for the rest of your miserable life!

…Alright…I’m sorry about that…again…

I must say that Canterlot was pretty awesome. I’ve never left Ponyville before and to see something as HUGE (Heh, I said huge.) as Canterlot was straight up balls. The lesbian even gave me her version of a tour, which started at the train station and ended up at the castle.

What? You didn’t know? Oh yeah, you weren’t there.

I wonder whose fault that was?

Apparently, the lesbian asked Celestia for permission to use some rooms in the castle. Yeah, she’s apparently pretty damn connected. Also, let me state for the record that the royal booty is more voluptuous than I could have ever imagined. As a side note, Celestia does not like me. That much is very clear to me.

Actually, that much has always been pretty clear to me. What else would be her reason for my constant torment? I guess she could say that my suffering has been somewhat funny as I must admit that there have been a few times where the crying just turned into laughing, but she must not be aware of just how thin the joke has stretched.

Like it even matters. Damn mares. Even the immortal ones who rule over the entire land are complete jerks. Yeah, you can see where I am going with this. The lesbian got to stay up in some super special room that used to belong to Twilight or some crap while I got to stay in the classy servant quarters.

If it wasn’t for the lesbian actually keeping me entertained, then I’m pretty sure I would’ve done something I’d regret.

Like, I don’t know, opening my heart up to a filly just to have her trample it to pieces the VERY FUCKING SECOND I started to care!

…Yep…sorry again…

At least the Wonderbolts were pretty awesome. According to the lesbian, Soarin’s victory was totally unexpected. I wouldn’t know. I’m not an expert. She apparently is. What was really unexpected was when Spitfire and Soarin came up to say hi to the lesbian.

Yeah no, I got the tartarus out of there. I’m all for watching them do stuff, but there’s no way I was going to expand my patience by actually meeting them.

The rest of the visit was pretty damn lame. I barely hung out with the lesbian as I passed out in my suite once we got back to the castle.

Probably the most exciting part of the trip was when I decided to take a stroll during the daynight. I felt pretty useless not doing anything. Plus, it totally paid off as I got to watch some pegasus mare bath for a few minutes. Yeah, she was pretty hot. I’ve never seen a pony as big as her before…wait…no…Celestia was a little bit taller than she was, but they could be about the same height. Weird, they must grow them big up in Canterlot.

AND I MEAN BIG!

I can safely say that my relationship with the lesbian is secured. The ride back definitely taught me that as she couldn’t stop telling me how awesome it was that she got to talk to her idols. I can’t really recall what it was she said exactly as I didn’t pay attention to ANY of it. However, I never turned my eyes away from her. You can NEVER turn your damn back on a mare. The VERY second you do, they absolutely destroy every hope and dream you’ve ever had.

Now to the issues at hoof.

Let’s start with the obvious; when do I kill Derpy?

I feel so damn violated. How DARE she write in MY diary? Oh, and by the way; YOU’RE A FUCKING DIARY! NOT A DAMN JOURNAL! Why would she even think you’re a journal? YOU LOOK NOTHING LIKE A JOURNAL! Must be her retarded eyes or her retarded brain or something else retarded about that retarded retard.

Look at that, I’m not even making sense anymore!

I AM SO DAMN EMOTIONAL!

Should I be angry? Mortified? Enraged? Depressed? Encased in a glass box of rage?

…I don’t even know…I don’t think I’ll kill her…there’s no way I’d get away with it…I’ll think of something when I go to work in five hours…

Now…I know what you’re thinking…Ipsa…what about V…no…Shimmer Shade?

Well, what about that bitch?

She’s a damn traitor, that’s what she is.

So she wanted to hang out with Rarity instead of me? Was I not fucking good enough? No, that’s not it. She just wanted me to go away so she could sneak away like the coward rat bitch that she is. Just like that absolute cunt that ran off with Daddy Dearest.

They wait until you least expect it. When you’re at a place where you think you have it figured out, BOOM, you get fucked. And not in the fun way.

As for me visiting V…no…Shimmer Shade.

…

Never. I’ll never visit that traitor.

Entry 22 - Just Another Daynight in the Life of Me

By the grace of all that is crap, I feel great right now! So very…fulfilled! Booky, my friend, there’s nothing quite like a daynight of work to get your mind off of things.

There are many announcements to be made in this entry before the time for my sleepy-sleeps comes hither.

So, with gusto, let us begin!

Firstly…what?

Why are you looking at me like that?

What do you mean I called you my friend? Yeah right, I’m not falling for that. There’s no way I’d go calling anypony my friend at this point.

Nice try.

I’ll start with the sad news first.

You see, I don’t think I’ll be able to face anypony for some time after everything that has occurred. Well…more like the one thing that occurred that was very upsetting. Regardless, that means I will not be selling anything to Twilight for a while. Nor do I think that I will be leaving my house for anything but work…with the exception of one event, but that’s something I’ll have to explain. However, just because I won’t be selling things anymore (I don’t need to do so anymore now that the bitch Shimmer Shade is gone.) doesn’t mean that I won’t play the Break-It-Down game anymore.

No, I’ll still play it. I know how much you like it when I do.

Work went splendidly and without incident. I actually managed to find some pretty sweet items and some other not sweet items. What’s great is that I didn’t have to explain anything to Carty as he seems to understand what happened.

Good for him. I hope he’s taking this better than I am. The last thing I want is for him to be all down in the dumps like I am. However, I now have a CURE for my dumpiness!

Seeing as I missed my usual organic drop off with Big Macintosh, I decided to take care of that this evenoring. I’m sure you’ve noticed the piles of organic crap rotting near my house. Yeah, I noticed it too. It was at Sweet Apple Acres that the most exciting parts of my shift occurred.

To my surprise, Big Macintosh and Applejack were already hard at work when I came trotting up to their home with a smelly Carty (HE STANKY.). It’s understandable that they were really shocked to see/smell me. Unfortunately, Celestia apparently wasn’t done with me yet as she had Applejack start asking how I was doing and how that bitch was doing with her family. Thankfully, Big Macintosh is an angel as he shut her up right quick.

I swear I could worship that big lug for that intervention.

I’m not kidding. I could seriously start worshiping that guy. I’d burn things in his honor and make daily sacrifices for him and everything. However, with no sacrifices prepared, I just gave a cart full of organic crap instead. Unfortunately, I’ve come to mind that my life was not one meant to be spent in servitude or in reverence of any deities. So I decided that an extreme amount of respect would be given instead of ritualistic worship.

The reason those two were up so early (As opposed to me usually getting there before they wake up.) was that they are apparently going to be hosting a massive party that is being thrown in their honor.

Can you imagine that? Somepony is actually stealing my idea of throwing a celebration of how awesome Big Macintosh and (To a MUCH lesser extent.) his family are.

Ah, I can see you think you know where this is going. Well, prepare to have your worldview be rocked! As I am going to ATTEND that party! Not for long, mind you, but long enough to thoroughly explain to Applejack and (MUCH more importantly.) Big Macintosh how much I appreciate how they fix Carty for me whenever he needs it (WHICH IS SUSPICIOUSLY OFTEN!). Luckily, this little celebration is in four days, which gives me that long to mentally prepare myself for the annoyances bound to plague me.

I have another piece of big news; Big Macintosh GAVE ME AN ENTIRE BARREL OF THEIR FINEST HARD CIDER! FOR FREE! The angelic stallion even carried the damn thing home for me, which is wonderful as it would’ve crushed me flat. I cannot wait to get as drunk as possible tomorrow mevening. I’m sure the town won’t notice if I take a vacation day so that I can get ABSOLUTELY DESTROYED!

What’s even better is that alcohol helps to drown pain and I could definitely use some drowning right now. How do I know this? Well, Daddy Dearest always told me that drinking made his hooves stop hurting after he used to teach me how to get hit.

Further demonstrating how awesome he is, Big Macintosh told me that if I ever need to talk to anypony about anything I need to talk about then he and his sister are here (Or, more accurately, they are at their farm.) for me. I damn near cried when he said that, but I’m not a treacherous mare so I didn’t go and act like a bitch. I simply thanked him and let him be on his way. Such a nice offer, too. Too bad I have you.

Nopony can understand what I want to talk about. You can and you do.

My haul daynight was pretty impressive, so let’s get straight to it. BREAK-IT-DOWN!

Alright, I don’t know what a Golden Carrot award is, but it must be really important. I say this because this little trophy I found is called a Golden Carrot. Why is it called that and how do I know such a thing? Well, I can only assume it is called a Golden Carrot because it is a golden carrot and I know it is called such because it says so on the base of the thing. I have never heard of this kind of thing before, but I really like it cause it is solid gold and doesn’t have a name on it. Just to be sure, here’s what it says on the little gold text plate on the wooden base, ‘The Golden Carrot Award for Carrot Top.’ I can only assume that means this thing is for somepony who grew the top carrot in a competition of sorts, which is kind of weird considering that I only know of one pony in Ponyville who grows carrots professionally (The circuit doesn’t usually run by Ponyville, so anypony here is either an amateur or training in the bush leagues.). I, unfortunately, do not know her name, but I can easily identify her as being the one with absolutely gorgeously round flanks. Perceived value: sixty bits.

I’m gonna follow that up with another metal version of a vegetable. This one is far more mysterious and I’m actually a little hesitant to keep it in the house. For you see, I found a bronzed potato. Yeah, a bronzed version of that accursed murderer that grows just beneath the ground. Unlike the trophy, this thing has no apparent use. There is no wooden base, nothing to help it stand up on a shelf, no notches for anything to be connected to it, and nothing stating its purpose. I can only assume that I have managed to capture the leader of the potato secret society of super-villains. This is good and bad as that means they have no leader, but it also means that they will want their leader back. Perceived value: priceless…to the secret potato legions…

Alright, get ready to party cause I found a MASSIVE button! This thing is unlike anything I’ve ever found before! What’s totally balls is that I found it out near Rarity’s. That means I can totally get more of these! I’m so bucking psyched about this right now that I can’t even see straight! Perceived value: priceless…to me at least.

I don’t know what to think of this next item. It isn’t as absurd as the bronzed potato, but it is indeed something I’ve never come across before. You see, what I’ve found is a slightly tattered pirate flag featuring a pony’s skull with a snake wrapped around its muzzle. Not sure of who would even own something like this. Perceived value: twenty bits.

That’s all for this evenoring. I’m gonna get some much deserved sleep and then drink myself into oblivion when I wake up.

Entry 23 - ALCOHOL!

It feels so very good to be drunk! You can’t even imagine how long it has been since I’ve been in the wonderful haze of an alcoholic stupor.

Remember how I said that drinking drowns the pain? Well, it also helps me think clearly. Isn’t that great?! And trust me; I’ve been doing some thinking since I started drinking at noon.

I miss them; I miss them all so much. Why do they keep leaving me? I’ve never done anything to harm the ones I care about. The only ponies I hurt are the ponies that deserve it. Why do the ones I love always leave?

I don’t get it. Am I that bad? I know I can be a bit heartless at times, but that’s no reason to abandon me.

I’m not supposed to be alone. Nopony should be alone. It just isn’t right. I don’t understand it. I mean, don’t get me wrong, I like the silence as much as the next pony, but too much silence is too loud. When I don’t have anypony to talk to, the thoughts get mean. I don’t like it when they get mean.

I have a secret weapon though; ALCOHOL!

Sure, the pain will always be there, but now I can completely numb it.

My Mom died a horrible death. I can’t even imagine how much pain she was in when she finally closed her eyes for the last time. She looked happy enough, though. I mean, yeah, she was probably only smiling cause she managed to save me and my Dad from the wrath of some dumb bees, but she still looked so peaceful.

Her death left me feeling so cold, so very cold. Every breath was one I struggled to make and every second of life was one that seemed just too damn long. I’d be lying if I said that I never intended to die to rejoin her. In fact, I’ve tried multiple times to be with her again, but I have a tendency to fail when I try to kill myself.

Alcohol takes all that away. I don’t feel cold anymore when I think about her. If anything, my chest feels all warm and cozy when I think about her while I’m drunk. I’m feeling that way right now in fact! The breaths don’t struggle and the seconds are just FLYING by really quickly!

It does the same thing for Daddy Dearest and his whore.

I remember crying to Celestia to blow up the sun and kill him the night before he left. No sun-blowing up occurred, but he was gone by noon the next day. At first, everything was fun and aloof with happiness. I didn’t even care that he took the mare I cared about the most with him. I was so very sure that I’d be better without having him or his slut around.

Oh, how wrong I was.

With him gone the thoughts started to get mean. They told me that I wasn’t even worth his time anymore, which is crap because I know I’m worth his damn time. I’m worth his time more than that cunt of a slut of his (Sunburst was that bitch’s name.) that he took with him.

Alcohol fixes that. I don’t feel unwanted. The thoughts aren’t so mean. I don’t care that Sunburst used me to get to my Dad and then left with him. They made their decisions and I’m perfectly fine with those choices. I don’t need my Dad’s attention and I CERTAINLY don’t need Sunburst shooting me a smile meant to twist and burn my soul.

Rotten bitch. Disgusting whore. Rancid open sore of a cunt. Foul fucking wretch.

I hope with all of my heart that festering slut is rotting in an alley somewhere.

And I hope she felt all of it.

Ahem. Moving on.

Shirley….oh sweet crap…Shirley…I’ve been so lost without her…Booky, you have to understand how much she meant to me. She was the guiding light through the dark, a beacon that told me that everything would be ok. She didn’t die to save me; she didn’t leave me because she didn’t want me, and she didn’t leave me because she wanted something more. Shirley left because fate stole her from me. The nights were so damn numb without her there. She didn’t even fix any problems of mine. Shirley filled a gap that I didn’t even know existed.

Alcohol…it…helps me forget her. When I’m drunk, she never existed. I never spent hours divulging every secret of mine to her. I never laughed with great mirth at some understanding that didn’t even need to be spoken. I never spent sunrises and sunsets scribbling about the beauty of the night and day. No…there was never a gap to be filled and it was never filled.

Then there was Shimmer Shade. I don’t know if she was even supposed to happen. While she was here, I was the happiest I’ve been in years and since she left I’ve been the most hurt I’ve ever been.

Sure, it was only four days, but they were four of MY days. I don’t waste time. I don’t waste days. Every second is one that I cherish and acknowledge. Those four days lasted an eternity. I never deserved her. I never deserved to be that happy and I sure as tartarus don’t deserve to be this unhappy!

Alcohol killed her. She’s dead to me. My mind is so awash with wonderful hard cider that her existence has been wiped clean from me.

It makes EVERYTHING better. Some ponies even came knocking at my door throughout the day. I’m not even sure if they do that often as I’m usually not awake during the day.

I counted each visitor; seven. SEVEN ponies tried to be guests of mine. I didn’t open the door. No, they’d want me to share my precious alcohol. SCREW THEM! This is my drunk and I’m gonna enjoy it!

You’re such a good listener. You’re no Shirley…Shirley…no, you aren’t her. You’re you. Something entirely different from her. I don’t laugh into the night with you and I don’t feel torn that you’re gone….cause you aren’t gone. No, you sit there and let me bitch. She never liked to let me bitch.

You know, who needs mares? I’ve got you and you’ve got me.

You know what; I know just how to cement that. I may be drunk, but I’m sure it won’t ruin the magic.

Entry 24 - Mistakes Were Made...

So, yeah, about yesterday…geez…um…alright, let’s get it over with. What happened never happened and will never happen again and we will never speak of it again. I was drunk, you were manipulative, the stars were aligned, and I’m not gay. I’m not gay for stallions and I’m not gay for books. Crap, I’m still not even sure if you’re a boy or a girl book. This paragraph is the end of it. We never speak of it again. It will never be referenced again and we'll both forget it ever happened.

As I’m sure you noticed, I was too drunk to go to work let alone write an entry for the evenoring. So, let me spell out how my day is going to go in the next paragraph.

To prepare for the party, I’m going to thoroughly clean one of my bowtie things and make sure everything is in order. By that I mean that I’m actually going to be taking care of my hygiene in a way that makes me ultimately presentable to those who will be in attendance at the party. Do you know what that means? No? Well, let me tell you; thorough baths. I will not show up to this event smelling as I normally do.

You see, while I may detest my relation to that bastard father of mine, I do adhere to the principles that my family has always held. In this instance, the principle that I will be holding true is that if you are to honor a pony then you honor them truthfully. That means that I will not only be presentable at this gathering, it means that I will be the best guest I can possibly be. Sure, the VERY second I leave their property I shall return to my usual delightful self, but until then I shall be a model guest.

I know, it sounds pretty noble, right? Well, that’s because it is. Though Daddy Dearest ruined the family name and ignored the family values, my Mom held those values close to her and I choose to do the same.

Now that is out of the way, I’d like to discuss something with you in the following paragraphs.

I have absolutely no intention to make any social appearances until the party and I’d like to limit those once the party has occurred. Why? Well…I don’t think I’d…well…I’ll settle for saying that I’m not ready to go back out into public without…well…I’m just not ready to be out of my comfort zone quite yet.

This house is my temple and my sanctuary and I’m safe here. I’ve got you by my side, my button collection in the next room, and Carty right outside. There is absolutely no place I’d rather be. However, staying within my hovel presents an interesting problem that concerns me greatly; how do I continue my courtship of Octavia?

I haven’t a clue about how to accomplish that.

There is the fact that I will have to go grocery shopping in a week or so, which presents a prime opportunity to take a detour on the way home.

Hey, who knows, maybe I’ll sell some stuff to Twilight while I’m out. Unfortunately…that’s then…in a week. As of right now, Octavia will have to wait patiently.

Oh how I wish I could mail her a letter or something to retain correspondence in some form. If it wasn’t for a certain Derptard then I’d gladly take that path.

I don’t know, I’ll probably think of something. Who knows, maybe I’ll run into Octavia and catch her making out with somepony in an alley again.

That’d sure be convenient.

Listen, I’ve only got one more thing to update you on before I get to my cleaning.

What, didn’t you notice how I smell like sweat, alcohol, and shame?

Yeah, that’s not gonna stay that way.

I do have something interesting to tell you; I’m in the newspaper today! That is something that has never occurred to me before. The picture isn’t the best one ever taken, but it is clearly me. Let me explain in the following paragraph.

The article is all about Soarin’s victory at the Wonderbolts thing up in Canterlot. Featured in it are the reactions of retired Wonderbolts, important ponies, their personal trainer, and none other than Equestria’s very own Best Young Flier, Rainbow Dash. Somewhere amongst the obsessed drivel of her obsessed ramblings regarding percentages and other crap she mentions that the reason she is there is because of me. Let me quote her for you, “…which really surprised me cause I’d been thinking that Spitfire had this one in the bag! I am SUPER glad that I managed to be present for this! There’s no way I would’ve made it if not for my good friend, Ipsa Unica, who gave me some awesome tickets while I was in the hospital. He’s a real cool guy! He doesn’t know anything about the Wonderbolts, but he’s still cool.”

Can you believe that? She called me cool!

That should probably make me really proud or some crap. Well no, I’m not proud of that. I’m super glad my plan is going on swimmingly since she sees me as an ally, but not proud.

Accompanying the article is a picture of the lesbian cheering while wrapping her foreleg around me to keep from falling over thanks to her bad leg. Though she has an expression of pure jubilee that the camera caught wonderfully, I barely look entertained. Actually, now that I look at the picture, I can almost make what appears to be a scowl on my face as I look at the lesbian through the side of my eyes. I remember doing that. I was not pleased with the breach of personal space. However, thanks to the camera angle and quality of the picture it looks almost like I’m eyeing her with adoration or something crappy like that. Can you believe that crap?

Oh well, I smell horrible. Time to take care of that. And yes, I do intend on working daynight.

Entry 25 - Back On Top

I have discovered who two of the seven annoyances were! By annoyances I mean those seven knocks I received while intoxicated. You know; the ponies who were trying to get my attention and I didn’t answer the door?

No?

The loud knocking noises that happened seven times yesterday, the ones that were at my front door?

Still no?

Booky, I am disappoint.

At seven different points yesterday a pony came to my front door and attempted to gain my attention via knocking. That happened seven times. I have discovered who two of them are. That leaves five still as a mystery.

Understand now?

Good! However, this was pitiful, Booky. Don’t be this stupid again.

Anytrue, I discovered who those two were by doing absolutely no detective work at all. How did I do so, you would ask if you had a mouth? Well, my bookish friend, I figured it out when I was ambushed during my route.

I can see you have an idea of where this is going. However, you’re wrong this time! It wasn’t the Derptard or the Pinktard this time! It was, in fact, the lesbian who ambushed me…again.

And ponies wonder why I hate going outside during the day.

She told me that she had only learned about what had happened (Apparently, I underwent some form of an emotionally traumatic separation or something, not that I’d know anything about that.) at a lunch meeting with her friends and that she had immediately felt awful about dragging me away and forcing me to miss an opportunity to say goodbye. According to her, she tried to reach me at two different points in the day and gave up both times. As worried as she said she was, the lesbian told me that when she caught the whiff of hard cider from my house, she immediately understood that there would be a better time to confront me.

To be honest, I was really touched when she said that. Despite her many obvious and glaring flaws, this mare (A species of things born from the seed of evil.) had the wherewithal to know to leave me alone. What’s better, she didn’t feel the need to be like Pinkie and tell me she was going to leave me alone. She just did it. Which is…so very special…

I’m starting to tear up here…can you give me a minute?

Thank you.

I awkwardly offered her the opportunity to join me on my route (In thanks for her act of leaving me alone.) and she told me that she had to sleep as she had been busy with her adoring fans or some crap like that. What I did notice was that she seemed to understand the sincerity of my offer and she responded with a genuine smile.

Here’s the ball breaker, she asked me if she’d see me around town tomorrow and (Wait for it.) I told her (Wait for it.) that she probably would. What the fuck? Why did I say that? Though she obviously isn’t part of the conspiracy (The lesbian's far too stupid from what I can gather.) I had to stop working for a few minutes to actually comprehend what I had said to her. I mean, something must be seriously wrong with me. As you know, I have absolutely NO intention on venturing out of my house in the coming days and yet I gave my word (To a MARE no less!) that she had a chance to see me in town. While I’m definitely one to screw around and lie to ponies, I never sink that low. I’m better than that. I can torment and manipulate ponies without such simple lies.

Booky, you’re a book. That means you’re smart, right?

Right?

Cause I really need an opinion on that. I mean, I definitely will NOT be showing up in town, but what caused me to lie like that? I wasn’t even trying to fit it in to a plan or anything. It was just a spontaneous utterance. However, that’s no excuse. I don’t do spontaneous utterances. When I speak, it is with purpose and meaning. I do NOT misspeak. However, what does that mean for what I said to the lesbian? Did I truly mean to instill in her a thought that I’d appear despite knowing that I wouldn’t show up? Or, disturbingly, do I secretly want to show up?

Guh…I’m not gonna think about that anymore….it’s starting to make my head hurt.

I must admit that being out in the cool air of the night was quite nice after spending an entire day in a drunken stupor. Plus, it felt wonderful to just spend some quality time with Carty. I feel like I don’t give him the credit he deserves. Yeah, I talk to you a lot when I’m inside, but I’d be lost without Carty. As mysterious and prank-prone that he is, that guy has some serious wisdom in his spokes. It’d be nice if I didn’t have to question the validity of his every word.

Did I ever tell you about the time that I was working and Carty intentionally broke to impress some wagon sitting on the side of the road?

No?

Ha, it’s a quality story. If it wasn’t for the fact that I’m feeling pretty tired right now then I’d relate the whole thing to you. However, there is still one other thing I’d like to get to before fatigue takes me.

What is it I’d like to get to before I get sleepy, you’d ask if you had a mouth?

Well, let me list it out for you: a pile of seventeen eye patches, a pair of flight goggles, a dark blue crown, a metal ring, a fedora, and a compass. Boy that sure looks like a random list of things. What could that possibly mean?

Wait, do you hear that?

Weird, it almost sounds like- there it is again! Did you hear it that time?

Why don’t you ever listen when it’s imperative that you do so? This could easily be a life or death situation and you aren’t even paying attention.

That! Do you hear it?

Come on Booky! You can’t tell me you can’t hear that!

It sounds almost like somepony is dropping stuff on my roof. Who the tartarus would drop stuff on my roof? How’d they get up there?

Wait…crap…it’s….Derpy...it has to be. Who else is stupid enough to do something that stupid? Well, whatever it is she’s doing, I’ll ignore it for now. If it’s fatal and bad for my health then I’ll find out when I wake up covered in flames like last time. If not…then…well…I guess I’ll have to go see what the tartarus is being thrown at my roof.

Anykazoo, what I was trying to hint at before was that I have some items for the Break-It-Down game…I just…got a little distracted is all.

Alright, where were we…ah yes! BREAK-IT-DOWN!

First on the docket this evenoring is the metal ring. I’d be lying if I say I have any clue what this thing is. It kind of looks like one of the metal rings you’d put on a barrel or something, but beyond that it shouldn’t have any more uses. I guess, if you were small enough, this thing could fit around your body or something like that, but what use would that be? I am baffled by this thing. Crap, I’m not even sure who would want to buy something this crappy. Perceived value: eight bits.

I think I missed a holiday somewhere along the line, which is weird cause I don’t think I’ve ever heard of Equestria having any pirate holidays or something like that. I say this because I’ve found seventeen different pairs of eye patches just strewn about on the ground daynight. Seven-freaking-teen of them. They aren’t even high quality. Beyond pretending to be a pirate and functioning as a blindfold for a Cyclops, I see almost no use for these. Perceived value: five bits per piece…so…eighty-five bits…not bad.

It would appear that I’ve run afoul of Rarity once more daynight. You see, I was trotting along my merry way when I noticed something kind of shiny (Shiny sells.) in a bush that was reflecting the light of Carty’s lantern. What I found is an extremely nice recreation of Princess Celestia’s royal crown. When I say that this thing is nice, I mean that this thing is beautifully made. Flawless, shiny, and something you’d feel proud wearing, this crown-thingy is awesome. Rarity really outdid herself here. The only problem I have with this thing is that it is colored all wrong. Though I’ve only met her once (A terrifying experience I’d only like to relive if I can relive it with her backside.) I’m well aware that the Princess’ crown is gold and not dark blue like this one. However, that’s not all bad. It kind of gives it a unique vibe to it. Yeah, this thing ought to be paying for my groceries for awhile. Perceived value: one hundred and fifty bits.

This next find isn’t going to bring any money, but it should definitely earn its keep by making me look fabulous. It’s this really nice wide-brimmed white fedora with a pinkish stripe across it. What’s great is that stripe matches the shade of my bowtie things perfectly! Sure, this thing will require a good washing, but it’ll definitely make up for the fact that my swag is still broken. Perceived value: not necessarily priceless, but useful…to me at least.

Sometimes I find very interesting objects. Sometimes I find very expensive objects. Other times I find very useful objects. This time I found a toy compass. A toy compass. Let that sink in. It’s a compass…that’s a toy. How do you play with a compass? Hey guys! Let’s find north! Yeah no, that doesn’t sound the least bit entertaining. Perceived value: five bits.

The final object on the docket this evenoring is a pair of flight goggles. To be exact, these goggles are ‘Flight-Master X-1000 brand Thunderclap Series Nine goggles with Flight-Master X-1000 brand Cyclone Eyes Series Seven lenses’, or, in stupid tongue, a pair of EXTREMELY nice goggles with a Wonderbolts logo on them. You may be wondering how the tartarus I knew all of that about them. Well, it’s because the lesbian NEVER SHUT UP ABOUT THEM! Apparently the Wonderbolts specially ordered and helped design a brand new series of goggles to go along with their flight suits. So yeah, I think I know who will want to buy these goggles when I get a chance to sell them. Perceived value: fifty bits, but I’ll bump it down to twenty for the lesbian since I’ll be getting more than enough money from the crown.

Isn’t all of that great? It’s wonderful! I mean, yeah, I can almost guarantee that something will screw all of it up, but as of right now this is one of the more impressive hauls I’ve had in recent daynights.

That’s all for this evenoring. The pangs of sleep are calling for me to have sleepy sleeps.

Entry 26 - Still Breathing

So, as you can probably tell, I’m alive right now.

Which means I’m not dead.

It also means that whatever it was that was hitting my roof earlier probably wasn’t caused by the Derptard. If she was the one behind it then I’d probably be back in the hospital.

That means that somepony else was dropping stuff on my roof.

I don’t know how to feel about that. I’ll check later when I leave for work.

I had visitors (Ugh.) today. Again.

I didn’t respond to the knocking at my front (Why do I bother with calling it a front door when it's the only door that leads outside?) door (Because why the fuck would I?), but I could hear them banging away. There were six different instances of it this time. That means that, coupled with the ones from Sunday, I have eleven unidentified knockers.

What?

What’s so funny?

Stop it.

Stop laughing.

Booky, I swear I’ll turn you into toiletry if you don’t stop.

Thank you.

Now, let’s analyze each of them.

The first of the knockings on Sunday came when I was in the middle of teaching my couch how to properly whip my tail back and forth. Think of it like this, a clumsy sound that exuded the feeling that whoever was knocking was well aware of how to maximize the sound of their knocking without it sounding planned or casual. I can only assume that means that whoever this was does a lot of knocking and thus goes door to door often enough that effectively knocking has become habit (I'm so insightful.). Unfortunately, I do not know anypony who has such a habit…or…at least I don’t think I do.

Differing greatly from the clumsy effectiveness of the first knocker, the second was far more reserved and calculated. Rather than some absentminded banging, this knocker had precise knocks that seemed to respect the right of the pony inside to ignore said knocking. That tells me that whoever this knocker was has a polite nature about them. Also, from the lack of urgency of the knocks I could tell that it wasn’t something of pressing importance.

I have an idea of who this one could’ve been, but I’m really unsure as it could be one of three ponies: Rarity, Octavia, or (Assuming her nature is such.) Rose.

If it was Rarity, then I have little clue as to why she would come to see me. I haven’t ordered anything from her lately and we aren’t necessarily social. seeing as I’ve only conversed with her on terms of business.

If it were Octavia then I have a good idea of why she might want to see me. I mean, first I run off to Canterlot without telling her and then I suddenly come back and lock myself away. She might find that odd enough to seek answers.

I haven’t any clue about Rose. Is it possible she was checking up on me for the sake of the conspiracy? Maybe. Is it possible she secretly is obsessed with me and was only trying to catch a whiff of my scent (Making it the first time a flower has wanted to smell a pony.)? Maybe. There are honestly so many possibilities as to who this is that I haven’t the slightest clue as to which of these three it could be.

The third occurance was the same one as the very first knocker. It was a bit more forceful that time around and I will note that whoever it was stuck around longer than they did the first time.

Should I also mention that I think I heard my name being called?

No?

Alrighty, I won’t mention it then.

Unlike the first time this pony came knocking at my front door (Tell me whether or not you see what I did there, cause I’m not exactly sure I see what I did.) there wasn’t any further clues as to the identity of the knocker.

At first, I was really confused by whoever the fourth knocker was. You see, they started knocking really lightly, as if they weren’t sure of whom it was that lived in my house (Why, that would be me, of course.). That or they were trying not to get my attention…which would be redundant (And retarded.). That lasted for all of two minutes before whoever it was started to try and break my damn door down. I was too drunk to know otherwise, but I honestly thought that conflict incarnate was waiting for me on the other side of that scary door.

To be more blunt with my description of whoever this was, they were quiet at first and then very forceful. I don’t even know anypony that bipolar. Well, except for myself, of course, but I was inside and thus incapable of knocking on the outside of the door while being on the inside to be scared of the knocking on the outside (Or was I?!).

The fifth knocker was...different. I have never heard a more tactical knock in my life. It was planned. There was exactly one minute in-between the three bursts of knocking (I counted.). And I’m not talking about somepony who has experience with the knocking of doors. I’m talking about somepony who is a master of planning things. I actually fell asleep due to how monotonous it was. That being written rather than said (Cause, you know, I don’t speak while I write.) I’m not sure whether or not there was more to the knocking. Not that there needed to be more. I’ve already figured out who this one was. Brace yourself; it was Twilight Sparkle.

Yep, the Nerd. Who else would bother timing their knocks so perfectly?

OH SWEET CRAP! THE SIXTH ONE WAS THE ABSOLUTE WORST!

I was lulling around peacefully, being drunk, when the heavens above unleashed an unholy wrath upon my front (Again, it's not like I have a side or back door.) door. Whatever pony came by earlier and displayed severe bipolarness came back with a fucking vengeance. Unlike the first time, this pony started off with knocks that should get them arrested for assault. What made it worse was that it practically scared me right out of my skin (Not literally.). Ponies shouldn’t be allowed to be that aggressive with doors. I hope they had something important to tell me cause I’m never (EVER.) going to answer the door when this pony comes knocking at my front door.

Following that unholiness, the clumsy knocks marked the return of my first visitor. Whoever this was must’ve really wanted my attention to come by three times in one damn day. Unlike the second time, this was more like the first time (Only it was the third time.). There was a distinct difference though (Besides being the third time.); each knock seemed to linger. It was like whoever it was struck the door and then let their hoof rest there for a few seconds.

How do I know that?

Well, sometimes when I get drunk, I become excessively observant. The sound of letting your hooves strike a door is distinctly different than the sound of just rattling on with separate strikes. It makes a solid *thlunk* sound when you strike wood with hooves like that, which is different from the distinct *clock* sound that emanates from regular knocking.

The first knock today was the same first knock from Sunday, which means this pony works in the morning or is just awake at an unreasonable hour (Like, what kind of madpony is awake that early?). What was weird was that the knocking was the exact same as the first one from Sunday. Which means that there’s a serious amount of OCD going on here with this pony. I have an idea of who they are, but I’m not sold on it.

I’m thinking the Derptard, but it could easily be the Pinktard too (You know, my absolute favorite ponies.).

It’s almost like freaking clockwork! The second knocker today was the exact same one as the second one on Sunday! I swear, evidence of that damn conspiracy is EVERYWHERE! What’s saved my damn sanity is that this knocker at least varied things up a bit by sounding a tad bit worried. You see, the knocks retained a sense of order while coming off sounding a little disjointed by something. I can only assume that means that whoever this is has some misplaced place for me in their heart (To which I'm forced to ask why anypony would do that.). To be real here, I felt really bad about not answering this one.

However, that’s just what THEY want. THEY want me to answer the door.

Want to know what happens if I open the door?

BAM!

Dead. Right there in my own front door.

Nope, it’ll take more to get me. I’M A DAMN PRO! COME AT ME CONSPIRACY!

Remember how I said the previous knocks were all pretty unique and weird? Yeah, I think I got visited by a giant damn woodpecker or some crap. What’s that? Am I comparing the knocker to a woodpecker in some form of extremely clever wordplay? No, I’m downright saying that this was an actual woodpecker who came to my door and knocked for ten torturous minutes. There are only two ponies in existence that this could conceivably be (Assuming the woodpecker theory doesn't hold water.); either the Pinktard or the Derptard. I know I said that already, but it’s true here as well. It works cause there are two of each (Simple math.).

Hey generic knocker, how are you? Generic response? Are you sure? How generic of you!

Booky, in case you didn’t catch just what trait the third knocker today most exemplifies; it’s how soft it was compared to all of the others. I barely heard this damn knock and I feel confident I would’ve had I not been counting dust on my couch. What was also weird was just how inconsistent this one was. Normally knocks occur in a set of three separate sets of three knocks. This one was weird. Unless I miscounted, which is entirely possible given how damn quiet they were (Though difficult to believe, given my intelligence.), this knocker went with three sets of knocks, with each set having a different number of knocks in this order: five, three, and seven. What have I taken away from the odd number of knocks and odd volume of said knocks? Well, I’ve learned that the arm of my couch has seven hundred and twenty-two thousand pieces of dust on it (It would've been seven hundred and twenty-two thousand and one pieces, but I sneezed.). Honestly, I don’t know what to think of this one other than it could be code, which would be stupid given the fact that it sounded like field mice humping (Hard.).

The second-to-last knock today was the return of Twilight Sparkle!

Yep, she came back. Obviously her. Only difference being that her knocks were interrupted with a sneeze. Hopefully my thoughts of isolation got her sick.

Wouldn’t that be great?

I think it'd be great.

As if to make my life whole once more, the last visitor to my front door was none other than the retarded bane of my existence or the pink retarded bane of my existence. The second I realized who might be at my door, I got back to my invisible puzzle of the invisible ghost puppies in the visibility center (Do you see what I did there?).

I’ll take a look at my roof later when I leave for work. Can’t take the chance that whoever was bothering me is waiting outside the door with a double-bladed shovel.

No, I don't think it’s possible I’m suffering from a light paranoia (Why? DO YOU THINK I AM??).

Anymay, I've written the word knock (In its many variations.) enough times to render the word meaningless. So, hopefully, my removal of its meaning will prevent the knockers from knocking again. Otherwise, I'm gonna have to knock somepony's block off.

Entry 27 - Things That Are Found Cannot Be Lost Again

Booky, I can’t help but get the feeling like I said I’d do something.

You ever have that feeling? I do, I’m having it right now in fact.

However, I won’t tell you that, it’s personal information. You have no claim to the knowledge in my brain. It’s my brain, NOT YOURS!

Anystew, I do have some exciting news! Care to guess?

NO! YOU DON’T GET TO GUESS!

Let me put it for you the way the newspaper put it, “BREAKING NEWS! EQUESTRIA’S TOP CELLIST REVEALS THAT SHE IS HOMOSEXUAL!”

You see that?

Do you see that?

Booky, do you see it?

Right there, above all of these questions; the thing about the homosexual. Do you see it?

What do you think it means?

Do you think it means that homosexuality isn’t as wrong as I know it is?

Do you think it means cellists get more action than the rest of us?

Do you think it means that potatoes have made their move?

Do you think it means my heart just got broken?

Do you think my soul was shattered so very painfully that I’m having trouble blinking?

Do you think it means my trust in mares has eroded into an oozing mass of overturned dreams and hopes?

Do you think it means the knife in my back just got pushed through to pierce my heart?

I like that one, let’s go with it.

Have you ever been betrayed, Booky?

I don’t think you have. Although, I’ve been wrong before. Which I'm not. I'm right this time.

Don’t look at me like that; you know you’re full of crap. There’s no possible way you could understand what I’m going through, so just shut up and wrinkle away already. The last thing I need is you nagging me.

What did I do to deserve all of my pain? I contribute to the community. I pay whatever bills I have to pay. I feed and house seemingly innocent semi-homeless ponies when I see them. Is it not enough that I suffer the smallest of life’s conflicts?

I trusted her; that is the undeniable truth. I mean yeah, I was using her to accomplish one of my many plans and I've only been attracted to her thanks to her sexy accent, but that doesn’t change the bond I dared to forge with that bitch. She knows stuff about me…stuff that I don’t even know if I know that I know it to tell it to her for her to know and me not to know and tell you about.

Fuck, she even kissed me! SHE KISSED ME!!! Worst yet? I KISSED BACK!!!

I was stupid. I dared to dream that I could escape that thing in the mirror, that thing that keeps telling me it’s me. It’s not, it just isn’t! I don’t do these things. I don’t. I don’t kiss mares. I don’t tell them my secrets. I don’t associate with their degenerate kind. It does. It’s the weak one. The one that gets left behind. The one left crying in the darkening world as it's Mom died. The one who came home to emptiness. The one who looked to the stars and thought it could see the path to happiness. The one who had the chance to reap severe vengeance on that grey retard. It’s the one. Not me. I’m not stupid. I’ve never been stupid. I’m the pinnacle of existing. It’s stupid. It’s always been stupid! I’M. NOT. IT.

You know what? Fuck it.

There it goes.

Say goodbye to it.

Booky! Pay attention, damn it!

SAY GOODBYE!

I’ve stopped giving the craps I could give.

What’s love anyway?

I’ll tell you what it is; it’s a wasted emotion that serves as the key for which those bitches can get in.

I’m done sulking.

I’m done sitting here with my eyes glued to the cider barrels that have become perilously empty. That party thing is nightday. I’ll go to it. I’ll go right after I sell all this crap. It should bring in a good amount of bits. Enough to crush that retard. Enough to be done with this misaligned nuisance. The pink one is next. Then I’ll be done. I’ll be done with it all. I can go right back to being…~~happy~~ ~~alive~~ here. I'll go right back to being here.

Even if it kills me.

Author's Note

Greetings true believers! Your tired eyes do not trick you! This is indeed the latest chapter of the greatest thing you've read in the last second! I'm here to give you an update on life.

My laptop is still experiencing technical issues as is my charger. I cannot use my charger unless I'm sitting in a particular position. As for my laptop, it's the keyboard that's being troublesome. The A key does not work. This has forced me to use an on-screen keyboard that severely hinders my writing. I managed to hammer this out after convincing myself that this was a better use of my time than sleep. Please do not expect the next chapter any time soon. I promise you that I've got the story on my mind all the time.

As always, reviews, favorites, and comments (Tell me they're the same as reviews, see what happens.) are greatly appreciated.

Hats off to ya!

I Wonder if I Could Ponder While I Wander?

So…as disturbing as that news was, I do believe I overreacted in being mean to you. Please, forgive me Booky. The last thing I want is to lose you. You know what? Carty was right. I should’ve expected that Octavia was a lesbian. I mean, I don’t see how he thinks it was obvious, but I see what could be seen as signs. Let’s address this issue.

Alright, seeing as Octavia was my solution to plan Gettin Busy, I’ll need to turn to my backups. Here’s the list: Rarity, Rose, Applejack, Twilight, Blossom, and the lesbian. I don’t think any of these would be preferable. Sure, Rarity’s pretty, Rose has the best scent, Applejack is strong -for a mare anyway-, Twilight is smart -for a mare anyway-, Blossom’s got the nicest plot, and the lesbian is very slim, but none are exactly perfect. Rarity would probably quit the second we got sweaty, Rose would cling like a tick, Applejack would hurt my delicate frame, Twilight would probably think about it too much, Blossom would probably piss me off, and the lesbian is a lesbian who likes other lesbians who are into lesbian on lesbian action. So I’m not entirely sure which one I’d prefer. Meh, I’ll think of something.

As for my stuff that I’d like to sell, I’m not entirely unsure that Twilight will let me get away if I showed up at her house-thing. It would probably benefit me more to wait until after the party to do that. That way I’ll be good and drunk. I mean, the last thing I want is to show up and suddenly be bombarded with feelings about why the hay I bothered showing up. As I recall, it was Twilight who set me up with a certain little bitch we will not speak of.

I know you’re probably wondering if I brought anything interesting with me after work. Well, no, no I didn’t. I spent the majority of the shift seething in rage. I probably broke more stuff than I cleaned, which is pretty cool as I provided myself with stuff to clean up and thus internally sustain my profession.

You know, sometimes I wonder if we truly matter. Are we really as important as we make ourselves out to be? Think about it. Celestia and Lunario -I’ve long since forgotten the other one’s name- move the sun and the moon. Their power must be incredible. Consider, if you will, that there are other worlds out there. Each of them must rely on them to move the sun and the moon. Then you must consider the vastness of space….the ever-expanding blackness of solitary infinity with all of these potential worlds of creatures, all of them relying on those two princesses for survival. These are beings that could evaporate us into nothingness at the blink of an eye and yet they see fit to rule us with love and compassion. We -more so you- are nothing to them, pebbles before mountains. With all of their power, they still humble themselves to actually rule us benevolently.

Or they are both lying their plots off about their power in order to subjugate all of us with our utter terror of their claimed powers.

I think I've got it! I've figured it all out! They’re……WHAT THE FUCK?! WHO THE HAY PUT MY DAMN VASE ON THE TOP SHELF OF MY BOOKCASE?!

Great! This is just fucking perfect! Now I've got a damn gash on my ear. I’m sorry Booky, this is for nightday. I’ve got to go address this injury before going to get me some strange.

Is That A Shark I See Down There?

And then our mighty hero began to write a new entry into his companion diary. Ever exhausted from his war on crime, our masculine hero flexes succulently to emphasize the great difficulty he is having with continuing to write like this.

Sorry about that Booky, but I feel like getting carried away. Yeah, I missed my usual mevening entry, sorry, but I was busy. Yeah, that’s right. Something of importance happened last night. Let me set the scene for you.

I showed up fashionably late, only to find that I had misinterpreted the time and that I had arrived on time. I’ll admit, not the greatest way to start off a night. As you know, my plan was to show up, thank the Apples -namely Big Mac- for their services, get drunk, and then pawn my crap off onto the nerd. Needless to say, it didn’t go quite like that.

It took me only moments to appropriately say what I wanted to say to the Apples -Big Mac- and I quickly found myself drunk after. This is where everything gets blurry, which might have something to do with me being drunk at the time.

Anytissue, I woke up here in bed around my least favorite time of the day. This would be infuriating as I severely dislike being awake that early, but there were a few details that derailed my rage that I’d like to point out for you.

The first thing I noticed was the presence of something wrapped around my face. This is strange as I normally do not partake in such clothing. It quickly became known to me that this was no mere cloth that wished to encompass my head. Let me just come out and say it; this thing was pretty much soaked in dried blood. This raises the issue of where the fuck the blood came from. That brings me to my next paragraph.

As you know, on the top shelf of my favorite bookcase is a vase I found laying in some poop some time back after the fire. You may recognize this as the vase that assaulted me during my previous entry. Well, when I awoke, it was gone. I know what happened to it, but I’ll get to that in my next paragraph.

The next item I found out of the ordinary was the note lying on my pillow. This is strange as I do not normally sleep with pieces of paper. Do NOT even try to bring up that one time I was drunk! We promised never to speak of that!

Well, what really makes this weird is what the note says. Here, let me recite it for you.

‘Dear Ipsa,

I had a lot of fun last night and from the way you stumbled around Applejack’s barn while trying to sing, I can only guess you had fun before we went to your house for the night. You’ll have to forgive my horrible writing as I was not expecting to drink so much last night or was I ready for how rough you were in bed, something I forgive you for due to the high amount of cider you drank.

Being that you’ll probably forget, during what you told me was you being ‘subtle’ with foreplay, you knocked your vase off of your shelves and it shattered over your head. I patched you up to the best of my ability, but please let me know if it still hurts.

As I said, I would love to do that again if you would like to. Though I should be fair and let you know that I’m not looking for some fling. I’m only interested in you if you intend on being serious with me…sorry. I would’ve loved to spend the day doing whatever it is you do during the day with you, but you know how work is. I’ll be by later once the day is over in order to check on you. Forgive me for leaving only this note as notice, but you were too far gone into sleep to wake up at my attempts.

Love,

[unreadable signature]’

Let me be the first to say it; I GOT LAID! FUCK YEAH! THAT’S WHAT I’M TALKING ABOUT! I told you I didn’t need that lesbian whore Octavia! I feel so fulfilled right now! I mean, I got laid! Some strange! Whether or not the strange was of quality is unknown to me right now as the signature at the bottom of it is sloppy as crap. I mean, the entire thing is hard to read, but that signature is impossible to read. It kind of looks like it starts with an ‘R’ or something like that, though I suppose it could also be an ‘A’, ‘Y’, or ‘T’. That’s not the point. I got laid; plan GETTING BUSY came to fruition!

Now there’s the issue of what the tartarus do I do now? She -I am so hoping it was a mare who I fucked and not some stallion who fucked me- said she’d be coming back after work…but when the fuck that is I haven’t a clue. At least I know she’s employed. It’s unfortunate she’s demanding a relationship of some sort, but I suppose it can’t be helped.

As exciting as this information is, I must remark angrily that my stupid self forgot to sell my crap to the nerd. You know what this means; I’ll have to gather up everything and head out right now if I’m gonna be able to make some real progress cleaning this nightday. It really sucks I won’t be able to solve the mystery as to who I probably dominated, but if they really want to find me, I’m not hard to find when I’m cleaning.

Mistakes Were Made....Again

Just what the fuck, what the fucking fuck. I mean, can I just get one damn day where the entire world doesn’t crap all over me?! It is really starting to get ridiculous.

You may remember that I found what I believed to be a replica crown, the dark blue one, you know, the one that was dark blue and shaped like a crown. Well, to be simple with it, the damn thing wasn’t a replica.

After strutting my fine flanks through town to show off my brand new -pine scented- lack of virginity, I barged into the
nerd’s stupid little library only to find that my entrance was outshined…heavily outshined by the one to occur before this.

Let me tell you a story, a tale of the princesses of Equestria. Yes, that’s right, two of them. I think I’ve mentioned that before. I think the second one’s name is Leotard or something. Well, that’s the end of my story. What purpose did that serve? Well, my bookish companion, that second princess was talking with Twilight when I got there.

Pretty damn magical how life likes to fuck me.

Well, upon inspection of her royal booty, I recognized this pony as the one I witnessed bathing in Canterlot and that she’s the one who witnessed me witnessing her. Read that sentence again. Just fucking read it. I’m having a horrible time -as is tradition for me- in Canterlot and the highlight is that I get to see a mare bathing and I can’t even get away with it and she happens to be the bitchier of the two princesses.

When I learned of her royal standing, my brain churned out one tartarus of a situation for me; that crown was hers. How it found its way into my possession is a mystery to me and I will never think of it again as my reaction to the thought fucked me over pretty bad.

Recall the rule of my profession. Recall it. Got it? Good. Items of royal belonging cannot be sold as I must do to get some of that delicious crap I eat. Yeah, that’s right, you can understand now why I overreacted.

Enraged at this thought, I pulled the crown out and through on the ground. Here’s a fun fact, royal crowns aren’t as sturdy as they look. You see, it broke upon contact.

This cued up my catchphrase, “Well crap.” That -and the shards of a royal crown and its pissed off owner- is all I left behind when I turned tail and got the fuck out of there.

Mistake number one; do not run from the royal guard. Especially not the demon-spawn that Princess Loopty-Doo has on hoof.

Mistake number two; do not run from the royal guard without looking where I am going.

Time slowed down as my Annoysense started going off. Wisely, I turned my attention from the flock of death behind me to see a waving retard that was quickly becoming a grey wall of retard. Don’t worry, luckily she chose to crouch down into a ball of fright rather than let me hit her face-to-face as usual. No, this time I didn’t crash/kiss that retard; I simply tripped over her and went tumbling into the river with Carty doing absofuckinglutly nothing to help me. In fact, that jerk dropped all of my stuff into the river.

To summarize, I destroyed a royal heirloom, evaded arrest, tripped over the bane of my existence, nearly drowned in the river, lost all of my stuff I wanted to sell, I damn near broke my leg trying to right myself on the slippery riverbed, hit my face on a rock, had a tooth knocked out on said rock, was rescued not by said rock, I was indeed rescued by a certain retard, the other retard watched, the one who saved me tried to give me mouth-to-mouth, I failed to stop her from giving me mouth-to-mouth, she gave me mouth-to-mouth, I bit her while she was giving me mouth-to-mouth, I got beat up by the bat-ponies as the retard cried about being bit while she was giving me mouth-to-mouth, I had to pull Carty out of the river by myself, and I am now currently hated by BOTH of the sovereign rulers of this stupid land.

You know, some might say that I’m unlucky, I disagree. You see, at this point I’ve begun to believe that luck has nothing to do with it and I am merely the target of a cruel world. There’s also that conspiracy that exists…so, nothing is ever my fault it seems, which is great!

Oh well, I’m still a little miffed about all of this. The worst part? Well…the second worst part? The mare -I swear I’ll be pissed if it’s a stallion- that allowed me to invade her province didn’t even step up to help. At least I think so. Nopony really tried to help. I mean, the retard did save me, but I wouldn’t put it past her that she messed up trying to drown me.

The only good thing that I can think of at the moment is that I found a nice amount of stuff. Here, list time: a sunhat, a toothbrush, a camera, a tooth, a white hat, a bag of bits with a note in it, and bowtie-thing.

So, with great and well deserved joy, BREAK-IT-DOWN!

The sunhat is pretty boss. It’s a wide-brimmed thing with a neat little blue sash wrapped around it. I like it, but it isn’t anything I’d ever wear. I must admit that this thing is in wonderful condition for something I found under a barrel. Perceived value: twenty bits.

Now thanks to my high standard of living and the ever important event of the fire, this toothbrush is a great find. I mean, I may not be very disgusting, but this will be the first good one I’ve owned in forever. I usually can only afford really crappy ones that break really easily. This is a very nice one that is extremely sturdy, it’s almost like a damn broom it’s so sturdy. Perceived value: priceless, to me at least.

Did you know that I have a very high opinion of myself? Yeah, I don’t believe me either, but this camera would be a great find if not for the fact that I lack a little thing called subtly. I’ll have to clean this thing first…I found it in a pile of crap. Do I want to know why? Yes, will I ever? Hopefully not. I’m keeping the film though. Who knows, it might be something interesting. Perceived value: fifteen bits, but I’ll bump it down to ten thanks to the crap.

And we come to possibly the most interesting item I’ve found; a tooth. Normally this would go into the crap pile that goes to the Apples at the end of the week, but this isn’t normal. You see, this isn’t just any tooth; it’s my tooth. Yeah, my tooth, the one that got knocked out by that stupid rock. I lost it in the water though, so what it was doing in the market is anypony’s guess. Perceived value: body parts cannot ‘legally’ have any economic value; so five bits.

I’ve found plenty of hats before, I even found one earlier daynight, but this one is really weird. It’s kind of like a beanie of sorts, but it covers your whole head except your mouth….or a pony’s mouth and head because you’re a book and lack those things, which reminds me, stop mouthing off to me….get it? Case you don’t have a mouth! Your mouth is literally off of you! Anycraze, this thing looks really weird on me. My stupid ears make it look like I’m hiding two marbles under it. Also, it’s white. Perceived value: four bits.

The reason I’m analyzing a bag of bits is because the bag is worth something too. I say it would be about two bits, which adds up to fourteen bits in total for it, but I won’t be selling them. Don’t look at me like that; I’m a little rust with this game, so shut up. Oh, the note that came with the bits tells me who it all belonged to. His name is Nocturnal Shield. Yeah, that’s right, one of those X-Stallions that were guarding Princess Lookity-Spookter. So I’m gonna cherish this vengeance. I’m also going to burn the bag and the note because I’d rather not have them figure out any vengeance has been gained at all. Perceived value: thirteen bits….literally, there’s thirteen bits.

This last one is kind of weird because I think I recognize it. From what I can tell, this bowtie-thing was made by Rarity and is fitted for a foal. What’s so weird is that I swear I’ve seen somepony wearing it before, which is weird because I know for a fact that nopony else has my awesome fashion-sense. It’d sell for a lot more if it weren’t ripped and stained with blood. I mean, I found this thing in the schoolyard…which pisses me off because the fights start happening the very instant I stop going there. Stupid. Perceived value: one bit.

Not a bad haul if I must say so myself. I mean, I probably won’t be able to cash it in tomorrow, but I’ll try. Let’s just hope they aren’t waiting to arrest me or something. Cause, you know, that’d suck.

Now onto more important things; such as retard bashing.

With plan GETTING BUSY complete, I must now find out how to activate plans PINKIE BREAKER and MUFFIN DESTROYERER. Not an easy task.

Today that grey retard got the upper hoof on me. Not only did she damn near kill me, but she stuck her filthy tongue into my glorious mouth. All she has is a bite mark on her lip and a bruise on her side to show for my trouble. Although, the idea of poisoning the town’s supply of muffins has come to mind thanks to it, so I guess I’m grateful.

Pinkie….gah….why? Why must I have to deal with her? She’s not dangerous to my health or anything like that other tard, but she’s just as annoying. Unfortunately, she’ll be harder to break. I don’t know why, but it just feels like that.

Oh well….I’m not really in the mood to talk about them anymore. Let’s talk sex.

Who could I have graced with my lance? I’m thinking Rarity, definitely her. Wouldn’t that be great? To have bagoinked that gorgeous mare who has her priorities in place? Yes, the answer is yes. Although, maybe Rose is another option. While not as nice as Rarity, it’s an appealing option due to her ties to the conspiracy. Imagine it, me turning her into a double agent. Wonderful! However, perhaps most pleasing is the thought of Blossom’s big booty. I’d have liked to have a piece of that cake. Although, I can’t imagine her giving me strange would be anything other than pity….oh well, doesn’t matter, had sex.

Well, I’d like to sit here and keep wasting your time, but I’ve got sleepy sleeps to get to. Unless my brain is skewed, I’ve got a lot of work to do if I’m to meet my quota for meeting the Apple’s requested crap amount. Unless today isn’t Wednesday, which seems weird if it wasn’t. All the bad things in my life happen on Tuesdays and Wednesdays.

Author's Note

Greetings true believers! It is I, the Wearer of Hats! I just wanted to drop everybody a little message from me to all of you.

Forgive me for the slow updates here recently. I've been incredibly sick and have recently had to suffer from a concussion. I'm all better now...for the most part. This has been in the works for a little while, so please enjoy it. School ends here in two weeks or so, which will inspire me to pick back up on my writing. Sp please, be patient. Good things come to those who get them.

Hat's off to ya!

NOON

I’m going to murder Celestia. Slowly, so very slowly. I mean, who the tartarus invented noon?! What kind of sick joke is it?! It’s like being raped by the sun through the eye! Ugh, I don’t even want to write in you right now. It’s absurd. The only reason I’m fucking bothering is because whoever is knocking on my door won’t leave me the fuck alone!

Seriously! They’ve been at this crap for an hour! It isn’t even a polite knocking that I could treat as monotonous and use to get back to sleep. No, it’s like listening to a tiny monkey having their head smashed against my door by a rhino. It sounds exactly like that.

Don’t you look at me that way; do not even start with me right now. I will in no way indulge this future corpse. Want to know why? Well, my face has swelled up to the size of a pumpkin. Yeah, it turns out being beaten up by guards and being kissed by a rock isn't good for your complexion.

To pass the time away until the death of my tormentor, I’ve been reading some mail I’ve been neglecting since I found it discarded in the streets and mailboxes. Some of this crap is pretty funny. Here, I’ll read them and write my commentary in you.

Why would they think their relatives care about their dying grandmother? She had her chance. Oh wait, there it is, begging for money. Yep, how very typical of a mare. Ugh, even their names are stupid. Who the tartarus names their fillies Raspberry Lollipop and Berry Punch? Does she specialize in candy? What the fuck? Hey! Isn’t Berry Punch the town drunk? Well, isn’t that swell? I’d love to party with her. If that meant I could get drunk at least. I’m out of cider.

What the fuck is a minuette? It sounds like an uncomfortable bowel procedure. Oh! It’s a name! Minuette! I still don’t know who the fuck it is though. Wait, yes I do, it says here that she had to correct somepony on calling her Collygate. Her nickname is Colgate. She’s like, the town dentist or some crap. Speaking of her dumbness, why the fuck is her cutie mark an hourglass? How does that relate to teeth? Like, does she always know when it’s time to brush? I hate her.

Hey! This one belongs to Rarity! What the fuck does risqué mean? Is it a type of dildo? I mean, I doubt it, but you never know with these sick fucks. Oh hey, this one is apparently to her father. Aw crap, that is one tartarus of a name. Magnum. Oh yes, I like that. “Hello father-in-law, how’re you? Are you still the coolest damn thing to ever exist?” And he would be. He would be. I bet he’s a huge badass with the most glorious mustache you’ve ever seen. He’d be all, “I’m proud of you Ipsa, you fucked my daughter better than I could’ve imagined. I’m proud to call you my son.” And I’d say, “Oh thank you! It means so much coming from you!” And then we share an alcoholic beverage. The end.

You know how riding a rollercoaster is like going up and down a lot? Well, that’s what this is. First Rarity and now the dipshit. Oh wow, she started her letter by apologizing, how typical of such a retarded menace. This shall serve as a wonderful reminder to never let her touch my piano…you know, when I find one in the street. Ha, it looks like the little mongoloid got her heart broken by something! Poor bastard, being the object of this retard’s obsession must suck. I mean….wait…..wait, what the fuck?! THIS IS ABOUT ME! Fucking retard, I can’t even believe this crap. At least she’s whining about how she knows the truth. It isn’t going to happen! Ever! I’d rather burn my own house down than be associated with that genetic anomaly. And now she’s….defending me? What? According to this, somepony named Carrot Top has been talking crap about me. I don’t even know who that is. Want to know something else I don’t know? I don’t know why this dipshit is defending me. Oh well, at least she knows the truth about me. I’m not ugly -something the intended receiver of this letter has apparently been saying-, I’m quite handsome. Ugh, I will never say this again, but I agree with Derpy. However, I will not allow this. Unlike a certain retard who had the chance to actually defend me and earn some brownie points, I’m going to find out who this Carrot Top is and DESTROY HER!

This one’s pretty….REALLY?! IS THAT UNBELIEVABLE ANNOYANCE STILL AT THE DOOR?! You know what? I’m not just gonna sit here. If my silence doesn't clue them in on my desire to be alone -and asleep for that matter-, then maybe THIS FLOWER POT WILL!

……

Booky, why’d you let me do that? I liked that flower pot. I mean, I don’t put anything in it or anything, but I still liked it. And now I’ve got to go clean up that mess…which I’ll do when I wake up in the mevening. At least it drove my tormentor away.

I’ll see you in the mevening…

Overly Long Joke

You ever wake up with that dry taste in your mouth? You know, like your tongue has been sleeping in cotton candy all night? No? Huh, cause my tongue is going through the decision on whether or not to be pleasant or not.

Stupid tongue. You wouldn’t know about that, would you?

Hm, I hate the crapping mevening. It’s so dumb and stupid. Like, why do ponies have to be jerks and be loud just as I’m waking up?! You figure there’d be at least one or two decent ponies to cut the crap.

Oh well, at least nopony’s at my damn door.

Alright, so, the plan for the day…hm…well…crap. There was something I wanted to go do, but now I’m blanking on it. Weird how that happens. Anysleigh, I suppose I’ll just hit the routine. You know, go out and work, come back and sleep, right? That’s right, right?

I found myself looking at the crap I found during my last shift. It crossed my mind to actually develop the pictures in the camera, but then the thought of interacting with ponies pissed me off and I broke it. That needs to stop happening. Eventually I’m gonna smash something important, like, a royal crown or something. You know; bad things.

Oh well, life moves on.

Hehe, I just reread that note I found the night I got me some STRANGE! I’m so proud of myself and the little wriggler. I was blackout drunk and we still got the job done! I mean, yeah, I don’t know WHO it was, but I know that it WAS….or…well…I know that it happened.

That’s something I’d really like to know. Do you even understand how much closure I could gain from knowing that?! It’d be, like, so fulfilling to know who decided to be my first conquest. Never again would I have to sit on the crapper -crapping of course- and cry out in confusion about who had impaled themselves on my mighty wriggler.

And yes, it IS mighty!

I mean, even I -in all of my technical brilliance- could only get a list of suspects. You’ve seen it, of course, but I just want to look at it again. Twilight, Rarity, Blossom, the lesbian, Rose the Spy, Applejack, Octavia -it makes sense in context-, and -knowing entirely well how Celestia feels about me- DURpy. Ugh, parts of that list make me want to vomit.

Ah, the nerd. How wonderful it would be to say I marked my place with my bookmark -my GIGANTIC bookmark- so that I could pick back up later and continue from where I left off in that plump librarian. Hey, that wouldn’t be like hooking up with your mom, would it? Cause I’m all for a good MILF. Plus, if that’s the case, then I can enjoy the company of a mare -truly and not sarcastically- as I would finally be able to just slam into her as hard as I could! Oh, I’m getting excited just thinking about it! Imagine it, license to harm a mare! Oh sweet self-loathing that would be great… However, like with everything too good to be true, any strange I’d acquire with her would come at the price of….a relationship!! I can’t…

Booky…I am so sorry…I honestly didn’t mean to vomit on you…I’m so so…well…not really, I’m not really that sorry. I mean, yeah, I have to fucking clean it up, but I’m not sorry.

Anyday, as I was saying -or writing as the case may, yes I said/wrote may, be-, the absolute second to last thing I want is to be in a relationship with a mare. Crap, knowing mares tends to burn my house down. Being in a relationship with one would probably lead to me being beat up by the Royal Guard and then being half-drowned. And yes, I said/wrote second to last. Foals shall never be birthed from a vagina I have ravaged. Ever. Especially if they originally came from the Mighty Wriggler. No. My lineage ends with my button collection.

The best part of sticking the sticky to Rarity would be getting to know her dad. Yeah, remember him? MAGNUM! A-Ah, that’s so satisfying to write! Imagine, me, his chosen heir to the great name ever to be given. He’s probably like the biggest awesome guy ever. Yeah, I can see it now. “Oh, fuck me you rowdy stallion,” screamed Rarity as her body was assaulted with unholy might. Watching, approving of every genital haymaker would be him, Mangum McAwesomename. He’d watch me stick the icky sticky to his daughter and then nod approvingly.

You feel that, Booky? Those are called gooesbumps.

Blossom…mmm…should I say it? I mean, I don’t want to offend…but…DEM FLANKS! Oh, I can feel it now in my lowering self-esteem! Those meaty, bouncy, soft, cushy, JUICY flanks!!! And me, Ipsa U-fucking-nica, bringing the hammer back and forth into that supple region! Uuuuh!!!! I mean, that is likely the greatest feeling that can be had! Like, you know; brand new paper. You know that smell and feel. All crisp and clean… I’ll have to end this paragraph here before something regretful happens.

Tight, that’s pretty much all I can imagine the lesbian being. I figure that since she’s so ridiculously toned that her marehood….

Ah damn it…I’m sorry…this time I mean it…kind of….maybe I should just keep that bucket and towel over here….

Alright…where was I? Right, the nono word.

I figure that since she’s so ridiculously toned that her nasty, filthy, lady parts would be so too. And not in the good way. What? Don’t look at me like that. There’s a good and bad way for it to be tight. I totally read about it. Yeah, I said read. You know that word. Cause you’re a book. Get it?

Rose the Spy is an interesting case. I mean, yeah, she’s a spy and a bad one to boot, but imagine if she was a double agent! My Mighty Wriggler could easily turn her! Turn her AROUND! YEAH! I went there! Haha, I’m great. No, really, I could use a double agent like her. Then the conspiracy would fall as I learned more about it. Also, she’s kinda cute in a I-really-want-to-look-at-you-while-you-sleep kind of way. What? Don’t look at me, you filthy book.

I suppose one of the more weird ones would be Applejack. Sure, she’s got a nice body and really cute green eyes, but she’s also strong as all holy crap. Sex with her would likely amount to me crying out into the night for some dark crusader to come save me from my dominatrix. She’d hold me against my will and slurp my length into her slobbering maw, thirsty from a hard day’s work. Ever so uncomfortably she’d force me to become hard before throwing me to the ground and mounting me before a chance to fight back would occur. There’d be little I could do against her mega-strength. Even with my tested stallion power. She’d ride me hard, harder than possible, before…

…So yeah…getting that towel was a good idea…now I REALLY am sorry about it…ugh…gonna have to wash the floor now…

Um…alright…let me get back into the swing of it…

Where was I? Nerd abuse, Magnum’s spawn, the mare with the greatest assets of all mares, the lesbian who happens to be a lesbian, Rose the maybe double agent, the dominatrix, and…oh…I suppose things just got real.

Octavia…I don’t know what to say to the feelings that come to mind at her name. I mean, I really tried for her. Not very hard, but I did try. I kind of want to rip her face off and then kiss it tenderly, but that just feels normal. I suppose the best that could come from her randomly hopping onto the Mighty Wriggler would be that whatever made her show her true colors wouldn’t matter anymore…I mean, it isn’t like she reminds me of my mom or anything. No, nothing like that. Not even if their manes happen to look just alike. Mom’s voice was nowhere near as sexually arousing as hers. Mom’s wasn’t English…it was like a sweet honey that sang into the deepest parts of your feelings… You should’ve heard her when she sang. It was beautiful…

…When did I start crying? Hm, oh well, another reason I’m a genius for bringing the towel over her-OHMYFUCKINGCELESTIA!!!!!!!! YOU’VE GOT TO BE FUCKING KIDDING ME!!! DID I JUST WIPE MY FACE WITH A STUFF COVERED TOWEL?!!?!?!? Ugh….I’m gonna throw up….

…So…much…disgusting…on…one…towel…

Blugh, sorry about that, where was I? Oh, right, sad things, but, if you don’t mind, I’d like to focus on the bitch in that paragraph rather than the beautiful mare that made me cry. And yes, those commas were intentional.

If I were to somehow just find myself with Octavia again…well, I can’t promise I wouldn’t snuff that bitch out with my pillow in her sleep, but I can promise that I would. Also, I’d probably have tons of just nasty sex with her. You know, degrading stuff. I wouldn’t want her feeling all uppity and high on herself afterwards, would I? I mean, it doesn’t really matter cause I’d kill her afterwards, but still, fuck her.

Wow, that got dark! I wonder if talking about the bane of my being will bring me out of this funk. Hm, probably not.

So, exactly what would happen if the Derptard got her hooves on my Mighty Wriggler? Death? Murder? Execution? Castration? Well, I’m hoping that the first three would happen…cause the last one sounds unpleasant.

Hm, I suppose that the horrid affair wouldn’t be the ABSOLUTE WORST THING EVER IN HISTORY OF EVER! My reasoning? Well, bedding her doesn’t mean I have to marry her. Although I must admit that the act of degrading myself with her filthy body wouldn’t be exactly awful. I mean, come on, I’m not pure evil.

Sweet, supple lips, eyes with minds of their own, probably a smell matching baby powder, and strength paralleling her stupidity. I imagine that it’d be much the same as sticking the Mighty Wriggler of the Stars into a pillow. The action would probably be really dull, but I can’t help but admit that the prospect of sticking the icky sticky to her would be somehow dreamy…

…I’m starting to get really sick of this crap…I only have three towels to use and two of them don’t exist. So this is pretty much the last time I can use this towel….at least its vomit this time…again…

The fuck even was that? Dreamy? DREAMY?! I suppose if it was brutal, bloody lovemaking….

…I SWEAR I’M LEAVING THAT PUDDLE THERE!

WHAT IS THIS?! WHAT IS MAKING ME SAY THESE THINGS?! Though hatred have I found a love that will last any assault? Or have I simply gone insane?

Yep, the last one is true.

Before the voices start up again, I’d probably end up striking her down with the Mighty Wriggler from the Sky Fortress of the Mighty Wriggler by sticking up her most lovely of crevice. At her behest I’d trail every kiss to have ever been across her angel lips…

…That puddle’s just gonna get bigger…

ALRIGHT! THAT’S IT! NO MORE TALK ABOUT WHO COULD’VE FUCKED ME!

Ugh, that was horrible. I mean, WHY WOULD I SAY THAT?!

I know my plan was to wait until sun down to head out for work, but there’s too much vomit and unpleasantness in here right now. Plus, I’m just feeling so stiff right now. Walking it off would feel good.

Author's Note

Wow, that got a little...heated. Hm, well, I honestly didn't see that coming. And neither did he.

Oh, please forgive me for the rather long idle time I went through. My parents...well...I don't want to talk about it, but they're getting a divorce. So please, allow me time to....gather myself enough to make Ipsa's life a living hell.

Hats of to ya!

The Ponyville Pervert

Why does life have to be so hard on me? I don't get it. My mom dies, my dad abuses me, my dad steals my friend and runs off, my cutie mark refuses to cooperate, my house burns down, and I am plagued by everything that could possibly piss me off.

And here we are, out on yet another romp through the trashed streets of Ponyville to experience all of it together. What? Did I say we and together? Yes, yes I fucking did.

You see, about five minutes after leaving my house I was accosted by the lesbian of all ponies. Now, here’s the fun part, up until this point ponies who saw me either burst out laughing or simply yelled something at me. Now me, the great and amazing me, disregarded them as nothing more than pieces of crap. That was until the lesbian helpfully pointed out to me that, well, I left my home sporting a gigantic erection.

It took me less than a minute to return to the house and slam my head repeatedly into my wall to rid myself of the unwanted boner. It worked.

Now, aware that a lot of ponies know what my erect penis looks like, I decided to bring you with me, you know, to keep me from murdering everypony.

And as you can see, the kind denizens of Ponyville were kind enough to leave me with probably the biggest mess I’ve ever seen. There’s so much crap…so much crap…mostly just fliers looking for the Ponyville Pervert.

What? Booky, I am hardly in the mood, what do you want? The Ponyville Pervert? What about him? Yes, it is me, why? Ugh, if it will shut you up.

You see, I didn’t only just expose myself to those ponies. Oh no, that’d be too fucking simple. I -in my infinite brilliance-, decided that my erection was THEIR faults. And, my beliefs being such, I decided to accost them like so, “Maybe if you would all wear some fucking clothes then some of us wouldn’t pop a raging boner!” As the word boner was screamed in public for all to hear, the filly scouts walked by.

Fuck my life. Fuck it hard and fuck it straight.

Yes, that is why I am the Ponyville Pervert. I’m not sure what divine power finally gave me a break by noting that nopony is exactly sure of what the Ponyville Pervert looks like, so there’s that I suppose.

I mean- OH, A SHINY THING! GIMMEGIMMEGIMMEGIMME!

Booky, my friend, I have just found a shiny new button! Hah, almost makes all the crap go away for a few seconds. Ahh, that feeling when you get exactly what you want.

I gave thought to moving today. I mean, what’s keeping me here? Nothing, that’s what. The only things I own that I really care about are you, Carty, and my button collection. You think I could make a life for myself in Cloudsdale? Sure, it might be a bit windy, but- wait, I don’t have wings. Right, Earth pony. We gotta think of someplace that isn’t racist towards its residents.

Maybe Canterlot? You think that’d work? Sure, I’d be living out of Carty- OH, A SHINY THING! GIMMEGIMMEGIMMEGIMMEGI- never mind, the light from my lantern hit a pile of crap in such a way that it glistened.

Now, where was I? Right, the prospect of being a homeless.

I don’t think I’d mind it too much. I mean, I can always…wait, Canterlot is where those two royal bitches live. Never mind.

Hm, I could probably carve a good life for me out of the Everfree Forest. What? Yes, I’m aware it’s dangerous. I’m also aware that I’ve got stupid luck. Whatever doesn’t kill me usually ends up leaving me alone afterwards…you know…except for everything that’s tried to kill me.

Appleloosa might work. I mean, it’s a little ways out there and the weather might be a bit more hot than I’m used to, but we could easily do it! Think about it, a place with only Earth ponies in it. Sounds nice, doesn’t it? No malicious pegasuses, no uptight unicorns, no royal bitches, and no lesbians! Oh, it almost sounds perfect! I mean- OH, A SHINY THING! GIMMEGIMMEGIMMEGIMMEGIMME!

Now look at this, isn’t this just pretty? An apple shaped pendant with either three apple fritters or three parts of one apple fritter. Looks like it’s made of gold, really nice find. Who would just throw this out? With that in mind, who throws any of this crap out? Does it just fall off? Do I care? No, just so long as it keeps falling. Hm, I think I could probably squeeze about fifty or sixty bits out of this thing. Especially if it’s something dear to a certain family of apple farmers I happen to know.

Hah, we were thinking about Appleloosa and I found an apple thingy. Nice!

Well, I think it’s settled; we’re moving to…wait, isn’t that in a desert? Well crap, I hate sand. There goes that.

The idea, however, was sound. A place without things I hate. Hm, that means no retards, no pegasuses, no unicorns, no fat ponies, no royal bitches, no schools, no musicians, absolutely no bees, no Derpy Hooves, plenty of alcohol, no anypony else, and, most importantly, no things I hate. Yep, sounds like a place to start from.

If I could manage to sneak onto a ship and remain hidden I might be able to make it to Saddle Arabia. It’s not…wait, damn it, it has sand too. Crap.

What about Dodge Junction? Wouldn’t…nope, it has sand too…crap….again.

This shouldn’t be so crapping hard. Why can’t there just be one place, just a single location that works? One devoid of royal bitches, unicorns, pegasuses, and crap like that? Maybe one founded on the principles of a agriculturally focused ideal. Yeah, one not too far from civilization so that the crap that ponies lose can actually be bought back for large amounts of bits. Yeah, that’d be nice. Too bad nothing comes to mind.

Wait, what about Manehatten? Wouldn’t be too hard of a trip to get there and I’m pretty sure it has no royalty. Yeah, that could work cause it doesn’t have any sand! Yeah! That’s it! We’re gonna move to Mane- OH, A SHINY THING! GIMMEGIMMEGIMMEGIMMEGIMMEGIMMEGIMME!

…What is this supposed to be? It’s like a tiny little cylinder thing. Maybe a wheel? What has cylinder wheels? For that matter, what has wheels this small? Hmph, junk. Nothing of value here- OH, A SHINY THING! GIMMEGIMMEGIMMEGIMMEGIMME!

YES! THIS IS WHY I STILL LIVE! What I have just found, as you can see with your nonexistent eyes that totally exist, its a little diamond! Looks like it has something attached to it. Hm, looks like this thing was attached to something else, probably jewelry and from the way this little metal -possibly silver- thing has the diamond set into one end I can see that it probably sat on top of the accessory, especially probable considering the lack of gravitational clasp keeping the diamond from just plopping off thanks to gravity. That means that this is likely the broken piece of a crown or tiara. Too bad the rest of it isn’t here. A little tape would fix that right up! I could probably get twenty or twenty-five for this thing, but if this little bit is silver -which I will indeed be selling it as being- then I can probably get a good eighty!

Isn’t this exciting? I’m having so much fun right now! This is why I haven’t plunged off some windy cliff by now. After everything I go through and I mean EVERY-FUCKING-THING I go through, a quiet night of work is such a blessing. Almost as though somepony up high even made that so deliberately -keeping in mind that all forces of power hate me in this world- I wouldn’t kill myself or happen to find myself victim of gravity and cliffs.

And over there is the house in which that pink retard resides. We will now be silently trotting by to make sure that- BOOK IT, THE LIGHTS ARE ON!

I-will-never-say-that-I-have-ever-experienced-a-close-one-again.

That was torture.

Fuck…a stallion was not meant to run so quickly for such good reason.

At least I can live with the knowledge that I’ve avoided an altercation with…and there she is. Damn it.

Why? Why do these things happen? Excepting that, why do these things happen to ME?

Yes, Booky, this is Pinkie Pie, stop asking.

You know what? I’m so not going to say anything to her. I’m just gonna walk away.

Yep, walking away.

Still going.

She’s still here.

Not gone.

By my side despite the fact that she shouldn’t be.

Still there.

Somehow on the other side now.

…

Why?

Doesn’t she have better things to do?

ENOUGH! I AM THROUGH WITH HER…STUFF!

That’s compost I’m not getting back, but worth it nonetheless. I mean, doesn’t she take hints? I don’t want to talk to her, let alone about some foal named Shimmer Shade who I have absolutely never met in my entire life ever.

You know what? I feel better now. Sometimes I suppose it’s just better to let it all out. Yeah, that’s really good advice right there, Booky. You’re lucky as crap that I let you get this stuff for free.

Unfortunately, that’s gonna set me back. Give me a few minutes to just go at it without having to update you as I do things.

Hah, I wrote go at it.

Found another button, success is hard to transcribe onto paper.

Hey, I found a book! Looks like crap. The cover’s a little messed up, but I think it says Nifty Glades of Hay. Hm, never heard of it. More for the compost though.

What? Oh, did that upset you? Well, Booky, would you want to be kept around if you looked like that book? It’s in terrible condition! The words can’t even be read! Is that a life you want? Being looked at but never being read? Hmph, didn’t think so. Don’t go throwing those looks at me, mister…miss…um…Booky, what gender are you? I’ve always thought you were a dude or something, but I’ve never been certain. Come on, tell me.

Aw geez, don’t be that way. Come on, Booky, look at me. Look, I’m sorry, see? Legitimately sorry. Booky, come on. You’re acting like a pamphlet! You know what? I’m not writing in you anymore until tomorrow mevening at the least!

Author's Note

Boy howdy I'm sorry for the long wait. My life's been rude to me, so getting back to writing has been a chore. I'll be posting another chapter here soon, but I'm not sure just how long the one after that will come.

Hats of to ya!

Here We Go Again...

I don’t even want to talk right now, especially if you’re gonna be all moody like before.

Got it?

Booky?

Fine, I’ll just keep writing until you say something.

To soothe my mood, I tried saying something to my mirror, but that only pissed me off more. Crap like this makes me wonder why I ever bother getting out of bed.

The crap I am referring to is the exceptionally bad timed note I found on my front door this mevening. I mean, who does Applejack think she is, leaving a note like this on my front door? Does she think I’m ever gonna be in the mood to read it without seeing red?

Booky, I’m going to transcribe her note in you, so I’ll never be able to forget that ALL mares are untrustworthy. Plus, I know how you don’t like me just writing stuff without it being from me, so HA!

‘Dear Ipsa,

Now I know this ain’t gonna be something you’re gonna be wanting to read (What gives you that impression, bitch?) , so I’m gonna be gentle about it and leave the…uh…’hard’ (Ha, nice.) parts for when I can speak to you myself.

The girls and I have been talking about coming to you about all of this for a little while. To be short about it, we’re worried about you (What?). I mean, I know you ain’t ever been close with any of us, but that don’t change the fact that we’ve been worrying ourselves a little ragged about you.

It’s all well and good to be fond of our cider, but there’s a point where you got to draw a line of some sort and from what Mac tells me and from what I saw at that party of ours, you really need to lay off the hard stuff (She would really do well to speak only for herself.).

You’re a fun drunk, though. I have to say that I ain’t laughed that hard in a long time. Who would’ve thought you could keep up with Dash and Pinkie on the dance floor(WHAT?)? Hilarious! Sure, you’re behavior with Rarity and Derpy was downright horrible (Sounds like me.), but I’m thinking that if you moderated your drinking, you could be really good company.

On the subject of Rarity and Derpy, I’m thinking that it’d be a real good show of character if you were to apologize to them (Huh, that would be a good show of character, wouldn’t it be, Booky? Hm, how fun it is to dream about ‘what ifs’.). I mean, as much as we like to ruffle poor Rare’s feathers (Heh, I’d ruffle her feathers.) every now and again, coming onto her like…uh…that was a little uncomfortable. It was funny for the first few seconds, but you gotta learn some boundaries, especially when foals are around. Your behavior towards Rare and everything you said to poor Derpy left me and Mac with a good bit of explaining to do to Apple Bloom and I’ll thank you to keep that kind of language off the farm from now on (You can thank me all you want, bitch.).

Now, I’m mare enough (Ugh…) to say that I’m sorry for throwing you out after that tirade if you’re gonna apologize for going on that tirade (I never was fond of receiving apologies, so I’ll do without, thank you.). And you can thank Mac for walking you home while you’re at it. You’re right lucky that stallion’s got a heart of gold that he didn’t buck your head in after that kiss (WHAT?!) you gave him.

The only reason none of us came down hard on you for any of this, particularly for what you did to Rare and what you said to Derpy, is that we know that you’re going through a really hard time. Especially given all that stuff going on with Shimmer Shade (Who?) right now. Poor filly, I don’t see why this stuff happens sometimes. I mean, not to prattle on, but I thought the foals in this town were above bullying! Especially after that business with Babs (Who or what is a Babs and why should I care?). You’d think they’d just learn to talk to somepony instead of making stuff worse.

Speaking of, know that we’re all here if you need somepony to talk to about any of it (Duly noted and forgotten.). I know none of us know the pain of what you’re going through (Don’t be too hard on yourself, bitch. Mares don’t know a lot of things.), but we know that having friends (Hm, friends, that must be a nice thing to have.) to go through it with makes it all hurt a lot less (Doubtful, but then again I wouldn’t know, would I?).

Don’t go getting it in your head that you’re excused, though (Too late.). You still got a lot to answer for and we’ve got a lot to ask. However, don’t go thinking we’re stupid (Too late.). I know you don’t really like spending time anywhere near Pinkie (Understatement.) and I know Twi and Rare can be a bit much on the nerves after too long, so, if you’re feeling up to coming down to the farm today, it’ll only be me and Dash waiting (Oh my, thank you for going so far out of your way just for me, bitch.).

Please take to heart that as upset with you as we’ve been over your behavior, we’re far more worried about you and we want to help.

Your Friend (WHAT?!),

Applejack’

You know what? I’m actually gonna do it. I’m gonna go meet them. I mean, what could they say? And to just help me keep my cool, the lesbian will be there. She’ll put a hoof or vagina in that farmer’s mouth to shut her up if she gets preaching or something.

And no, you are not welcome to come along. Not after you blue balled me during my route, jerk.

35

I think I’m losing it.

I can’t be sure, not even if you asked me to be, but I feel like it…something is slipping…sliding away from me.

It’s like I look at everything and I can’t even begin to recognize why it’s there. Not that I forgot why it was put there, but that I can’t understand just why it’s right there.

For example, I’m looking at my couch right now. A dusty thing that I found abandoned outside town hall. It has two sizable cushions covered in layers of dust. I decided to keep it due to just fill a spot in this house that could use something like it. That’s it. Right there. Why? Why do I need something like it? I never use it. I always sit at either my kitchen table in the chair that is closest to the wall or in a cushioned seat I found outside the spa. That couch is never used. I never have company, ever. Even when I get too drunk to sit in a chair, I simply just fall on the ground or stay in bed. Why is it there? Why is there a need for something like it?

Do you see what I mean? I have a couch I never use and I’m only just now questioning why I ever had a need for something like it. I don’t get it. What’s the point in it? I never socialize in a truly friendly context, I never entertain guests, I never get bored with sitting in my chairs, and I have no desire to even touch it. Why did I feel a need to have it?

Those are the kind of questions I’m asking myself now.

A mirror, a really nice find I tripped over on the other side of town. I’m aware of why it’s there. The mirror serves the purpose of allowing me to look at my reflection and alter my appearance in any way I choose. There it is again. It’s not the why of why the mirror is there, it’s the why of why do I feel a need to alter my appearance. Who am I trying to show off to? I don’t do it for myself. I could honestly care less. That bitch Celestia knows that I don’t do it to intentionally get mares to pay attention to me. Why? Why do I even have a mirror that I have absolutely no need to use? What impulse in me decided that I needed it? Fuck, when I did actually seek a particular mare’s attention, I blackmailed her into it. I didn’t need to look the way I did.

I’m currently writing in my diary. I own a diary so that I can write in it. For whom am I writing for? I certainly don’t derive any enjoyment out of it. Do I do it for you? Do you even enjoy my writing in you? Do you even have the capacity to enjoy? Why do I write? My mind is more than clear enough for my thoughts to be heard. I have no need to write in a diary. I gain nothing from it and it serves no purpose, yet here I am, filling yet another page with something that nopony else will ever know was written. Why do I own you? Sure, you are a great comfort to me now, but it wasn’t so at the beginning. Were you simply some replacement for Shirley? For that, why did I own her? Sure, I loved her, but I didn’t at first. Why? Why do I feel the need to own a diary for which I write into?

This becomes particularly disturbing when I turn it against myself instead of the things I own.

Why am I alive? There are none I live for and there is nothing waiting on me when I wake up. The service I provide for Ponyville is one that anypony else could very easily provide. Nothing ties me to being alive. Sure, I’m here because I was born and raised, but why haven’t I killed myself, unsuccessful suicide attempts aside? Is it for the life I live? I would hope not. I have no life to speak of. Not a single thing within this house or outside of it makes me want to take one more breath just to know for one more moment. Is it for the life I’ve lived? I would hope not. I have lived no life to speak of. Why continue living when I could reunite myself with my dear mother and Shirley? Is it for the life I’ve yet to live?

Booky, that’s a very good question. What’s left for me? I’ve no friends in this life, no potential to expand beyond what I have, and every reason to expect failure.

Do you think this has something to do with my lack of cutie mark? Cutie marks are supposed to be what defines you, a mark of what you are truly best at. I’ve never attained mine, though I never really actively pursued it, but it hasn’t showed up regardless of that.

I just don’t get it. Why? Why do I bother with any of this? Is there even a point?

I’m slipping…no…I’m not slipping…something’s slipping, something deep inside of me is falling away and I can feel every inch it drags across as it goes.

It’s all pointless now that I look at it. It truly is. I have no desire to procreate and I have no desire to share a lifelong love with anypony. Money isn’t important to me. All it does is shelter me and feed me, but what’s the point of those anymore? My life is meaningless. I offer and will never offer anything to the world. My eating and drinking is wasting food and water. So why do I bother? What keeps me going?

Maybe it’s my torment that keeps me going…my endless torture. I live in a world that has no ability to sympathize with me and know my pain. In fact, I live in a town where I have physically assaulted one mare and I’ve described in no short terms that I have nothing but disdain for another and yet they BOTH are at every twist and turn I take. I found love in a mother and life took her away. I found belonging with a father and he left me. I found solace in a tiny filly and she jumped ship as soon as she could. I found excitement in a mare and she did the same. Perhaps most painful…is that I found hope in a tiny book that was turned to ash and blown away into the wind. Yeah…that sounds about right…my life revolves around my torment, such a simple thing to conclude.

Perhaps it’s all a delusion, some sick joke played unto me by my brain. Sure would make sense. I came to care for a filly that didn’t hesitate to leave, I allowed myself to trust a mare and she immediately turned on me, I let my guard down and my entire livelihood is burned around me, and I extendedly celebrated my losing my virginity when all I lost was my dignity when two mares revealed that I went home alone that night.

Hm? Yes, that’s right, Booky. I didn’t have sex. I didn’t actually succeed in one of my plans. Nope, it seems I just drunkenly stumbled into my home, hit my head on a vase, wrote myself a ‘Dear John’ letter, and then fell asleep none the wiser. Funny how that happens. And yes, I did learn I came home alone from Applejack. From what she told me, I was escorted home by her brother and promptly abandoned near my house when I kissed her brother.

I made a mistake going to that meeting. I was better off fooling myself. Now I’m quite aware that I am still VERY much a virgin and that I lose everything about myself when I get drunk.

Ugh…fuck them, fuck them both! Hmph, Applejack and Rainbow Dash, more like bitch and other bitch!

Mocking me like that. Who are they to judge? So what if I tried to cuddle up to Rarity while calling her mommy? Who cares if I told Derpy that if it wasn’t for me I’d love her? That’s my business!

Why? Why would they do that? I don’t get it. They tell me they care and that they’re worried, but then they dare to sit there and say that they want to understand? Bullcrap. Nopony wants to understand and nopony CAN understand! Calling me their friend, a lie to my face. You are a friend, the best one I can think of. They are nothing like you. They aren’t unjudging, they don’t trust me wholly, and they don’t listen. None of them do.

I’m losing it, I know I am, I’m sure of it.

Downhill From Here

Today wasn’t any better than yesterday. I tried to make it better, but it just wouldn’t take.

I haven’t slept since the last time I fell asleep and I’m beginning to get woozy. I’d like to sleep, I’d like it very much, but who can sleep at a time like this? My entire moral structure is falling apart, crumbling like some cruel joke.

You can tell I’m getting desperate because I actually left the house today in search of something…anything that could just take it away from me, all of this crap.

I tried to stay away from as many ponies as I could and I mostly succeeded, but you know me and you know how much life likes to fuck me.

To make this crisis worse, I ran into Pinkie again. What she was doing out near the Everfree is beyond me, though I wouldn’t put it past her to have been waiting on me out there.

She seemed really concerned about something, not that I even slowed for her to really express it. Being herself, that damned nuisance kept pace with me and spoke her mind regardless. I obviously gave it my best attempt to drive her away. That was when she got mad. I’m actually a little impressed with the kind of language she used. Apparently there’s a little filly who has been absolutely dying to see me and that everypony had been trying to get in touch with me regarding the little traitor. That’s when I impressed her with some of my words.

I’m done with that filly, in every way you can be done.

Pinkie only made things worse by not taking the hint. She just had to keep on prodding and poking for a response she liked. It finally got to a point where I said, verbatim, “Fuck off.”

That, for better or worse, seemed to do the trick. Her mane deflated and I managed to leave her in my dust. From the distance I thought I heard what sounded like the lesbian, but at least was smart enough not to come after me.

I could spend the rest of the daynight just going on and on and on about the Pinktard, but something else of greater significance happened.

About twenty minutes after I had put a good mile between me and that retard, I ran into YET ANOTHER pony out where I was fully expecting to be left alone. Only this pony was one I don’t recall ever having spoken to.

She -ugh- was just standing out in the field I was walking across and I immediately recognized her as the pink maned pegasus who had lost her Element of Harmony and provided me a vast disappointment. As I went on to learn, her name is Fluttershy and that she might just be the one mare -ugh- I can actually tolerate speaking with. Her voice was almost nonexistent in volume and I could tell that she had little to no confidence. To be frank, she’s quite shy.

What was weird was that she initiated the conversation and immediately told me that she was there to talk to me about -you guessed it- the traitor. I promptly told her to go away and…well…she kind of did go away. That was what struck me as the oddest thing. All she said was that I didn’t have to say anything if I didn’t want to. That’s it. How can you just let something like that go? I mean, how many mares just up and start talking only to never stop again? She literally took the hint.

So I called after her as she started leaving.

We talked for about three or four hours, mostly about stuff. I told her about what happened with Octavia, the lesbian -who she told me was actually quite unaware of what gender she preferred and was thus not a lesbian-,the Derptard, the Pinktard, and a lot about myself. It felt really nice to just fucking talk to somepony who fucking talked back and didn’t have some kind of fucking opinion about every little fucking thing.

Right there at the end she got me to start talking about plans Pinkie-Breaker, Muffin Destroyerer, and Getting’ Busy, the last of which she avoided like it was the plague. Strangely, she didn’t want to dwell on why I wanted to kill Derpy and break Pinkie. All she really had to say about that was that we all have opinions and feelings of vastly varying degrees of intensity and that I should probably take a look at why I would want to do either of those things when I had other options. That’s it. That’s fucking it. That’s all she said.

I’m getting slightly lightheaded just writing about it.

That’s when I started talking about the traitor. I’m ashamed to say that part hurt far more than I was ever ready to experience. I even got Fluffershy to start tearing up at one point. However, despite those tears, she said nothing other than what I already knew thanks to the Pinktard.

At the end of it all, I started talking about what happened at the damn party. About how I had called Rarity ‘mommy’ and about how I had ‘confessed’ -more like I messed up on saying I hate her- that I ‘love’ the Derptard. She asked me why I might say those things. And I honestly had not a single answer.

The end of the encounter came when she suggested that I was changing, becoming somepony knew after having grown and learned from all of my experiences and losses.

It took me less than five minutes to get home.

Unfortunately, it took far less time than that for me to start dwelling on what she said. What if what she said is true? What if…I’m not me anymore?

In deep violation of a thought -one that I had for a long time lived my life by- I had a long time ago, impressive reasons to deny my own beliefs have begun to fill the caverns of my mind with no celebration for the ponies that I don't -or care to- know that ever offered even a word of help, advice, or anything useful. All of those impressive reasons are beginning to seem connected even though there's nothing tying them together.

I’ve tried to circumvent these thoughts, but there's more than I can see and there's an even deeper part of me willing these ideas -alien to everything I have ever held dear- onward to a horrifying conclusion.

Booky, won't you be my inspiration? Help me end my desperation, once and for all, now.

Tell me what it is I'm meant to do. I can no longer tell for myself what my path leads to. I've fallen to the ground, shed away my tears and lost my destiny. I sit beneath the sun -undoubtedly being watched by the bitch who claims to drag it across the sky each and every day- with my hooves held to the sky and I dare not ask a question but still I wonder why it is I am so weighted with such pain.

Some ponies might even look at me, see my plight and say something along the lines of ‘poetic justice’ being served. The funny part is that ‘poetic justice’ never seems to make the world feel right and all it does is make those chaotic voices in the darkness call my name even louder.

The funniest part is that I can’t help but to turn away from that broken mirror of mine whenever I remind myself of the days that it all made sense. All this pain, confusion, and heart pounding terror towards this change I reject was so much clearer for those few days. I’d hate -and I mean REALLY hate- to bring it up, but that was the last time I remember ever being comfortable just being…me.

Something is wrong…very wrong…and the scary part is that I’m not sure I want to do anything about it or not…

Author's Note

Please forgive me for this update taking so long. Life's waters are getting rougher and rougher to navigate whilst having enough time to focus on my writing. This story is always on my mind and I will be finishing it. Whether or not that means something good is up to how amazing my writing abilities are.

Changing, the Hard Way

Ugh…I burned the nightday oil too hard…so please, be patient with me.

Now, as I’m sure you’ve noticed, it is almost fucking ten in the morning, which is only two hours away from that time that is most evil to me. Why was I out for so long, you would ask if you had a mouth? Well, that’s kind of a funny story. End paragraph.

I’ve had a great deal of crap on my mind and it made concentrating a real bitch. I mean, what kind of poor fool has to be plagued with thoughts about whether or not they were wrong about certain ponies, whether or not they were wrong about THEMSELVES, and just what the crap else they were wrong about? Worst yet, that poor fool had to work at the same time and his work is VERY taxing on his mind as he is required to use his world class observational skills to judge the worth of an object. Also to pick up crap, but that’s easier to do.

My mouth is so crapping dry right now…I would really kill to have some cider of the hard variety…

Oh, yeah, and I found stuff that we need to do the Break-It-Down game for.

I don’t know what it was or exactly when it started, but at one point very early on I started thinking about all the ponies I so desperately have opinions about. It was really muggy territory for me to think through, but I did come out with a list of ponies of whom I thought at length about -to varying degrees of discomfort-; Lyra the Word Raper, the lesbian, Rose the spy, Fluttershy, Octavia, the one filly everypony says I know, the Pinktard, Rarity, and perhaps most disturbingly, the Derptard. I thought about thinking about Twilight, Big Macintosh, Applejack, and the Mayor, but then I didn’t.

What is there to say about the destroyer of the spoken word? I mean, I don’t really know her very well -which might have something to do with the part about it being a ‘her’- and I can’t imagine ever having felt the urge to know this -the eradicator of language- mare -ugh- and yet here I am literally taking every opportunity to insult her. Why exactly is that? I don’t really care about the spoken word THAT damn much. In fact, I’m more or less in the process of modifying it into my very own perfect thing so I can leave this puny artifact behind, yet here I am. To be really strange about it, she’s not the worst looking foal machine -now you see, I actually like that more than the other word- and yet she has a face I want to hurt really badly.

Do you think it could have something to do with my mother? I’m sure you remember how my family has the tradition to name members using the dead language of Ancient Equestrian. Well, my mom was very interested in that old crap and she regarded that culture very highly and they in turn valued the spoken word quite highly. According to my memories -of which I’m beginning to lose trust in- they used vocal chants in their daily lives and had many different mantras to get them through their days. And since I regard my mother so very highly, I could easily reason that my hatred of the bane of spoken tongue is just disgust with just how much my dear mother regarded words and with how little this foal machine regards them.

What if, just what if I hate her because I want to hate? That’s possible, very possible. I’m so misfortuned and so many are not and thus I resent those that are comfortable in their success whilst I decay here in my lot of life. Deeper still, what if my so-called misfortune is that of my own doing? I actively decide to treat the ponies of this town the way I do, I actively decide to overcharge a unicorn who so generously does so very much for so very many for objects that do not belong to me, and I choose to be this miserable. Is that it? Is this boiling cauldron of existence a concoction of my very own? Perhaps worst of all is that emotion that drives those decisions; my life leading up to them. I lie about so much and I do it all the time. Given all of those lies, it’s almost perfectly possible that my father didn’t run away, he didn’t take a mare one year my junior to be his bitch, I wasn’t pulled out of school out of malice, I was never abused, and that I simply said all of that to try to make sense of a world that told me to grow up and take command whilst I curled up into a ball and began trying to fool myself into thinking that I was in no way responsible and thus only a victim and not perpetrator. That’s so terrifyingly possible that I’m shivering. Is all of this, all of my pain and suffering, my own fault?

Nah, I’m pretty sure I hate that shredder of the spoken syllable because she don’t talk good and I would rather she did and thus have her not receive my immense and unending -yet totally mature- hate.

Oh my yes, the lesbian, that prismatic -you’re damn right I’m happy about finding a dictionary, but more on that later- maned homosexual has been ever so present in these recent times. I remember that in the old days -we’ll refer to it as the Pre-Derp Age- when I still had Shirley -HOW I MISS HER SO- and a home to speak of that is not this one, I never ever ever dealt with her. Crap, I don’t even recall having to talk to her at all. No, wait, yes, I did. Like two years ago I found a Spitfire -the Wonderbolt, not my fiery wit- poster in a field and I didn’t make it five steps before she accosted me and asked for it back. I said no. That poster now belongs to Twilight, who I can only imagine returned the damn thing to the lesbian in -being the stinker I am- damaged quality. That doesn’t count due to it not counting. So yeah, I never really knew this bitch. I remember that her involvement in my life started with my absolutely heroic defeating of her. Yeah, I can still feel the thrill of victory of having beaten down such a mighty competitor and her thirty ninja guards. I also remember that was the day that my Pancake Day was ruined. Being the genius I am -admit it, you think so too- I forged an alliance with her via flowers and stuff. That alliance was supposed to be my safety net once I broke the Pinktard and desteroyered the Derptard; however, it has come to mean…something else entirely since then.

Practically any time I have found myself in misfortune -I don’t have time to count the times- she was there in my corner or simply present. Why is it that I am affected in the way I am by that? I mean, I literally never even considered her -ugh- more than a tool for me to use when the time was right. She was really the only one who never had an agenda -excepting the time she did have one- and, ignoring that filly I don’t know, she was the one who came to my aid when I needed aid. I’m aware that the concept of ‘friendship’ is vastly different in both terms of understanding and intensity of belief in between her and me, but surely she wouldn’t have taken to me that quickly, right? Ultimately I find myself confused every time I think about her. Why have I cared for her? I know I never expressed it openly, but I mean come on, I gave the bitch brownie points; BROWNIE POINTS! When did that mare -ugh- become something of a friend to me?

Perhaps equally as disturbing is the thought that I have perhaps wooed the lesbian. Yes, I know, her being the lesbian means that she is, in fact, a lesbian and thus prefers the company of the foal machines, but you have to remember that I actually have very little evidence -as in none to speak of- proving her preference. Most damning, perhaps, is what Fluttershy said about how the lesbian isn’t actually a lesbian and is really only unsure of what she wants. What if -bear with me here, I’m getting deep- I had made her sure with my attempts to win her favor so I could in turn betray her? I mean, the signs are all there: flowers, tickets to something she likes, a book, and injury. Those are all the classic staples of romancing the opposite sex. What does this do to me? I mean, I would never consider her as an option, but you have to understand my possibilities for sex are dwindling and thus plan GETTIN’ BUSY is likely never to be completed. To be honest, I don’t know if I’d mind if I were to give her a chance.

However, despite the claims of Fluttershy, my evidence proves her preference and thus I doubt the above theory is accurate. As for my considering her an actual friend…hm…well, I guess that since she has the preference for foal machines she technically counts as a stallion and thus I would not be lowering myself if I were to become -GASP- friendly with her -to be referred to from here as a he-.

I’ve just reached the middle ground of my inwardly inclined investigation. I do not know Rose the spy on terms approaching familiarity and I actually have been slightly acquainted with this foal machine. It’s so very slight, almost unnoticeable, but this bitch has been there in these Post-Derp times. Never a big player and never just a penciled in background character, no, she’s had just the slightest amount of influence whilst providing just enough to actually have an effect. So yeah, like a spy. Whether it be those weird smiles, her odd kindness, or her seeming persistence of being present in my life, this foal machine clearly has had something in store for me. My question is whether or not my opinion of her being an agent -a horrible one at that- of some gigantic conspiracy that clearly exists and includes those royal bitches is correct.

What about her makes me think she’s working for them? I mean, she’s been present at my times of misfortune -though those have come in spades and thus she was not without multiple chances- yet has always come to my side in those. Does that mean she’s simply trying to endear herself to me so that she can get closer so her betrayal will hurt all the more? That’s certainly possible and if so then I commend her on her efforts. What if it’s more than just simple espionage? I recall her first true reactions to me being how she had scowled at me after I had nearly crippled the lesbian and then beamed with something of a sympathetic smile at hearing who I was buying flowers for -I was buying them for the lesbian-. I’m pretty sure that scowl was supposed to be something of disgust, but, as per usual, I didn’t care to look too much into it. It makes sense if it was, though, as she smiled when she learned I was -seemingly- trying to right my wrong. Wait…what if that smile…had been one of the knowing smiles? What if she knew my intentions were far from generous?! HOLY CRAP! That crafty minx…

An ally, one I didn’t even know I had, lurking in broad daylight. Think of it, Booky. She knew, SHE FREAKING KNEW! She knew that I had no intention of actually befriending the lesbian and that wooing him was the farthest thing from my mind. She knew and allowed me to do as I pleased! That makes so much freaking sense. This whole time, throughout everything, she knew. That means that the time that I punched the Derptard in the face with my face…that means that Rose knew; she knew that my retaliation would be premature and ruin everything if I were to do so then and there. HOLY FREAKING CRAP!

Well, this is certainly a surprise. Rose the spy is actually…a double agent...and she’s one of her own volition rather than my meddling! Ho boy, that’s gonna be useful!

You see, this is why I’m doing this. Not because I’m changing…or whatever crap I’ll be getting more into in the next paragraph, but because I’ve missed a few things. Things such as the lesbian being my kinda-friend and Rose being my ally. OOOH, what else have I missed???

Alright, Flutt- I’m just so EXCITED right now! Oooh, no, I gotta calm down and write or I’ll be here until the mevening.

Fluttershy, the foal machine I met the other day when she ambushed me during my attempt to be outside my home. I literally have spoken to her -ugh- once and I don’t actually have an opinion about that bitch. To be honest, the reason I wanna talk about her is because she’s the one who said that I was…ugh, fuck, that I was changing. I wanna talk about that, you know, the changing part. Moreso about how I feel about it in regards to her.

You see, the only reason I even spoke with her was because I felt strangely strange about how she did exactly as I asked her to. It was weird, like she knew it would happen. I mean, as nice as it was talking with her, I could never shake the feeling that I was talking to a foal machine who was getting exactly what she wanted. Recall that the Pinktard had tried to talk with me about the filly I don’t know and that Fluttershy herself even got me talking about the filly I don’t know. That tells me that had been her intention the entire time. The Pinktard had been trying to tell me that I should care about whatever was happening to her and that she was missing me -I really wasn’t paying attention- and since Fluttershy is the Pinktard’s friend, I can only assume that bitch had the exact same thought process.

Who do these bitches think they are? Why do they think I value their opinions on anything? And, why isn’t it apparent to them that I don’t know that filly for a reason?

No, that Flutterbitch is just…a bitch. I mean, it took me until tonight to realize her manipulations. If anything, I’m proud that I met a foal machine as deviously cunning as she. Imagine it, she, with little more than seven spoken words, got me to start talking to her about things that I shouldn’t be telling ponies about. It’s absolutely uncanny. As annoying as the Pinktard is and as destructive as the Derptard is, who would’ve thought there would be a third pony that could devastate me in such a way? The Pinktard has ruined many of my days, the Derptard has ruined my LIFE, and now this Flutterbitch has sent me into a spiraling river of possible insanity. Worse yet is that her words have merit.

I’m going through a change, Booky. Things are different. I mean, before I had noticed the…change…I had found solace in my home. It was a place devoid of those things of which plague me outside of it. Now that I’m aware that I’m changing, my home feels stifling, almost suffocating in a way. It’s almost like every time I turn a corner I come face to face with more and more painful memories. That’s why I had to leave the house the day that the Flutterbitch encountered me. It was too much…too damn much. I know that in the future…probably the very near future…I will have to make the decision to either embrace this change or reject it as violently as I can. If I accept it…well…I suppose I’ll just leave what happens after that to fate. As for the option of rejecting it…if I do so…I’m taking as many ponies down with me as I can.

As for the Flutterbitch, well, that adds plan BUTTERFLY KATCHERER to my docket.

You know, in a way, I really do miss Octavia. How she would sit there and listen to me talk and then talk back…in that accent I so adored. She was so different from what it was I expecting -so I thought-. I really did think I had a truly happy future ahead of me with her. She would let me stick the icky sticky to her and she would talk while I did it. Oh…how nice that would have been… I don’t even know what the fuck it was that drove her into the legs of a foal machine. I mean, I get it, I’m not exactly THE pinnacle of what a stallion is, but to be THE reason a foal machine becomes a lesbian…is something that I’m not proud of. What made her so different -so I thought- was how she simply accepted me for who I am. She knew that I lacked a cutie mark -still do-, that my job was nothing special -still is-, and that I hardly came from an upstanding background -still don’t-. What really struck me…truly endeared that bitch to me was how I told her about my mother and Shirley and she told me that I was lucky to have known them. I mean, who says that? Certainly nopony I know -I’m looking at you, Booky-.

It occurred to me as I picked up a little trinket during my shift that I was really wrong about everything with her. She didn’t hate me and she definitely didn’t break up with me -by becoming homosexual- because I’m me. No, she did it because of the filly I don’t know. I can’t believe I never saw it before, it’s so obvious! She didn’t want to be in a relationship with me because I had the filly I don’t know! Yeah, she’s just not ready to have foals and the thought of becoming the step-mother of one scared her off.

Alright, Booky, remind me to talk to her tomorrow. I can try to salvage my access to her foal parts if I really put my mind to it. Although, there is the issue of that note I found. I mean, it shouldn’t be too much of a thing, but I’m sure I can find a way around it.

Hm? What, you mean the note? I found it pinned to my door when I got back, but can I get more into that later? I’m kind of on a role right now. Thank you very much.

Now, where was I? Hm, Lyra the word killer, the lesbian, Rose the friendly spy, Flutterbitch, Octavia, and…oh…her…

What is there to say about she who shan’t be named? She was everything I ever needed and more. No, she wasn’t the same kind of comfort my mother was or the same kind of ‘comfort’ a foal machine could be; she was something more deep…even more deep…more-deep? Ah crap, give me a minute.

I am attempting to discern what word to replace deep with. Although I am deeply- wait, there! She was something more deeply! Hm, no, still not right. How do I describe how much more deep something is and not sound stupid? I could always use another word, but I’ve already written deep and thus am committed. What if I add a modifier of sorts? You know, like, incredibly or something like that? She was something more incredibly deep. Hm, still sounds off when you sound it out. What if I add an er to it? She was something more erdeep? No, no, that’s not how that works. She was something more deeerp? Hm, close. She was something more deeper? Yes! There it is!

Alright, sorry about that.

What is there to say about she who shan’t be named? She was everything I ever needed and more. No, she wasn’t the same kind of comfort my mother was or the same kind of ‘comfort ‘a foal machine could be; she was something more deeper. It’s hard to explain, especially under the kind pressure I’m under. Think of it as something between a book and its table of contents. Early books didn’t have any kind of table of contents -yes, I know, THE HORROR, THE HORROR- and they got along just fine. However, a book with a table of contents is so much more useful. She’s like that for me. I was so much more betterer when she was around. Sure, she scared Octavia off, but she who is nameless in this mention meant more than the seductively voiced foal machine.

As you know, I value silence when I need it. I guess it’s just a side-effect of being forever alone, but I just get something out of silence that I can’t get out of a myriad of noises. However, what I gain in that silence is overwhelmed by what is lost by being alone. She fixed that, the nameless one never spoke -nor do I believe she could for that matter- and that meant that when I wanted silence, I got it. What’s even better is that when I required noise, particularly of the audible variety, she was more than willing to giggle or make other cute noises. That was nice, really nice. The best part about her…above all other things...was how she legitimately came to my defense. When I was hurt, sad, angry, horny, and even just bored…she was there for me. She would help me to my hooves, show me how much the little things made me smile, discourage me from reacting purely out of rage, hook me up for my first true kiss, and even help me dust my button collection. You couldn’t ask for more than that.

I would more than happily reunite with that filly I’ve never met before if not for how it ended. She left when she had the chance. Crap, she even left me a note saying all of her crap! I mean, I opened my home to that bitch! No, worse, I opened my fucking HEART to that bitch! She stomped on it the very second things didn’t go her way. Yeah, that’s it, she wanted to go to Canterlot -not that she missed anything- and when I didn’t take her, she up and got the fuck out! That fucking bitch of a whore! I aught to…aught to…aught to…oh…oh no.

Booky, I don’t think I can be angry with her…not anymore. I mean, I never thought about her like I have this evenoring…not since she was still here. See what I mean by me changing? This right here is prime evidence!

Well, if I can’t be angry at her anymore…who do I be angry with?

…

Who do I be…hm, um, who am I angry with? No, not yet, um, who should I be angry with? Yeah, there we are!

Well, if I can’t be angry at her anymore…who should I be angry with? It’s not like anypony else was responsible for her leaving…OR IS IT?! Oh, here we go! She said in her dinky little note that she was leaving because the others were taking her! Who was it that took her? Rarity? No, no, she was who she was with when she was taken. Twilight? Hm, well, I’d love to say yes, but money is ever so nice to have, so I’ll say no. HER PARENTS! That’s it! They took her! Those bastard parents of hers! She wasn’t at fault!

HOORAY!

V! Oh, how wonderful it feels to say and write it! V didn’t leave because she wanted to, she didn’t do it to spite me, and she didn’t do it because she knew it’s what I didn’t want, no, she did it because those parents of hers forced her too! Oh, that just will not do! I want her back in my life…but…how do I do? I can’t just stomp up and demand her back, that’d be too simple, they’d see it coming. I have to be more subtle. I’VE GOT IT! I’ll…oh…well…if I’m changing…alright, here’s the plan, since I’m apparently fucking changing, I’ll have a plan for both outcomes. If I choose to change and accept it…I’ll…I’ll just be her friend, like she wanted. However, if I choose to reject my change, then she’s coming with me so that I can show her how a real father should act! Yeah, plans CHANGE-ED and V SNATCHERER are to be set into motion once I’ve dealt with everything! Until then, I guess I’ll just start talking to her again…though I cannot fathom how the crap I’ll manage that.

Oh, this is turning into quite the entry!

Alright, who- DAMN IT! I was riding so damn high on that smile I just got that I didn’t even notice that it was time to think about the Pinktard! How the crap did she get me IN MY OWN DIARY?! Her persistence is proving to be very persistent!

Hmph, I don’t even want to write her paragraph now.

…

…

Nope.

…

…

No, just no.

…

…

…

Fine…damn it, this is gonna suck.

Why is it that Pinkie is so persistent with me? It’s almost uncanny that she is able to overlook every hint I give her to leave me the fuck alone. There’s just no side-stepping it; she’s a nuisance. The reason I wanna mention her is because I am beginning to think differently about her. She’s no longer just an annoyance for my Annoysense to ignore; she’s a menace. I seriously wouldn’t say and write this if it wasn’t for the fact that she’s been shoving her fucking morals and thoughts down my throat ever since I decided I was done with V -who I am no longer done with-. Why? Just fucking why?! Why can’t I figure out why the fuck I’ve become the target of this utter bitch?! It’s ridiculous! She’s possibly the absolute worst pony in existence and yet the whole damn town just lets her run around doing whatever the fuck she wants. No, I can’t let it go on. That’s right, plan PINKIE BREAKER just gained an extra er! Plan PINKIE BREAKERER will be carried out to the fullest extent I can.

Yeah, that’s it for her. Like I said and wrote, I don’t want to even picture her right now.

Who I do want to picture right now -in ways that are not the usual reason I picture foal machines- is Rarity. She was one of the first foal machines that I looked at and decided she would be a good ally. At first she seemed scared, but that’s absolutely normal given the fact that I almost crippled her friend around the time I first met her. Now, however, I think she sees through all the smoke and mirrors everypony has put up. She’s -ugh- shown me respect, kindness, and undue generosity. Those reasons -alongside that accent- are why I decided that she’d be a good option for plan GETTIN’ BUSY. I chose Octavia as my priority because I had already progressed with her and was unwilling to change my progress. As for Blossom being the backup option…well, she can still be the backup option -heh, I’d like to see her backup towards me-. She just doesn’t have the accent.

Wait, I’m getting ahead of myself. Not only is Octavia no longer the priority, but I’ve still got the whole business with the note to sort over before I can decide who the priority is. And no, Rarity will not be it. You’ll understand in a second, you sick fuck.

After that little party for the Apple family that I chose to grace, I discovered something previously unknown to me; when I get drunk, I no longer can restrict my verbiage. The perfect example is when I spoke with the Derptard and Rarity. As I found out via Applejack and the lesbian -unlike every other pony who was anywhere near earshot when I said what was said- Rarity reminds me a great deal of my mother. It’s disturbing when I really REALLY look at it. Let’s start listing those many disturbing ways they are similar to each other, shall we? Rarity has a white coat while my mother had a white coat -actually more of an eggshell white rather than a light gray like Rarity’s, different but the same to the stupid-, Rarity’s high society accent is clearly fabricated to cover a more rustic one while my mother did the opposite in order to cover her Manehatten tone of voice, Rarity will be entirely superior to whichever stallion she ends up with while my mother was CLEARLY superior to that slob of a father of mine, Rarity’s mane is purple while my mother’s was dark purple -actually more of a dark indigo to Rarity’s moderate indigo-, Rarity’s name is Rarity and my mother’s name was Difficille Invenies -which means ‘hard to find’ in modern Equestrian, a short phrase that is summed into the word rare-, they both are fond of styling their manes, they’re both unicorns, and Rarity is clearly of a higher caliber to every foal machine in town while my mother was the highest caliber mare -the one time I will use that word with pride- in Equestria. Yeah, you can see it. Rarity not only reminds me of my mom…she practically could pass for her. Of course she never could, but she could try better than anypony else.

It really is no wonder I called her my mommy. I miss my mother more than can be expressed and in my inebriated state I couldn’t tell the difference.

Hey, Booky, do you think that Rarity would mind being my…well, friend? I mean, I don’t really care to be around her for
the conversation -minus to hear her voice-, her hobbies and the such -none of which I share or care for-, or anything else, except, of course, her company. Imagine just how soothing being in her presence would be for me. Isn’t that grand? So yeah, I’ll try…something…I have to. I want my mom back…even if I have to settle for a poor placeholder.

Hm? Oh, well, I suppose I never did. Yes, my mother’s name was Difficille Invenies. My bastard father’s name is Sale Barter. See? See why I didn’t want to say? It’s such a letdown. My name is so fragile and special, hers is absolute perfection, and his is something cheap and worthless.

And now…onto the main event…

The Derptard…where to start? I was wrong…about so much… She’s pretty much perfect for me. I won’t point anything out, but I mean, come on, it’s obvious. She’s got a personality I don’t absolutely hate, she defends me even when I myself cannot see her do so, she thinks of me when I myself am not even…um…when she does, she’s got obvious flaws, and she’s obviously not as stupid as I portray her. Plus, our colors are almost complimenting; my brown coat with her gray coat, my gold eyes with her yellow eyes, and my banana yellow mane with her pastel yellow mane. She even took in a filly…just like I did. Crap, she even finds a way to get things done when everything tries to stop her. It’s easy to see why I said I love her. In fact, it’s even easier to just go ahead and admit that I do, in fact, love her. However, it’s easy to admit for a reason.

Despite all of that…every little bit, I cannot overlook a few facts. She burned my house down, melted my old button collection, incinerated Shirley, enflamed those last pictures I had of my mother, entombed me in a crypt of flame, denied me peace in my time of mourning and recovery, punched my face with her face, stole my first kiss from me, broke my SWAG, humiliated me in front of my very own door, entered my home without my consent, tripped me and Carty into a river, gave me mouth-to-mouth, and many other things. Pretty much all of those are unforgivable. I will never be able to look at her and see anything but a seething rage. No matter how I feel about her, she crossed the line so far that it can’t even be seen anymore. That’s it, there’s no change that will turn me into some sort of sympathetic slob who would be able to even consider showing her these feelings that I am knowingly withholding from the world.

Well, there you have it, Booky, my perspective is certainly changing and these are just the most glaring examples. I actually have a reason for hating the word pillager, the lesbian is my kinda-friend, Rose the spy is now Rose the ally, the Flutterbitch’s fate is sealed, I will be seeking to reconnect with Octavia, I will be seeking to do the same with V, the Pinktard will be utterly destroyed, I will try to establish some sort of kinda-friendship with Rarity, and I love Derpy. If there was doubt about any of what I’ve said before about my changing, it is unbelievably gone at this point. I left the house for work yesterday with no allies, friends that aren’t you or Carty, any conquests, or kinda-friends, now I have an ally, a soon-to-be friend, two conquests -do not forget the note I have to go into detail about-, one kinda-friend, and one soon-to-be kind-friend. All of them foal machines.

How should I feel about that? As I’ve said, there will come a time when I have to choose whether or not to accept this change or reject it, but what do those two options really entail? Those things I’ve spent five thousand words listing are merely the effects of my changes. What exactly about me has changed? Just as puzzling, do I really want to know?

Think about it, the very thought of the change is making me flip my crap. Just as capsizing is the thought of what the changes have done to my life already. Everything’s changing and I have even decided on whether or not I’ll allow it to do so or not! So why would I want to know exactly WHAT is changing when I only care about the fact that no matter what it is, it has flipped all kinds of switches.

With that thought in mind, what are the repercussions of these choices? Let’s take a look, shall we?

If I choose to accept them, then my life is gonna get a huge overhaul. I’ll have to make time for my new kinda-friends, my new friend, and those new conquests. That means that I’ll have to find a way to sleep when those ponies are awake to spend that time with me. I can see that it’d be rather difficult to accomplish, but not impossible. Should I take this avenue, then other things will have to change alongside those that are doing so anyway. That means my plans will be heavily affected. You see, I cannot in good conscience carry out plans PINKIE BREAKERER, BUTTERFLY KATCHERER, MUFFIN DESTROYERER, and -obviously- V SNATCHERER without ostracizing myself from those I’ve newly connected myself with. Yes, I agree with you, such a thing is a shame of justice if there ever was such, but I cannot act on those plans if I so choose to remain in contact with those I’ve just contacted. So what does that entail for me, in regards to the individuals those plans describe? Well, let’s look at it.

Flutterbitch is the newest addition to the group and the smallest offender of the bunch. Her machinations are what lead to this breakdown of mine and have forced a reorganizing of my life. However, this is simply via her one act and thus not a determinate upon the rest of her acts. So, feasibly, given time and incentive, I could see myself forgiving her. I don’t think I’d ever want to socialize with her again, but I doubt I’d hold a lifelong grudge.

The Pinktard is bit of a different story. Rather than be the annoyance she always has been, she’s see fit to upgrade her antics to menacing rather than her typical crap. That means I have to look at this with different eyes. The whole reason for that upgrade is because of her force feeding me her words. I simply cannot deal with it should that continue. So I’m left with -yet again- two options; do as I would do for the Flutterbitch and forgive her transgressions or ignore her until the day I die. In order for the former to occur would entail that this be the end of her ravings and the return to her annoying self. I can tolerate that, especially seeing as she’s well aware to stay the fuck away from me when at all possible. Should she do that, I could easily coexist alongside her. Crap, I could even see myself conversing with her once every two months! However, should she decide to retain her more menacing features, then the latter of the two options shall be enacted. And by ignore her until the day I die, I mean abso-fucking-lutely that. Even if she’s drowning in a river, crying out for help under a pile of rubble, inside a burning building, or being stabbed to death, she is but nothing to me and will be treated as such.

Most heartbreaking will be Derpy. There is no course of action where she escapes my judgment. The best I can do for her is to have two separate judgments for these two options of mine. Obviously one of them will be the same kind of ignoring that the Pinktard might have to receive. Honestly, I even stated as much in the prior paragraph. However, like with the Flutterbitch and the Pinktard, my other option is to carry out my plan to the fullest extent of my abilities. Lucky for her, that will only come to pass if I reject the change.

If I choose to reject the change, then there will still need to be a complete overhaul. I will make no attempt to salvage life here in Ponyville and will only set my sights on the four goals I have set. You see, despite whom I am and the amazingness that implies I possess, I cannot continue to occupy the same town as I do now if I choose to reject those changes. Remember that I said I would violently do so and take down as many as I could. This entails the carrying out of my plans to absolute completion. Plans BUTTERFLY KATCHERER, PINKIE BREAKERER, MUFFIN DESTROYERER, and V SNATCHERER will be -seen through in that order, cause, you know, OCD-. Basically, should the rejection occur, I could very well be committing murder -a sin that I am absolutely unsure of has been committed in the last thousand years or so- and I will for sure be foalnapping V. Won’t be too bad, I suppose. I’ll grab you, Carty, my button collection, V, and get right the fuck out of town and make a life for myself out in some dark hole or something. Sounds almost pleasant.

Clearly one of those options is better than the other, but that is what I’ve been left with.

Now, since that is out of the way -minus, you know, actually making a decision on which of the two options I’ll go with- let’s move on, shall we?

Though I was saddled down with those infinitely deep thoughts, I actually managed to pull a rather decent load in. I suppose you could say I’m amazing, but I wouldn’t begrudge you if you were to decide to say I’m awe-inspiring. In fact, go ahead and say it. Thank you.

My haul daynight was, as previously stated, impressive. It includes the aforementioned dictionary -which is already proving itself to be useful as crap, yeah, what your binding, Booky, this book has it out for you-, a gold pendant, this really cool marble, a ship in a bottle, what appears to be a journal, a small mirror, a…um…cannon…yeah, a plush muffin, and a gigantic plastic tooth. Yeah, not your usual run of the mill grouping, but not the most wonky I’ve ever found.

Alright, let’s do this, BREAK-IT-DOWN!

The first item on the docket this evenoring is the mirror. Now, this is one of those little ones that are really easily
portable and useful for styling on the go. This one has a simple heart design on the back of it and the pink of that heart is offset by the turquoise that makes up the rest of the non-reflective parts. I’d say that this thing wouldn’t be worth too much, but due to the presence of an ABSOLUTELY stunning stallion in the reflection, I’ll mark it up. Perceived value: thirty-five bits.

As I’ve been showing off throughout this entry, this dictionary has made itself quite useful. The quality leaves a good bit to be desired as it seems like this thing was just sitting around for twenty years before it got thrown out. And yes, it is twenty years obsolete. However, I do not own a dictionary and this one has already been of hingdangering use, so yeah. Perceived value: nothing, but I’ll be keeping it anyway, so that doesn’t matter.

This next item comes to us courtesy of the Pinktard. How to describe this thing, hm, well, it’s a cannon. A freaking cannon. Yeah, like, off a pirate ship. I’d say I’d be able to make a mint off it, but the retard went and scratched her name into it. What does she even need a cannon for? Stupid bitch. Perceived value: one hundred bits.

Clocking in at a solid what the fuck on the Ipsa Unica scale of bull crap -ask later- is this giant, plastic tooth. This seriously might be the most bizarre item I have ever come across. I actually had a good deal of trouble deciding if it was junk or not, but I’ve decided to try and make some money here. Making this thing weirder, is that it seems to be made to stand on a desk and that is has a gigantic smile of its own. Yeah, you read that right. The tooth is smiling. Yeah, a solid what the fuck will do nicely. Perceived value: twenty bits.

Perhaps most interesting in my finds is this journal. Apparently this thing belongs to Big Macintosh of Sweet Apple Acres, otherwise known as the stallion I kissed. Yup, that still happened. However, making this thing more interesting is that it appears to be his dream journal. I’ve never seen much use for such things. My picturesque memory is more than enough to remember my dreams. His dreams, for some strange reason, deal with him abandoning his family and becoming a pirate. Hm, can’t say that isn’t an admirable goal. I’m not too fond of pirate stories myself, but I suppose I see the value in something like this. Too bad there’s no good blackmailing info in there. Perceived value: twenty bits, but I’ll mark it up to thirty cause I’m a stinker.

This right here is an item of class. How often do you see a ship in a bottle? Even moreso, how often do you see one this nice? I made one Tartarus of a find with this and I feel I will eat heartily because of it. For that matter, who would just leave this thing lying around? I mean, I know I made a rule not to wonder where any of it comes from, but this is something of an exception. This thing is downright nice! Why? Why would somepony just chuck it out? I mean, I found it in a bush outside somepony’s window, but still, why put it there? A mantle is where something like this belongs. I’d put it on mine if I had one. Perceived value: one hundred bits.

Sometimes I like to sit back and just look at the things I’ve found. This is one of them. Though I’m far more partial to buttons, I appreciate art when I see it. It isn’t very often that a pony takes pride in making marbles and this is clearly one that was fretted over for many days. What I’m holding here is a see-through gold marble with the design of an intricate dragon on the inside with what appears to me a flaming heart in its claws. That’s art right there. It is also something I like to call a meal ticket. Perceived value: fifty bits.

Ah, as was the cannon, this too is of oddly meaningful timing. This plush muffin toy is clearly the possession of Derpy. Believe me when I say that this thing is old. It’s heavily worn, has multiple stitches in it, five separate patches of replaced fabric, and it feels as though the stuffing has lost a lot of plushness. This tells me that this is an item of which she cherishes and has meant a great deal to her. How cruel fate is that it landed in my cart. Yes, it kinda just appeared in my cart out of nowhere. I assume it fell out of the sky, somehow. Perceived value: ten bits, cause I’m a stinker.

The final object in this evenoring’s game is going to be yet another meal ticket for me. I often find jewelry and accessories of varying varieties and this is one of the gold variety. It appears to be grafted out of gold rather than just encased in it, which means that it is even more expensive than I originally thought. Also useful, is that it is crafted into the logo of the Wonderbolts and thus has a customer I know would love to have it. All of these are things that will make my dinners fuller. Perceived value: sixty bits.

I suppose that does it for this rendition of the BREAK-IT-DOWN game, let’s just hope Twilight went to the bank this week.

That leads me to the note. Now, understand that I was quite surprised by its appearance on my door, even moreso by the quality with which it’s written. Though I’ll leave that up to example:

Dear Mr. Ipsa Unica,

I’ve been meaning to come to you about this for a little while and only now did I get the courage from my friends to actually give you this note. However, I kind of chickened out at the last second and decided to leave it on your door for you to find. Sorry, but you’re kind of scary.

Don’t take this the wrong way, please, don’t do that, but I feel like you and I should talk sometime really soon. I know you don’t know me very well, but I know enough about you to know that this talk is more than needed. I really think that what I have to say will really mean something special to you.

Before you get mad and come looking for me, I wanted to mention that I really do respect you, me and my friends all do. We’ve been really intrigued with you since the day we first saw you and we’ve only become more interested with time.

Please meet me at midnight tomorrow at the gazebo. My friends won’t be coming, but I figured you’d like it better that way.

To be safe, only my friends know I’m doing this. Not even my sister knows. I’d ask you not to tell anypony that I’m doing this, but I understand if you do.

Thank You,

SB

That’s it. See what I mean by well written? Whoever wrote this clearly picked their words carefully and made each pencil mark deliberately. I’m actually very impressed by whoever ‘SB’ is. They actually managed to come off as attractive whilst sounding like I had a knife to their throat or something. Look at how every line pretty much begs for my satisfaction and stays as far away from insulting as possible. This is a pony who clearly wrote this with the intention of getting in my good graces before even meeting me. That is a very good sign.

You see, this is why I wanted to wait to talk about plan GETTIN’ BUSY. She is absolutely a candidate for it and I would absolutely hate to mess up an opportunity to stick the icky sticky to a foal machine. What’s even better is that this one actually seems to be coming onto me rather than the other way around. Though I suppose the hotness has something to do with that. Oh, how I wish Derpy hadn’t broken my SWAG. Imagine it, my SWAG turned on and my hotness on high. This foal machine would be under me faster than you can say ‘target acquired’!

Here comes the difficult part; whom do I choose for plan GETTIN’ BUSY? Blossom, Octavia, SB, and Rose are all viable options. Hm, what to do, what to do -hehe, more like who to do-? Do I go for the naughty teacher with the absolutely luscious flanks, the sophisticated musician with the boner causing voice, the more than willing SB -if a bit shy it seems-, or my new ally who seems to be infinitely clever and thus would be a ton of fun in bed? Hm, time to ABP -analyze by paragraphs-!

Blossom, the large flanked teacher is going to be the easiest to actually analyze -hehe, I’ve looked her over enough times- due to her previous existence as the back-up to Octavia. Her knowledge could prove useful, though I’m not sure her history as an educator has lent itself to teaching her forbidden sexual knowledge that would spin the head of any stallion. However, it does indeed lend itself to having taught her biology and thus she is by far the most aware of the group in terms of what to do and how to do it right. Also, those flanks of hers are rather large. That is all.

Hm, how would I go about seducing her? I’ve lost the opportunity to utilize V as a door opener for that. I suppose I could use my past with Blossom to fill that role. Yeah, she already knows me and thus is well aware of what to expect. All I have to do is play the sympathy card! Yes, finally, a reason to be happy for my lifetime of torment! To seduce her, I’ll start in with something casual that relates back to some tragic event in my past. Blossom, probably aware of what event that I’m speaking of, would sympathize quickly and thus become vulnerable to me. Nicely done, Booky!

Like Blossom, Octavia will be another that’s easy to analyze. Her voice alone could serve as my foreplay and her body is definitely no slouch in the beauty department. Shapely, firm, and crafted with prepared diets, that would be a body that I’d gladly be all over. To make matters even betterer, her being a musician would lead to her having a practiced pragmatic grace with which to please me with. Yeah, that sounds really good!

Unfortunately, I haven’t spoken with her since she came out as a lesbian and thus unburning that bridge will be difficult. I suppose I could open up with an apology, maybe some flowers. There’s also the possibility that I could simply invite her out to dinner in order to discuss what happened between us civilly while at the same time flirting with her, very easy to do. I’m pretty sure that the pony that she’s currently a lesbian with is the one that I caught her in that alley with, which means that blackmailing her is not an option this time. Those prior options should do me good, though.

SB, whoever that is, is a bit of a mystery as I don’t know who that is. As stated previously, she’s very meticulous in the writing of her note and thus considered it greatly. This tells me that she’s either quite nervous about this or is simply that way towards everything. It also tells me that she’s probably a little bit younger than me in that her use of language in the note was well done and nicely flowing, the words used were rather simplistic, although that could easily be attributable to her wanting to be as clear as possible.

Wooing her will be quite easy, especially given that she came to me. So, I’ll just run by Rarity’s during the mevening -which I was gonna do anyfray- in order to get her opinion on what I should wear to seduce this foal machine the easiest way I can. I’ll also ask her if she knows anypony named SB that has a sister.

Perhaps most interesting is Rose. I’ve never really considered her in detail. She’s got the stout body of an Earth pony and also clearly watches her weight and exercises due to the toned nature of her body and flanks. I can only assume that means she is well built for a thirteen round cage match with the Mighty Wriggler. Also of note is her cutie mark being of a floral variety and thus, with the added input of her occupation and name, I surmise that she is of the romantic type. That means I’ve gotta go with the classics if I were to start from the ground up with her. However, given our history together, I can start from there and simply add the classical romantic tones to it as I go

In terms of classic romanticizing, flowers, poetry, injury, and the like are the usual go to, but I’m gonna take a slightly different route given her job with flowers. Utilizing her alliance with me, I could very easily weasel my way into a position to give a gift of some sort in order woo her. My guess is that some simple jewelry would just about do it. What’s really fun is that I could probably find her something really nice in the street. I just gotta see something really nice and knock it into the bushes and hope that it’ll be there during my shift.

Oooh that is a fun game! We should add it to our repertoire!

Anyray, those are all viable options. The real question is to whom do I lean towards? I’m rather partial to Blossom’s physical form; though Octavia’s voice clearly has them all beat, with Rose’s cleverness being her superior trait, while the ease with which I can seduce SB would be hers.

The really real question comes into how much would each affect my situation? Seeking Blossom would require some time and a good sob story, going after Octavia has obvious difficulties with how I wish to have V back in my life, I have no clue who SB is, and if I were to pursue Rose I could lose her as an ally. Hm, quite the dilemma. I suppose that the way to think of it is that SB should come first -given the ease with which I can achieve her and the her readily available status-, which, should it fail, would be followed by Blossom as there is no detriment to the action of wooing her, but should that fault as well then I’d turn to Rose as I have to rebuild my relationship with Octavia back from the ground up. See, that wasn’t too hard, was it?

Now, to plan my day.

As stated, I will be heading out extremely early in order to have enough time to do stuff and thus I will be taking you with me in order to do my entry as I go. Or I won’t take you, really, it’s up to how I feel. I’ll go to Rarity’s first, try to find the lesbian -maximum of thirty minutes searching-, I’ll make a stop by Rose’s stand, probably buy a few apples, and then see Twilight before coming home.

Why do I want to go to these places? Well, my bookish friend, you know what that means. It’s time to ABP -I’m already in love with it-!

The stop at Rarity’s should make plenty of sense, especially given how I’ve already gone over it. I would like her opinion regarding what I should do to prepare for my date with SB. I’ll also ask if she knows who that is. Lastly, I want to talk to her about possibly having some form of friendship with her. I may even have to tell her about my mother in order to gain her favor, but, if that’s what it takes, then I’m still game.

Trying to find the lesbian should have equally obvious reasons. I want to talk to him in regards to my newly analyzed feelings for him and thus officially strike up our kinda-friendship. I honestly don’t think that one will be very difficult for me to get through as I’ve already had to endure a train ride to Canterlot with her. The hard part -hehe, I wrote hard- will be finding her. I have no clue where she lives and I don’t know where she frequents. So yeah, there’s that.

I’ll probably buy a few roses off of Rose when I get to her stand. I’ll even be good and tip her in order to show her that I’m more than ready to be her ally. Hay, I could probably even see how she thinks I should handle the Octavia situation. No clue if she would know anything about getting V back into my life, but that’s neither here nor there. However, I do intend to firmly let her know that our alliance is official -under the table of course, wouldn’t want the conspirators killing her-. Either way, I’ll try to flirt a little bit with her. Maybe even give her one of those roses -hehe, ain’t I a stinker-?

I want some apples because I haven’t really eaten or ingested food since the day before last and I’m feeling a tad bit neglected, so I’ll help myself to some apples. It’s possible I can also use that chance to speak with whatever Apple is in charge of the stand, whether that be Macintosh or Applejack. What to talk about, however, is the question. I don’t really have anything to say to Applejack and I’m supposing that she doesn’t have much to say to me. Macintosh, on the other hoof, and I have a bit of a something to discuss; namely the fact that I kissed him. I wanna clear the air out between him and me so that we’re both quite aware that I am NOT gay. That’s something very important to me to prove.

The one I am most looking forward to, however, is the stop by the library. It is here that I will get my money for all of my finds. I simply cannot wait to have money for food, which will be very exciting. Once I leave I can head directly home and then go shopping, which will be quite the thing. Twilight, however, might be a bit of an issue. I haven’t really spoken with her in a while and I doubt she’ll have nothing to say about some of my recent actions. I mean, I know I’m pretty much a background figure here in Ponyville -being the cutie markless street cleaner who only comes out at night helps with that-, but she tends to keep tabs on everypony and that, along with my required interactions with her, puts me right into her path.

Hmph, oh well, if that bitch has anything to say, I’ll just kinda ignore her, as usual. Either way, those are all things that should prove to be interesting in some fashion. However, far more disturbing is that it is now eleven o’clock and that means noon is an hour away.

Fuck that time of day, I mean that.

Author's Note

Greetings, true believers! It is I, the Wearer of Hats!

This chapter took me a month to complete and I'm very proud I actually managed to complete it in so little time given what I have to work with in terms of schedule. I hope y'all enjoy it.

Hats off to ya!

Eventful Events

Well, that was certainly something. Quite something to be exact. I’m not sure whether or not if I enjoyed it, but I’m certain it happened. Yeah, that was quite the thing that occurred and is currently being recalled fondly after the fact by somepony who actively participated in the event itself.

Hey, Booky, can you tell that I’m at least kind of upset that you overslept? CAUSE I AM! I mean, come on! I had this whole thing planned! It was gonna be me and you, out there doing stuff! BUT NOOOO! You had to SLEEP!

That’ll be twenty brownie points, jerk.

Now, as I was saying, the events of the mevening were quite the events to have happen. Like I said this evenoring, I went out before breakfast to take care of all my crap. Leaving early was unpleasant, but I suppose the events following made up for that…not that you’d know.

Easily the most positive of the events was when I barged into Rarity’s boutique -what, just cause I’m ‘changing’ doesn’t mean that I have to change everything-. She seemed less than pleased to have her door kicked open by me, but I suppose she thought better of being angry as her expression softened after she got a good look at me.

Yeah, I had my hotness on. What? Oh, don’t even start! I would NEVER use it for her! That’s sick! However, if I’m to seduce SB then I had to make sure my hotness gelled with whatever it was Rarity would do to me. So shut it, perv.

She made a few comments about my appearance that I paid no mind to before simply moving onto my reasons for being there. Namely, I wanted her advice on the SB case and I -and I cannot believe I’m writing this- wanted to talk to her. Whatever crawled up her plot and pissed her off before I got there seemed to leave her alone pretty quickly.

Surprisingly, she didn’t have much to offer towards the SB case. I told her about the note and everything it said. She then asked me if there were anyponies I knew that had eyes on me. I told her about the conspiracy. Unfortunately, she had only a few guesses as to who SB was. Sugar Blossom, Star Bloom, and Soaring Balloon. Now, who are those ponies and how should I feel about them? Hm, I think you know what time it is; ABP!

Sugar Blossom -I asked, she is of no relation to Blossom Cheerilee- is a recent entrepreneur -whatever that means- who has been thriving with her new confectionary treats, Sweet Greens. Apparently, she’s figured out how to cover vegetables and fruit in sugar and make it taste like crap. Yeah, Rarity says she’s not a fan. I think it sounds repugnant. However, I don’t think I’ve ever met her before. Therefore, I have little to say in regards to how I feel about it. So I’m gonna go ahead and assume I hate her -what can I say, the more things change, the more they stay the same-.

Unlike Sugar Bitch up there, I’ve actually met Star Bloom before. You see, about a year and half ago I found her telescope in the street. She came knocking at my door at exactly noon to get it back. I think it’s safe to assume that she wasn’t quite aware of how things here in Ponyville work. They lose the crap, I find the crap, I sell it to the nerd or scrap it, and -assuming I didn’t scrap it- they get it back. She was not fond of how I told her to go away. I was not fond of her not going away. My door was not fond of being slammed shut.

Soaring Balloon is one of the few ponies in town that I can say I have something of a positive relationship with. You see, she owns a hot-air balloon and allows ponies to ride in it at ridiculous prices. These ponies, mainly Earth ponies that have never left the ground before, go up and freak out. Upon freak out, they promptly begin to lose their crap. Whatever falls becomes mine. Also, the balloon itself has provided me numerous amounts of crap in the past in terms of debris. I do not hate her as I do the other two possibilities. She is, however, a lesbian.

Hey, you think I could set her and the lesbian up?

So yeah, Rarity wasn’t much help there. Not even her sister was much help. She was passing through, apparently on her way to school -a noticeable lack of tiara on her head, ungrateful bitch-, and Rarity posed the question to her as to whether or not she knew a foal machine with the initials SB. I don’t think she knew anypony of the sort, as the second Rarity clarified as to why she wanted to know the stupid filly stuttered something unintelligible and rushed out with a blush on her face.

The females of my species are stupid.

Once the awkwardness of that rudeness was passed, Rarity apologized and we moved onto my appearance. Given the time the date shall take place and with my intent of inducing an immediate response in whoever SB is, she suggested I wear a yellow bowtie-thingy and run a brush through my mane after giving my coat a thorough soaking in olive scented bathwater.

So yeah, that should more than explain why I’m currently in my bathtub writing in you.

Anyfray, Rarity even made me a yellow bowtie-thingy free of charge, which, if you’ve been paying attention, allowed me to bridge into my next topic with her rather easily.

I didn’t want to be confusing or too blunt about it, so I could only tell her the freaking truth -as much as that sucked to do-. Allow me to transcribe for you that event:

“You’re right; the yellow brings out the color in my eyes.”

“If there’s one thing I know in this world, darling, its fashion.”

“Hm, apparently so. What do I owe you?”

“Nothing, consider it a gift.”

“No, seriously, how much?”

“Tis a matter of the heart, dear, the fact I am assisting you in capturing the love of your mystery admirer is more than enough!”

“Huh, you know, my mom was like that. When it came to crap like that, she was really generous with whatever it was she had to offer.”

“She sounds like quite the mare.”

“The greatest I’ve ever known, which is kind of what I wanted to talk about.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah…um…so, like…um…”

“Its okay, Ipsa, I won’t judge you. What is it?”

“You…um…remind me of her…”

“Why, I’m simply flattered! Thank yo-“

“And I was…um…would you hate it if I were to…um…come by every mevening to have a cup of something or something?”

“…I’m sorry, mevening?”

“The time between four-forty PM to nine-thirty PM.”

“…Right…”

“Yeah, so, what I’m…um…asking is…um…if you’d mind if I came by at five every day for…um…”

“I think a few cups of tea would be simply marvelous after a hard day of work. I’m free every day except Friday, which is my spa day. However, five in the afternoon sounds perfect for such a get-together, no?”

“Huh?”

“It’s a figure of speech, dear. I’d simply adore the chance to relax and have some good company alongside some fresh tea.”

It went about a lot smoother than I had thought possible. In fact, I was expecting her to tell me to fuck off. Imagine my surprise when she didn’t.

Of course, the rest of the event was me ignoring whatever it was she had to say about my appearance. I had other things to do and was losing patience at a progressively quick rate.

Now, it should surprise you as much as it did me when I ran into the lesbian. Remember how I said that I would only spend thirty minutes looking for him? Well, I found him in less than five. Wasn’t very hard, he had a whole crowd watching him save some filly from a tree.

Being the wise pony I am, I waited for the crowd to disperse as the lesbian basked in their praise. I was actually mildly humored by watching his head inflate. Ego is good, ego means stuff.

He spotted me before I could make a move and was by my side just as quick. Like Rarity, he made a few comments about my appearance that I ignored in favor of pursuing my own goals. Though I left my house with the full intention to talk to all these ponies, that didn’t mean I was enjoying the ‘talking’ part.

Rather than describe what happened, I’ll just transcribe what was said. Though speaking with him was unpleasant -speaking with most ponies is for me-, the act of recounting the entire event would be more annoying. So, without further stalling:

“Yes, I know, I look stunning. That’s not what I…ugh…wanted to talk about.”

“Alright, but you should still get checked out or something.”

“I assure you that more than a few foal machines have already checked me out and I would rather continue my mevening without having to endure their stares much longer. Now, I wanted to let you know that I’ve been going over you in my mind for the last few days and I have decided that you meet all the criteria to be called my kinda-friend. Congratulations.”

“Um…what?”

“That’s right; I’ve finally decided that you’re qualified to be my kinda-friend. Once again, congratulations.”

“Kinda-friend?”

“Yes.”

“Why not just friend?”

“I’m sorry?”

“Yeah, like, you’re my friend and I’m your’s.”

“Well, good for you, but I don’t know you too well and thus I’m not sure if I trust you enough to actually call you my friend.”

“What? Why not?”

“I’ve my reasons. Just take the compliment.”

“YOU’RE the one who wanted to be friends with me! Why don’t YOU trust me when YOU’RE the one who kept sending me flowers and stuff?”

“Because reasons.”

“Hey, I’m cool with being friends and all, but if you don’t trust me, how can I trust you?”

“Wow, you’re really determined to ruin your chances, aren’t you?”

“Ruin my chances? If anything, you’re the one who’s getting the sweet end of the deal!”

“I prefer sour.”

“…No wonder you don’t like Pinkie.”

“You’ve just figured that out?”

“Hey, watch it, you may be my friend, but Pinkie’s, like, one of my best friends.”

“Which proves your saint-like level of patience to me and thus reaches one of my requirements.”

“Dude, what are you talking about?”

“…Listen, I’m getting really tired of all this. Do you want to be my friend or not?”

“With that attitude, n-”

“You are aware that if you finish that sentence, I won’t even consider you the next time I get tickets to the Wonderbolts, right?”

“…Good point. Alright, let’s say this; you and I are friends, okay?”

“Kinda-friends.”

“Whatever floats your boat, deal?”

“Deal, but boats don’t float, they swim.”

“Airships don’t.”

“An airship isn’t a boat, it’s an airship.”

“Yeah, but it’s like a floating boat.”

“Yet it’s called an airship and not a floating boat.”

“Yeah, well…you win this round, but next time, you’re so mine!”

“Doubtful.”

And with that, I have acquired the lesbian as my kinda-friend. Not so hard -hehe, I wrote hard-, was it? Oh that’s right, you weren’t there.

Everything else went pretty smoothly. He tried to bog me down in yet another competitive argument, but I simply ignored it and left. It took about a minute of ignoring him, but he eventually left me alone.

I have to admit, his persistently annoying personality will take time to get used to. Time he is lucky I’m willing to give.

However, unlike him, Rose was nowhere near as difficult to deal with. If anything, I downright enjoyed the event with her.

Think of it as something similar to dealing with myself. I know, Rose is a foal machine and thus one of the unclean ones, but, and I mean this, she was cunning enough to fool both ME and the conspiracy. She’s a freaking double agent! An ally that I didn’t even know I had!

Probably the only thing I really can’t stand about her is that her stand is always freaking surrounded by filthy foal machines. None of which were on my agenda to bother myself by speaking to. So, rather than put myself through that pain I decided to just wait it out for my chance.

She greeted me with her usual smile, though I must admit that I think her façade is cracking as her smile wavered a bit at first. Would be a problem if she hadn’t just had to sit through a whole group of foal machines, hay, I’d be dead if I had to suffer through such. So a shaky smile can be forgiven. However, whether or not I will actually forgive her remains to be seen.

I made very little small talk before buying a few orchids to munch on. That led directly into me telling her that I know what she’s doing, thanking her for her support, and that her secret was safe with me. Unfortunately, I was unable to leave on that high note and had to continue onto a more unpleasant topic; Octavia.

Though she seemed thoroughly confused before I even asked- playing her role perfectly in case any conspirators were watching-, Rose actually had a bit of info for me in regards to that foal machine that I am so inexplicably attracted to the voice of. Turns out that she is still getting used to being known publically as a homo and that she actually has inquired about me to Rose a few times. I’m not sure what her asking Rose about me means, but I’m gonna assume that’s good. Also, Rose told me that she didn’t really have anything to say to her other than a brief update regarding the few publically known facts about me. You know, the usual rumor regarding my drunken state at the Apple’s thing, V being taken from me, and other stuff I toned out.

According to Rose, Octavia seemed really disturbed about everything that she was told and that she left looking kinda shaken. Apparently that was the end of that encounter. I tried to squeeze out who Octavia became a lesbian with, but Rose didn’t know.

Sadly, despite the quantity of her information, none of it really helped me out much. I mean, she advised me to apologize, but I’m gonna assume that was simply to keep up appearances as I didn’t do anything wrong. And, if you’ve been paying attention, you’ll realize that I’m left back where I began, which I do not find amusing.

I didn’t really want to stick around after that, not even to try and flirt to let her know that her efforts as my ally were rewardable. So, in order to keep up appearances, I left with a large frown on my face and headed straight for the Apple’s apple stand only to find that my preferred quarry of Macintosh was not present. Instead, Applejack was there.

True to form, the bitch immediately started in on me like I gave even half a shit about her. Talking to me like I’m her friend, who does that bitch think she is? Hmph, it pisses me off just to think about it. Making matters worse, I decided to ask her about changing my usual drop off date to next evenoring whilst I bought an apple. She said it wouldn’t be an issue and that her brother would have time to fix up Carty should he need some repairs.

So yeah, my event with her was uneventful. Mostly just forced small talk and required other non-small talk. Nothing worth anything.

By the time I made it to the library I was running really low on stamina, which led directly to my next issue; the nerd. There’s no way I could’ve predicted that she’d be such a bitch today, not even with my keen senses.

Hm? What’s that? Yes, this is directly in relation to why my bit pouch looks pathetic. Give me a minute, damn it. You spoil it when you rush.

Out of nowhere that stupid shapely foal machine decided to haggle me over the price of all the crap I had to sell. Her biggest issues were with the Pinktard’s cannon and that mirror. Apparently that mirror isn’t worth anywhere near my price and that cannon had already been replace and thus was worthless. Yeah, you read that right. I didn’t get anything for that cannon. Not even a bit. I tried to fight her on the price of my other items, but she just wouldn’t fucking budge. So, tired of it all, I decided to just yield. Bitch.

You think I should’ve just punched her face with my hoof? I mean, I wanted to, but my circumstances prevented me from taking such action. It’s so stupid, so very stupid. I didn’t even get to go shopping! Yeah! I don’t have any fucking food! Aside from that apple and the orchids, I am without subsidence. Again. And don’t start about the olives I used to scent this water with. Rarity gave them to me.

Ugh, such an unpleasant end to an otherwise pleasing series events.

That’s the past, though. I must now look to the future and wonder just what the fuck I’m gonna do next.

Well, let’s see, my compost pile is already in order and thus ready to be taken to Sweet Apple Acres, I’ve cleaned most of the messes in my home, and I’m currently taking care of my appearance. I swear, SB better pay off big time. I’m really in need of something extraordinarily rewarding. I mean, sure, Rarity accepting my offer for us to be friends and spend time together and having the lesbian become aware of our now official kinda-friendship is good, but I need something great.

You think I’ll run into something good while on my route? Sure, I can’t do any work before midnight or else I’ll ruin the olive scent in my coat, but I still have to work afterwards. Hm, it’s possible that I could run into something of use.

Now, if you don’t mind, I must attend to my sexiness.

Brundle

Look at it, isn’t it great? So free, unrestrained by the…um…constraints of society. It does exactly what it pleases whenever it pleases. The best part? There are consequences to its actions. It does something and it doesn't get away with it. I know that doesn’t sound great, but think about it. Could you imagine being like that? Able to do whatever you want whenever you want and what you do actually affects the world.

Hm? What, you think I’m being too vague? I mean, I guess I see what you mean, it isn’t really an obvious thing.

What I’m talking about is how what it does causes a- what? That’s not what you meant? Wait, it is? Hey. Booky. Hey! Booky, slow the crap down! What do you mean? Oh, why didn’t you say so, stupid.

Do you see the fly up there on the wall? Right up there where I’d hang a picture if I had one I cared enough to hang. No, that’s a stain…which brings up a pretty good question; where did that stain come from? That isn’t where I threw my vase, is it? No, that was the door. And there wasn’t anything in the vase. It might be from one of the times I got bored and just started spitting at the wall. Yeah, that’s it. And no, that’s not what I’m talking about. The fly is right next to that stain. See it? Alright then, we’re on the same page.

Now, as I was saying, that fly is pretty much free to do whatever it wants and do it at whatever point it chooses to do it and regardless the action it takes that fly will cause some form of reaction from somepony. Isn’t it great? That fly could just up and come over here and land on you and I’d freak out cause…um…reasons. I’d love to live like that.

You’re lost again, aren’t you? Yep, thought so. Let me spell it out for you in the next paragraph.

As you know, that fly is able to do whatever it wants and what it does will bring about reaction. The fly doesn’t care. That’s the great part. It acts without care to whatever it affects. It just does what it does for the sake of doing it. Not cause it likes to mock those who’d like to have an effect on it, but because it’s just doing it. No emotion, no thought, nothing; only thoughtless, emotionless action.

I’d like that, to be able to go throughout the mevening, nightday, daynight, evenoring, and even the dreaded noon with action alone. Not one of my actions carrying any kind of meaning. That way I could do what I want without fear of having to, say, run into a Pinktard or anything annoying like that. I don’t want to have to form stupid alliances just to survive. Trust me; worrying about being conspired against isn’t something I enjoy.

Look at it, look at that fly. I bet it won’t even live past the next day. Whether or not it dies from me unleashing godlike might or from it just not being able to live that long, that fly is destined to die. It’s mesmerizing. That fly has probably never had its house burned down, its belongings burned down, itself burned down, beaten up by three hundred royal guards the size of buildings, kissed a rock, kissed a retard, or cared for a filly. And yet, despite that freedom, it’s destined to die before even a week passes.

Yeah, I think you’re catching on now. I’m kind of -understatement- unhappy with my current situation.

I’d get into it, but I really don’t want any more drama. I’m done with the drama, I hate the drama. Beyond seething hate, I’ve never cared about the Derptard. Beyond seething indifference, I’ve never cared about anypony else’s opinions. And I most certainly have NEVER cared for a filly’s wellbeing.

I mean, I got punched! In the face! That’s stupid!

When I first noticed this stupid change thing, I couldn’t help but think to give it a chance. Life with V wasn’t horrible. To be honest -which I always am-, I really enjoyed having her here. She didn’t make noise, she didn’t get in my way, and she even contributed to things I enjoyed. Like when I work, for example. The soft sound she made when she slept helped me zone out and mindlessly plow through my task. I loved that. And then there’s Rarity, she has the use of reminding me of my mom. So if I had to change to get V and a constant reminder of the greatest thing I’ve ever lost, then I was more than willing to change.

That was before I figured out how much changing would hurt. I’m fine with -ugh- interacting with Rarity if it means thinking of my mom, but it isn’t like I go there and we’re alone. No, every time I see her there are at least two or three other ponies around. Not to mention that she’s a bore all on her own, but those other ponies are just asking too much. Same goes with V. I’m more than willing to be around her and to suffer any other foals who I would have to endure to spend time with her, but I’m NOT okay with going anywhere near any of the ponies I’d have to be around V. That list includes Twilight, Blossom -though I don’t mind being around dem flanks-, V’s parents, or literally anypony else. It’s just asking too much. And don’t even get me started on the Derptard!

There’s a good question; why does my change have to involve that whore of a retard? Literally the only involvement in my -so-called- life was the burning down of my house and the constant annoying hospital visits. That’s it! I never interacted with her before on ANY level! Why does it involve her?? I mean, yeah, she’s in love with me and I APPARENTLY reciprocate, but that doesn’t mean crap!

I see that you’re asking yourself, “Why doesn’t that mean crap, Mr. Commander. Ipsa U-fucking-nica?” Well, my bookish companion, see how the only thing linking her and I are how she likes me and how I’ve developed a mental disorder? You see, the relationship that would normally come out of a shared connection like that is called ‘coupling’. What relationship has developed out of that? Pain. So much pain. Physical, mental, THEORITICAL pain! That doesn’t even make sense! Her entire involvement in my -so-called- life has been nothing but disaster!

I’m in no way willing to deal with her. I mean, would you?? For the measly gaining of V’s companionship and the regaining of something to remember my dear mom by, I have to give up my sanity, my health, and -inevitably- another house!

That. Is. Crap.

I want to be that fly. Live with action and no care for reaction. To go through my route and not worry about being guilt-tripped into bringing home a filly. To live a life, a simple life, without any of that stupid pain.

I’d also like to fly, that seems pretty cool too.

Author's Note

Greetings true believers! It is I, the Wearer of Hats!

So this took a little longer than I thought it would. You'll have to forgive me, my mind has been really muddled as of late and thus my writing process has been further skewed.

Well, disregarding that, let's get real.

Here we are, friends; 40 chapters. I never thought I'd make it this far. I can't express how much I appreciate that you all have read this thing. Thank you.

Alright, moment of reflection over.

Hats of to ya!

Very Unique Indeed

I can’t stand security guards. They’re so stupid. Their faces are stupid. Yeah, I’m gonna say that next time I see one.

You see, Booky, when I left for work this nightday I immediately went to the hospital to see V. Now, before you say anything, I know I said in the previous entry that I was pretty much done with…um…everything…yeah, but you will understand something; V deserves much better than for me to just get on with things and move on. That goes doubly so if I can’t take her with me. And seeing how this little plan might take a little bit of time for me to pull off, I decided that I’m not going punish the poor filly.

So yeah, I went to go see V. Or, as I should say, I went to go see the security guards at the front door waiting on me -and to think, you doubted the existence of the conspiracy against me-. I made a valiant effort to gain access to the building despite the obstacle, but it was all pointless. There were, like, thirty-thousand security guards stationed outside and around the building with…um…with…with seven nin- no, seventeen ninjas at all entry points! I was completely outma- no, only slightly outmatched! Yeah, that’s exactly what happened. I would’ve gotten in to see V had it not been for Celestia and Loopity-Spookitron disguising themselves as…are you buying any of this? Nope, didn’t think so.

To be blunt, I never approached the security guards, mostly out of fear of having my everything broken. I did, however, make it inside the building…only to be immediately recognized by a very special nurse who can go rot in a very special place in Tartarus.

You can’t say I didn’t try. You can say I didn't try very hard. What, you think my ilk -I like that word- makes their way via the flexing of muscles and the doing of the impossible? No, I make my way via deceit and trickery, behind the veil, if you will. And no, I’m not just trying to make myself seem a lot cooler than I actually am. Regardless of that insulting question, I do indeed have a plan that will hopefully gain me eventual audience with V -it makes me sick that I have to actually freaking ‘seek’ it rather than it being granted to me without question-, but I’m afraid that it involves social -ugh- interaction.

I know, you’re confused, but let me get to it, damn it. You difficult stupid.

I brought home the bread this time, Booky! Yeah, that’s right; THE BREAK-IT-DOWN game!

On this daynight’s docket are -in no particular order-: a glass rose, a trombone -ha, I wrote bone-, a book, a lantern, a weird hat, an urn, a stuffed spider, a picture, and a toy. Oh yeah, this is gonna be great! Can you wait? I can’t. Oooh, I’m getting all drooly at just the thought about talking about it all!

Ready? BRE- hey, here’s a thought; do you wanna do it this time? You know, the intro? You sure? I know it’s a lot of pressure, but it’s definitely worth it. Oh? Well, I’m sorry -not really- to hear that. Alright, I’ll take care of it, but you should see a doctor about that. Are you ready? Alright, next paragraph!

BREAK-IT-DOWN!

Up first is the book -yeah, I get it, you don’t like me with other books, but you’re gonna have to deal- and I have to say that this is a very strange thing for me to have found. Not only due to the quality of the paper and the cover given how I found it in a puddle of what I really hope was mud, but also because it’s just so…I mean, look at the title! “Luna’s Laufter.” That is just…I…I…it…I can’t even say anything! Lookit! I mean, the horrible misspellings are just egregious! How do you misspell Loopity-Katroopa? It’s really simple! And the second part, the part trying to spell laughter….that’s hilarious! I don’t even want to try to read this thing! I mean, how could I expect any of the words to make any bit of sense? V would love this. Trust me, I’m a doctor. And as a doctor, I know that nerd Twilight is just gonna splurge bits out of her eyes for this thing! Perceived value: forty-nine bits.

Coming in hot for the second item this daynight is the urn. I’ve never held an urn before. So that was a new experience for me. I’ve never seen what they’re used for. I mean, I know what they are, but I never really learned what they do. Want to know why that is? Well, my companionish book, my dearest daddy taught me that touching our urn -he referred to it as Grandma’s Urn, which tells me he stole it- was a…um…punchable offense. So I know what it’s called, but not what it’s for. I also know that this one was filled with ash for some reason. I poured that crap out into one of the gardens I passed by. And yes, I know what ash is, Booky, all of my prior possessions and Shirley are ash right now, thank you for reminding me. Jerk. As for this thing, however, I guess I can use it as a vase or something…or, better yet, I can put some flowers in it and give it to V! That’s a great idea! I’ll have to ask Rose the Double-Agent what would look best in it. Perceived value: uh…not for sale.

Ah yes, the toy. I’ve never seen anything like this before. You see, it’s a toy depicting a royal guard pony standing on his hind-legs whilst holding a gigantic sword in his fore-legs and his head held to the sky in open scream. Confused? Well, it doesn’t get any better. I found it next to a little base that the guard can stand on. When the guard is on the base, you can press a little button and that activates what’s fun about the toy…I guess. What it does is the guard starts spinning viciously on his hind-legs, swinging that giant sword around and around while the base lets out a slightly scratchy sounding, “Spin to win! For -unintelligible static-!” Yep. That’s a thing. I think V would like it. You know what? I’m gonna give it to her. Perceived value: again…um…not for sale.

I might as well get to damn point so I don’t confuse you anymore. You see, that glass rose I found is absolutely gorgeous. The crafting is exquisite and the colors are absolutely breathtaking. I mean, look at that thing. It’s awesome! Every detail, completely correct. I love it. However, since the guards will not let me into the damn hospital to see V, I must make a sacrifice -which, as you know, I’m incredibly fond of making- for her. I’m more than convinced that Rose the Agent of Doubleness will bend over sideways for it. I’ll have her be my contact with V so that I can get messages and crap to her. The urn, the spider, and the toy will be the first of it. The only sad thing is that I don’t want to get rid of it. I mean, seriously, look at it! It’s beautiful! Ugh…sometimes I hate being perfect. Perceived value: priceless…to Rose the Agent-Agent…I hope.

Oh, right, I haven’t gone on about the spider yet. Well, here I go.

This is a cute little plush of the most evil creature in existence. I found it in Carty. Yep. In Carty. I found it there. I did not in any way take it from an open window. Nope. That did not happen. This was found in Carty. By me. In Carty. By no means of my putting it there. And it will be V’s here shortly enough and thus removing any implications that may point to me as the one who found it in Carty and seriously did not take it from an open window where somepony had foolishly placed it. Yep. Perceived value: it belongs to V, so you’ll have to ask her because it is not mine and has never been mine and is in no way associated with me.

Near the place where the spider appeared in Carty is where I found this cute little hat. Isn’t it adorable? I hate it. I found it, happily found it, in the dirt where it had been stomped into it. It was right next to what appeared to be the charred remains of a toy train. Hm, a lot of fire based things this time…um…if this is foreshadowing…I’m going to go ahead and ask that it not be. Please. Anyholiday…um..yeah, the hat is weird cause it has a little propeller on top of it. Yeah…and is weird. Perceived value: twenty bits.

My favorite find is this trombone -ha, I said bone-. I’ve never held one of these before. How do you play it? Do you stroke this long, slender thing while you blow on the tip? Tromebones -ha, I wrote bones- are weird. I don’t even think I’ve ever heard one be played. It’s really big, though. The damn thing took up half of Carty’s space. So I don’t think I’m gonna carry this trombone -ha, I said…I mean wrote…I mean…uh…look, it says bone…yeah…hehe- around very long. Probably just get it to Twilight’s so she can give me money for it. Trombones -ha, I…you get the joke- must be really expensive if they’re so intricately made. Perceived value: one hundred bits.

This lantern. It’s a lantern. I can use it. I’m gonna sell it anylay. Perceived value: thirty bits.

Now this picture…where do I start? It’s a little thing, like something you’d put on your mantle if you had one. It depicts a happy mother with her happy little colt. Aw, it looks like they’re really enjoying each other’s company. The little fella’s trying to eat her mane and she’s just laughing away without a care in the world. It’s funny that’s the case considering that the colt is trying to eat her mane. Silly mommy, that’s not good! You can’t let the little guy eat your mane! Mane’s are for styling, not eating! Haha, look at him, he doesn’t even know he’s in the picture! I bet that if he saw whoever was taking the picture he’d hide right under his mommy for protection. And she’d protect him cause she’s obviously a good mommy. He’d be safe there. Right there. With his mommy. And she’d be happy. Right there. With her colt. The colt she loves more than life itself. A colt that’d miss her more than words can express if she…wasn’t there. It’s okay though…cause he’s trying to eat her mane and she’s smiling, absolutely in love with her precious ball of joy. Perceived value: two hundred bits.

Yup. That’s it.

Uh…tomorrow I’ll have to -ugh- talk to Rose the Double Agent about getting that stuff to V for me. Then I’ll go and sell all of that to Twilight. And yes, I’m gonna avoid all other contact I can.

…D-Damn it...stupid p-picture...

The Universal Answer to Everything

I know what you’re about to say but I’m not even in the mood for it so shut up. If I want to change my routine up a bit then I will.

Stupid routine.

Yes, I’m talking about how I left to take care of my chores before doing an entry and no, I’m not sorry. And don’t use that language you filthy book, I’m eating my damn breakfast.

Stupid book.

I mean, what’s Twilight’s deal? Can’t she just give me my bits and leave it at that? She’s always done it that way before. Why change it now? I mean, I was only trying to do my damn chores and she had to go and get into my business.

Stupid foal machine.

Rose wasn’t any better. That was stupid. So stupid. I mean, yeah, she’s gonna deliver my stuff to V for me and tell her the stuff I told her to tell her, but that in no way justifies what she told me.

Stupid foal machine.

What? You wanna know what’s wrong with me? Oh, I don’t know, Booky, could it possibly be everything in my stupid life? Yeah, that sounds about right.

Stupid life.

All I wanted was to go give Rose the stuff to give to V and get my bits from Twilight. That’s it. There wasn’t anything in my plans dictating that I learn horrible truths or receive horrible mail and have to deal with the Derptard. None of that crap was supposed to happen and yet it did.

Stupid crap.

I mean, who designs this crap? An urn is just a fancy vase. That’s it. That’s all it is. Just a fancy vase, meant to hold flowers. That’s it. A vase is meant to hold flowers. That’s it. An urn is just a fancy vase. It should be meant to hold fancy flowers. That’s it. Not the ashes of dead ponies. Nope. Not at all. Who would even design something to hold the ashes of dead ponies? Who would burn a dead body and why would they keep the ashes? It’s sick.

Stupid irony.

Could you imagine it, Booky? I was almost ashes once. That could’ve been me in that stupid thing. Worse yet, you would ask if you had a mouth? All that’s left of Shirley somewhere in this world are her ashes. That could’ve been her in that stupid thing. I poured actual ashes out of that stupid thing. It was stupid. So stupid. That could’ve been her I poured out. Stupid.

Stupid stupid.

And yes, before you ask, I did go to the sight of my life’s misfortunes to try and find her ashes. I couldn’t. In what can only be described as yet another notch on life’s belt all that remained of my burned down house has been cleared away as if it were never there. And apparently the stealing of Shirley’s remains wasn’t enough for the ponies I lived near. No, they had to go and build a damn garden where my house used to be. It’s stupid. Shirley didn’t even like gardens.

Stupid garden.

What if it was her in that urn? What if some sick foal machine went and found Shirley’s ashes and put them into that urn? That…no, I can’t think about that. It’s too much.

Stupid brain.

Twilight, stupid foal machine, why’d she go and get into my business? I mean, if I wanna walk around crying then I’ll do it and she has no right to stop me. All I wanted was to get my bits from her and be on my merry fucking way, but she had to have it her way. Stupid foal machine. At least she finally stopped being such a little bitch with her money -you know, with her not spending it- and finally paid full price for my crap. That’s no excuse for her behavior, however, and if not for the mom and her stupid son then I would’ve sought retribution against that foal machine.

Stupid nerd.

What? The mom and her stupid son? Yeah, when I came barging into the nerd’s library -as I am wont to do- with all my crap there was a foal machine and some whiny little brat. I hate that stupid colt. They just kinda hung back as I did my business with the nerd. That was, until, Twilight took the stupid hat with the propeller and gave it to the mom. Apparently that thing was the property of her stupid son. She thanked me and had her stupid son thank me. No big deal. Then she looked at him, she gave her stupid son a look.

Stupid look.

Booky, do you know what love is? True, absolute love? The kind that penetrates all barriers and thaws all iced hearts? It’s the kind of love a mom has for her foal. The kind of love Mom had for me. That stupid look. It’s the one that Mom used to give me. The look that says that she loves him, so very much that it hurts her when she understands that she’ll be gone someday and he’ll have to be without her. A look I miss. A look that stupid brat clearly didn’t deserve. A look that didn’t do crap to make me stop crying.

Stupid tears.

I couldn’t get out of there soon enough. Not even the lesbian could stop me. She -I can’t call her a him anymore as it confuses my brain mouth- happened to be doing whatever the crap it is she does in the sky when I was on my way home. I had even managed to curb my stupid crying when she got in my way. That was her mistake as I did not miss with Carty -hard wood and pony skull does not equal comfort- this time. Oh, if only it had been the Derptard instead.

Stupid Derptard.

Why’d she have to wait? Why couldn’t that have been her I hit? No, she had to wait until after I had hit my mark to make an appearance. Though, to her credit, she didn’t send me careening into the river this time when she ‘accidentally’ tripped me. And what did she want, you…you aren’t asking that? Oh, right. I did kind of hint at it earlier.

Stupid book.

For the first time in ever I actually had mail today. Go figure. And from whom was it sent from? Why, my bookish companion, it was from my dear old Daddy! A pony I was unaware still walked amongst the living and whom I would not mourn the passing of!

Stupid Dad.

You’d think he’d have gotten the message the last time he tried to send me a note and I ate it. Stupid idiot. He’s so stupid. I hate him. I didn’t even read it. Nope. Not even a bit. I hope it said he was dying. That would be great! I don’t know that, though, as I tore it up right in front of the Derptard and finished the trek to my house unhindered and tear soaked. What? You’re wondering how getting a letter from that shit of a father of mine could make me cry worse? Well, aren’t you a smart book.

Stupid book.

This mevening has sucked. I meant it. I’ve hated every second of it. It’s been so stupid. I mean, come on, is it too much to ask for a pony like myself to get exactly what he deserves?

Stupid mevening.

At least these pancakes are pretty good. Oh yeah, I decided to redo P-Day since the last one was ruined. This one has fared no better…not that I expected any different.

Mammam meum desidero.

And no, I’m not translating that. If you haven’t learned Ancient Equestrian yet then that’s your own stupid fault.

Author's Note

Greetings true believers! It is I, the Wearer of Hats!

I don't have much to say this time around, so I'll get right to it. I've attempted to put this story up on Equestria Daily and, wouldn't you believe it, my lack of editing has finally caught up to me. If you're interested in editing "A Very Happy and Sunny Life" then please contact me and I'll subject you to the tests of worthiness so that I might judge your...um...worthiness.

Hats off to ya!

Be Positive

I’m gonna try and do something different this time around. Normally I’m pretty negative in my entries into you. That is something I’m gonna try and change. Emphasis on try.

Alright, where to start? Uh, well, um, I didn’t die during my shift, so there’s that.

Yay! See Booky? I’m doing great so far!

I mean yeah, I didn’t find anything to sell or keep, but I still made it back home, which, considering life’s hard on for being hard on -hehe, I wrote hard on, twice- me, makes that pretty positive.

Hm, what else, what else? I can’t tell you about the stick, cause that’d be negative and I don’t want to trip over my own stupid rule. If I tell you about the owl you’ll start asking questions, none of which I’ll answer. Potatoes suck, so I can’t talk about that. Uh, oh, wait, I’ve got one!

When I was doing my stuff over by the place, I managed to find a house in which the occupant was not yet asleep. And whom was that occupant, you would ask if you had a mouth? Well, my stalwart ally, it was none other than Blossom Cheerilee and she. Was. NAKED! I mean, yeah, we all kinda are already naked, but shut up, I’m the one telling this story.

Not only was the owner of those flanks naked, she was soaking wet. Notch. Anysay, it was almost like it was meant to be. There she was, just out of the shower, soaking wet, no towel to be seen. There I was, just outside her window, slightly damp -don’t ask-, no towel to be seen. She didn’t know I was there. Hay, she even looked like she was hoping somepony would be there. And on this most magical of daynights, I was there.

Long story short, I hit my head on the side of her house causing a flower pot to fall and hit my head causing me to stumble and trip over a stick and hit my head on a rock. Cause, y’know, life.

She offered me a chance to go into her house and have her look at what very well could’ve been -and was - a booboo. I declined her offer, despite the fact that I’d gladly pay her money to take my virginity -you’d figure there’d be a business taking advantage of the ponies willing to do that- and told her that I was busy hunting treasure.

On an unrelated note, you and I should really go treasure hunting some day. I’m kinda feeling the nick of adventure and the urge to escape my cage.

So that’s all there is to that positive moment. I got masturbation fodder. Hooray.

Oooh, I’ve got another one!

Alright, so I was doing my stuff at the place with my things when I made my way over to the Nerd’s place. It was there that I saw a flaming bird. I’m not lying. A bird that was on fire. How great is nature? I’m not the only one who suffers from it! Hooray! The whole experience was kinda dulled by this lame owl that has the constitution of a royal guard, but still, fire bird!

And then I ran into a potato, which sucked -as potatoes are wont to do-, but then I stepped on it! That was very fulfilling when I did it! I mean, yeah, I had to clean that up, but still, I crushed a potato! Notch.

Um, let me see. What else, what else…hm…oh! I’ve got another one!

So, there I was, lurking -as I’m wont to do- outside some stranger’s house -Octavia- and I hear some very familiar sounds coming from within. Being the nosey-posey that I am, I got as close as I could get and found myself a little gem of a thing; somepony lied to the press! Yep, Octavia, the suspiciously-conveniently-turned lesbian, was being plowed proper by some dapper young fellow. I can’t say I recognized him, but he had a not-quite delightful beige tint to his coat and his mane was kind of a pale blond. Hm, seems kinda familiar now that I think about it, but that’s not the important thing to take out of this.

Octavia is not, despite her fraudulent claims, a lesbian! Notch.

This bring me to the final bit of positively positive stuff that occurred to me on this most current of daynights. Now, for the sake of time frame, this one happened about two hours after that sexy revelation and, as such, my hot, young body was cooled off and was back to neutral. Also, it was ready for a fight, but that’s not what happened. No, what happened was actually kind of…um, positive? I don’t know, but it felt good.

I was doing my stuff with the things at the place with the Carty when I came upon the hospital. Now, to my own credit, I had no itching to spend any time there beyond a possible physical confrontation with a certain doctor and had it not been for a spider I would’ve been home much earlier.

When the spider came out of nowhere and dropped onto my head, I reacted as any civilized Equestrian would and ripped it in half. It was about that time I realized that it wasn’t a real spider and was actually a plush spider. That realization did not stop me from tearing the two halves in half. I was about to become frustrated when I noticed that there was a tiny little note attached to one of the remains of the spider.

Here, I can’t do it justice.

Dear Mr. Bob,

Thank you.

Love,

V

It was about that time I heard the tiniest gasp I’ve ever heard. There, two stories up and only the top of her head being visible, was V. And no, I don’t think she intended to hit me with the spider, which I guess means that she gets away with it.

How do I describe what I felt at seeing her? Was it joy? Was it relief? Yes. Yes to both.

I sat there for close to three hours just looking up at her window. She only stuck around for about an hour, but I was afraid that if I left I’d wake up. I’m not mad she didn’t stay longer. She’s just a little filly with broken legs, she needs rest and I forgive her for that, so long as she gives me that wheelchair she was in.

That right there made the daynight worth it. Even though I hit my head, even though I hit my head again, even though I hit my head three times in a row, even though Octavia fucked somepony that seems awfully familiar, and even though I found nothing of monetary value, I got to see V. Notch.

Don'cha Snow!

SNOW! It’s snowing! Look at the snow! All that fluffy, huggable, lovable, edible snow! SNOW! SNOW! SNOW! SNOW! SNOW! SNOW! SNOW! So much SNOW!

Hey, Booky, did you snow that it’s SNOWING? No? How can’t you snow that? I mean, lookit, it’s all white and snowy! How can you not recognize snow when you see it?

Oh, right, you’re a book.

Well, my companioned book, it is currently raining snow! Isn’t that wonderful? I love snow. So white, pristine, innocent, and amazing!

SNOW!

And you snow what that means, right? It’s winter!

That’s right, Booky! It’s the most wonderful time of the year! Everypony in town is doing their part in kicking off the winter season and they’re just doing a horrible job at it. Then again, it isn’t like I help. Then again again, it isn’t like they ask me to.

The weather team’s got all the clouds doing the snow work while all the other peons do their crap. All very boring.

It’s all that seems to happen this time of year. Everypony’s insanely busy and then suddenly they aren’t. It’s madness.

I mean, come on, do they need to go and toil their time away with setting any of this crap up? Sure, the decorations are kind of a tradition, but they’re a horrible, stupid, and gaudy tradition. And I can’t tell you how many times Mayer Mare’s given me crap for picking up holiday decorations on my routes. Stupid bitch actually made an addition to my contract stating I can’t do that anymore. Stupid bitch.

The worst part has to be the attitudes everypony seems to adopt. They’re all cheery and happy. Makes me sick. I mean, yeah, I act all nice and crap when I’m out and about, but if I wasn’t then I’d probably be in jail. Them? They do it for reasons I can’t fathom to understand. Why would you act differently just cause the seasons changed? I don’t know. Hearth’s Warming Eve could be a big part of that problem, though.

Oh, Hearth’s Warming Eve. Such a pleasant little holiday. I remember how Mom, me, and Daddy dearest used to celebrate by hanging out in the living room in front of our fireplace playing board games, eating cookies, and drinking milk. It was nice. Notice how I said was. Yeah, I don’t really do that anymore.

Every time that holiday rolls around I end up sitting in here like it was just another day. Oh, don’t be confused, the snow makes it damn near impossible to get anything done on my routes. After that bitch banned my collecting of decorations I stopped making money during winter. It’s a very harsh season for me. Hearth’s Warming Eve is the worst, though. Everypony’s so happy and smiling. Bah, fuck it. You can’t just smile and be happy cause it’s a holiday. Trust me, it doesn’t change crap for me.

I have no clue how this year’s gonna go. I’d figure it’d be the same as usual, but this is my first winter in this house and I’m not entirely certain that my life’s persistent conflicts will leave me the fuck alone.

Anydrew, the snow is at least nice. Except for the cold. And the wetness. And the shoveling. And the snowponies. And the snowflakes.

I hate snow.

Thoughts, Meaning

Yes, I know its noon, so shut up.

I don’t think I can put into words how much I hate the holidays. Such stupid, stupid things they are. They are literally just excuses for everypony to be nice to each other without the effort of actually giving a crap. Holidays are the putrid, corrupt, slime that have poisoned Equestria into further deluding itself into believing that anything is worth anything.

Huh, that actually got pretty close to describing my hatred. That’s words for you.

Days like these are the worst. I’m sitting here, all alone in my living room (Don’t even get me started about the ‘wonderful’ company you provide.), staring at my wall and listening to the silence.

On a separate note, did you know you could listen to silence? Cause you can.

Anyfae, I hate days like this. Do I have a reason why? No…well, not any good reasons. All I can say is that days like this have been very commonplace since Daddy dearest decided it was time to live with his whore. I mean, yeah, Shirley helped distract me from it all, but it was still there. Always there.

I hate drama, I really do, but this is real life, you have to experience it. In fact, that’s kinda the problem. Mom died and Dad stopped even trying to be a parent and that led to the entirety of the town fucking stuffing it down my throat that they ‘cared’. I tried to just grin and bear it, but they just wouldn’t let me. Sure, something was wrong and I was terribly upset, but I didn’t want to talk about it or even acknowledge it existed. All they wanted was for me to talk about it. Somehow that made me the bad guy when I didn’t want to.

I remember Blossom coming up to me once during recess and giving me a flower and saying that everything was gonna be okay and that ‘it wasn’t my fault’. No shit, stupid. It’s not like I mind controlled the bees into killing my Mom and then mind controlled my Dad into being an empty chair at the dinner table. Stupid filly. I told her as much too. Got in trouble for that.

Nothing is my fault. Ever. End of story.

Like I said, life is the problem; not me.

For crap’s sake, look at em all; walking about, talking to each other, smiling, playing in the snow, eat- that guy just tripped! I fucking hope it hurt! Haha, yeah! That is one of the reasons I love life sometimes. Cause it doesn’t just focus on one pony, life sucks for everypony. Like him. He tripped. Ha.

I mean, yeah, I could totally be out there with them and stuff, but then I’d have to be OUT THERE WITH THEM! That includes the Lesbian, the Nerd, the Pinktard, the Destroyer of Verbiage, Octavia, and, of course, the Derptard.

Oh, Octavia…I really had high hopes for that. Crap, it’s been YEARS since I’ve ever given a crap about a foal machine in a way other than seething dislike. It would’ve worked; we would’ve been a great couple. She fucked it up. Yeah, she had to go and take offense to the whole ‘blackmail’ thing. It’s like she’d never even heard of flirting before! Then she went and decided to be a lesbian. Bitch should’ve had the common decency to tell me before I wasted my time kissing her and liking her. I mean, it’s not like she was emotionally torn by the attention of a desperate (And sexy.) stallion who put the idea of a relationship on such a pedestal that he began hallucinating that he saw her fucking him.

Oh well, it doesn’t fucking matter. It’ll be Hearth’s Warming Eve soon enough and this’ll all be over.

That seriously can’t come soon enough.

Happy birthday, Shirley.

Hearth's Warming Eve

It’s cold. So. Very. Cold. So cold that it makes me think about going inside. So cold that I’m having trouble keeping my quill steady. So cold that my ink looks like it’s starting to freeze. So cold that I’ve run out of things to compare the cold to.

Yes, I’m quite aware I’m outside, Booky. I am the one who brought you out here, remember? So, regardless of what you have to say about the matter, we’ll be sitting here until I give further notice.

Making things worse it that not only am I cold, but this damn sweater itches. I don’t know why I kept this stupid thing. It doesn’t even fit that well. I have to say, though, that it is a snazzy little thing. The orange stripe is slightly disconcerting given that it’s a horizontal stripe and thus makes me look fat, but it goes nicely with my fur.

At least it’s getting late enough that ponies aren’t outside anymore. Honestly, I was getting tired of having to share the damn road with them. They aren’t sitting here being nice like I am; all they were doing was going home to spend time with their families. You know pointless crap like that. I’m doing something important.

The worst part so far has been having to deal with the menace of four different foal machines who should know by now to mind their own damn business. And no, they didn’t all come at the same time. That would’ve gotten the torture over with in short order. Nope, they had to take turns, which is evidence of the conspiracy if there ever was any.

Of all ponies you’d think that the Nerd would’ve learned by this point that I’m not a pony who enjoys company. I mean, I’ve been dealing with that egghead since she showed up in town and got in good with Mayor Foal Machine (Likely through means most sexual.). So she should know better than to just approach me when I’m sitting in the street wearing a sweater and holding a book.

Since things are never the way they should be (Mom dying, Dad being an invisible dick, my house burning down, Shirley dying, and all of my life’s misfortunes being prime cases of such.) Twilight decided to invade my personal space. She started out with some stupid crap about how cold it was (Cause, you know, I hadn’t fucking thought of that.) and about how it was bad for me to leave a present sitting in the snow. I told her to shut up and leave me alone.

I know what you’re thinking and no, that didn’t get her to leave. If anything it only steeled her resolve. Funny how the foal machines of this stupid town not only do the exact opposite of what it is you want them to do, but they actively pursue that goal.

Even though I call her a nerd I’m almost convinced that Twilight’s just as stupid as the rest of her brain-dead gender. Sitting there and harping on and on about how strange I was acting and about how it was making ponies worry. Since when the fuck have I ever given so much as a single solitary crap (For that matter, when have I had a single solitary crap to give?) as to what other ponies think or feel? Never, that’s when. I told her as much, which was a mistake.

Booky, have you ever had to sit there and endure the ramblings of a bitch who is so convinced of her own intelligence that she actively ignores how obviously retarded she is? So yeah- wait, you have? When the fuck have you ever done that? Oh, right, you were right there when she was yapping her trap. Huh, I hadn’t thought of that.

I suppose that puts us on the same page then.

As you know, the Nerd eventually caught on to the fact that I was blatantly not paying attention. Unfortunately, as you also know, she didn’t leave until a full (Painful.) minute after that realization.

I mean, come on, it’s my business and mine alone if I want to sit in front of a building in nine inches of snow wearing a sweater while enjoying the company of a book and a gift. If I choose to do such things then such things are my choice!

Which brings me to the Derptard. If sitting in the street (As previously referenced in the above paragraph and as actively portrayed by how we’re still out here.) is my choice, then the mistake of sitting in the street is my own to have made. And made it I did…um, make it I did.

At least that menace waited an hour or two after the Nerd had stormed away to approach me. That gave me time to find inner peace and tranquility that she could destroy in the timely manner she’s patented. Only time will tell if I ever have such balance for her to ruin in the future.

Unlike the librarian, the Derptard kept our interaction short. She approached me as she usually does and tripped over me as she usually does before apologizing as she usually does. That led into her wishing me a happy Hearth’s Warming Eve.

Yes, Booky, happy Hearth’s Warming Eve to you too.

I’m pleasantly surprised she didn’t seem to question my situation much. After her pointless attempt at pleasantries she gave me, you, the gift, and hospital a look over before doing some kind of small smile and walking off. She didn’t even look back at me when she said goodbye.

That might actually go down in history as the one time I’ve enjoyed my time with her. I say might because she did still trip over me to start with.

Unfortunately, the same could not be said of Pinkie’s sudden (Fucking Annoysense doesn’t work worth a crap when you need it to.) appearance five minutes later.

You and I were just sitting there, being innocent, cold, and a book, and, without so much as the crunch of the nine inches of snow around us, the Pinktard was made manifest out of my darkest nightmares. She even had the audacity to smile. You didn’t see that part. For that much I am grateful.

What’s with her? Couldn’t she see we were enjoying the frigid winter by ourselves?

Ugh, I hate her. Almost as much as the snow. Stupid nine inches of snow. Wait, make it ten. That last snowflake makes it ten inches. Stupid ten inches of snow.

Making matters worse was…um…that she said…uh…I forget. YES! Finally, something worth something! I forgot what that bitch had to say! YES! YES! YES! That’s wonderful! So very great! It’d be even better if I could forget whatever she has to say next time she appears.

Whew, we got lucky with that one. I seriously cannot stand that annoying little foal machine.

Anypay, while the Nerdtard, the Derptard, and the Pinktard were all incredibly annoying, Blossom’s little visit was almost worth it. Almost.

Much like the Pinktard I didn’t see her approach, but she did have the decency to at least say something before scaring the crap out of me. Blossom even had the courtesy to be at least somewhat sincere in the way she wished me a happy Hearth’s Warming Eve.

The rest of the encounter is just boring nonsense, Booky, stuff you don’t care about. She asked me why I was just sitting around, she asked me who the gift was for, and then she went her own way after wishing me a happy Holy Day.

Oh yeah, that.

My grandmother, Sanctus Amor, passed away on Hearth’s Warming Day when Mom was young. Ever since then Mom disregarded the holiday of Hearth’s Warming Day in favor of something of her own creation; Sanctus Die, which roughly translates to Holy Day. You see, Mom was incredibly fond of her mother and she dealt with her untimely death by dedicating a day towards the remembrance of loved ones who’ve passed on. Since Blossom and I used to be (Ahem.) friends she knows that I also observe Holy Day.

On that note, I’d like to spend a few seconds remembering Mom, Grandma (Whom I regretfully never got to meet.), and Shirley. May they find the peace in death that I cannot find in life.

Now, with that out of the way, I’d like to do a different kind of remembering; of Blossom’s flanks.

Booky, I could live between those luscious lumps. I’d just crawl in there and make a little net to call home. There I could live peacefully, observing those mounds on a daily basis.

I’ll end that bit of remembrance on that note so that I don’t end up exposing myself in public. Again.

Look at it, Booky. The empty streets of Ponyville. It almost makes me wanna smile. Nopony there to annoy me, nopony there to get in my way, nopony there to be there. I’d call it art if I didn’t think art was a worthless pastime. And…uh, is that a pony?

DAMN IT!

Can I enjoy one nightday, please? That’s all I want! The only thing I want! To enjoy one nightday and not regret leaving my damn house! Oh, even better, it’s a foal machine. Great! Why not? I hate foal machines, so why not just have one suddenly start coming down the street?! And look, it’s…Octavia?

Booky, I’m gonna need a second.

You know, I’d enjoy a life where crap like that doesn’t happen. It’d be nice.

Octavia (The publically announced lesbian.) just came up to me and gave me a hug before kissing my cheek, wishing me a happy Hearth’s Warming Eve, and apologizing about…well, I don’t know what she apologized for. I stopped hearing things after the kiss.

That was…weird? It kinda felt nice, though. Huh.

OH! Booky, look! It’s V! She’s looking out her window! Do you think she sees me? Uh, uh, YEAH! SHE SEES ME!

Say hi! Booky, say hi to V before I junk you!

YES! That makes all this waiting around worth it! Think she can hear me? I better say it louder. Hm, I’m having trouble getting out the ‘w’ in happy Hearth’s Warming Eve. Here, let me use both of my hooves real quick. THAT DID IT! YEAH!

Oh, Booky, it does me good to spend this holiday with her. And you, I guess. Look at the smile on her face! That makes it all worth it! Now, how the fuck do I get this present up there?

That would be your cue for ideas, Booky. Or not, jerk.

Oh hey, it’s Nurse Redfart. You know, I don’t think she likes me very much…but…I don’t have any other options.

SHE TOOK IT! YES! YES! YES! That nurse is taking that present to V for me! YES!

Huh? What, the gift? I got her a diary, like you. I figure it’s something that’ll make that hospital seem less dreary.

Aw, look at that smile. This really is a happy Hearth’s Warming Eve, Booky.

Thank you for spending it with me, buddy. We've still got another eight hours until the evenoring rolls around, though, so don’t drift off yet.

Author's Note

Greetings true believers, it is I, the Wearer of Hats!

Huh, six days before Valentine's Day and I put out my Christmas chapter. I'm getting pretty good at this timing thing.

Hats of to ya!

Just Another Mevening

This town. This fucking town. I’m getting really sick and really tired of it. I mean, come on, can they just not manage without me? Is it impossible for those idiots NOT to leave crap out in the street, ignoring the fucking snow? I believe that to be the case.

I’m (Not.) sorry, Booky, I’m just kind of upset right now. I mean, you saw it, right? How there’s just crap lying around in the snow? Even I don’t litter, which has more to do with me not wanting to pick my own crap up, I guess, but still, my point stands.

Booky, you see my scarf anywhere? It’s gonna be cold as a mighty fuck when I head out in a little bit to take care of the mess. Don’t worry, Carty has his scarf and hat on. I’m sure he’d appreciate the fact you cared enough to ask, though.

Wanna know what makes it worse (Of course you do.)? Some retarded foals have decided that it would be in their best interest to go around and make, like, a million snowponies everywhere. It’s really pathetic that they feel the need to do that. Back in my day, when I wanted to make a friend out of nothing, I would look in a fucking mirror and squint my damn eyes. Stupid foals and their stupidity.

No, Booky, that’s not my scarf. That’s…uh….I don’t know what that is. Looks kinda like a FUCKING CRAP! RUN BOOKY, IT’S A DAMN RACCOON!

Is it gone?

Booky, I’m not looking. You look.

Damn it, get your crap together and see if that…that…THING is still there!

Booky!

You know what? I’ll do it, but I swear I’m gonna fucking haunt you if this thing kills me.

FUCKING DAMN IT! THE DAMN THING TRIED TO GRAB ME!

Well, this is certainly a fine fucking pickle you’ve gotten us into. We’re stuck in my damn kitchen cause you won’t pony-up and kill that worthless thing. This is your fault, damn it.

How did it even get in here? It’s not like I leave the fucking door open or anything like that. Did you let that thing in here? Cause you’re dead if that’s the case.

Oh great, look, it’s decided to curl up in my fucking blanket. Just perfect. Damn thing has to go and steal my stuff. For fucks sake, it’s shaking! The damn thing’s getting fur all over my nice blanket!

You know what? No, that’s it, I’m not taking life’s crap anymore. Not today. I’m through being a whipping colt. This raccoon is gonna get it. From you. Now.

GO, YOU MAJESTIC WARRIOR!

I did it, Booky! After you failed to even hit the stupid thing I managed to hit it with one of my nice plates. Fuck yeah! Ipsa Unica, fucking beast slayer!

Now, what to do with this…corpse? Is it dead? Booky, is this thing dead? Don’t look at me, I wouldn’t know. I’ve only ever seen two dead things in my life (My Mom and my dreams.) and it doesn’t look like either of them.

Huh, maybe if I poke it…yep, fucker’s bleeding. All over my damn floor. You know, crap like this makes me IT’S ALIVE!

Well damn it! Now what? Fucking little…how do I handle this situation? And no, don’t you fucking dare tell me to treat it like I did V. She got special treatment. Also, I didn’t have a choice. Yes, Booky, I have a choice here. All I have to do is throw…it….um…outside…into fifty inches of snow. Huh.

Nope. Not doing it, Booky. You can’t convince me to care for that…hurt…little…is it crying? No, that’s not fair! Why’s it crying? Booky, make it stop! That’s not fair! It’s not allowed to cry! That’s not fucking fair!

Damn it, Booky, help me find a needle and some thread or something.

Author's Note

Greetings true believers! Your eyes do not deceive you, it is I, the Wearer of Hats!

Wow, let me tell you, I never intended to put this off as long as I have and I am truly sorry for that. I've simply just had all kinds of drama to deal with and I fell behind. Mind you, I never forgot about this story, not once. I just couldn't find the motivation or time to get the words out. Well, I did, which should be evident, but...you get my point.

That's it for now, but I ask that you, my most precious reader (That's right! I'm talking to YOU!) continue to be patient. The drama of my life continues full force and could very well force another prolonging. I will try and avoid such, but if such is unavoidable then it cannot be avoided.

Hats off to ya!

I Donger, You Donger, We All Donger

I HATE SNOW.

Why does it even need to happen? It sucks. Snow sucks. It sucks harder than the world’s most desperate/talented prostitute. It literally serves no purpose. It does nothing, absolutely nothing. I would know.

Fuck.

I hate cold nightdays, Booky. They aren’t even worth the effort. Fucking stupid. Oh and Carty agrees, trust me. He and I had a very intense amount of quality time as I cleaned up Ponyville (Again.). We spoke in-between my bouts of destroying snowponies.

At least I have my coco. I’m not very good at making it, but I…um…well, at least it exists. What counts is that I have something warm to drink as I cuddle into my blanket, of which I am profoundly proud of myself for acquiring.

Anysay, despite the ball chilling temperature I managed to bring in a decent amount of crap, which only proves how fucking stupid this town is. Even when there’s a thousand inches of snow outside ponies leave all kinds of crap just sitting around.

Without further adieu, let us proceed. My haul includes the most amazing box ever, yet another fucking book, a toy, a saddlebag, a horrid picture, a gaudy scarf (Gee, I wonder who it belongs to?), an awesome bookshelf, a…thing, and some idiotic jewelry.

BREAK-IT-DOWN!

First on the agenda is the book, cause, you know, why the fuck not? Yet again I’ve managed to find a book of respectable quality that (Obviously.) belongs to a certain librarian, so you know I’m gonna get a hefty sum for this thing. It’s called, “The Midnight Pearl” written by, get this, Starswirl the Bearded. I didn’t even know that old fuck wrote words. No clue what it’s about, though. I read a little bit of it and immediately woke up ten minutes later. Something about love or something. Perceived value: twenty bits, but I’ll mark it up to one hundred cause I’m a stinker.

Speaking (Can written words even count as spoken?) of silly words I like, this box is simply amazing. Booky, do you know what a donger is? I have absolutely no idea. Could it be something really stupid? Yes. Could it be something really cool? Yes. Is donger my new favorite word? Yes. The freaking box doesn’t even tell me anything! It’s just a simple white box with donger written on it! There’s no way I could possibly part with this thing. Perceived value: priceless, to me at least.

That somehow brings me to the saddlebag. You see, I found this thing near what was left of a snowpony. It looks like somepony just left this stupid thing in the snow or something. It had some stuff in it, too: a stupid picture (More on that in a moment.), some letters (More on those in a later moment.), the stupid piece of jewelry (More on that in another moment.), and a toy (More on that in one or two moments.).

Can you guess which retarded foal machine this saddlebag belonged too? Yup, the Derptard.

Anytray, the letters aren’t really valuable, so I’ll just read them in a second and then throw them away or something. Everything else can at least get me a bit for each. The saddlebag, however, will get me nothing. You see, it belongs to the raccoon now (More on that in a lot more moments.). Perceived value: priceless…to the raccoon…I guess…

Alright, the stupid picture is, as you might be able to guess, pretty stupid. I mean, why even bother taking a picture like this? It’s just the Derptard curled up by a hearth with her retarded daughter cuddled up against her. Just look, Booky, she looks so peaceful, happy, content, in love, and…just plain happy. The foal isn’t any better. Just look, she’s curling up against her mother and hugging tight enough to know she’s there yet loose enough to sleep soundly. It’s…um…it’s disgusting, yeah, disgusting! At least it has a nice frame, which I suppose is more than enough reason to keep this picture and put it by my bed or, you know, something like that. Perceived value: not quite priceless, but still without price…to me at least.

Along with that totally, um, stupid picture I found a stupid pendent. It’s just a simple piece of metal on a chain. Nothing special. The piece of metal is made to look like a muffin, which doesn’t surprise me in the least. What marks the price down a bit (Heh, see what I did there?) is that it has something engraved on the back of the muffin. It says, “A muffin for the best mommy ever.” Isn’t that great? Now no stallion in their right mind is gonna wanna buy this thing from the Nerd. Perceived value: fifty bits, but I’ll mark it up to one hundred bits cause I’m a stinker.

Now the toy is actually interesting. You see, it’s the latest in the new line of Wonderbolt figurines. This little thing has fully mobile wings that allow for imaginary simulated flight. Along with those it has a fully authentic (Though clearly synthetic.) mane and tail, no doubt meant to be brushed by some foal who wants their Wonderbolt to be presentable at all times. This particular figurine seems to bear the likeness of the famous captain of the Wonderbolts, Spitfire. Never say that sitting there listening to the Lesbian go on and on about those idiots didn’t pay off. Perceived value: sixty bits, but I’ll mark it up to one hundred bits cause I’m a stinker.

I’m very excited about this next find. I found this bookcase partially buried under a heap of snow and let me tell you, this thing is nice. It’s made of a very nice type of wood I don’t think I’ve seen before and is actually kinda wide considering how tall it is, but that only makes it better. It perfectly has three shelves, which means that it’ll go perfectly in my bathroom. Why do I need a bookshelf in my bathroom? Booky, it’s easier to ask how I COULDN’T need a bookshelf in there! It’s just perfect! Perceived value: priceless…to me at least.

The thing is a, uh, thing…hm…yeah. It looks like a rubber chicken with no feathers or bones, a coat, and a party hat. I have no clue what to even…what is this thing? Who would need a boneless rubber chicken in a coat and party hat? I mean, why? Why does this exist? Perceived value: ten…no…twenty? Uh, I’m gonna go ahead and say one hundred…cause…you know…stuff.

The last item on the docket is scarf that was obviously made by none other than Rarity. Can’t you tell? It’s covered in gaudy jewels, the fabric is the most annoying shade of light blue ever (Robins egg, I believe.), and it’s just plain tacky. Look, it even has white lining on it. This would look stunning on a bowtie-thingy, but no, she had to go and make a scarf. Disgusting. Perceived value: one hundred bits, but I’ll mark it up to two hundred bits, cause I’m a stinker.

Pretty nice finds if I must say so. The bookshelf is gonna look beautiful next to my tub. I’ve no clue what I’m gonna do with the donger box, though. Whatever I decide, however, it will look magnificent! As for the picture, I’m sure the frame will look nice next to my bed. Yep, the frame, I don’t even care about the picture.

Ah, yes, thank you for reminding me, Booky.

Now, these letters are very strange and I’m not quite sure what to make of them. Here, allow me to transcribe.

Dear Princess Celestia, (Oh goodie, I stole more of the royal bitch’s mail.)

I am writing to you as part of a school assignment (NERD!) and I wanted to ask you about what you think about the first day of Summer (Really? You have a chance to send a letter to fucking GODDESS of UNLIMITED POWER and you want to talk about the fucking weather? I’m sure you’ll go far in school.) and what it means to you to be the one who rises (Haha, way to fuck up in your letter to an ALLPOWERFUL GODDESS!) the sun. Does Princess Luna (Who?) like the sunrise? I like the sunrise a whole lot. I wanted to do my assignment on the sunrise and Miss Cheerilee (You know, Booky, I legitimately miss those flanks.) said I could! Diamond Tiara (Wait, what? What about that whore?) made fun of me (Not to defend her, but you probably deserved it, retard.) for wanting to do my assignment on the sunrise when she said her daddy’s business is much better. I do not think it is better. I like the sunrise. (Wow, just…wow.)

I want to also ask if there is anything you can do for my classmate Shimmer Shade (Her name is Vocem Non, retard.). She is in the hospital right now because she has two broken legs (Nothing compared to what that little whore Diamond Tiara has coming for her.). Shimmer Shade (Vocem Non.) is a very nice filly and I am really sad that she is hurt. Is there anything you can do to help her (That’s actually a really good question; there anything you gonna do to help, bitch?)

Your Biggest Fan,

Truffle Shuffle (Wait, Truffle wrote this? Hahahahaha, BIGGEST FAN! I GET IT! GOOD ONE!)

So yeah, there’s that. Nothing too important, just some fat colt’s homework, although it raises an interesting question.

Its stuff like these thoughts that make me hate that royal bitch even more. She literally moves the fucking sun with her fucking mind! Celestia has more than enough power to heal V up nice and quick and then repay cruel justice to Diamond Tiara! Why the fuck not, bitch? Too busy stuffing your fat fucking face? Or is it that I was right about you royal bitches? All talk and no game? Fuck them.

Alright, letter number two.

Dear Mommy and Daddy (Starting off strong.),

I’m doing really well in school (Another one? What’s with the Derptard and having foals’ letters?) right now, thank you for asking! Miss Cheerilee says I’m getting better every day! We’re doing an assignment right now about nature. Apple Bloom and Scootaloo want to do ours (Wait, Sweetie Belle?) on the nature of cutie marks (Don’t worry about those, they’re just a conspiracy perpetrated by Celestia’s tyrannical rule.)! As much I really want to help them with that, I kind of want to do my assignment on the weather of the Everfree.

I know you both don’t want us going back in there, especially after last time, but isn’t it really interesting that the weather there doesn’t act the same as the weather everywhere else (No.)? I’m not sure I’d get anywhere with any research, but I still think it’s really interesting! What do you two think? And no, Daddy (Ah, Magnum, it’s always good to think about that name.), I don’t wanna do my assignment on hoofball (Of fucking course he would want her to do her project on that! Fucking Magnum, he’s basically the very definition of masculine!).

Rarity’s doing really well too! She says her Winter line is going to sell really well! I’m really excited for her, too! She won’t let me help, though. I really want to! She does the coolest things! Wait until you see her Winter line, Mommy! You’re gonna love it!

Do you two know Mr. Ipsa Unica (Wait, me? Why me?)? He’s the stallion who cleans the streets at night here in Ponyville, if you didn’t know.

Did you know he’s a blank flank like us (Oh good, just what I wanted. Fuck you, bitch.)?? Apple Bloom really wants him to be a Crusader (NO.), but Scootaloo isn’t so sure (Least the stupid one has enough sense about her.). I’m not sure I know what to think of him.

Rarity tells me he’s really nice (Damn right I am.), but that he has a lot of issues to work through (I WHAT?!). What does that mean? Are his issues like the ones the stallions have in Rarity’s books (Hehe, if they’re books like I’m thinking of, then no, probably not. Though not for lack of trying.)? Do you two know?

I think I like him (WHAT?!). He’s really nice to my new friend Vocem Non, well, her name is Shimmer Shade (No it isn’t.), but she wants us to call by that name instead. He gave me Diamond Tiara’s tiara for my birthday! Still, he’s kinda strange (Damn right I am.), though. Twilight says we should give everypony the benefit of the doubt when it comes to friendship (The fuck would that Nerd know about friendship?). What do you two think?

Please bring me a souvenir from your cruise!

I love you, Mommy and Daddy!

Love,

Sweetie Belle

So…fucking plot twist right there. What are the odds the Derptard would have two letters basically talking about me in them?

Yo Derpy (Off to a charming start.),

Look, I wanted to say this the other day but I kinda got distracted and you were gone before I had a chance to say anything, so here; you should totally leave that guy alone (You’ve got to be fucking kidding me. Another letter that features me?). He’s got trouble written all over him (Wait, I do?). He creeped really hard on Tavi (Who or what the fuck is a Tavi and how the fuck did I ‘creep’ on it?). It got really scary.

In order to get rid of the guy she had to come out of the fucking closet (Tavi is Octavia? Why is Octavia friends with someone like this?)! This dude is not good news (Well fuck you too, sister.)!

I know you wanna see something else (Not very hard considering that she sees two different things all the time.) when you look at him, but there’s nothing there you need to have anything to do with, okay (Again, fuck you, bitch.)? If you’re that desperate for a relationship then you can come clubbing with me and I’ll hook you up with somepony (Sure you will.). He’s bad news, I’m serious (The fuck? What’s this bitch’s problem?).

Derpy, the last thing I wanna do is start an argument about this guy, so please don’t let this become an issue. If you’re so sure about how safe you are around him then fine, but think of Dinky! She shouldn’t have anything to do with him and neither should you (Hey bitch, the Derptard can make decisions for herself. If she wants to be with me then let her try and fail.).

So please, take my advice and drop the issue.

Don’t do something stupid.

Your Friend (Likely story.),

Vinyl

What the fuck? Why is this getting weird? First the fat fuck wants to ask about V to Celestia, then Sweetie Belle goes and asks her fucking parents about me, and then this Vinyl bitch decides to be a bitch to me.

First of all, Derpy’s love life is none of that whore’s business. Second of all, for all we know I could have a stroke right now that would leave me completely capable of returning romantic feelings towards the Derptard, so back the fuck off. Lastly, FUCK THAT BITCH! Whoever this Vinyl is can go ahead and have a miserable life.

Fuck.

Anygay, before I start dwelling on that bullcrap, I’d like to talk about the raccoon.

As I said, I took the raccoon out with me on my rounds earlier. Wasn’t difficult. I just kinda used a bucket to push the rodent into Carty. He wasn’t much different than V, ignoring the blood of course. A fact that only makes my decision all the more annoying.

I’ve decided that, against my better nature, I’m gonna let this thing live with us until it either dies or the snow goes away so I can get rid of it. That means it needs a temporary name. I’m thinking Cruento Latronis (Cause it’s funny.), but I’m really liking the idea of naming him Donger. What do you think?

Stuck

Oh thank crap! Booky, I am so freaking happy I finally managed to get a hoof on you! Now, you’re gonna have to be quiet as I explain cause I don’t wanna put up with any giggling or anything like that. I mean that. Not. One. Peep.

Five days ago I found this stupid bookcase and thought, “Hey, y’know what I need? A bookcase in my bathroom. Won’t that be neat?” So I proceeded to proudly move the damn thing in here with very little thought to the concept of caution, my second mistake.

Now, before I go on, I want to mention that for the first few minutes the damn thing looked mighty fine next to my crapper, so regardless of my circumstance I was right to think it would look nice.

My pride in my achievement being such, I decided to eat my lunch right in front of it so that I could admire my greatness. It wasn’t much, really, just a pack of crackers and a daisy sandwich. Y’see, Booky, I like me some crackers. I like them so much, in fact, that when one decided to rebel and make for an escape to the floor, I pursued it without haste. During that pursuit, I, blinded by my need for the escaping cracker, managed to impale my brand new piece of furniture with my head and knock myself right the fuck out by punching the wall with my head.

Yes, Booky, that is why you’re currently staring at a bookcase with a head poking out of it.

That was five days ago. I woke up a few hours later and quickly realized I had become a bookcase. This realization was followed almost instantly by the observation that I, in fact, could not remove my head from the shelf. It was then I started to throw a fit, the likes of which I haven’t unleashed since my stay in the honeymoon suite at Ponyville General. This rampage led directly to my next realization; my new appendage was too wide to fit through the door and turning it has become impossible due to the way I am stuck.

I’ve survived on crackers and tap water since then.

The biggest problem has been my crippling boredom with being stuck here. I’ve had literally nothing to do. Literally. I would’ve chatted up a storm with you, but for some fucking reason you wouldn’t respond when I said anything.

Wanna explain that, Booky? Were you being temperamental? Do you think I’ll forget you ignoring my pleas for help?

It was only by some stupid miracle that I managed to use my toilet brush to nudge you in here.

Huh? Yeah, you aren’t the only one I’ve been trying to get to help me, but you’re the only one I would’ve expected to help. Carty can’t hear me due to a combination of old age and his being outside, my marble collection is largely immobile, and I haven’t seen Donger (Yes, I decided to name him that.) since before I got stuck, though I have heard some rumblings from my kitchen.

During my five days of being stuck I’ve had a slew of visitors come to my door. Well, to be more accurate, I’ve had one visitor come many times. Go on, guess who. Yup, Ponyville’s resident fucktard. Now, from my poor positioning in my home I could hardly make out distinct patterns in her knocking, but I could certainly hear her three days ago when she was calling for me. Desperate bitch. And no, Booky, at no point did I consider asking her to help. Knowing my luck she would’ve lopped my fucking head off in order to dislodge it.

What is it with her? She clearly knows how much she isn’t welcome here and how much I hate her. I mean, yeah, I’ve kissed her two or three times. I’ve also kissed Octavia. Plus, one of those ‘kisses’ was more of a collision than a kiss. And yes, I said I ‘loved’ the Derptard (Something she shouldn't know unless a certain book went and made a rather significant mistake.), but you have to understand something about me; I consider love an empty word these days.

I don’t like her. At all. I’d rather spend more time with the fucking Pinktard than that idiot.

Hm? You don’t understand how I can ‘love’ her and hate her in the exact same breath? It’s really easy, Booky; you just have to have an open mind. She’s one of only two foal machine I’ve ever had intimate contact with and the contact I had with her was either the result of tragic circumstance or of me temporarily losing my mind.

I hate Derpy. She’s the bane of my very existence. I’d honestly be with any foal machine before that stupid sack of crap. Rarity? Yeah, I would totally be with her before that wonk eyed fucktard (Granted, there could be one or two emotionally tragic issues regarding her resemblance to Mom.) and I would enjoy it far more. The Nerd? If she could shut her mouth for more than a minute then why not? Fuck, I’d even bed the damn Lesbian over that wall-eyed mistake.

Let me make this clear in the paragraph beneath this one.

You see this bookcase I’m stuck in? You see the door this bookcase I’m stuck in is stuck in? This door this bookcase I’m stuck in is stuck in is connected to my house. This house connected to this door that has a bookcase stuck in it that has me stuck in it is in fact the second one I have ever owned. If you remember, my first house was burned down with me inside of it. I almost died attempting to rescue the only thing making my life worth living, something that didn’t make it out of that fire; Shirley.

Derpy killed Shirley. She took away from me the only source of comfort I’ve had since Celestia saw fit to take my Mom from me. I don’t care how much she apologizes, I don’t care if she says she likes me, fuck, I don’t even care if I say I like her. My whole life was in that house.

You know, I should’ve died with Shirley. It isn’t fair I didn’t. Why am I alive? There’s nothing for me here. I have a father out there somewhere, but, not surprisingly, I have no fucking clue where he is. Carty’s here, but I know him; he’s strong enough to have moved on if I had died. He could’ve found a new family to be a part of. V? Somepony would’ve found her sooner or later; I didn’t need to be the one that found her. I have nothing to live for.

You? What about you? You’re just the backwash of tragedy, a square peg to fit into the circle shaped hole in my heart.

If I had the balls to do it then I’d have killed myself by now, but no, I’m too much of a bitch to go through with it. I mean, yeah, I happened to fall off the roof of the hospital and get hit by the Ponyville Express, but let’s not mince words; those were accidents. If I wanted to fall to my death I would’ve dove off the roof at night, not the middle of the day. And if I wanted to be a smear on the tracks then I would’ve thrown myself under the train, not into it.

I’m just a coward who got stuck. Stuck in a life that he doesn't want and one that doesn’t want him. Also a bookcase.

REVENGE

GOTCHA! Thought you could hide from me, didn’t you? You sneaky little book, if I can’t get out of this bathroom then there’s no chance for you to just slip out unseen.

So, what’s wrong? Why’d you wanna hide? Something I said? It is, isn’t it? Geez, you’re too sensitive sometimes, Booky. If you can’t take it then you shouldn’t have signed up.

Now, as I was saying before you so rudely disappeared yesterday, my life can be boiled down to a simple conflict; I’m stuck in a bookcase. Not by choice, but of either circumstance or the will of others. Nothing’s ever my fault ever. My being stuck is just a good example.

When Daddy dearest decided little Ipsa didn’t need no schoolin anymore, he kinda put a damper on my job options, limiting me in regards to what I could possibly do with myself for the rest of my life. I’m not smart enough for one of them smart jobs, so that was always gonna be a no. Thanks to my loving father I’ve been relegated to pick up other ponies’ crap in the dead of night.

I liked my old house, it was pretty neat. The layout was simple yet inviting, bland yet full of life, and absolutely perfect. I felt at home inside of it. This house is nothing like it. To put in a way you would understand, think of it as a dust jacket to a book that is either far too small or far too large to fit. It was by the sadistic design of fate that the Derptard took my old home from me, relegating me to this crappy place (That, might I mention, has a bathroom that was practically built to be a trap, apparently.).

You see where I’m coming from, Booky? Nothing in my life is my fault. Nothing. Everything wrong in my life can either be attributed to Daddy dearest, the damn Derptard, those royal bitches, or that pink bitch. I’ve just been some poor pawn in their game of checkers.

In other news, I’ve got one cracker left to eat. That means that if I cannot magic my escape from this most crappy of predicaments then I’ll die of starvation sooner or later.

Gotta say, that’s not quite the way I pictured me going out. Fitting, but still, not really what I had in mind.

Hm, you know, now that I’ve been trapped in here for six days I gotta say that I really like this bathroom. I mean, don’t get me wrong, it’s nothing compared to my old one, but this isn’t really all that bad if you look past the fact that I’m doomed to die here.

Hehe, wanna know something pretty funny? Nopony knows I’m stuck. I’ll die in here and, eventually, somepony will break in to steal something (Not that I’d have any fucking clue as to what they could steal.) and find a skeleton dangling from a bookcase stuck in the door of the bathroom. I mean, can you imagine? That’s not really something you expect to find.

So, what shall we do as I await my death? Can’t really do the break-it-down game from here…which is slightly depressing, but I’ll manage. We could play a game of some sort. Would you like that? If so, then feel free to pick the game, as I have no clue what there is to do other than just kinda stand here and wait.

Bored.

Bored.

Bored.

Bored.

Bored.

Bored.

Bored.

Bored.

Bored.

Bored.

Bored?

Bored!

Bored…

Bored!

Bored?!

Bored.

…Bored?

Bored.

Bored.

Hey, I haven’t heard Donger since about yesterday. You think he’s still alive out there? Don’t play that game, Booky, you know who Donger is. The raccoon I brained with my fine dining plate? I thought I heard him rummaging through my kitchen the other day, but I haven’t heard him since. I don’t recall ever feeding him, so unless he raided my kitchen then he’s probably already dead.

Huh. Bummer.

Bored.

Bored.

Bored.

Bored.

Bored.

Bored.

Bored.

Bored.

Bo- hey, you hear that? Kinda sounds like somepony at my front door, doesn’t it?

Oh, I swear, that better not be a burglar, Derpy, or Pinkie (Knowing my luck it’ll be all three.). I am NOT in the mood for company!

That would be the sound of my front door opening, which means I have an intruder on the premises, which is great, cause, y’know, that’s what I fucking need.

I hear Derpy (Of course it’s her, what’d you expect?) in there, calling for me. Hm, thick drawl with an accent. That would be Applejack. The fuck does she want? Ah, and the Lesbian makes three.

Hey, Booky, wanna tell me what it is a retard, a farmer, and a lesbian want with me?

This is gonna take a minute. Be patient.

***

Say, Booky, how do you feel about those? I’ve always kind of liked em. They let me express to you that a significant portion of time has passed by without having to literally tell you that about an hour has passed by since I last wrote something. Nifty, huh?

Oh yeah, I almost forgot; OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOWWWWWWWWWWWWWW! That fucking farmer freed me from the bookcase of shame with a swift buck. Yeah, I said buck. As in she used both legs. As in, she used one leg more than she needed. As in, I just got fucking kicked in the face by one of Ponyville’s strongest residents.

One moment I’m closing my eyes as I’m told, “This’ll only take a moment. You, uh, might wanna keep still.” (Yeah, thanks for the advice, bitch.) Next thing I know I’m at the Apple family household on Sweet Apple Acres.

Yeah, you read that right, Booky. I was saved from certain death by a kick to the face that surely only barely managed NOT to kill me. There’s something to be said of my luck, that something being that I seem to have a distinct lack of it.

I now sit in the living room of the Apple family household on Sweet Apple Acres, head as sore as it was when I woke up here, in the Apple family household on Sweet Apple Acres. To my left would be Applejack, who I have yet to answer the question of. To my right would be Granny Smith, a pony so old that she foalsat time itself. I’m aware that Apple Bloom is at school. Thankfully Big Macintosh is not present, I don’t think I’ll ever be able to look him in the eye after…well…yeah, that.

Ah, I’m so glad you asked, I was found by Applejack (Obviously.), the Lesbian, the Derptard (Again, who the fuck else would it have been?), and, oddly enough, Fluttershy. Apparently Donger was indeed rummaging through my kitchen yesterday as, according to Fluttershy, he was rather hungry. My pantry not being enough for that ravenous rodent he decided to leave my house through whatever hole he used to enter. From there he ran home to Flutterwhy and told her that I had attempted to murder him.

Yep, yet another entry into my log of unbelievable crap that’s happened to me.

As mad as you would expect some psychopath who prefers the company of animals to ponies would be at the sound of abuse, she made little time in coming to town in order to confront me. Applejack, being the generic she is, noticed that Flutterfly was on a warpath and enquired as to what the fuck she wanted. It was there that Flutterpie’s warpath widened to allow Applejack to join her crusade. Fate being what it is, they happened across the Derptard who told them that I hadn’t been seen for a few days and that she was worried about me. That, apparently, was all it took to garner the attention of the Lesbian, who, being the attention whore she is, decided she needed to be present.

So yeah, that’s the story about how I managed to escape the clutches of the bookcase of doom.

After assuring that her lover hadn’t kicked my skull in, the Lesbian left to get back to her nap (Lazy bitch.). The Derptard left about as quickly as she did; only she at least waited for me to wake up before she had to get back to her job, which is something I’m not surprised in the least about due to how increasingly present she is becoming in my life. She did make mention that I had six days worth of mail waiting for me at home, mail I will most assuredly ignore. As for Flutterhi, she wouldn’t leave until I gave her an explanation for the attack on her ‘animal friend’ (Her words, not mine.). I, in no shortage of words, told her I am not fond of intruders. She didn’t accept that at first (Cause, you know, why would she?) and she would’ve pursued the matter more had I not told her that I, in fact, hate animals (Along with so many other things that a list of the things I hate would make her head spin.).

Now, does that answer your question as to why I’m surrounded by Apples in the Apple family household on Sweet Apple Acres and not by my would-be rescuers? Hm? No? That’s not what you wanted to know? Applejack’s question? What about it? That’s what you wanted to know more about? Well, aren’t you a fucking stick in the mud? If you must know, Booky, she wants to know why I didn’t escape on my own or yell for help.

Now, if you don’t fucking mind, then I’ve got to give her a good answer or else she’ll pester me forever. I can’t tell her that I had simply accepted my fate; she’d probably raise a fuss over that. So I have to lie. What can I say? That I enjoyed it? That it was comfortable? That I meant to be stuck there as long as I was? Hm, this is a toughie.

Uh, yeah, she and the old bitch are just sitting there watching me write in you and not in the cute way V used to, they’re being creepy about it. I mean, can’t they see I’m busy? Bitches. And before you try to defend their honor, you gallant knight you, I’ve already made it very clear to you that this is my diary time as stated in my schedule. Or at least I think it is. I can’t really tell the time of day anymore.

Isn’t funny how that happens? You’re inside so long that the very concept of the passage of time loses its meaning. I mean, yeah, I knew days were passing, but that didn’t tell me what the time was.

I’VE GOT IT! I can tell them that it wasn’t because I necessarily enjoyed my entrapment, but that I didn’t want to break my new bookcase. That’ll work! Yeah, that’s a really good one! Good job, Booky! Come on, I’m gonna try it out!

Hm, Applejack seems leery, but the old one seems to buy it. Hm, maybe that wasn’t good enough…damn it, Booky! Why’d you come up with such a crappy lie? Nopony anywhere would ever buy such a crappy excuse! And…wait, the old one’s whispering to Applejack.

THEY BOUGHT IT! HOORAY! I told you that’d work! Greatest lie ever told!

Awesome!

Ah, I was wondering when you’d ask that. You see, after Applejack kicked my head off she noticed that I was a little, um, malnourished? Is that right? It’s supposed to mean, like, really hungry or underfed or something. Well, she decided to bring me to her home here in the Apple family household on Sweet Apple Acres in order to feed me or something like that, which is something that has yet to happen, I now notice.

Hey, there we go! The old one just said she’d go and start making lunch or whatever. Yay! Free food! Oh great, Applejack just said she’s gotta get back to her chores! That means loneliness! HOORAY!

You know, Booky, this day just keeps getting better! Haha, I guess things are always darkest just before the dawn.

So…wait…you hear that? Kind of sounds like...oh…oh no, not that. I’M NOT A FUCKING FOALSITTER, DAMN IT! DAMN IT! It’s not like I can fucking hide or something, damn it!

Booky, I swear that I will shred you if these fillies kill me.

Yep, Apple Bloom, Scoottard, and Sweetie Belle (Who, again, isn’t wearing her tiara, ungrateful bitch.). Here they are. All three trying to talk at once. To me. Yep.

This is my life. This right here is what it’ll be pictured next to me in the great big book of life.

Blah, blah, blah, blah. All they’re talking about is about what to do and how I could help them get their cutie marks or whatever. I’m not even listening.

Bored.

Bored.

Bored.

Bored.

Bored.

Bored.

Bored.

Bored.

Bored.

Bored.

Bored.

Bored, wait, what? Diamond Tiara? Hold on.

Alright, info time, I just learned that these three just got back from school (Oh Blossom, your flanks weigh so heavily upon my thoughts.) where they apparently had a rather grueling test. Sweetie Belle says she thinks she did pretty well while Scootletard said she thinks she did awesome. Apple Bloom is the one I care about. She said she’s pretty sure she failed due to not being able to study due to reasons I didn’t even try to pay attention to.

Here’s where it gets important, Booky, so listen up.

Apple Bloom said that she thinks Diamond Tiara probably did the best on account of her cheating or something, didn’t listen to that part. What matters is that a test was taken, Apple Bloom failed, and Diamond Tiara passed.

LET THE PLOTTING COMMENCE!

I still owe this little bitch some pain (As previously stated in one of my plans so long ago.) for her mistreatment of myself and, more importantly, V. That simply cannot be forgiven.

Diamond Tiara, as per my observations, is something of a daddy’s girl (Stupid bitch, fathers aren’t even worth it.) and, her being his little princess (She certainly is of a bitchiness relative to the royal bitches.), means that he likely has a rather high standard for his whore of a daughter. That means he probably wouldn’t very much like it if she were to, say, fail a test. A test I am told that Apple Bloom could hardly even answer anything correctly, by her own admission. A test that Blossom (Ms. Cheerilee to these idiots.) said she would grade later on tonight, something Sweetie Belle attributed to how distracted Blossom looked today.

My plan: scheme my way into Blossom’s home (Potentially trading her my virginity for some strange while at it.) so I can swap Apple Bloom’s test with Diamond Tiara’s.

Yeah, that’s good, but it’s not enough. She can’t just get grounded. No, that’s not enough pain. I can’t just bust in and break her legs, though. Hm. That means that, barring the use of a proxy in the breaking of limbs, I have to strike at her emotional vulnerabilities.

I can’t do this alone.

Oh no, not that, anything but that.

I couldn’t possibly do it…I mean…I’d hate myself forever. I…I’ll do it. For V, I’ll do it.

I’m a Cutie Mark Crusader.

Sweet merciful crap it’s worse than I could have ever imagined.

Focus, I need to focus. This is for V.

The Plan: Apple Bloom, Sweetie Belle, and Scootletard need to go and do investigative work to find something that Diamond Tiara considers extremely important, something of severe emotional importance. While they do that I need to go see Rarity so as to maximize my hotness (A difficult task given my current physical appearance and the broken state of my SWAG.) so that Blossom will be so wooed that I may gain entry to her home.

I can’t just include these idiots in on my plans, though; they’d spill the beans the second they knew. No, I must lie. Hm. How does one fool such stupid idiots so convincingly that they fall for it? Huh, I think I’ve got something, let me try it.

Mistake.

Mistake.

Mistake.

Mistake.

My face, my body, and my soul were just ravaged. I know I’m doing this for V and all, but I mean come on, there’s gotta be a point where a line is drawn.

You heard it, right? Oh you deaf book, you. No, you don’t get to be free from hearing it just cause you’re apparently deaf. CUTIE MARK CRUSADERS PRIVATE DETECTIVES, YAY!

I don’t know why they did it. I don’t know why they couldn’t just be quiet. I don’t know. I don’t know.

Ugh, at least my lie worked. They’re off on a ‘mission’ to be private detectives and find out interesting information about Diamond Tiara. Idiots. No clue what they’re doing.

Now, with that out of that way (I mean, seriously, ME, as in, Ipsa U-fucking-nica as a Cutie Mark Crusader?), I’ve got to go to Rarity’s, which means…no free food.

Damn it.

Never say I don’t care about V, Booky. This aught to prove it.

Onwards, my compatriot! To the Carousel Boutique!

***

See? Aren’t those pretty neat? It really save on room.

Now, with that out of the way, we must address a few things.

Firstly, on my way out of the Apple family household on Sweet Apple Acres I managed to pull yet another lucky number and I ran right into Mac. Now, as you’ll recall I told you, I’ve kissed that stallion. On the lips. Knowing me, I probably tried to slip him tongue too.

Needless to say our meeting was one of…awkwardness.

I like alcohol, Booky, but if it turns me gay when I get drunk then I must abstain. Which is truly…unfortunate…um…yeah, this paragraph never happened.

The second thing to happen to me wasn’t really a happening so much as a feeling of dread which nearly crushed me. You see, on my way over here I caught sight of the Pinktard from a distance. Contrary to her usual behavior (Does she even follow a pattern or anything? I can’t tell with her.) she didn’t suddenly appear beside me. No, in fact, the second our eyes met she started…um…vibrating. Yeah. Like, shaking real hard. She did that and then rushed off doing all sorts of other…convulsions?

Seriously, what the fuck is with her? Was she never meant to be born? I mean it, she’s like a freaking abomination or something.

Anyclay, after seeing her do that and seeing the reactions from the ponies all around (Mostly that of shock and then worry.) I began to feel an almost dark cloud over my head. It’s like, you know, feeling like something real bad is about to happen.

Eh. I don’t like that feeling.

Lastly, don’t think I missed the fact that the Derptard was following me from high above. I risked a glance once and I barely saw her, but I know I did. Stupid fucking retarded reject.

Things significantly improved when I got here. Rarity was surprised to see me, but she was almost speechless at my request. Fuck, even the way I said it was weird for me. “I need to look good. Like, attractive. Help me.” So it’s no wonder she thought strange of it.

It’s been, like, an hour or two or three, can’t really tell. She told me I should go to the spa as they’re more suited for something like this, but there’s no fucking way I’ll ever go near that building. I made that much very clear, so she finally broke down and agreed to aid me.

The fur rub, I admit, was strange, but I’m not here for comfort. She had to rub olive scented oil (Something like that, I wasn’t paying attention.) into my fur due to my tight schedule I’m trying to keep. It was over quick enough.

Do you remember the bath I took that made my fur smell faintly of olives? This is kind of the same thing, only not as good. Where the bath allows me to soak in the olive scented water, the rubdown is more effective if you spend a good portion of time doing it (Not accounting for the fact that with the rubdown you have to make sure you get everything equally rubbed in with the scent you want, where the bath gets everywhere at once.), which, as you can clearly see, is very inefficient and you’re better off going with the soak instead. Unless, however, you’re in as much of a hurry as I’m in. I don’t have hours to spend soaking, so a ten or fifteen minute rubbing is the best I can do.

As a stallion I have never had a hooficure. That is no longer true. Rarity absolutely refused to NOT do one for me, despite my insistence that she not. I mean, come on, sometimes my job entails me to LITERALLY pick up crap while the rest of the time I’m picking up trash. While I understand that she, as the unicorn master race (A joke, we all know earth ponies are superior to all races.) never gets her hooves dirty, I simply cannot and will not understand the usefulness of such a treatment when I know for a fact it will be completely undone by tomorrow.

The most painless part of the whole process was when she got to my mane and tail. For my glorious locks she did a slight variation of the olive rubdown, only using a gel instead. I must say I was completely surprised by how effective this was. Making sure the hair was wet she proceeded to rub a shampoo in before thoroughly rubbing a gel through it that gave me almost an aura of olive scent. To my surprise we weren’t even done yet, she still had to style it to her liking, something that I prevented her from doing to the extent she clearly felt was needed (Look, I know I came to her for her expertise in this stuff, but like I said earlier, I only have so much time to offer.).

As you would imagine, the rubdown was the most awkward part as she insisted she use her hooves instead of her magic. Both of us were uncomfortable the entire time and we hardly made eye contact. It was literally all I could do not to get too excited and expose myself (Again.) as she did her deed. Not that I’d mind sticking the icky sticky to her, but until I scheme my way into Blossom’s home I have to focus on things other than my virginity.

It was when she was working on my mane that she finally began to talk freely, likely dying to know what the fuck I wanted to look so nice for. I told her that I was interested in dating Blossom, which I had to clarify meant Cheerilee (Seriously, I hate these idiots. They’ve known her for how long and they still call her Cheerilee?). She was confused at first as she recalled the fiasco with SB (Which we will not spend time remembering, Booky.) and I had to quickly make very clear to her that the situation regarding SB was one not worth dwelling on. Catching the hint (Which, for once, wasn’t really a lie. I really don’t want to dwell on the night I almost fucked her little sister.) she quickly started inquiring as to my interest in Blossom (I swear, once you get this bitch talking she never shuts up…not that I’m complaining.). I informed her of our history together and sparse details about our ‘friendship’ when we were foals. That got her giddy enough to get over whatever annoyance was settling in over having to help me with something she didn’t really want to help with. I swear she could’ve talked my ear off about gossip regarding Blossom and then pretty much everypony in town (Again, not that I minded too much.), I stopped paying attention to the words quickly.

As of right now, Rarity is quickly piecing together a new bowtie-thingy for me to wear and I’m just kind of waiting for her to be done. I wish she would’ve kept talking, but she insisted that this part requires her concentration.

Oh look, a cat. Booky, did you know I hate cats? Unlike most things I don’t even have a reason for hating cats, I just don’t like em. I mean, look at that thing. It’s like a walking hairball.

Hold on, I’m gonna need a moment.

Alright, Sweetie Belle just came in and told me about her findings (I am cautious as to why she finished so quickly.). She informed me that she had been following Diamond Tiara and Silver Spoon with the other (Ugh.) Crusaders (Of which I cannot believe I am one of now.) when the two targets returned to Diamond’s home, where the little bitch started showing off a new statue for her retarded little friend. According to Sweetie Belle, the statue was one her father had just commissioned the making of. Oh and get this, the statue is OF the little bitch. Yeah, that’s right; Diamond Tiara has a statue of herself.

Target acquired.

Before she left Apple Bloom and Scootletard to finish their investigations she noted that Diamond and her retarded little friend started playing ball, which gives me my move. I’ll simply go in under the cover of night and shatter that fucking statue and leave that stupid ball next to the rubble. This will inspire Filthy Rich to become angry with his daughter for breaking her own statue.

Yeah, that’s good, but it’s still not enough. Let’s hope the other two idiots get me something even better.

Oh crap. Uh, I didn’t account for this. Rarity’s prying into my conversation with Sweetie. Think fast!

Come on!

You have something? Alright, let me hear it!

Uh…you sure that’s the only way?

Fine. I hate you.

There, happy? Now Rarity knows I’m a fucking Cutie Mark Crusader. This is wonderful, just what I needed. Oh, look, she finds it absolutely precious. Fucking damn it.

Oh great, now Sweetie Belle’s whining. Fucking stupid little fuck. Of course she didn’t get her cutie mark, the fuck would an investigative cutie mark even look like? Stupid little stupid.

Wait, I’m supposed to be supportive right now. Right.

That aught to hold her for now. At least until the other two come back and don’t have cutie marks either.

Haha, seriously, these idiots are so stupid! I mean, come on! It’s too easy! I fool them into doing my prep work for me and when one of them gets curious all I have to do is deflect it with a simple lie. It’s that easy! As for that last question of Sweetie’s, the lie was equally simple. I told her that I’d get my (Snicker.) investigative cutie mark later today. And. She. Bought. It.

Ah, here we go. So, Booky, how do I look? Don’t be shy, come on, I wanna know your opinion!

Oh fuck you, jerk. I look snazzy as fuck.

Now, I gotta get flowers. Cause, you know, foal machines like them some fancy crap like that.

Onwards! To the flower stand!

***

I really think you’re underestimating how awesome those things are. If it wasn’t for the fact that they look like tiny little spiders (All of which should die horrible, painful deaths.) then they’d be perfect.

You may be wondering as to why I am now sitting on a park bench and not, say, in the house of Blossom Cheerilee. Well, my bookish companion, two rather interesting happenings just happened to me. Also the Derptard, but that’s not interesting, it’s just annoying.

On my way to Rose the Agent of Doubleness’ stand I inadvertently ran almost right into Octavia (Ha, for once it’s an almost and not a direct hit!), which sparked an interesting back and forth.

You see, she feels absolutely horrible for judging me as quickly as she did, citing her roommate Vinyl (A name that sounds familiar to me, somehow.) as having influenced her judgment by harping on and on about how apparently fucking terrifying I am or something. She added on that she, being who she is and given the standards she usually holds herself to, should have never allowed such a thing to occur, mentioning a humorous bit about judging books by their covers.

The whole conversation basically boiled down to the fact that she is more than willing to give me another chance, one that she added would be far more fair this time around. When I asked about her publicly stated lesbianism, she said that she’s actually bisexual (That’s a thing?) and the hurried nature of the announcement caused the mistake.

I see you’re catching on to the problem I had very quickly after she said all of that. Yep, after saying all that wonderful stuff she went and inquired as to where it was I was headed and why I looked dolled up (Hey, can’t fault her for having an eye for detail.). As you’ll imagine, telling her the truth (My plan to acquire a date with Blossom.) would ruin any chance to gain sexual access to her anywhere in the near future, which, with the thought of plowing her as hard as I can while listening to that beautiful voice tell me how well I’m doing was and will always be absolutely intoxicating, is completely unacceptable. So, I told (Lied.) her that I was merely seeking to rekindle an old friendship.

Luckily, Octavia bought that lie before giving me a heavenly kiss (Something I hope the retard ‘hiding’ in the sky caught full sight of.) on the cheek before continuing on her way as she previously was doing.

As amazing as that encounter was, the one with Double Agent Rose was about half as great and two times as awkward.

My ego at an all-time high, I approached Rose’s stand confidently and was immediately derailed by the sight of, well, a foal machine who has apparently spent a good portion of the day crying. Now, if you think that weirded me out, imagine how I felt when she saw me and immediately threw a hug on me. Even weirderer was that she kept saying she was sorry.

Yeah, so pretty fucking weird.

Absolutely derailed from my stride, I ended the embrace quickly before wordlessly pointing to the flowers I wanted (Posies when I should’ve gotten roses, but hey, I wasn’t about to sit and straighten that detail out.) before getting the fuck out of there. Fuck, she even gave me the bundle for free.

So, let’s take a second to look at this; what the actual fuck happened to me? Did she break something of mine? Did she go insane? Did she…oh crap, Booky, what if she betrayed me to the conspiracy?

That would suck so fucking much right now.

Given the lack of information we are currently working on right now that can be the only conclusion we can draw, which gives me a very limited amount of time to function within before my plan is foiled.

And yes, that fucking Derptard is still up there on her little fucking cloud, doing her ‘best’ to hide. Stupid idiot, I can clearly see her. Her dumb little cloud is even leaking water. Fuck she’s stupid.

Aha! Fuck you conspiracy! Give me a moment.

That (As you could clearly see with your nonexistent eyes.) was Apple Bloom with her information, which means that so long as Scootletard is speedy enough with her part of the plan then those royal bitches won’t have enough time to foil me!

According to Apple Bloom, she and the idiot followed Diamond Tiara and Silver Spoon after they finished playing and went to go get something to eat. It was while they were eating that my little spy noticed my targets flirting with a colt, who, as per Apple Bloom’s word, is new to town and is from Canterlot (Explains the name High Brow.). Apparently Diamond has something of a crush on this colt. A crush Silver Spoon seems to share. Crucially, Apple Bloom was able to confirm that this colt does in fact like at least one of them.

Target acquired.

This one is gonna be a bit more tricky to pull off and will require skill to do correctly, but successful completion of this task will guarantee a beautiful amount of turmoil for my target. All I have to do is forge a love letter from Silver Spoon to High Brow and one from him to her. If all goes well then they will fall for each other, leaving Diamond by herself.

If she were a fully grown foal machine then this move very well could be enough to devastate her, but she’s only a filly. It won’t hurt as much as I’d like for it to, which means I now rely on Scootletard to bring me something, anything, juicy enough to deal the final blow with. Needless to say, my hopes are not high.

Uh, one moment, please, gotta chase off another idiot.

She’s trickier to deal with than I would’ve thought. Smarter than Scootletard yet not as naive as Sweetie Belle. I don’t think she buys my lie as wholly as the other filly did. Could be a problem in the future.

Alright, Booky, it’s time to make my move on Blossom. Remember, the plan is to get into her house and to switch Apple Bloom’s test with Diamond Tiara’s. Sex is optional as well as optimal.

Onward! To the place!

***

See? Aren’t those just the best?

Anyhay, I have very, very good news to report! The operation was a full and complete success! Ignoring the continued presence of my virginity, literally everything I wanted to happen happened and in full, glorious detail.

Gaining entry was the first hurdle and was one I absolutely had no problem with. I knocked and she wasted little time responding, reacting with complete surprise at seeing me. My hotness at levels unheard of (Minding that my SWAG will forever be pitifully broken.), Blossom was speechless at first before her face contorted in obvious emotion. I barely even had time to say anything before she gave me a hug (Not nearly as tight or awkward as Rose’s.) and INVITED me in.

You read that right, Booky. I didn’t even have to fucking try to get inside! All I did was knock and I was in!

She proceeded to ask how I was feeling and if everything was okay, which did off-set me a bit, but I bounced back quickly by offering her the flowers, which seemed to ff-set her a bit, but she rolled with it, smiling sweetly and thanking me.

In no time she asked if I wanted to join her for food (Breakfast, lunch, dinner…all the same now.) and it was during then that I struck. Asking to use her restroom, I hurried away into her house in search of her office. It didn’t take me long to find it and even shorter to spot the papers on her desk.

I mean, it was like stealing candy from a foal!

Quicker than I’ve ever done anything ever, I made careful work of swapping the tests (Making sure to make it appear as though Apple Bloom had written the good test and Diamond the bad.). I admit I was nervous at that point, but I hardened my nerves and finished my task like a boss. In fact, I did it so quick that I even had time to look at High Brow and Silver Spoon’s tests so as to get a feel for their writing styles and word choices so as to better falsify the love letters.

Booky, when I say I went in there and dominated my mission, I mean it!

There was a minor flub when I took a minute to actually use the restroom (Hey, who knew holding it all day would make me have to go?), making my return to Blossom a tad late. She didn’t seem to mind, however, and simply offered me a salad.

While we ate she made small talk, but I hardly paid attention to it. There was a moment where she attempted to mention Daddy dearest, but I shut her up quick. Last thing I wanted to talk about was that fucker, especially given how well everything was going. That seemed to get to her a bit as she started tearing up, but I ignored it.

After the salad we spent the remainder of our time talking about V. She told me that she had been in contact with her parents and that she had heard that V’s recovery was coming along swiftly and that the filly was being very brave. I told her that much was quite obvious as V is a diamond in the rough. Fuck, I got so carried away that I even told Blossom about my gifts I had managed to pass along to her. Something that brought more tears to her eyes, which is where the date fell apart.

You see, Booky, at this point she started openly weeping. There were mumbles of how proud she said Mom would be of me (Duh, bitch.) and that she was sure my father was as well, which only served to piss me off. Her crying becoming annoying and her constant mentioning of Daddy dearest ruining my perfectly good mood, I decided to leave before any progress could be made for my virginity.

Seriously, what is everypony’s problem today? First the Derptard is all emotional and stalking me (She still is, I see her up there, hiding in a cloud that is leaking enough water to be completely obvious.), then Rose up and fucking hugs me, and Blossom topped it off by deciding to talk about my Dad. What the fuck is going on? I mean, really, is it any wonder I hate foal machines?

Oh good, a distraction!

Who would’ve thought the Scootletard would’ve come through? Huh, well, the little stupid just came running up to me to give me her findings, which she relayed with absolute boredom apparent in her voice.

After Diamond ate with Silver Spoon, Scootletard followed the bitch to Rose’s stand (I know, weird, right?) where the two split up. According to my little spy, Diamond told her stupid friend to leave as she wanted to be alone right then. Following that split up, my target took a bunch of flowers (Stupid retarded filly couldn’t tell me which ones.) to the cemetery, where Scootletard decided to stop following.

As I’m sure you’re aware, I’m quite angry she didn’t continue to pursue her target, but at this point I admit that such would’ve been unnecessary. I have what I need.

One moment please.

Hahaha, oh fuck, these idiots are priceless! I mean, come on! I hardly had to say anything to get the little idiot to go away!

Alright, alright, control yourself, we gotta focus here.

As with all ponies, Diamond Tiara had a mother, one who (Like mine.) is currently deceased (I know things, Booky.). The fact that the little bitch was taking flowers to her mother’s grave tells me that she (Very much like me.) loved her mother very dearly.

Target acquired.

Out of everything I have to do under the cover of night, this will be the most difficult. One of the very few ponies who I know for a fact stays awake at night is the stallion who manages the cemetery. My advantage is that it is part of my job to clean that place, which will give me my opportunity to strike.

Alright, let’s go over the plan.

First I’ve got to forge those love letters, which shouldn’t be too hard. I can deliver them while I do my rounds…um…when it gets dark (It’s gonna take awhile to get back into the swing of things mentally.), which is when I’ll go for the statue. Breaking it is the hard part as I don’t want to wake anypony by doing so, but I’m fairly certain I can accomplish my goal without raising suspicion, though if that ball isn’t outside for me to frame Diamond with then I’ll have to call an audible. The final leg of my crusade needs to go smoothly. I’ll need to be able to swiftly go in and get that tombstone into Carty. Once it’s in there I’ll get home as fast as I can. Once there I can destroy it and hide the rubble in my junk pile, mixing it with some wet mud aught to help me disguise it well enough.

That plan should guarantee the complete and utter destruction of Diamond Tiara’s mental state. From there her father’s disappointment in her failure will be her undoing.

Let this serve as a lesson to you, Booky. Do. Not. Fuck. With. Me. Or. V.

Author's Note

Greetings true believers! It is I, the Wearer of Hats!

Here we are, dear Reader. Chapter 50 and 100,000 words. Wow, just wow. Writing this chapter was very emotional for me as it marks a huge milestone for me, personally. Even more affecting is that at 50 chapters and 100,000 words I have people who enjoy reading this and have read those chapters and words. That means the absolute world to me, guys. You have to understand that.

I love you all. Thank you for reading this. Unfortunately, as much as I love writing this story, the end is coming. However, as I always say, the journey is more important than the destination and this journey has been a wild one. So, stick with me, dear Reader, there's only a few more chapters to go before we see how this story will wraps up and what is to become of our beloved jerk.

Also, I will be doing something special for the date that marks the two year point of me writing this story. Whether that be a one-shot of some form or even artwork has yet to be decided, but I'll be sure to let you all know when it's done.

Hats off to y'all!

Revelations

Alright, first things first, my plan didn’t go quite as I thought it would. I mean, who would’ve thought stone was heavy? Stupid. I hate Diamond Tiara even more now.

I went after the statue first, just like I told you, but no, things had to go and be hard. I got there and, low and behold, there was no ball or toy to frame the bitch with. That required me to bust down the door of some shed to grab one, which I did. Then, as I was throwing my weight into the statue to knock it over, that stupid ball got under my hoof and sent me to the ground too. Where that stupid fucking statue broke across my head.

This is all stupid, so stupid. Stupid. I owe my life to how cheap that stupid fuck, Filthy Rich, is. If that thing had been made of anything sturdier then my dead body would be out there with the broken statue, thus ruining my goal of framing Diamond.

Yes, Booky, I’m fine, just needed some bandages when I got home, which was after I dragged Carty back to Sweet Apple Acres. What, you thought that would go swimmingly too?

Getting the tombstone was far easier and thus made me look ever stupider when I put it in Carty and his damn axel broken again. So I had to literally heave that heavy fuck all the way across town with my head leaking blood every which way.

At least everything else when swimmingly. So, despite fate’s obvious attempt to fucking murder me, I accomplished my goals! So ha, fuck you, fate!

Well, considering the fact I’m currently sitting in my house with my head wrapped up like a fucking mummy, I’ve decided to read through that mail the Derptard left.

Dear Ipsa,

Hey sport! (Off to a great start.) How’s everything going? (It’s going good, I guess, y’know, what with Carty breaking again and me with a probable concussion.) Life good down there? (No, but once I get to see the affects of my actions I’m sure things will pick up quick.) How’s the old house, you making sure to take care of it all? (Not really, no, considering all things. Who the fuck is this?) Get your cutie mark yet? (No, thanks for reminding me.) Find that special mare (Foal machine.) yet? (No.)

I know it’s been a little while since I last sent you a letter, (Oh no, you’ve got to be kidding me. Did I seriously open one of his letters?) but please understand how hard it is for me to write these days. (Yeah, it must be pretty difficult to write when you’re busy fucking my friend, Daddy Dearest.) This old body of mine isn’t as up to snuff as it used to be and using quills and pens and pencils has been real hard to do. Sunny’s been on me (I’m sure she has, the whore.) about using a typewriter or just letting her write out my letters for me, but I know how much you like these kinds of things to be personal and such.

I miss you, son. (I’m sure you do.) I know it’s probably too much to ask for you to visit me or something, (Oh hey, look, he’s right about something.) but I’d just love to hear from you. (Fuck you.) Sunny would too. (I’d say fuck her, but that’s probably what he’s doing right now.)

Oop, looks like I’ve gone and stayed up too late again (Silly ponies think they can tell me when my bedtime is?? FOOLS! Pirates like you and me choose their own bedtimes, right son?). (HEY! THAT’S MY THING I DO! Looks like the old fuck wasn’t satisfied with just my friend.) I’ll write you again tomorrow. (By all means, please do. I’ll take it about as seriously as this one.)

I love you, son. (Sure you do.)

Love,

Dear Old Dad

Can you believe that? Stupid fuck actually wrote me a letter. I’d vomit if I wasn’t so pissed. I’m guessing that means the rest are from him too.

You know what, Booky? I’m gonna read em. It’s been more than enough time since I’ve gone on an insult rant.

Dear Ipsa,

Sorry about that letter just cutting off yesterday, they get real antsy when you don’t get to sleep on time. (Like I did when you ran off with my friend?)

Now, where was I? (Not here, that’s for sure.) Oh, right, the thing.

I know you’re the smart type (Damn right.), just like Chilly (Her name was Difficille Invenies. Difficille. Not Chilly.), so I won’t try and ignore that you probably know something is up. Well, at least I want to try and ignore it, but Sunny tells me you’d rather me tell you everything.

Please understand that I don’t wanna hurt you (A little late for that.), son. That’s the absolute last thing I want. (No, I’m the absolute last thing you want, you made that much very clear.)

Now, seeing how Sunny’s usually right when it comes to stuff and things, I’ll get right to it. I had a bad day last weekend. (Aw, sucks for you.) A really bad day. (Aw, that really sucks for you.) Now, I ain’t saying that I have good days all the time but when the days get bad they can get kinda nasty, if you know what I mean. (I suppose I wouldn’t, cause, y’know, I never have bad days ever. Not that’d he’d know, at least.)

Anyway, I’m sure it’s just the sniffles or something and that everything’s fine. Still, though, I just wanted to tell you how much I loved you in case you forgot or something. (Fuck you.)

Dang mares (Foal machines.), always cutting in on my ‘me time’. I promise I’ll write you once I’m feeling a bit better.

You know, son, I’d just love to go camping, wouldn’t you? (No.) Would you like that? (No.) Once I kick this flu’s plot do you wanna maybe go? (No.)

I love you, son. (Fuck you.)

Love,

Dear Old Dad

Yep, these are his letters. Sappy as fuck.

Dear Ipsa,

Now you see, son, this right here is why you gotta keep me in the loop! (What?) I figured you’d put them good looks I gave you (I didn’t get them from you, you ugly fuck.) to some good use, but I never figured you’d go and find such a little cutie like this pretty little pegasus (Huh? A pegasus? Oh, right, the ones with the wings.) that came to see me today.

That’s my colt! I figured you’d nab one of them nifty little flyers! (Booky, what the fuck is he talking about?)

I mean, there I was, eating my fill and trying to get Sunny to crack a smile for me and I’m told I’ve got a visitor.

Now, I won’t lie to you (Of course not, that’d be bad. You’d just leave forever with my best friend.), son, I thought it was you at first. That would’ve been a real nice surprise and it’d still be one. (Not gonna happen.)

Anyway, when I met her, I was kinda confused cause I didn’t recognize her or anything like that. (Oh look, he didn’t know something. How surprising.) And don’t start with the sass, mister; I’d recognize strange eyes (You’ve got to be fucking kidding me. The fucking Derptard went to see my fucking father?) like those if I’d seen them before. If you think getting an unknown visitor was weird then you should’ve seen my face when she said she was your friend. (Fuck her.)

I don’t know why these mares keep trying to deceive me (Cause their deceitful and conniving, you stupid fuck.), ain’t any lie good enough to slip past my Liesense! (STOP STEALING MY THINGS!) So when she went and said that, I knew immediately what kind of friend she was talking about. I saw it in her eyes when she said it. Now, I won’t judge as to why she’d be trying to hide such a thing, but if she’s in any way affiliated with my colt then she ought to be wearing that affiliation on her sleeve for the world to see. (Fuck you and fuck her.)

Well, ‘complicated matters’ (Doesn’t begin to describe it.) (Her terminology, not mine.) aside, she decided to hang out for a little while with Sunny and I. She was real sweet and asked a bunch of questions, but I had a few questions myself (As did Sunny, but you know her.) and once I got her talking, well, it was hard to get her to slow down!

Told me about everything you’ve been up to and such and a little about herself. I particularly found how you two got close to be particularly romantic. (Yes, bonding over burning buildings is such a romantic thing to do.)

I’d go on and on but, like I said previously, writing is getting real hard for me and I’m kinda having another one of them bad days. (Good.)

Just know that I’m proud of you, son, for what you did for Vocem. I told Derpy that that’s colt Chilly and I raised. (…Thanks, I guess.)

I love you, son.

Love,

Dear Old Dad

Oh look, more.

Dear Ipsa,

Hey sport, this won’t be a long one. Not feeling good today. (Good.)

Like I said before, I had a real bad weekend before and, well, this ain’t the flu. (Do not care.)

Say, you wanna come visit me? (No.) I know I said we could go camping before, but we can still pretend we’re camping, right? (No.) Remember that? Remember when we’d have those adventures on the high seas? (I remember you leaving.) We could do it like that, just like that.

Oh Celestia, this ain’t fun to go through without you here by my side. (Gee, sounds like it sucks. Maybe you should’ve thought about that before you left.)

Hehe, nurses think they can tell me when it’s time to take my medicine. If I wanna write my son a letter during my morning check-up then I’ll do just that. (Please, don’t.)

Derpy said she’d deliver any mail I had for you personally, so I’m hoping to hear from you real soon.

I love you, son.

Love,

Dear Old Dad

Desperate fuck.

Dear Ipsa,

I love you, son, please remember that. Know that I never stopped loving you. I never would’ve left you there if I had a choice, understand that. I wanted to stay with you more than anything, but that might’ve robbed me of the twenty years I’ve hung on for. I wish you would’ve come with me. Life’s not been so good without you in it. Sunny’s told me a thousand times that I’m wrong when I say it, but twenty years without you don’t equal one with you.

I love you so much. It ain’t fair we had Chilly taken from us the way she was (No, it wasn’t.), but you know if she couldn’t go out with her loving family gathered around her then she would’ve wanted to do so to protect us.

I love you.

Love,

Dear Old Dad

Gah, I get real tired of his crap. Let me guess, he’s gonna talk about more ‘camping’ in this one?

Dear Ipsa Unica, (Wait, what? That’s not his hoofwriting. Who the fuck is this?)

It pains me to have to write this letter. You don’t have to worry about paying any fines or fees or anything like that. Sale’s saved up money for years so that you wouldn’t have to spend any when the time came.

I remember when he first got sick. How broken it made him to know he had to make such a choice. Seeing him like that was terrible. The only thing that kept me from falling apart every time I came over was that I got to see how much he loved you and how much he’d give for you.

If there’s one thing you can say about that stallion it was that he loved his son. (Oh no, not her, please, be the Derptard…)

That’s why I convinced him to come to Canterlot with me. (Damn it, it is her.) I know it was a controversial move (No, really, it was fine with me.), but I wanted to give you two as much time as I could and, as nice as Ponyville is, the care center down there just cannot compare to the ones in Canterlot.

Please understand how thankful I am for your father, Ipsa. (You can have him, bitch.) He made it very clear from day one that he didn’t want anypony but me as his personal caretaker, even if I was nowhere near as talented as the specialists he had to choose from. I don’t think my training would’ve gone as smoothly if not for him. (Good for you.)

If Sale knew how bitter you were then he never let it show, but I certainly know, but don’t you dare let that influence any thought to not come to his funeral/ (Wait, what?) You can stay with me and my husband until you feel like you’re ready to leave.

We’ll be holding the service in two days in the Canterlot Gardens. They’re that the castle directly sits behind. I’m sorry about the short notice, but the crematory is on a tight schedule and that’s what Sale wanted done with his remains.

Please, don’t sit down there and brood anymore, come say goodbye.

Condolences,

Sunburst

…I love you too, Daddy.

52

So, here we are, my Mom's grave. I'm ashamed to admit it's been awhile since I've been back. It's just hard, y'know? Knowing she's down there right now and not up here. The whole thought is just…I don’t know, kind of humbling or something.

And as you can obviously tell I didn’t even try to go to my Dad’s funeral.

It isn’t like I wouldn’t have gone but…well…actually, it is kinda like that I guess. I mean, I wouldn’t have just gone up there and destroyed his corpse or anything, but it isn’t like I’d be paying any sort of respects or anything like that.

Booky, I can’t really think straight right now. What do you think I should do? I mean, I need to be able to think. Thinking is pretty much all I do anymore. If I can’t think then…I don’t even know what to think. I guess I’ll just sit at home and be quiet until something happens.

What’s that? First thing off the top of my head? Well, if you think it’ll help…

I’m an orphan. A true orphan. I know I’ve said it before and in a sense I was right when I said it. Only now…well, only now is it actually true. Both of my parents are dead. Gone. One buried right here in front of us and the other hopefully rotting under the royal bitches’ hooves.

I thought I’d be happy to learn that he died. Dad dying has pretty much been one of the few things I’ve ever looked forward to learning. I’ve always pictured my laughing face peering down at his final resting place, sweat dripping from having danced energetically on his grave. Instead, I’m not laughing and this isn’t sweat falling from my face.

I’ve hated him my whole life, Booky. I make no secret about that. Should anypony (And I mean anypony.) have ever asked about how I feel in regards to him then I would’ve told them exactly how little he means to me. He did nothing for me, ever. He wasn’t there when I needed him and he was there when I needed him not to be.

Anypony would have (As well as should have.) hated him.

Even when Mom was alive he wasn’t there for me. He’d never be there when I was awake. I honestly have trouble remembering him from that time. Sometimes I’d see him in the morning on his way out of the house for work, but otherwise he was rarely there in the beginning. I mean, sure, he was there at times, but he was always content on letting Mom do the work.

He disappeared after Mom died. I’d see him in the morning when he’d wake me up for school, but that hardly meant anything. Those mornings were quiet and awkward. He’d hardly say anything and before long I’d be on my way to class. Even that stopped happening once he pulled me out of school. I was left to wake myself up and make my own breakfast.

Like I said, Booky, he just wasn’t there.

Always so busy with his precious jobs, makes me sick to think about. I wanted him to be there. You have no idea how lonely it is to sit at that table with your shoddily made breakfast and to not see anypony else in the room. And even when he wasn’t working he’d be sleeping or something like that. Always busy.

Mom’s friends tried to pick up her slack at first, but I guess they just lost interest after awhile. I don’t blame them. I didn’t want them there. I wanted my parents. Not pretenders.

I mean, I know that he had to work two jobs to pay for me and stuff, but come on, that doesn’t mean he can’t play catch with me like he used to. That doesn’t mean he…I mean, was it too hard to poke his head in at night to tell me he loved me, to tell me how proud he was?

Words cannot express how much I hate that stallion. He wasn’t there, Booky, and I don’t know how to make that any clearer. Even when he started getting sick all the time, he wasn’t there and he was always telling me to go play or something like that.

Then he ran off (To Canterlot, I guess.) with the pony who had happened to be my best friend, leaving me truly alone.

So, after that, all of that, why am I not singing and making fucking jokes right now? Why am I not celebrating? I hate him. I hate him, Booky; I hate him so much I’m almost fucking blue in the face.

Why did Mom love him? I don’t get it. How could she have in any way endured his presence? I know she was perfect, but come on! He’s literally the worst thing ever! I HATE HIM! How could she love him?

And you know what? I never got to say goodbye to him. I never said goodbye. I didn’t say a word as he walked out that door and I haven’t said a word since. Last thing I ever told him was that I don’t care. I don’t even remember what it was I said it about.

Why am I crying over him? I mean, come on! I’m Ipsa Unica, damn it! I should be throwing a fucking party right now!

Imagine him on his deathbed, crying his eyes out cause he knows I’m not there. Seems kind of fitting, doesn’t it? I like to think his last words were, “Where is he?” I want his last thought to have been about me. I hope it was.

He didn’t deserve me. He didn’t deserve Mom. He didn’t even deserve that whore he ran off with. He didn’t deserve a single thing he ever got.

So why do I fucking care? I shouldn’t. I don’t want to. I hate him. I hate him more than I hate the fucking Derptard. So why am I crying? Why do I care? Why do I miss him?

I’m sorry, Booky. I just can’t keep writing in all this rain.

Breaking Down

I did some working on my way home from the cemetery. Found some weird stuff, should let me recover from earlier.

First thing I found was something I was unaware even existed; a poster of the Lesbian. Yeah, I know. It’s just as showy as you’d expect from such a foal machine, especially the unnecessary fireworks going off in the air behind her in the picture. Oddly enough this thing is autographed (Presumably by the Lesbian herself.) with the exclamation, “To My Friend,” on it, which is followed shortly after by some scribbling that I assume says Rainbow Dash. That or Painslow Crash, which sounds infinitely better. Perceived value: twenty bits.

If you think that one was weird, then this one should really make your pages cringle. I was passing by Sugarcube Corner (Home of the Pinktard.) when I almost stepped on a cake. Yes, you read that right; a cake, maybe three layers deep, with the message, “I’m Sorry,” written on the top in icing. I haven’t taken a bite yet, but it looks like it may be vanilla or something like that, which would be kind of cool. Perceived value: my stomach has yet to decide.

This is a basket with quills and an unopened bottle of ink inside. That makes this thing pretty neat to me as I was running rather low on both. The quills seem to be really fine ones, too. Maybe eagle feathers? Perhaps hawk? Not sure, but either way these things are nice. I can tell they’re homemade, though. Same with the ink as the bottle only has a tiny butterfly sticker on it. I have no clue what idiot would leave something this nice just kind of sitting around, but it belongs to me now. Perceived value: without price as I am keeping it.

I’m actually pretty excited about this next one, Booky. It’s a bag! Not just a bag, though. Inside this bag are twenty (That’s as many as two tens!) buttons! Making it better is that they are all of very nice quality and seem brand new! I have just the spot for them in my collection! Also, the bag isn’t too bad itself. Very nicely made, hardly any loose threads or anything like that. White in color (Otherwise I wouldn’t have spotted it, though the napkins it was sitting on helped too.) with what look like three diamonds stitched into it. This thing must’ve belonged to Rarity. You know what that means, Booky? High price! Perceived value: the bag should get me seventy bits! The buttons are priceless…to me, at least.

My plan for tomorrow is become very drunk. How do I plan on doing this? Why, with my brand new, though kind of small, barrel of hard apple cider! Found this sucker in a bush. Can you believe that? I’m not sure which of the Apple twins (Applejack and Big Macintosh.) left this thing in a bush, but it belongs to me now! Perceived value: the barrel should fetch me about twenty bits.

The only reason I’m including this is because it has jewels clumsily glued to it. I found this thing on the ground near the barrel. Paper looks like it may be of the school-grade construction variety and the crayons clearly used to write the message and draw some pictures on it were clearly school-grade. Says, “We’re Sorry, but Crusaders Look After Each Other!” Drawn around that message are horrendously mangled versions of Sweetie Belle, Scootatard, and Apple Bloom. So, apparently those idiots glued a bunch of jewels (Sapphires maybe?) to a piece of construction paper as some sort of ‘card’ for another member of their retarded club. A club I regretfully remember I am a member of. Damn it, I had really hoped to have forgotten about that. At least somepony else has to suffer their insufferable stupidity as well. Perceived value: forty bits.

I’m not quite sure how to feel about this next thing. It’s a quilt I found draped over a fence near my house. While nowhere near the quality of the blanket I got from Rarity, this stupid thing is actually really cozy. The stitching seems to have been done by a blind pony, however. This thing is really shoddy when compared to the blanket Rarity gave me. Fabric seems really nice, though, and is even in a somewhat nice shade of pink. What really sticks out is the message stitched into one of the squares, “Made with Love,” which is cheesy as fuck. Still, this thing is incredibly warm for a piece of crap. Perceived value: about fifteen bits if I were to sell it. I’m gonna keep it, though.

Now, before you start in on me, it’s not my fucking fault I stepped on this bouquet of roses, okay? They weren’t in the light or anything and I didn’t see them until I heard a crunch. So yeah, these are basically just trash. And the ONLY reason I bother bringing them up at all is that the tiny little tie made to keep the bundle from falling apart has a gold clasp on it. Just a tiny little gold thing that has a rose etched into it. So yeah, not a complete waste. Perceived value: fifty bits.

I’ve never owned a record player before. Even Mom didn’t have one. So, as you’d imagine, me finding one this nice INTACT in the street is some pretty nice luck (Fuck you, royal bitches, can’t strike me down every time!) for me to have. It has a nice wooden box (Perhaps cherry wood?) with a brass crank and a VERY ornate bell. I’m not joking. Look at this thing; it’s absolutely covered in intricate floral patterns with what appear to be musical notes. I would sell it. I mean it; I would sell this thing this instant and make a killing if it were not for the fact that it already has a record in it. The label says, “For You,” on it, which tells me little (Perhaps the name of the band?) and let me tell you something, the songs on this thing are almost magical. The most beautiful cello music I’ve ever heard. No wonder Octavia wanted to play the cello. If I knew that gigantic thing could make sounds like this then I might’ve learned how to play it! Perceived value: it’s mine, so no value.

Last thing on the docket is incredibly eerie. I found it on the ground by my front door. At first glance it appears to just be a picture of two foals, two foal machines, and a stallion in the far background. At first I only got excited at the quality of the frame. However, my eyes froze when I noticed just how hauntingly beautiful the smile of one of the foal machines was. It was about that time I realized that this picture has my mother in it. She’s lying down on a blanket across from the other foal machine (A pony I do not recognize.). Between them is what’s got me teary eyed. Sitting there hugging a little filly is me, took me a minute to figure that out.

Now that I’m thinking about it, I remember this picture. It was taken before any of the crap of my life happened to me. Back when I still had friends and a family. The filly I’m hugging is clearly Blossom. This photo was taken at her birthday party, a party I attended. A party I appear to be enjoying.

The last picture I had of Mom was lost in the fire. So I’m going to keep this, forever. Perceived value: priceless.

And no, I’m not going to mention that the stallion in the background of the picture is recently deceased.

Before I put you down and cry myself to sleep, there is one last thing I found. Pinned to my door was a letter authored by the Nerd.

Dear Ipsa,

I’m sorry to disturb you in your time of mourning but I just wanted to let you know how sorry I am for your loss. All of us are sorry you’re going through such a thing right now. I don’t know how the others are going to go about telling you, but I figured you’d most appreciate a brief letter.

Your Friend,

Twilight Sparkle

I’ll leave you to think that over.

Schemes, Plots, and Plans

Are you aware that I don’t own an umbrella? Cause I wasn’t and, as it turns out, it’s raining. By the time I got to the Nerd’s I was soaking wet. I had luckily enough foresight to put a tarp over Carty and all his junk so none of it got too wet. Otherwise that damn foal machine probably wouldn’t have bought anything.

Make no mistake, Booky, the Nerd bought it all. Everything. As you know, that means one single thing and one single thing alone; FOOD! So much beautiful food! Probably enough to get me by at least a day!

Mind you, that bitch was visibly angered by my attempts to sell the pouch belonging to Rarity, but she can suck it. I didn’t want that stupid thing.

Oh, can you tell I’m not blisteringly drunk? I’d like to be. In fact, rather than food money, I’d have preferred to be immobilized by cider. Instead, it seems that small barrel didn’t quite do it for me. I’m buzzed, enough so that I went outside when I really didn’t want to, but apparently not enough for me to drown out the pain.

And there’s plenty of pain. New pain, too, not just the old stuff I’ve been swallowing for days. You see, while I was talking to the Nerd I made the unbelievably enraging discovery that my plots against Diamond Tiara have somehow failed.

Yep.

Allow me to explain. The notes I wrote to deceive Silver Spoon and that colt got mixed up at some point and I delivered them to the wrong ponies. The filly got the note for the colt and the colt got the filly’s note. As you know, that completely ruins the whole point of the notes. Silver Spoon getting a note telling her that Silver Spoon has a crush on her is basically pointless.

Oh, that’s not it, Booky. Why would it be it? Apparently, when I fuck up, I fuck up in spades. You see, the one thing I was almost certain I had done right was destroying that statue. It did fall on my head instead of the ground, but it broke nonetheless. The problem is that Diamond Tiara didn’t even like the stupid thing and was begging her father to get a new one.

Fancy that, I actually helped the little whore.

Rounding things off is the tombstone. I was sure that plan would be the one to shatter her, if all else somehow failed then at least her grief would destroy her. Instead, I forgot that I didn’t know her mother’s name.

You can see where this is going, can’t you? Yep, I destroyed the wrong tombstone.

FUCK MY FUCKING LIFE!

Is it too much to ask that I utterly destroy a foal’s life?

I’m at a complete loss for words. I mean, how do you rebound from that? I failed V, Booky; I failed her despite my best attempts. I guess I’m just too damn stupid.

Wait, Booky, I have an idea. What if you go see V? I know I can’t get in there, but what if I sneak you into the hospital? That way she’d be able to write in you and give me some courage to forge onwards!

You think that’ll work? Cause I’m doing it regardless of what you say.

The only problem is in figuring out whom to trust you with. I can’t have somepony just up and read you. That would literally ruin everything forever.

Normally I use Rose or Nurse Redfart for sneaking crap in, but I can’t trust them. Rose is a double agent! By her very nature she is untrustworthy! And there’s no way I’ll trust that fucking nurse.

Hm. This is a problem. I can’t trust Rarity with this; she’s too much of a gossip whore. The Lesbian is too gay. Blossom knows too much as it is. Applejack is too stupid not to open you. Flutterpie probably would faint from me asking. The only good option is Octavia and if she saw the inner workings of my mind then I’d lose access to her.

Oh crap, no, not that, anything but that! I just came back from there, damn it! Come on! I probably can’t even trust her! I mean, yeah, she knows enough about me to not try my patience, but she’s also a fucking nerd. By habit she’ll want to read you! I mean…fuck, she’s the only option left, isn’t she?

Alright, here’s the plan, Booky. I’m gonna take you over to the Nerd’s library in the downpour, I’m going to demand she go check on V for me, and I’m going to demand that she take you with her. I suppose I can tell her that you’re for V’s eyes only. Once V’s done writing in you then she’s to bring straight back to me, unhindered.

Eh, I don’t like that plan, Booky. Much too much room for error. Of all the ponies to read you she’d be one of the worst due to her direct connections to the royal bitches. Rounding out this stupid cycle is the fact that she’s the safest one, though.

Fuck. Well, here’s to hoping.

Um...Hello?

Um, so I just write in it like this? I know I have to say hi first, but, I’m doing it right, right? Oh good, last thing I want to do is mess up Ipsa’s journal.

Hello, Mr. Booky, my name is Twilight Sparkle. I run Golden Oaks library, the place where Ipsa bought you from if you, um, remember. I live there with my assistant Spike.

Oh, I hope I’m doing this right. I’ve never, um, spoken to a book before.

Hehe…um, Mr. Booky, do you mind if I just write something for Ipsa? Oh, right, you’re a book, which means you can’t speak…

Dear Ipsa,

Forgive me for writing in your journal but Shimmer Shade insisted that I say hi to your book.

She’s a very sweet filly and she has grown to like you a whole lot. I know you have issues when it comes to meeting new ponies and making friends, so I’d like to thank you for being so welcoming to her. Celestia knows that’s pretty much the last thing I expected when you came marching into the library as you usually do.

Oh, speaking of. That was really rude that you wanted to sell Rarity’s pouch and the Crusaders’ card. I won’t tell them that you did that, but just know that they’d all probably be hurt that you wanted to sell their things.

I’ve spoken to some of the doctors and nurses here at the hospital and, if you’re willing to be quiet and peaceful, then they may just let you back into the building to visit Shimmer.

Also, if you’re willing, the girls and I are going to get together for lunch in two days and we want you to know that you’re invited. It’s nothing special; we just want to talk to you and maybe start working on helping you make friends.

Please consider joining us, I Pinkie Promise that Pinkie Pie will be as calm as she can be since I know you’ve had some issues in the past with her being hyper.

Your Friend,

Twilight Sparkle

A Pleasure

Hm, this is certainly a very sweet gesture. It is a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Booky. As I’m sure you’ve heard, my name is Octavia, though V did not tell me how handsome of a tome you are. V’s been telling all about her adventures with you and Ipsa.

I must say that, for a book such as yourself, you go on many more quests than I would have ever thought feasible.

It pleases me to know that Ipsa has at least had some company without V being around. I have wondered what it was that kept that stallion so busy during the day.

You know, when I was a filly, I had a diary. Her name was Lady Many Pages. I used to tell her everything I did during the day, having her certainly made enduring Canterlot a great deal easier. She was my very first friend, you know. I still keep her, for inspiration.

So, it is with no sarcasm when I say that I truly appreciate what it is you must do for Ipsa.

I’m aware many of the stories I’ve heard of him seem to have a startling number of truths to them, but I’ve also heard a vast amount of stories about Princess Celestia that turned out to be true as fact and an equal amount that were simply rubbish. It is with pride that I can say that many of the more vile ones I’ve heard, my roommate Vinyl being one of those responsible for the spreading of such stories, are simply and utterly untrue.

Ipsa is a very kind pony at heart, I’m sure. He simply must be if such a filly as V has taken such a strong liking to him. I know he is a very skilled listener, so much so that I must admit I was shocked during our first date.

Miss Cheerilee has educated me on some of his past and I’d like to say something in regards to what was said; a pony’s past shapes them, molds them into the adult they will become, but it is what they do that defines them and colors in those lines.

However, I must make it clear that I will not tolerate undue cruelty or anything resembling the stallion Vinyl has warned me of. I’m more than open to be friends with the Ipsa I know and I would absolutely not mind giving a relationship with him a chance. I’m aware that you, Mr. Booky, would know him better than anypony, so I’m sure your judgment of him is the one to be heard, but please relay to him that.

I must leave for Canterlot by the weekend, Ipsa, so if you would like to perhaps spend some time together in the mean time then please contact me soon.

Now, where was I? Oh yes, Lady Many Pages. She was my first and best friend for the longest time. It was my friendship with her that helped me gain the confidence to seek out a true friend. A friend, I admit, I never expected in Lyra Heartstrings.

Isn’t it funny how the ponies you don’t think you’d ever have anything in common with are the ones that you cannot help but find yourself enamored with?

A colleague of mine, Beauty Brass, went to school with me around the time I met Lyra. She and I seemed like the perfect match. As an aspiring cellist I could only admire her zeal in her musical practices. So, you can imagine how hurt I was when she turned out to be very prudish and, to be quite frank, rude. I thought I had missed my one true chance to make a friend. That was when I met Lyra.

Eccentric, energetic, and very outgoing, Lyra was quite honestly the last pony I could see myself being friends with. Yet, it was she who came to me when I was crying by the school fountain. She and I have remained very close since then, making her current residence her in Ponyville very nice for me. This is a lesson I was destined to learn again when I met Vinyl.

And it is a lesson that I, as previously stated, am quite open to learning again.

It has been a pleasure meeting you, Mr. Booky. I do hope we cross paths again in the future.

Bye!

Hi Mr. Booky! It’s me again!

So, did you like Miss Sparkle and Miss Octavia? I do!

I know Mr. Ipsa might not like for them to have written in you, but he needs to learn that making friends isn’t so bad, especially when they’re as nice as Miss Sparkle and Miss Octavia. Hehe, especially when they’re as pretty as Miss Octavia!

I’m getting kinda tired, Mr. Booky. Mommy won’t let me stay up too long. I’m supposed to have my legs looked at again tomorrow, so I hope they’ll have good news for me!

It’s sad to say goodbye again, but it won’t the last time I say it, so cheer up! You, me, and Mr. Ipsa will get to play again someday!

Thanks for coming to visit me, Mr. Booky!

Tell Mr. Ipsa that I love him and that I can’t wait to see him!

Bye!

Back To Form

Huh. Alright, I guess that just happened. Well, before we move onto my issues, please allow me to take care of something first.

That would be a no to the Nerd as I don’t particularly need anything at the moment and I will say yes to Octavia. I’ll ponder on that whilst I write, however, as there are things to be said.

Firstly, I cannot tell you just how satisfying it is to see V’s hoofwriting. I’m not lying (For once.) when I say it literally brought a smile to my face.

I love that filly, Booky. Not in the perverted way. Could it be perhaps that I see her as something of a daughter to me? I mean, I guess, but I never really took myself the type of stallion who dreams about being a parent. It may have something to do with her less than stellar parental situation and my (Ahem.) troubled one, though that’s stretching the line a bit to say I feel empathy here. I suppose the most truth that can be had in regards to my feelings here is that V is my friend, my beloved best friend.

Damn it, Booky, yes, you’re my best friend too. I can have more than one. And I guess that includes Carty too, but he’s still kind of a jerk.

When she gets out of the hospital, she and I are going to spend a good deal of time together. I don’t particularly care how bad that’ll look. She makes my days better, simple as that. I’ll give her rides in Carty, teach her how to collect buttons, play the kazoo for her, and all other kinds of fun things.

However, there remains an issue in the way; Diamond Tiara. She will not escape my wrath. The Derptard and the Pinktard get away with it cause all they did was harm me. If you do not understand by this point how much shit ‘life’ (Fucking conspiracy.) likes to put on me, then you must not be paying attention.

Does that mean they will get off without a scratch? Oh my no, their reckoning will come in due time. Diamond Tiara, however, fucked with the wrong filly and she’s gonna learn that lesson. A lesson all of Ponyville had better take clear notice of. You do not, for any reason, fuck with V.

That brings me to what has consumed me since I read V’s message to you (Fuck your privacy. You are MY book, after all.).

Do you recall that V made a wish, Booky? She did and I am obliged to make it true. She wished that Diamond Tiara’s cutie mark would disappear. Consider it done.

I’ve been thinking this one over for at least five minutes, so please stick with me as I work this out.

Contrary to what you may think, cutie marks are not emblazoned onto our furs. They are, in fact, present on our skin as well. To remove a cutie mark you must remove both the fur and the skin.

Now, how do I go about accomplishing such a thing, you would ask if you had a mouth? Well, my bookish friend, I think I know something that just might do the trick.

In town there is a stallion who sells painting materials. Among the paints, brushes, and the other crap he sells, he carries paint remover. At least I think that’s what you call it. This stuff is meant to eat through paint and make it easier to scrape off whatever surface it was on.

I see you have an idea of where I’m going with this.

The only problem is that I don’t think that stuff is strong enough for the job in mind, so I’m gonna have to make it stronger. Ammonia ought to do the trick. If I’m remembering correctly, I can get some from the town’s local plumber.

I can’t do this myself, however. As you might be able to tell, this plan is a bit less subtle than the ones I tried previously. So, should I suddenly show up and drown the bitch in the stuff, the bystanders are gonna have an interesting story for the royal guards who I’m sure would love any exscuse available to kill me.

Yep, I need a proxy, somepony to take the fall for me. You might recognize that as being a particularly vexing problem as I have access to exactly zero ponies who would willingly do something like that for me.

Hm.

There has to be somepony, Booky. I’ve come too far into my plan to…hehe, win! I have an idea!

Booky, as you’ll recall, I am the newest member of the Cutie Mark Crusaders (Ugh, tastes like I just drank ammonia.). That is a club that includes four other members: Apple Bloom, Sweetie Belle (Who I have yet to see wear her tiara recently.), V, and the Scootatard. Scootatard, as I have noticed, is obsessed with the Lesbian.

My plan is to go back to the Nerd’s…again...damn it. I don’t wanna go back. Plus, it’s getting late.

Fucking damn it, the things I do for that filly.

My plan is to go acquire the ammonia, the paint stuff, some balloons, and to go back to the Nerd’s and reacquire that poster of the Lesbian. I’ll mix the chemicals together until I get the acidity I’m looking for at which point I’ll pour it into a balloon. Following that I will promise the Scootatard that poster in return for hitting Diamond Tiara square in the cutie mark with a ‘water’ balloon.

The biggest issue with that plan is that the Scootatard might squeal on me. Hm. That presents a significant problem. I cannot trust her to keep her mouth shut on principle alone and that poster won’t buy me that much loyalty.

I suppose I could threaten her, which could work. You know, tell her that if she doesn’t do as told and keep her mouth shut then I’ll do something horrible. Only issue is that the immediate response to that would likely be to run crying and find the first adult, which would make this whole endeavor pointless.

She’s too young for me to seduce her into doing such a thing and to manipulate her emotions. Also, there’s the chance she might actually fall for me and I absolutely do not want to have to deal with a lovestruck filly trying to fuck me.

Hm. I guess that leaves the Lesbian. I suppose I could manipulate her hero worship. You know, tell her that if she tells anypony about my involvement then I won’t let her have the tickets I have for a Wonderbolts show, the other ticket belonging to the Lesbian. I’ll have to get my hooves on some Wonderbolt tickets, but it should do the trick.

I won’t mess up this time, Booky. I promise.

The Mistakes We Make

Hehe, for once, everything has gone exactly as I have planned it.

I managed to buy everything I needed just in time before the painter and the plumber had closed down. The Nerd was as surprised as I was annoyed that I was back for the thirteenth time in one day. As usual, I had to endure an almost endless barrage of questions, none of which I paid any mind.

There was a snag in my plan, however, when I attempted to buy the poster back, the Nerd wouldn’t let me. She thought something suspicious was happening (Why, who would dare think I, of all ponies, would be up to no good?) and wanted to know exactly what it was I was up to. Being me, I only had one good lie ready.

Booky, please forgive me for having to tell you that I did this. I in no way meant what I said and it will never be true.

With the Nerd staring me down and my entire plan in danger, I told her, “She’s my friend, Twilight. Please?”

Give me a second to fucking vomit.

That bitch bought that and while she did indeed give it (As well as everything else I sold her earlier.) back (For free!) she also gave me a tearful hug, telling me that it was very sweet to hear me say that and she was happy I was coming around. It took everything I had not to puke all over her.

Also, somewhat relevant, Applejack was present when I did this. I didn’t really say anything to her as having to go through what I had just gone through had left me speechless. What is worth mentioning, however, is that she gave a very questioning look when I spoke those accursed words.

If she screws this up for me somehow, then I’m gonna really be upset.

Anypay, there is good news. After I left that disturbing encounter behind I worked a full shift. I’ve got some pretty good things to look at, so, without further delay, let us do it.

BREAK-IT-DOWN!

First item up is yet another appearance by a frequent target of my sales; a mirror. Just like the last one I sold, this is a small mirror meant to be held in a single hoof. What disappoints me is that it has a very bland design to it. Solid red? Who would own something as ugly as this? Well, I guess it does explain why I found the stupid thing. However, I just cannot stay angry at this thing. I mean, just look at that reflection! Perceived value: forty bits, but I’ll mark it up to eighty due to the stud staring back at me.

Do you believe in wizards? I mean, I know all unicorns use magic, but I’m talking about an honest mage. You know, just a regular pony like me (Not like those freaks of nature with wings.) who uses powerful magic. I bring this up because I found a wand. Nifty little thing, if I may say so (I may.). Made entirely out of wood (Perhaps cherry wood?), the intricate carvings this thing has are gorgeous! So far I’ve counted at least five different phoenixes on here. It would be neat if it actually worked. Perceived value: thirty bits, but I’ll mark it up to fifty due to the fact that the stud in the mirror is still looking at me.

I’ve never seen an octopus before. That’s not to say anything against the ocean, but I’ve just never been there. In fact, the only fish I’ve ever seen have been river fish. That being said, I’m almost one hundred percent certain that an octopus doesn’t have gigantic eyes, a cartoonish smile, and bright pink skin. Yeah, look at this stupid thing. What foal in their right mind would want to play with such a garish toy? Disgusting. Perceived value: ten bits.

This is a ball made up to look like the moon. There’s not much more to it than that. It doesn’t even bounce that much. Huh, I guess that makes it more like the real moon as it is pointless and ugly. Perceived value: five bits.

Last on the docket is what appears to be a wooden (Perhaps cherry wood?) box with a tin crank. You know what that means? Jack-in-the-box! I used to love those! At least that’s what I think this is. I’ve cranked it at least three times and it won’t come out. Must be broken. Well, at least the artwork will bump the price up. Looks kinda like a carnival or something. Perceived value: seven bits, but I’ll mark it up to seventeen cause that reflection is just enticing.

Alright, here we are, the build up to my greatest triumph. I have my ammonia, which the bottle cracks me up when I look at it.

“Ammonia? I Just Met Her!” Ha, that’s awesome.

And right here I have my, um, paint thinner? Is that what I need? I kinda rushed my way through the transaction. Hm. Says that it’s meant to help remove paint, dangerous chemical, not to be handled by minors (Hehe, she won’t be handling it, that’s for sure.), and that it shouldn’t be allowed to touch your fur. There! Seems I got the right stuff!

Hm, the paint thinner doesn’t have a funny brand name, though. The painter must mix his own supply at home. Better be strong.

That’s my poster, of course, still looking as ugly as ever.

Oh, right, I never did mention the balloon. Well, yeah, I’ve got this balloon. Found it near the Pinktard’s place. Looks a little dirty. Should still work.

Okay, I just gotta mix this stuff together in this pot and then pour into the balloon. Then we play the waiting game.

Huh, that ammonia’s got a pretty strong smell to it.

Hehe, I could fart right now and I’d never know I farted.

And that’s the paint stuff. Looks kinda weird. Ew, fuck, it smells horrible.

So, what, do I mix it now?

Alright, that should do it. Now I just gotta put it in the balloon and my wrath will be felt!

Ha, see? I told you it would work! This thing is gonna make a little filly really sad! Hahahahaha!

Hehe, you don’t have hooves so I don’t expect you to understand this, but I’ve always enjoyed holding water balloons.

FUCK.

Think Again

Before you say anything, I want you to go ahead and shut the fuck up, okay? It isn’t funny that I fucked up last daynight. We all mess up, damn it.

Now, if you don’t fucking mind, there are some very important issues I have to address.

That balloon is an integral part of my plan. How else will I get Scootatard to throw this stuff at Diamond Tiara? So, I need to get a new balloon and I’m not overly willing to go buy new ones. Why? Well, my bookish friend, in this town there exists a foal machine who has three balloons for a cutie mark and I’d like to avoid ever speaking to her again.

Don’t worry about the mixture, there’s still plenty of it left.

So, with the understanding that I need to…wait, give me a second to get some air. That crap really smells bad.

Where was I? Right, the balloon.

I’m not sure where I can buy any. As I’m sure you’ve noticed, I never have any reason to have any. You think maybe the Pinktard has some she’d hoof (Perhaps cherry wood?) over? What? Yeah, you’re right, I’m sure she has plenty of them. I just have to convince her in to giving me one.

Okay, I’ll go do that right now since she’s probably awake during the mevening.

Oh hey, just got an idea! I’ll take the whole mixture and she can help me fill the balloon up! Good idea Booky!

How could this possibly go wrong?

Sometimes, Things Happen

Hospital! I’m in the hospital! Look at it, Booky, I’m in the hospital! And you’re here with me!

First of all, how the fuck did you get here? I know I didn’t take you with me. Wanna maybe explain that, Booky?

What, these bandages? You want to talk about that first? The fuck are you trying to hide? Don’t avoid my questions, damn it.

Oh good and she’s here too. Fucking magical. Just what I need, the damn Derptard.

I don’t get it, why can’t she leave me the fuck alone? Literally everything that has ever happened to me has happened because she won’t leave me the fuck alone. House fire? Her. Shirley’s death? Her. The loss of all of my belongings? Her. Physically assaulting me multiple times? Her. Everything that has ever happened to me? Her.

I swear, it’s like she can’t fucking help herself.

And now the Pinktard’s here. Wonderful. And she’s crying! You know, I was worried this wouldn’t suck quite as much if she wasn’t being that extra heap of annoying.

Want to know what’s really pissing me off? I’m only one floor away from V right now. One floor separates us. And I’m pretty sure those big, burly goons outside my door aren’t gonna let me go find her. Fucking hospital. This is supposed to be a place of healing. I shouldn’t have fucking guards on my damn door cause I’m a ‘risk to other patients’.

Oh fuck no. Do not tell me that I’m hearing this right now. Booky, are you hearing her?

“I’m so so so so sorry, Ipsa! I didn’t know you didn’t know I was there! Twilight told me about your book being your best friend and I went and got him for you, please forgive me!”

She broke into my house! Why did she feel that was needed? What the fucking fuck? I’m mean, for craps sake, Booky, is it too much to ask that the pony’s I hate the absolute most don’t get free access to my fucking home?

Fuck.

Stupid, that’s all this is. I mean come on; this isn’t at all where I want to be right now.

Oh come on, can they not just leave me alone in my hospital bed (Somehow this feels familiar.)?

Okay, at least those two rejects are fucking gone. Now I can suffer in peace and agony.

I’ve utterly failed her, Booky. I couldn’t even carry a bucket across town without spilling it all over myself. Yeah, I know, my plan would’ve never worked (Not quite sure how I arrived at the conclusion I did when I left the house, but I’m going with brain damage.) and thus was fated to fail, but I didn’t even get that far.

At this point I’m really fighting to think of a reason as to why I’m still trying. I mean, I literally have given it my all and I’ve failed in ways that are starting to get unbelievably ridiculous. All I want is to make V happy. You get that, don’t you? Yes, I know, my tactics are questionable, but my intent could not be more pure.

And you know what? I’m proud of her. This whole thing with the balloon was her idea. She’s a very clever little filly. I mean, I never would’ve given such a thought consideration. Shows off how pitiful I feel right now, doesn’t it? She came up with this grand idea to take Diamond Tiara’s cutie mark away from her and I barely made it out the door.

I’ve come a long way, haven’t I? Last time I was in one of these beds I don’t think I would’ve even looked twice at V. Now here I am agonizing over doing right by her. I want her to smile, to be happy. She has a full life ahead of her and I want it to be exactly what she wants.

Here’s a good question, why do I want that? All she ever did was show up on the street and then come home with me. It isn’t like she’s my daughter or sister or something stupid like that. As I recall, she was only ever supposed to be a burden to me.

Funny how these things happen, isn’t it?

She likes me, Booky. That’s all I can even try to guess what it is. She didn’t judge me, annoy me, try to kill me, or anything what everypony else has done. V silently smiled at me and trusted me without even knowing me. Maybe it brought out something in me that even I didn’t know existed? Or maybe there’s a desire within me to be a father, a good parent who would never abandon their foal no matter the difficulty presented in staying?

Personally, I think it’s that I was sick and tired of being alone.

I don’t even know. I have you and Carty, but that’s all it’ll ever be.

Look at that, the setting sun. I never really get to see that. I’m usually busy doing whatever it is I do. Last time I remember seeing the sunset was the last time I was in here. And let me tell you, last time these bastard doctors let me in here I was not in a particularly good mood.

Oh for craps sake, I only just thought of this. Last time I was here it was because I had a burning house collapse on top of me. I had burns everywhere, some broken bones, head wound, and tons of emotional issues. Barring the broken bones and the head wound, I’m here for the exact same things as last time. Horrible burns and severe emotional issues.

I tell you, that’s almost enough for me to start throwing an extremely violent temper tantrum. Why shouldn’t I? Yet again my life has landed me into the damn burn ward (I think.) and this time I’m not even that far away from the only thing I want and can’t have.

So, without further delay, please allow me to show these retards in scrubs what a true emotional breakdown looks…holy crap.

It’s V!

Even Angels Fall

Look at her sleep, Booky. Isn’t she precious? Seeing this reminds me of her sleeping in Carty. It sucks that the doctors want her to go back to her room, but I understand she needs bed-rest.

When I woke up this mevening, I didn’t think today was gonna be worth it. After the screw up with the balloon last night, I honestly had very low hopes for anything good happening. And sure, I had to talk to the Derptard, get scared by the Pinktard, have a bucket of acid be dumped on me, wind up in the hospital again, see the Derptard again, hear the Pinktard whine, have the Pinktard break into my house and touch my things, and be otherwise miserable (Although that one’s not so unusual.), but look at me now. I’m sitting here watching V sleep with a small smile. I’d say my luck has really turned around.

What makes this moment sour is that I have the Derptard to thank for it. She had the presence of mind to drag Pinkie away from me and then go grab V so she could visit me. Making things a bit more unbearable is that she’s been out there in the waiting room sending away anypony who would dare interrupt this. She’s provided these beautiful hours and maintained their privacy. And that makes my skin boil…uh, I mean, it makes me angry.

The one good thing to happen to me in days and I have the bane of my existence to thank for it.

Anyhay, despite the knowledge that my time with V was granted by my enemy, I can say for certain that it has been sorely needed. You saw me laughing. When do I laugh like that? I haven’t genuinely laughed in ages.

Hehe, Princess Snailbutt, I’m gonna remember that one.

Don’t worry about me telling her about what happened, she knows. Fucking Pinktard caught me off-guard while I was holding a bucket of acid. I also added on how sorry I was for not being able to grant her wish of removing Diamond Tiara’s cutie mark. As you’d expect, V’s response was quiet. She gave me a sorrowful look before giving me the most painful hug I’ve ever had in my life. Worth it, though.

I’ve had to cover up her hind-legs, however. I simply cannot stand (Ha, see what I did there?) to see them. It’s hard enough to see her in a wheelchair.

There is good news about her legs. V told me that the doctor who looked her over told her that her legs would eventually heal back to normal in about two months or something. He also (As doctors are wont to do.) told her that her legs will never be as strong as a normal pony’s legs, but that with enough exercise she’d be able to run and walk just fine. I, of course, told her not to listen to that bastard and that she’d perfectly fine in no time.

Take a wild guess as to who she believes?

Alright, now that the good news is out of the way, I have some not so good news that V had to overhear. My fur is gonna grow back in about a week or two, but the skin underneath is damaged. You know what that means! Scars! He also said some crap about the fumes having done untold damage to my brain, but I didn’t pay attention to him.

I suppose that me wearing those bowtie things isn’t going to just be a fashion statement from here on. You see, according to the jerk, my scars will be partially visible through my coat, which is wonderful.

Aw, she’s dreaming. Must be a good one cause she sounds like she might be giggling or something. You think she’s dreaming about me? Heh, that’d be pretty cool if she was.

She looks a lot like her mother, you know. V’s coat is darker and her mane, tail, and eyes are a different color, but I can easily see the resemblance.

Her mother, Starlight Glimmer (Sounds epic.), is a unicorn who I cannot give a good opinion on. I met both of V’s parents a bit earlier after the Derptard wheeled her in. Starlight seems to be in a constant state of panic, which absolutely pissed me off within five seconds. I don’t like high strung ponies. If somepony gets too intense then I get intense. What caught my eye was that she is absolutely obsessed about V. Every little worry she sets about to freaking out about is about her. She loves her daughter, Booky, and I can’t hate her for that.

The father is where I found a problem.

Hidden Glade is a stallion who either doesn’t care about his daughter or thinks that having one is too much trouble. When Starlight had what seemed to be her fifth panic attack of the day, Hidden Glade sort of just stood by the door, idly watching me with a blank expression on his face. V introduced me to both of them, of course, but all that bastard could spare was a curt nod. At least her mother had the decency to start a very awkward conversation about how grateful they are that I took care of V after I found her.

I believe I’ve made it quite clear how I feel about bad fathers.

I can see why V likes me better than her parents. They’re more of a bother than a blessing. And I will go on record as saying that if something happens (I don’t mean that in an ominous way.) to her parents then I would gladly take V in. She deserves a good upbringing, something I doubt she’s gonna get from those two.

Oh. It’s time for V to go. Give me a minute.

Wow this is sad. Alone again, huh? Well, she’ll be back tomorrow and then…oh for fucks sake, why did I just tempt fate? It’s okay. Nothing bad will happen. I’m certain of it.

AND THERE IT IS!

You know, just cause you’re an insane royal bitch doesn’t mean you have to be a bitch! When I said I was sad to be alone, I didn’t mean for you to send the fucking Derptard back in!

Oh look, she’s made a genius observation. It’s obvious that V is a lucky filly. What this reject doesn’t get is that V isn’t the only lucky one. I’m lucky for even getting to know her. I mean, crap, how often do I meet a pony I actually like?

You know what? I’m gonna tell her as much.

Booky, why’d I do that? I mean that, why the fuck did I just open that door? The last thing I want to do is talk about my feelings. You know the very second she gets going she’s going to want to talk about – that. It really is a wonder how this bitch functions if she actually thinks I want to talk about him.

Oh sweet fuck, bitch, I know these things. Can you hear her? I got his fucking letter, bitch.

I hate my father. It would literally make me smile if I knew his last moments were terribly lonely. That’s something other ponies will never understand. Too much harmony being passed around for anypony to see the cracks that let monsters like him slip through. I know harmony, Booky. Mom was the best thing to ever happen to me and Dad was the worst (It isn’t a competition, though you might not be able to tell that by looking at my life.). How much more harmonious can you get?

She didn’t like that one. Haha, yeah! I’ve finally gotten at least some victory against her! Look at that stupid little frown! Give it a minute and I’m sure she’ll start crying! Ah, it feels good to win for once.

OOOOOOOWWWW! Why would she hug me? Why would anypony hug me? Can she not see the fucking bandages? Does she think I’m dressed like a mummy for fun?

If she doesn’t mean to keep hurting me then why the fuck does she keep hurting me! For fucks sake, bitch! It really isn’t that fucking hard NOT to hurt me!

Oh great and there’s the tears.

How is she not getting this? Of course I’m amazing! I’m the most amazing pony to have ever lived! I eat, sleep, and BREATHE amazing! And, if I have any say in the matter, V’s gonna turn out just like me!

And it appears we aren’t done yet! For whatever reason, I have two more visitors!

At least the Derptard seems done for now. Stupid bitch.

You know what? I’m glad the Lesbian came to see me. I could really use somepony as chill as her right now. The Nerd didn’t have to come with her, but I guess that’s part of that harmony thing I touched upon earlier.

Oh you have got to be kidding me. Starlight told me I had more visitors out there that Derpy wouldn’t let in, but all six of the Elements of Harmony? Why did they all feel the need to show up? I mean, I understand why some of them would, but that does not explain why the others tried to see me.

Flutterguy’s the real mystery. She literally had no reason at all to want to see me. I hardly even know that bitch. Beyond turning my broken mind into a warzone, I have had zero contact with her. I mean, yeah, it was one of her little rodents that raided my damn kitchen, but that still doesn’t explain why she would want to see me.

I can somewhat understand Applejack wanting to visit. She’s delusional and believes that I’m her friend. So you can see why she would try. Does it mean I wanted her to? No, no it does not. Unless she brought alcohol (Which, again, I’m not certain I should get so excited about due to my tendencies to go gay whilst drunk.) then she needs to not bother trying again.

On the subject of not trying again, the Pinktard really does not learn lessons. She’s the reason I’m in here in the first place and I pointedly ignored her presence when she was here. Why she would feel the need to push the envelope further is beyond me.

Rarity’s the only one that I both understand and wouldn’t entirely have minded. She and the Lesbian are the closest things I have to friends out of this bunch and both at least off some measure of comfort. So, it is a bit unfortunate that she missed her chance, but I got to spend time with V instead.

Yeah, yeah, I get it. All of their friends are worried and blah blah blah.

Wow I don’t care.

Yes, I figured it out myself, Twilight. All of your friends went home cause it got too late to stay. Though I am curious as to why the Nerd and the Lesbian are persisting.

Haha, oh wow is she missing the mark on that one. I am NOT the Nerd’s friend. She can tell that bitch in the castle whatever she wants (Though I’d prefer it’d not have anything to do with me.), but that does not change the reality of my apathy. The Nerd pays me money that I eat with. That is all.

I said none of that, of course. Last thing I need is another emotional crapstorm like the Derptard tricked me into starting.

And there goes the Lesbian. She really needs to work on getting more sleep if she’s literally tired all the time. I mean, isn’t this at least the fifth time she’s bailed on me cause of that? Eh, I suppose it’s a little late for regular ponies.

Which means I’ll be awake for the foreseeable future. Damn it. Hehe, unless those nice nurses want to give me some yummy pain medication.

Aw, isn’t that sweet? The librarian said she’d bring me a book or two tomorrow to help pass the time by while I’m here. Poor dear, I don’t want her going so far out of her way for me. I mean, honestly, who can expect her to find a book when she lives in a tree filled with them?

Now, if I can get the reject to leave I’ll be set.

Uh, I have a bad feeling about that look she has on her face. Kind of thoughtful, serious, and sad, which doesn’t bode well for me. Nor does the fact she’s been silent since the Nerd and the Lesbian came in.

Oh crap, she has a point.

I’m miserable. I hate my life with every passing breath. Unhappy really doesn’t do it justice. And if any of that describes me, then…if V becomes just like me…uh oh.

The Problem

Booky, we have a problem.

As I know you’re aware, I’ve been sitting here agonizing over what the Derptard said earlier. I can’t sleep. I mean, I’ve tried my hardest but I just can’t get that feeling out of my head. Never before have I ever had to deal with this kind of guilt. And it’s tearing me apart.

Look at me, Booky. I’m pathetic. Sitting here covered in chemical burns, hateful, bitter, sad, lonely, unpleasant, and tragically at a loss for what to do, it’s enough to make me cry just at the thought. In fact, I’m so horrendously bad that by virtue of my very existence I am endangering the future happiness of the one pony who matters to me.

That’s not something anypony should ever have to endure. My every breath is like a toxin that could turn V belly up at the slightest whiff.

Beyond the fact that this isn’t fair (It isn’t my fucking fault that harmony skipped me over.), making this wholly unbearable is that I know she’s already started down a path that’ll only lead her to where I am right now. She’s the one who came up with the idea to remove Diamond Tiara’s cutie mark, not me. It won’t be long before she starts plotting even more petty acts of vengeance and other kinds of attacks to get back at life for being unfair.

There has to be something I can do to fix this. Something WE can do to fix this. Only I have no fucking clue what that something could be.

I’ve gone over this a thousand times and more since Derpy left. What needs to happen to stop her decent into…well, becoming me?

Huh? What do you mean me? Wait, are you saying that I need to find out why I am the way I am? Booky! That’s brilliant! Now shut up, it’s thinking time!

I guess it all started when I was just a colt. Back then Mom was still around, I still went to school, and I still had friends. Dad wasn’t ever really around during that time. I mean, he hung out with me sometimes, but that was usually when Mom was there too. He was always kind of distant despite how close he tried to be. I didn’t really want to be very close with him, though. Crap, I didn’t want to be friends with any guys at the time. My two best friends were Blossom and that whore. The colt I was friendliest with was a unicorn I don’t remember the name of and even then I was closer to one of my Mom’s friend’s daughters (Roseluck, I believe, which I should really check to see if she’s of any relation to Rose the Spy.).

It doesn’t take a scholar to know where my troubles truly began.

Mom was gone. Just like that. I’ll never forget the day after it happened.

Think about sitting at a window and watching the sun go across the sky, knowing that some all-powerful goddess is simply poking it along. Imagine watching it so long that things around you slow as the sky speeds up. As you watch, a crushing sense of pain washes over you like an icy bath, drowning you in the most powerful emotions you can think of. Outside that window is an entire world of ponies who are happy and smiling. The sun moves across the sky at the behest of a goddess who didn’t even blink when your mother couldn’t anymore. You watch as you begin to understand the true silence of solitude. Picture a warm tear going down your face as you begin to scream.

That’s where I believe this all started. And thankfully I don’t think V has to worry about going through something like that. So she can at least avoid the pitfall I encountered. Luckily she’s also managed to skip over the next bit of trauma I had to endure when I was taken out of school. In fact, she experienced the exact opposite (Thanks to me, of course.).

I’ve never been big on friendships or anything like that, but that still hurt to lose what little of it I had. Both Blossom and the whore tried to come and see me as often as they could, though that slowed as time went on.

Huh, as I look at this more and more I’m failing to see the issues, Booky. I mean, yeah, we already have a confirmed instance of V acting like me, but I can’t seem to figure out what she should be avoiding in order to not finish that transformation. I mean, if not trauma then what could possibly cause the push down the slippery slope I’m flying down?

Hm? You think association? Booky, the fuck do you think that has to do with anything? What? Influence? You know, you’re onto something there!

So I- what? Shut the fuck up, Booky, I’m talking!

Now, where was I?

If V is being negatively influenced by somepony then we have to figure out who so we can buck them the fuck out of her life. Let’s start by forming a list (Oh how I love lists.) of those with any influence on her: her Mom, her Dad, Sweetie Belle, Scootapoo, Apple Bloom, Dinky (You know, the Derptard’s bastard child?), Blossom, the Nerd, Rarity, Octavia, and (As I include her on every list in which I discuss the effects of trauma and grief.) the Derptard.

Not much of a list, but it’ll have to do. Well, you know what this means. ABP!

As I’ve said before, Starlight Glimmer is nothing if not neurotic. I mean, really, I’ve never seen a pony do a trapeze act on their own freaking nerves. Also, as I’ve noted, she is absolutely all about her daughter. Every few seconds she tried to see if there was anything V needed or if there was something Starlight could do for her. So I can easily declare her as a worrier. Not much a decision maker, either. Always insistent on getting somepony else’s opinion on what should be done. For instance, V wrote a note saying she was thirsty, which lead to Starlight trying to figure out if she needed apple juice or orange juice more. Shut her up cold when I simply gave V my grape juice (Not like a hospital would let me have any alcohol.), which, of course, V happily drank.

Other than potentially passing on a penchant for damn near having a heart attack over the smallest of things, I don’t see a lot of bad influence here. V definitely doesn’t need her mother’s indecision, though. The ability to makes choices is a very often overlooked one, after all. That being said (Or, well, written, I guess.), I think she’d be wise to take notes on how much her mother cares about her.

Oh how I wish the same could be said for V’s father. As previously noted, Hidden Glade is a stallion that (As with most examples of the male parent.) I strongly do not care for. I mean, how does one claim emotion yet stand there and watch one’s wife trot along the fine line between a heart attack and an aneurysm? However, this has nothing to do with that foal machine; this is about V. In regards to that, Booky, I must say something that may surprise you; I don’t think Hidden Glade is a threat in this sense.

That actually hurt to write.

I mean, yeah, he’s basically painted onto the wall and stuff, but it isn’t like he’s ignoring V. Whenever she wrote a note to communicate with him he’d pay attention to it. He didn’t start any conversations or interact with her or anything like that, but I could tell that V was squarely in his sights. I know what it’s like to have a father neglect the very existence of his foal and that is not what Hidden Glade was doing. He’s more a silent guardian than a bad influence. That, however, does not exclude this jerk from my hate.

Those were the two I’ve been most worried about. I mean, come on, I’m the way I am because of what happened with my parents. I’m pretty sure that’s a standard for every pony in the world, though. Still, the thought that somepony other than V’s parents could be responsible for any potential corruption of my sweet filly is frightening indeed.

Ah, the Cutie Mark Crusaders. Is there any other threesome as gullible and stupid as they? I highly doubt it. And no, I do not count either myself or V in their little club when considering the general lack of intelligence displayed by these idiotic foals. Making matters worse is that each one of them is entirely capable of potentially being a possible bad influence.

The obvious starting point is the most notable of the three; Sweetie Belle. Now, as you know, I have a storied past with this bitch. She’s sickeningly sweet and she knows it, using this trait to manipulate others into doing what she wants (Despicable, really. I mean, who the fuck manipulates ponies like that?). This is a filly who is capable of deception and unbelievable rudeness. I mean, not only does she not reveal who she is to me in a time when I REALLY could’ve used that information, but she doesn’t even wear the tiara I so graciously gave to her.

There is a problem, however, with the thought that she could mastermind V’s corruption; Sweetie Belle is entirely incapable of such a task. Not only is this filly as earnest as they come, but she lacks what I would call subtly. On top of this she is entirely lacking in confidence, relying heavily on the support of the other two. It is doubtful that this idiot would be able to bring harm to V’s innocence without, at the very least, the moral support offered by Scootapoo and Apple Bloom.

Well, if Rarity’s tumor of a sister isn’t a likely suspect, then I suppose the next threat offered by this group would come from the handicapped orphan who brings thoughts of feathers and flightless birds to mind.

I’m not sure if I’ve said anything like this about her before, so I’ll say it now; Scootapoo is probably the most pathetic pony in existence. I mean, she practically wets herself at the mere mention of the Lesbian (Which spells out a rather obvious detail that I will now ignore in favor of avoiding the subject.) and despite such excited squealing for a pony known for her flight prowess she seems entirely incapable of actual flight herself. On top of that I’m fairly certain that she’s an orphan or something. And, as though that were not enough, I believe that rock I kissed possessed more brain power than this retard. It is thus that I conclude that this rejection of a filly could certainly bring darkness into the pure heart of my beloved V.

The first issue I find myself noticing in that thought is that Scootapoo is simply too fucking stupid. I mean, when I say she’s dumb, I’m talking Derptard levels of idiocy. So, as with Sweetie Belle, I think she might just be too damn stupid to pull it off. Now that I mention it, this idiot’s hard-on (Metaphorically speaking, I hope.) for the Lesbian is another reason this pegasus with wings probably isn’t such a bad influence. I mean, she’s so obsessed with that prismatic (I tell you, that dictionary was one hullabaloo of a find.) foal machine that I doubt she so much as ever thinks of anything else.

That leaves the implausible ringleader for this band of retards. While as dull as her siblings, I cannot deny that Apple Bloom possesses a straight-forward gaze that belies her age and IQ. I mean, I’m a rather experienced liar (Have been ever since my stint in the army.) and she almost saw through one of my lies. If anything, this perceptiveness could be very given to being a damn near magnet for darkness. I mean, you’ve never known true despicable disgust until you’ve seen the worst of yourself in broad daylight. And don’t think for a second I’m gonna rule out her gigantic family. This filly could very well be connected to the inner workings of my whole situation. That would provide her with all the information her sister has, which could very well come from the Nerd directly (Fucking conspiracy.)

I suppose the first issue I have with any of that is that the Apple family actually seems somewhat decent, you know? I mean, I get it, one sister is highly delusional, the other wants to be just like her, the brother brings out the gay in ponies, and their grandmother defies the physics of aging (I’m fairly certain she’s at least a thousand years old.), but that does little to mask what they’ve done for me in the past. Food has been provided, they’ve fixed Carty, and I was even saved from certain death by one of them. So I doubt the family has much to do with any possible influence on V. Apple Bloom herself seems too oblivious to the idea of negativity to even give the idea of being a bad influence a second glance.

And just like that I’ve ruled out the only other ponies I would obviously have assumed to be behind my dear V’s potential fall into darkness.

Alright, I don’t think I’ve ever actually met Dinky, personally. I mean, I recall a possible introduction, but there wasn’t much to it. If anything, I don’t think there’s anything to the Derptard’s bastard child that I can’t say about the reject herself. I suppose the fact that her mother is who she is could possibly send Dinky over the edge and into bad behaviors threatening to V’s purity.

Hm, this one’s hard, Booky. The only reason I included this filly in the list was that she is one of the few who’ve had prolonged contact with V that could pass along a corrupting influence. However, one of the very few things I know about her is that I personally saw her comforting V when she was crying. If anything, that says the exact opposite of what I’m freaking out about.

Wow I’m bad at this.

This one is also a hard one, if you get my meaning. I truly don’t think that Blossom is a bad influence for my precious filly, but I have to look at this stuff objectively (Which, as you know, I always do.). She is on this list for the obvious reason that she has spent a large amount of time around V, which means she’s been of some effect on V.

I’m gonna go ahead and deter the obvious thought; Blossom is not some seductive beauty capable of bending the whim of any wary eye, even those of the very foals in her classroom. For the most part she is like every other pony in Ponyville and as such has nothing extra special that could count as the go to for any potential harming of V’s innocence. The only reason I find interest in her is that, well, she has a simply enchantingly plump rump. Not too massive so as to be mistaken for the cow who owns Sugarcube Corner and not too much muscle to be mistaken for yet another member of the Apple clan.

Focus! I need to focus! This is for V!

I highly doubt that Blossom is a negative influence, especially given how much she obviously cares for each and every one of those foals in her class. If anything, she’s probably one of the better ponies those idiots could strive to become.

The Nerd is one who really pisses me off. She clearly tries her very best to be the best she can be but can so easily be so horrid that I’ve had to literally eat cracker to cracker in the past. Don’t get me wrong, I’m sure she tries to understand ponies and work with them for the best benefit for both parties, but this foal machine is incapable of seeing things from the point of view of others. I mean, come on, haggling with me for the price of my goods is absolutely wrong. The money I get from her is all I get. I do have my monthly pay from Mayor Foal Machine, but that’s hardly enough to feed me.

Then again, Booky, it isn’t like I go easy on that bitch. I demand a lot sometimes. So it isn’t like she does it maliciously. And, my monetary issue aside, the Nerd really is one of the better ponies in town. I can’t speak for anypony else, but I know she’s been there at practically every corner my life has twisted around. In fact, if it weren’t for the Nerd then I’m not sure I’d have V. That only means that she can’t be too bad. So, ignoring those nightly orgies she has in the library, the Nerd actually isn’t all that bad.

What can I say about Rarity? She’s a bit uppity, absorbed into her work, and prideful. You can’t walk anywhere near her wearing anything that she would deem ugly without her basically vomiting. Something V really shouldn’t pick up on. Though I can admire a dedicated work ethic, I’ve seen what this foal machine defines as work. She treats it like a freaking addiction. Going right along with her inability to stand ugliness is how much better she thinks she is than everypony else. I’ve seen her trot around, doing everything in her power to keep her ‘perfect’ coat as clean as possible.

So even Rarity, one of only two foal machines I can stand (To an extent.), is not flawless. Then again, maybe I’m not being too fair here. When she sees something that disgusts her, she pretty much begs to be allowed to fix it. That’s a selflessness that’s hard to hate (Not that I don’t try.). And while it’s easy to judge how she works from the outside, it isn’t like I’m some kind of example to follow in that area. You’ve seen me work, Booky. It isn’t exactly pretty. As for the pride thing, well, there isn’t much I can say in defense of it. Though there isn’t much wrong with having a little pride in oneself.

I don’t like how hard this is becoming, Booky.

There isn’t much I can say about Octavia that I can’t say about Rarity. They’re both pretty snobbish and they both carry themselves like they’re royalty. Unlike Rarity, Octavia happens to bisexual, so I guess that counts as something to be wary of. She also knowingly allowed her roommate (Vinyl Scratch, a pony who apparently doesn’t like me very much.) to spy on our dates. I first ‘met’ her when I heard her moaning in a dark alley, which I take to mean that she’s into that sort of anonymous thing.

I’m not sure any of that matters, though. My focus here isn’t on what parts of her irk me or anything like that. The whole point of me still being awake is to keep my sweet V safe from bad influence. She cannot be allowed to wind up like me. To be frank, I don’t see very much here that could send her down a dark path just by association. I mean, I suppose Octavia could turn her into a nasty lesbian or something, but I highly doubt it. She does surround herself with questionable friends, however, though I’m not sure if that’s relevant.

I’ve just about gone through the entire list, almost the whole damn thing. How is it possible that under the closest of scrutiny that these horrid foal machines aren’t at the very least a minor threat to V? Pretty much everypony I’ve mentioned has contributed to furthering the downward spiral that is my life, so how is it that they aren’t threatening the same to a much more innocent pony? Well, if none of the above are bad influences, then I might as well turn to the one pony who has proven to be a mainstay in my torment.

Derpy Hooves is a pursuant of unobtainable goals, completely aware of the current working against her in this stream she swims up. I’ve lost count of the many times I’ve told this reject that I want nothing to do with her in any capacity only to encounter her the very next day. She is the example of a failed attempt at motherhood as she not only chose to procreate but she freely admits that she has little time for her retarded spawn. Her opinion is almost as warped as her messed up eyes are. Despite what I do, what I say, or how emphatically I make my mark on this town, the Derptard continues to defend me despite receiving the worst I have to offer. Notable is that regardless of how much she is aware of or knows, she shows absolute ignorance of the ability not to bring harm to a pony she repeatedly claims to not wanting to hurt. On top of it all she’s a murderer, completely missing the severity of her crime in her apologies.

There, I think I’ve found the problem and I admit that I’m not surprised in the least. Now all I have to do is figure out a way to remove the Derptard’s influence from V to such an extent that she’ll never send my precious filly down the tragic road I call life.

I think it’s pretty funny that despite everything that stupid idiot has done to redeem herself she still winds up screwing things up. I mean, she’s been there at pretty much every twist and turn. Baking muffins for V and me, leaving a blanket for V, coming to see me in the hospital, and bringing you back to the house being among the many things she’s tried. In fact, I owe her entirely for getting to see V earlier and spending time with her. Not to mention that time I broke down crying and she helped me back to the house. I know she also defends me when her friends are talking crap about me. She thanked me for the hard work I do when I clean. Um…uh oh.

Booky, please forgive me for saying this, but I don’t think the Derptard is a bad influence. I mean, despite all of her many failings, she’s still trying to do something right. How many ponies come to my defense when I do something wrong? How many bother to even acknowledge what it is I do? She even made sure V was safe with me at the start. Derpy literally saved my life at one point, mine and Carty’s. When I lost you on my way to Canterlot, she even took the time to put you back in my house safely.

So…if she isn’t the bad influence, then who is?

I’m not joking around here, Booky. This is something I need to figure out and fix. I love V. She’s the only one who’s been there for me that actually wanted to be there. I’m going to be here for her. I swear that I won’t let happen to her what happened to me. I’m not sure I could live with myself if she turned as vicious, sour, bitter, and…oh.

It’s me, isn’t it? I’m the…I’m a bad influence for V. By being around me she’s becoming more like me.

Ouch.

Well, how do I fix that? I’ve tried changing before, remember? It didn’t work very well. In fact, if I’m remembering correctly, didn’t I outright reject it? So, if I can’t alter myself so I’m not a negative example for her to follow…what am I supposed to do? I guess I could try and make sure she doesn’t follow in my hoofsteps, but hasn’t she already been affected by it?

So if I can’t stop the influence and I can’t make it so that who I am doesn’t affect who she is...all that’s left is to remove the source of the negativity; me.

Ouch.

That can’t be right. The only way to save V from becoming like me is to ignore her? Won’t that just make things worse? I know what it’s like to try and get the attention of a stallion who doesn’t want to give it to you. Only one thing in my life has ever hurt more than that. I won’t do that to her. I’m better than him. I can’t just kill myself, though. That’d be worse.

I’ll leave. That’s all I can do. I can’t stay here and not pay her any mind. Not only would that hurt both of us, but I’d crack after one day of it. It’s one thing to go my whole life without a friend, it’s another to ignore the only one I have. So I can’t stay.

How do I explain that? That who I am is a toxic poison for her? I’m not sure she’d understand that and the last thing I want to do is hurt her. I can’t lie to her, though. Not only would she not believe anything I could come up with, but she deserves better than that. So if I can’t explain the truth behind why I’m leaving and I can’t lie…do I say nothing? Won’t that hurt her too?

Hm, seems the only way not to hurt her is to hurt her. At least she won’t be tainted by my presence anymore, so there’s that. Once I’m gone her mother and father can fill in, her friends can too. She has everything I didn’t have when I was left alone. She’ll be fine.

Understand that the last thing I want to do is ruin her. If doing this removes the bad influence on her then I don’t have a choice.

It’ll hurt, though. Just thinking about doing it hurts. I’ve finally found something worth caring for and the only way to protect her is to leave her.

Where will I go? Well, I guess I could always go through the Whitetail Woods and just leave. It leads right away from all of this. Not to mention how beautiful it is over there. Mom always did love the woods.

I can’t draw this out. If I do then I’m liable to change my mind or something will stop me by force. I can’t allow that. I’ll have enough time to escape this place, drop by the house and grab the bare minimum of what I can, take Carty and…no, I’ll leave Carty. He can stay with V. That way she at least has a guardian I trust looking after her. I’ll just leave a note saying that he belongs to her now. That means I won’t be able to take as much, though. I’ll have to leave my button collection, my blanket, and pretty much everything.

Resolve. I have to do this. It’s for her. I don’t care if it hurts. Do you understand how much pain I’ve gone through? This won’t be something I can’t handle. Plus, even without Carty I’ll have room to bring the picture of me and Mom that Blossom gave me. I’ll also grab Dad’s last letter and the picture of the Derptard so I never forget why I’m who I am.

Ugh, the Derptard. It sickens me that she’ll be getting away with everything she’s done. By leaving I’d be abandoning my crusade to ruin her.

Damn it, I can’t do that. Shirley deserves to be avenged. There’s not much I can do on my way out, though. I only have time to make the stop by my house and grab the few things I can before leaving in the cover of dark. In fact, I won’t be able to carry much more than my saddlebags, some food, you, a pillow, my lantern, and those few personal affects. I don’t have much room for…wait, I have an idea.

Hehe, I guess that fate’s smiling on me for once. Fitting, I guess, since I’m giving up the one thing I want more than anything else that I should receive the vengeance I’ve been dreaming of. The plan: I’ll get kicked out of here (Shouldn’t be too hard, I’m pretty good at that.), go by the house, grab supplies and personal affects, say goodbye to my button collection, say goodbye to Carty and leave the note declaring him as V’s cart, stop by Derpy’s house, light my lantern, knock it over, and then leave as fast I can. If I’m fast enough then I’ll be able to see the smoke from her burning house from Whitetail.

I suppose I should say something about just desserts, but we’re talking about fire here.

Alright, Booky, let’s do this. For V.

Goodbye

Look at it, Booky, a whole town sleeping peacefully. I don’t think I’ve ever stopped to do this before. It’s an odd kind of feeling, you know? Not a single one of them knows that this is even happening. They wouldn’t care anyway, but the fact that my leaving is so poetic hurts me in a way that I’m embarrassed to admit.

Yes, I said poetic.

I’ve lived my entire life in that town (Barring that little trip to Canterlot.) walking the darkened streets unnoticed, existing separate from the rest. I haven’t mattered to anypony in something like twenty years or something (Again, stopped counting.). I’d get up in the mevening and go to work before coming home in the evenoring and go to bed with the townsfolk basically unaware that the night even happened. In fact, if not for that fucking fire then I’m pretty sure I could’ve lived to old age and remained an urban legend.

I’m leaving the same way I lived; unseen and unnoticed.

It’s not like I’m complaining, though. I think it was better that way. I don’t care for any of them and they don’t care for me. So living a social, public life (No matter how much I may have wanted it at times.) would have been a mistake.

Not that it makes this any easier. As happy as I claim to have been in that thing I’ve called a life, I never imagined any exit from my situation would hurt nearly this much. Just a year ago I could’ve done this with no pain in my heart. I would have Shirley and whatever junk I could grab. Now it’s different. Sure, I have you and whatever junk I could grab, but I’ve actually managed to forge some attachments that I have to admit it hurts to sever.

Don’t look at me like that. Just because I feel these things doesn’t mean I’ve given into any changes or anything. I’m still the same old Ipsa Unica who loved his mother with every fiber of his being. That won’t change.

I know I’ve never said anything to it in the past, but as I sit here saying my goodbyes I feel the need to address this thing I have with the Lesbian. It’s a strange thing, I must admit. Ever since I beat the crap out of her she has been a mystifying presence. I’m aware that I didn’t burn that bridge on purpose so as to have access to a potential ally but that doesn’t mean that I hated whatever the crap existed between us. She made for interesting company. I know it seems weird for me to say, but look at it from my point of view. Of the two of us, the Lesbian is the one who contributed to the relationship. I hardly had to do anything. I barely paid attention and it worked fine.

Perhaps worth mentioning is that without her this would’ve been my first time leaving Ponyville. She talked my ear off nonstop on the way to Canterlot, distracting me from the fear that I wasn’t aware was present until much later. Leaving home wasn’t easy, especially with the hindsight that I was within the same city as my father at the time. Imagine what would’ve happened had that whore of his run into me. There’s no way she would’ve allowed me to peacefully be about my own way without seeing that bastard. Had I known he was up there I never would’ve gone. And I suppose a part of me feared that very thing when I sat in the castle unable to sleep. What if somepony recognized me? What if he found out where I was and found me? However, if that truly is the case then why did I wander around aimlessly? After all, wouldn’t that have made me that much easier to find?

I didn’t tell you about that, did I? I know I mentioned roaming the castle at night and seeing Loopty Paratroopa bathing (I mean, honestly, who bathes right next to an open window?). I guess it’s a hard thing to admit when I’m terrified. Especially when I’m talking to somepony I didn’t trust at the time.

Yes, I implicitly trust you now, Booky. Can we please not dwell on it?

As I was saying, the Lesbian made that trip a lot easier than it would have been otherwise. Her presence was hardly pleasing, but I can’t help but feel grateful that she was by my side for the majority of the time.

It is with that sober admission that I feel I will miss having such a presence in the future.

Unlike the vague absence of the Lesbian’s presence, I genuinely feel my heart tug at the knowledge that I will never get to see Rarity again. Though the foal machine herself is a poor example of a female I am willing to tolerate, it is not the pony I will miss. As I’ve stated before, Rarity has a very strong resemblance to Mom, one that I’ve dwelt on at length. Looking at her is almost like looking through a window in time. Her mane, her fur, and even her freaking name are similar. Enough so that being around Rarity almost brought a feeling of complete ease and soothing joy to my very tired heart.

Please notice how I said almost. Though pleasant to an extent, that foal machine certainly had a way of shattering the illusion she unknowingly cast. When Mom would’ve been serene and soft, this blowhard would bemoan something and overstate something else. Where Mom would acknowledge my presence and simply join me in my moment Rarity felt almost compelled to string together piece after piece of flimsy dialogue in attempt to have some horrid form of conversation.

Their likenesses aside, however, it is worth mentioning that, independent of my desire for something I will never have again (Yeah, that old as smoopy-poo dictionary is still paying off!), the time I did spend with that foal machine wasn’t entirely unpleasant. Rather than simply annoy me or attempt to burn me to death like the other foal machines, Rarity actually showed a level of consideration towards me that surprised the crap out of me at first. I mean, she didn’t make trouble, she didn’t make overt judgments, and she kept her opinion to herself. On top of that she strived to be socially acceptable in a way that the Lesbian simply didn’t, displaying her flagrant homosexuality for all to see (Have you seen her mane and tail? Celestia knows I have…likely both as a figure of speech and literally.). To make efforts towards self betterment, no matter the result, is something I find worth acknowledging.

Forgive me, Booky, it seems I’m rambling. Normally I’d stop and…well, if we’re being honest, I typically spend a good deal of time ranting in you. In fact, I can recall a number of times where I’ve simply gone on and on about something simply to make your pages look more impressive upon completion of the entry. However, this isn’t one of those times. This is my final goodbye to a place that has always been my home and to the ponies that I’ve seemingly become somewhat close to. Also, a little bit of padding here and there couldn’t hurt, could it?

The Apple family of Sweet Apple Acres (Y’know, the one with the apples.) is a good example of ponies I admit will leave voids in my life. I should take this moment to mention that each member of the Apple family of Sweet Apple Acres will be leaving their own hole that differs in size to those left by the others of the Apple family of Sweet Apple Acres. And it isn’t like they’ve become like family to me or anything retarded like that. Each Apple has affected me in ways varying from slight to unnoticeable.

Apple Bloom perhaps exemplifies this trait better than the rest of her brood. A filly who has mattered to me no more than the broken pieces of wood that I invariably find every time I step outside my door (Seriously, what is it about being awake during the day that turns the citizens of this town into destructive lunatics?), which, of course, means that she does indeed hold status equal to the monetary value of scrap. I’ve utilized her in the past for my own personal gain and for the purposes of revenge. Though I admit that I’ve done the same for just about everypony in town, this filly does indeed signify something meaningful to me; she was the first of the foals to befriend V.

Allow me to elaborate. While the three idiots that make up the core members of the Cutie Mark Crusaders act as though in unison, I believe I have noted in the past that Apple Bloom is the clear leader of the faction. She is levelheaded (In comparison to Sweetie Belle and Scootapoop.), determined, and realistic (In a way that Sweetie Belle and Scootatoot could learn from.) yet imaginative (In a way that Sweetie Belle and Scootaflute are likely responsible for.) enough to spearhead their activities. Thus it was she who, though not likely the originator of the thought of being friendly, took the initiative and befriended V.

In case you can’t follow that to why this stupid little filly has had any impact on me when all she did was be friends with V, allow me to clarify. You see, while I am indeed the genius who got V into Blossom’s class and set her up for future successes, I am not the one who expanded her social horizons. If anything, I was just as overwhelmed as V (Though for vastly different reasons.). Apple Bloom was the one who proved to both V and me that there were indeed ponies to be trusted.

While Apple Bloom’s impact is quite clear, Applejack’s role isn’t so defined. At different times she has stood across from me as an adversary just to shift into the background and become bystander to my pains only for her to wind up saving me when no other’s would. You being a book and all, you may believe I think highly of the farmer due to her services towards Carty. I do not, however, think such of Applejack as I am firmly under the belief that it is her brother that fixes my dear friend. That being such, you may find yourself asking (Y’know, if you had a mouth, which you don’t.) what exactly has endeared this bitch to me in the slight way she has? To that I’m afraid my answer is unclear.

I know I’m being difficult, Booky, but you have to understand that this crap isn’t what I’m used to writing. Or used to general.

I do not hate Applejack as I do certain other ponies and yet I do not think as fondly of her as I do certain others. In fact, I have cause for both. She dared to stand with her friends when they came to steal that necklace thing away from me and yet she is the one who saved my life. This farmer has straddled the line between friend and foe.

You know, I don’t think I’ve ever seen her treat any citizen truly favorably. I mean, yeah, she most certainly has her favorites, but Applejack treats half of the town as she does the other half. Not necessarily neutral and yet not manipulative. If I had to label her then I’d have to go with equal opportunity. Yeah, that works. Everypony seems to get more or less the same treatment. Something I respect.

Yes, you read that right. It isn’t easy to be objective yet warm. For her to give me the same hearty greeting she would the Lesbian is something to admire. In fact, she very well may be the ideal example of the kind of foal machine V needs to aim for.

My admiration and respect being noted, the mysterious impact this farmer has left on me is nothing compared to the polarizing affects her brother inspires. He was the first pony in a very long time to earn my respect for the way he handled my business dealings with him. Short, concise, professional, and cautious. Despite what has occurred between us there has never been even a single moment of misunderstanding or confusion between he and I. Big Macintosh knows exactly how to deal with me and in turn is clearly attempting to pass such knowledge onto his more feminine sister.

Believe it or not, Booky, but I don’t want to get into why I almost went gay for him that one time that never happened. Not even a little bit. Although I must commend the big lug for how he handled that situation. He didn’t panic, he didn’t freak out, and he didn’t lose his cool, he simply saw me home and left. I don’t think there’s a word for the kind of pony it takes to do something like that. Even further, if Big Mac really understands me as much as I claim, then he is well aware that my heart holds absolutely no harmony for certain ponies.

As a book you may not understand exactly what that means to us ponies, but allow me to try. Harmony isn’t just an ideal, Booky; it’s a belief, a religion that we all follow in one way or another. Where there are light and fluffy ponies there must also be dark and spiky ponies. To have one without the other is kind of a simplified example of chaos. Day must have night, fire must have water, pain must have pleasure, and smiles must have frowns. Harmony surrounds us, penetrates us, being the source of all that is, was, and will be.

So, you see, my bookish companion, for Macintosh to know that I lack harmonious thoughts and feelings towards a few individuals must make him very brave and courageous. Such a thing makes me dangerous. I freely admit that the scales within me are in no way balanced. It’s why V can’t be allowed to become like me. I’m a threat to anypony who doesn’t get it. Big Mac seems to understand that and acts accordingly. I admire such conviction and yet I hate that he watches me so closely. No action I take is one that isn’t considered. To him I’m like a dangerous insect, thus bringing about the polarity of his affects on me. He treats me the exact way I need and despise to be treated.

Less confusing is Granny Smith. She’s old, withered, likely mythical in nature, and ancient in age. Have I mentioned she’s old? I never made much conversation with this old bitch, but she did mention that, ahem, ”Idn’t he the feller with the strange name and nice ma?” And anypony willing to compliment my mother (Insult to her naming conventions aside.) deserves at least an acknowledgement upon my exit.

Only now do I realize that it’s highly unlikely that I will ever come across a pony that was lucky enough to know my mother ever again. It’s a loss I haven’t even considered. When I speak of her in the future, anypony around to hear will have no clue about who I’m talking about. Difficille Invenies, a stranger’s name in the middle of the depressed ramblings of a despair ridden stallion who has long since given up.

Who am I kidding, Booky? Where I’m going there won’t be anypony around to hear anything. It’s kind of the point.

For reasons I can only assume relating to the dampness on my cheeks I find myself thinking of Rose, Blossom, and that traitorous whore. Bear in mind, please, that I do not spend my time willfully dwelling on any of those three foal machines (Well, to be honest, I do dwell on certain parts of Blossom.). The connection between my tears and those particular ponies is one I am ashamed of and silently mournful over. They were my – no, not mine, they were friends to a colt with a promising future and a happy life.

Before I begin sobbing over these next goodbyes let me make something very clear; past this point I will not speak of, write of, or in any way mention or bring reference to that whore of a deserter. If I have my way then that will be the last I ever think of that accursed bitch.

Moving on, I will start with Rose (Is it Rose or Roseluck? I still haven’t figured that one out.) as we shared less of a connection than Blossom and I. As I’ve mentioned before, she and I ‘bonded’ over the gardening sessions between her mother and my own. Reluctance hardly conveys the way I handled the first few meetings. She was so excited to garden and didn’t care with whom she was gardening. I, on the other hoof, was ecstatic about sharing in one of my dear mother’s favorite activities and couldn’t have cared less about the actual plants. Needless to say she and I didn’t become fast friends, something that changed at the behest of our mothers.

Rose was kind enough for a pony who didn’t really want to speak to me and I must admit that made it just a bit easier in being in her presence. After all, I wasn’t there to hang out with her so I couldn’t have given a flying feather (An expression I find little use for.) about talking to her either. Our ‘connection’ stemmed (See what I did there? Cause if not then this exile is gonna be a long one.) from the interactions that occurred when assisting each other (And by that I mean her assisting me.) with the finer points of gardening. It started with plant related puns, observational humor, and the odd question or two before blossoming (I’m serious, Booky, if you don’t start catching onto these then we’re gonna be miserable.) into a casual friendship.

Mom’s death put a quick stop to our time together. Rose and her mother stopped trying to contact me about two weeks after the funeral. I only ever thought once of her after that and I cannot recall that memory. All I can say is that my mind drifted so far from her that when I started interacting with her flower stand some time ago (Not too long, right around when I was working on winning the Lesbian’s favor, although I must admit that I have continued to not pay attention to passage of time.), it hardly registered with me that this foal machine I was dealing with was one of the very few outside of my mother that brought a smile to that foolish colt’s happy face.

If there’s something notable I must admit will leave a void in me in regards to Rose is the intrigue her status as a double agent of the ever present conspiracy has provided. I mean, I’ve always known about that poorly kept secret. Singular entities cannot command celestial bodies without having some sort of control over fate or some element of divinity to them allowing the prevention or allowance of tragedies and misfortunes that plague lesser creatures. You could say I figured that one out pretty quick. Rose, however, gave new life to that old knowledge. For once in my life that truth stood there, actively working before me. Add on Rose being a double agent and it makes for quite the meal for the mind. Something I have spent many a silent hour brooding upon. So, if nothing more than for entertainment value, she provided something I find disheartened to know my future will lack.

The loss of Blossom is one that quite simply and plainly hurts. I can live without her, that much I believe is clear. It is something I have accomplished my whole life and will continue to do so until the day I drop. Nor is it like I have sought her company like a thirsty pony has a glass of water. In all honesty, my recent dealings with that foal machine have done little to endear her to me. The pain I feel in leaving her behind stems entirely from the filly the undamaged colt once knew. A smile that encouraged one in return, a tempting target for friendly teasing, a true lack of dancing talent if ever there was any, and a true friend to the end that colt took immeasurable value in (Oh, if only that poor kid knew the amazing lumps that particular pony would acquire in her adulthood.). That is the open wound this agony flows from.

Blossom made up a very important part of those three foals that found so much comfort in each other that being inseparable was an understatement. Where the unmentionable one took the lead in their adventures and often sought something to provoke her direction while the happy colt followed closely behind the other two, openly enjoying the passing seconds, the filly that would be schoolteacher provided a brain that separated the bad ideas from the worst while taking great care to make sure that something was learned from every misstep. Both were a part of a tapestry of importance that the colt weaved intricately so that his dreams would come easily and the fears would leave just as swift. In short, they were his best friends. Good friends, friends that defined the term for him. Two parts of a heart made of three.

Is it really fair to say any of that? I mean, it’s pretty obvious how much I’ll miss that filly but it isn’t like Blossom hasn’t been there since the fire. No, she hasn’t really done anything to truly alter my opinion of her, though her giving me a picture of my mother is something I will forever be thankful for. With that in mind, I suppose she hasn’t been utterly useless. She made it quite clear that she was there to support both V and I when school started. I would expect as much of a teacher to a student (Not that I’d know personally.). It’s the added on support she offered me that I probably should bring some attention to.

When V was eating all of my food, Blossom took the care to offer me some breakfast and some quiet company to share in. In fact, it was Blossom who slowed the Nerd to a stop when we were signing V up for school, made that stupid smart idiot question if I was really the one who needed to be involved in those shenanigans. In hindsight, of course, that wasn’t really necessary as V is one of the very best things to ever happen to me (I’d like to think she views me similarly.), but that isn’t the point. When the only other pony even remotely involved in my life was pushing the issue forward, Blossom worried if this was the kind of mess I needed to be a part of. Not for V’s sake; for mine.

I’m quite aware that nopony else will ever see these pages (They had better not, Booky.), but I need to do this, if only for symbolic meaning.

Thank you, Blossom, for bothering to befriend a colt who was terrified of others and for daring to offer that same kindness to a stallion who didn’t deserve it. From the bottom of my heart, thank you. I promise I will never forget that.

And since I’m taking this opportunity to be truly candid and open with my emotions (Horrid things.), I’d like to offer a goodbye to that stallion who gave me flowers that one time. I know it’s a bit overplayed but sometimes it’s the small things you don’t think ponies will even notice that they will always remember.

Wow, Booky, this entry is really getting sad and crap. And it’s only gonna get worse. If I’m going to be saying goodbye to the ponies I believe deserve it then there are two names left that you should’ve been expecting from the start; Octavia and V.

There are some things that just do ‘it’ for some ponies, the way they walk, stand, lie down, dance, flirt, or, in my case, talk, all of which bringing about the exact same emotion for all these different ponies. Just a brief lidded gaze and suddenly that pony’s entire day revolves around that image. They can fight it all they want, that memory, no matter how short or inconsequential drives them to drift off into daydreams and fantasies of those eyes being solely for them, eye contact reserved for them alone. Octavia’s voice does that for me.

You’re already aware of how often these entries make mention of her, but can you imagine that even when I’m not writing in you, I am thinking of that silken tone? I mean, there are rather obvious instances of when I’ve thought of it, but that’s not the point. Those are brought on by urges. What I’m talking about are just errant ideas, theoretical possibilities of what I would do if allowed to hear such a voice for even just a day.

In case this is going directly over your header, I’m trying to say that Octavia means more to me than just carnal sex. This is gonna sound sappy and entirely foreign since it comes from me, but it’s the truth. A truth I’m comfortable admitting to you now. Octavia is the conversation I’ve always dreamed of having. It sure as crap didn’t start out like that. Right after I heard her in the alley that night I simply just could not stop myself from hearing that delicious voice praise me for being a sexual god. She’d sing lofty songs that’d etch the story of my mighty thrusts into the history books, an intimate encounter that would shake the very foundations of society. However, the thing about lust is that you eventually run out of juices, become sore, or become numbed to what excited you before. It was when that happened that my dreams became more and more about what happened before and after the sex. Our dates became more than attempts at losing my virginity.

I find it sad that I realized this too late, after the dating had stopped.

Now, I know what you’re wondering. ‘How in the hay is that something Ipsa Unica legitimately thought?’ Well, my bookish companion, I confess to having asked that very question. I got the answer in the cold silence that followed it. Loneliness is a horrible thing to suddenly find yourself drowning in. In all these years I have ignored it. I had Shirley, Carty, my button collections, and you. Then V came along. She didn’t actually do a whole lot to get rid of the deafening silence (Oh irony, how I wish you’d go away.). V’s very presence is what made me realize just how quiet my house was. Not helping things at all was all the thinking I was doing about Octavia’s voice.

It’s a pure shame that things have happened the way they have, Booky. Octavia made it apparent that she’d be willing to give me another chance. And while I doubt I truly could’ve convinced that foal machine to come over to my side, the fact that I never got to try in earnest is a testament of how much V means to me. Even if it finally manages to kill me, the loneliness that’s crushed me my whole life is worth it if it means V gets to avoid winding up like me.

Still, I suppose I’ll never be able to shake the feeling that Octavia could’ve been the answer to a lot of my problems.

Anyflew, there’s one last pony I must acknowledge before this chapter of my life ends and the next begins.

What is there left to say about this filly that I haven’t already touched upon? She was the catalyst for all of this. I can safely say that my life would barely resemble what it is now if I had simply ignored the box she was hiding in. With me being fully aware of it all, V has changed me. Every step of this arduous journey has been a tortuous and painful experience, but it has altered me forever.

Stupid accidents, outright antagonism (Via everypony’s favorite conspiracy.), natural happenings beyond control, and my own self-destructive actions have left me with physical and emotional scars that will never heal. On top of all that life has seen fit to pepper those tortures with crap meant only to annoy me, depress me, or simply make the whole thing even more unpleasant. And that goes without mentioning the embarrassments I’ve had to suffer. All of that is why, much to my own surprise, I cannot help but admit that my life has been infinitely better thanks to my little friend.

I’ve suffered through my whole life, Booky, pitiable horribleness that has continued unabated to this very moment. Torments that have twisted me into whatever it is you call somepony like me. And I’d do it all again so long as I could have somepony else right there by my side. There is nothing comparable to the searing burn that comes from a cry for help being met by silence.

I know I have a slight tendency to undersell things and I never overdo anything, but I’m being completely honest when I say that being alone has been the absolute worst part of my life. A loving mother, a father who existed, friends that I cherished, a diary that promised tomorrow could be better, I’ve lost it all. Every connection I’ve ever made, gone like a candle in a hurricane. And here I am forsaking even more for the sake a single filly, a little pony who put a smile on a face too used to frowning.

Thank Celestia I have you.

Know that I’m doing this so that V can grow into a pony completely unlike me. I want her to be happy, to have more friends than she knows what to do with, an education that can put this scary world into perspective, and someday a family of her very own. All things I don’t have. I know you understand this, Booky, but I just need to make it as clear as I can. I have the chance to do something right for once. To save the only pony who cares about me from decaying into me.

Rather than bother with a tearful goodbye like I have the others (Minus the tears, for the most part.), I only have one thing to say to the memory of V as I leave forever; thank you for everything, you silly filly.

Alright, that’s it. That’s everypony I felt deserved a farewell. Though I suppose I should wish some more harm to come across that pink idiot at some point in the future. As for that retard with the broken eyes, well, hehe, I don’t really have anything to say in the heat of the moment.

Hehe, get it? Cause I set their house on fire? Aw, you’re no fun.

Well, we’ll have plenty of time to work on that sense of humor in Whitetail Woods, Booky. Onwards!

Pony VS Nature

Before you say a single thing I will have you know that taking a break after only an hour of walking is not lazy at all, if anything it displays both my initiative to make a decision and my intelligence to conserve energy. Also, you should be so lucky that I’d take such a quick breather. I saw the way you were sweating back there.

Oh don’t start with that self-loathing crap, Booky. It is perfectly acceptable to be winded after all the stress we’ve been through. Not to mention that navigating Whitetail Woods in the dark is hard. So stop whining about appearances and public perception of you and take this chance to rest your bindings.

By the way, I’m fine, thanks for asking, you poorly conditioned jerk. I just got out of the freaking hospital and am still coming down from the pain medication, but no, you’re right, we should be more concerned with how hard moving is for you rather than the vast potential for infection I’m risking right now.

You know, now that we’ve had a chance to stop moving and focus on the scenery a little bit, I have to say that Whitetail Woods is a whole lot different than I thought it’d be. I mean, it’s still dark and all, but I was expecting a reasonably well maintained forest, not the mess of roots, rocks, and wet patches of grass and mud. Isn’t this place supposed to be a tourist attraction or something like that? You’d figured that the mayor would take better care of such an important thing. If a gardener with the balls to do it were to make it a pet project then I’m sure they’d make a killing from cleaning this crap up.

To make matters even worse it smells horrible. What even is that? I clean streets for a living and I’m almost sick right now. Smells like a wet fart wrapped in a freshly thrown up dirty diaper. I’m talking really bad. I don’t know how your pages haven’t started yellowing yet.

I suppose I shouldn’t be too surprised that nature smells like nature, though. In fact, I can recall sparing a few seconds to ponder what sights, smells, and tastes I’d be encountering for the rest of my life. And I swear to the sky above that I will rip my tongue out if the berries and other edible delights taste like crap.

Speaking of sights, well, what little I can see right now looks like a freaking haunted house. Gnarled trees, somehow visible mist, and freaky glowing flowers are all I can see. I mean that. Tell me, can you see what’s twenty feet in any direction? And don’t you dare try and say trees.

Oh ha, aren’t you a smartass? Well guess what, Mr. Smarty Pages, ominous pitch blackness doesn’t count as something you can see. If anything, that’s the lack of sight. You can’t see darkness, idiot. It’s just the absence of light. And don’t you set it in on my tiny little lantern (More of a candle, really.), it’s trying it’s very best to give me six feet of flickering almost-light.

Alright, that’s enough rest for now. Onwards!

***

How can’t you like those, Booky? They’re convenient, pretty, and, most importantly, created by me. You know what, I’m gonna keep using them. You can just swallow whatever bitching you have to offer cause it won’t change crap.

Anypay, I swear that smell is getting worse. It’s like the further I go the more atrocious (That’s right, even out here in the wilderness that rooty-tooty-spooty dictionary is still paying off.) this stank gets. Trust me; I’m not trying to trick you just because you don’t have a nose. There really is an overbearing smell I can’t seem to escape.

And no, Booky, the smell isn’t coming from me. I’ve checked. I may be a lot of things but smelly is not one of them.

I can’t let it get to me. This is my choice, damn it, and I made it to save the most precious filly I’ve ever met from going down a very dark and lonely road. So no matter how bad this stench gets I will endure it for the rest of my days. I swear it.

***

Maybe I spoke too soon, cause whatever the crap I’m smelling is leaps and bounds worse. I didn’t even think that was possible. How can something go from horrible to terrible?

Ugh, it’s so freaking distinct, just a very particular kind of rottenness. Yeah, that’s it! Rotten! That’s what it smells like! Rotting, decaying wood! I’d know the scent of waterlogged lumber from anywhere!

Shut up, Booky, I don’t care if that’s pretty much what you’d expect from a forest. You know what? I expected the pleasant aroma of flowers and trees, so fuck you.

***

Seriously, though, what the crap smells so freaking bad?! I mean, does it have to be so overpowering?!

I’ve got a game we can play while we stumble around in the dark. Booky, can you guess what smells like the bowels of Tartarus? I was thinking some kind of dead tree or something. You know what I mean? Like, a tree that fell in the forest (Whether it made a sound or not is an entirely different question.) and has just sat there unnoticed for a long time.

What? I’m wrong? Well fuck you, Booky. I don’t care if we would’ve run across something like that by now. There is literally nothing else that could be. If you’re so smart then why don’t you tell me what is killing my nose?

Booky, what the fuck is a timber wolf? A wooden…wolf? You mean, like, a wolf made of wood? Really? Booky, do you even know how retarded that sound- oh, wait, do you mean those things from the Everfree Forest? Yeah, I remember now! What the fuck would they be doing in Whitetail Woods? I mean, yeah, I agree that it would explain the fucking stench but come on. The crap from the Everfree can’t survive outside of it.

What exactly the fuck is that supposed to mean?! We are NOT in the Everfree Forest, Booky! Just because I’m the one who was following the directions doesn’t mean that I followed them wrong, dick.

I never do anything wrong. Ever. So the notion that I accidentally wandered into the Everfree Forest instead of the intended destination of Whitetail Woods is just ridiculous.

***

Completely ridiculous.

***

Absolutely ridiculous.

***

Utterly ridiculous.

***

It’s possible that a slight navigational error has been made. Something that is perfectly understandable given the situation.

***

IWASSOFUCKINGWRONG!

***

Alright, alright, alright, I think I lost it. I had to lose it. It was only one of them. They don’t hunt in packs. That’d be ridiculous.

***

WHY DO THEY HUNT IN PACKS?! IT’S NOT FUCKING FAIR!

***

Shut the fuck up! This is your fault, you jerk! If you fucking knew we were going in the wrong direction, TO THE WRONG FUCKING FOREST, then why the fuck didn’t you pipe up?

Whatever, I think I lost-

***

I DID NOT LOSE THEM!

***

Alright, alright, that should buy me some time. Fuckers probably can’t climb. Probably.

Okay, let’s take a second to breathe.

You alright? Kind of a sudden change of pace, so it’s cool if you’re freaking out. Huh? You’re hurt?

Oh, ouch. Uh, it’s okay; it’s just a torn page. You’ll live.

I’m okay. Just a few scratches from trying to run. Glad my saddlebag is still okay.

Alright, so we’re being hunted by, um, three or four of those timber thingies. And those fuckers are mean. We should be fine for now, though. They probably can’t- IS THAT FUCKING THING CLIMBING?!

***

I did it! Booky, I did it! I killed one! Yay! Fell on it when I rolled out of the tree! Now let’s get the fuck out of here!

***

IT’S NOT DEAD.

***

We’re okay. I’m breathing. I’m writing. You’re okay. We’re okay. It’s okay, they won’t find us. They won’t find us and we’ll get out of here.

Don’t look at it, Booky. It’s just a scratch, okay? I’ll be okay. Nothing to worry about. Fucker got lucky. I’m okay, just don’t look at it. I need you to stay calm, okay? One of us has gotta keep their cool.

Where did that other one come from? I didn’t even know it was there. I mean, I should’ve been able to hear or smell it, right? How are we supposed to get out of here with those things tailing us?

Just stay calm. That’s what we need right now.

I think that if we kept going north then we…wait, is that even north? We left Ponyville going east, didn’t we?

It’s okay, we’re just lost. Lost in the Everfree Forrest. Lost with a pack of hungry timber wolves hunting us. Lost and scared.

No, no, don’t say anything, it’s okay to be scared. See? I’m scared too, buddy. We’ll be okay, I swear. We can’t die in here.

***

WE ARE GOING TO DIE!

***

My fucking heart can’t take much more of this terrifying bullshit! Life is NOT supposed to play out like some sort of scary story! I mean, how am I even supposed to get to the part where they eat me alive when I’m about to die from fright?

Strength, we need to be strong. Gotta survive- HOW CAN THOSE FUCKING THINGS POP OUT OF NOWHERE?

***

I’m starting to get kinda tired. We gotta think of something. If it keeps up like this…no, it can’t come to that. Mind numbing depression, soul crushing guilt, and innumerable suicide attempts (Both accidental and intentional.) have failed to kill me. I am NOT letting some fucking twigs put me down.

I may be life’s bitch but death’s gonna have step its game up if it wants me gone.

***

Alright, they seem to hunt mostly by sight, smell, and hearing…which are basically all of the senses, but I digress, if these things are gonna stick to that plan then I think we have a chance. The dark is helping me provide some cover and some mud should help me blend in to whatever is visible.

Yes, I know, covering myself with mud and being really quiet isn’t going to change my fortune. If I’m gonna get out of this alive then I’ve gotta do something about the smell. Unfortunately, those damn things probably have a pretty good read on my scent thanks to the blood. I’m not without resources, though.

Here’s what I’m thinking; if I cover up the wounds with mud and leaves then that should work to obscure my trail. It won’t eliminate it, though, so I’m gonna have to leave my bowtie thing behind. If I get it covered in blood and hang it from a somewhat low branch then, if my luck holds out (Tempting fate like never before.), those wooden bastards will get sidetracked for a few minutes. That should buy me some time to put distance behind me.

I won’t lie, buddy, I’m scared. Make no mistake; I am not cut out for this wilderness survival crap. We can’t give up. I will not wind up mauled by some smelly bitch.

Alright, let’s do this.

***

That somehow worked. Can’t get cocky, though, I know how my luck works. Those things will probably catch on really, really quickly. So we don’t have long. You’re just gonna have to do what I say, okay? I’m gonna throw you down this hill first and then I’m coming after you. If something happens and I don’t make it down then…I love you.

No homo.

***

Haha, yeah, fuck those fucking things! Couldn’t handle just a little bit of intelligence from a superior mind!

We’re gonna be okay! I don’t think those stupid things will follow us down that hill. A hill that turned out to be far longer and steeper than it first seemed.

Huh? Oh, that. It’s just a bite, Booky. Barely hurts. I promise I can hardly feel it. Don’t focus on it. We’ve gotta get out of this place.

The plan? Uh, well, currently we’ve gotta escape and then we’ll see about where we go after that. Although, I don’t really want to go back to Ponyville. All of this suffering is being done for a reason that is far more important than our safety.

No, we aren’t discussing this right now. We’ve gotta focus.

Looks like we’ve got a few options open to us: over there, past that tree, and, uh, that way.

I see what could very well be a path, which means there is no way in Tartarus that I’m going to go that direction. Can’t trust a path made and maintained in the Everfree. You’d have to be incredibly brave, stupid, mistaken, or cursed with my luck to even enter this place. If you think I’m gonna fall into that trap then you have severely underestimated me (Again.).

I think I can hear some rushing water, which means rapids. That’s probably the safest choice since we can just follow the river at that point. If there is somepony in here somewhere that could help us then the odds are that they’d put their house somewhere near a clean water source. I, however, am not that stupid. Not only do you risk falling into the raging water via slippery slope, but how many prey animals do you think rely on that river? And if the typical targets of predators frequent a location then I need to not do that.

My smartest choice would be to move in the direction where the trees start thinning out. I want out of this nightmare infested forest. Those trees over there are a good example. Since the Everfree hasn’t expanded past its borders that means the ground in that direction is harder for the trees and crap to root. That means the more I can see through the trees (Which isn’t pretty far, considering I lost my little lantern when those I was ambushed.) the closer I’m getting to the exit.

***

Oh wow, this is pretty much just a huge clearing. We’ll be safe for sure here. It’ll only take a few minutes for us to rest up and after that we’ll try heading west…um…well, we’ll go that way.

Huh, really makes you wonder how these kinds of places exist in nature. It’s just a little spot of no foliage. I think I see a few tree trunks here and there. Isn’t a little weird how only those are broken?

Look, those scratches on that tree must be from where the other one fell and hit it. Heh, nature’s terrifying and cool. Wait. If that’s where a tree fell then where is it? There should be a rotting log or something. And now that you mention it, those scratches don’t…um…oh.

***

MISTAKE.

***

Why is this forsaken place filled with the most retarded things ever made? On top of that, why do they only want to hurt me? I mean, what the fuck was that thing? Looked like a giant lion/scorpion/bear/fear itself.

I hate the Everfree Forest.

We’re okay, though. Big fuck couldn’t fit through the thicket I dove through.

Clearly you were wrong about this direction being safe. Let’s just stick to the river.

***

Yep, looks like some rapids and such. Clean water, though. Wish you could drink it. Pretty good stuff. Did wonders for all my bloody wounds (By that I mean I am not hurt or bleeding in any way and you have nothing at all to worry about. Trust me, I pretended to be a doctor once.).

From here we’ll follow the river (Or is a creek? What exactly distinguishes the two? When is a river not a creek? And, for that matter, what the fuck is a glen?) downstream. Why down? Well, my bookish companion, upstream means uphill. Uphill means inclining terrain. Inclining terrain means the base of a mountain. The base of a mountain means there’s a mountain in that general direction. We do not travel towards or near mountains. There be dragons there.

***

And here apparently. There be dragons here too. Well, there be a dragon here. A heavily effeminate and probably gay (Could be a lesbian, but the lack of Rainbow Dash makes me question that.) dragon at that. A dragon that…has hair? Um, what am I looking at here?

Booky, can dragons have hair? Is that a thing? I’ve never seen the Nerd’s little slave with hair before either. Then again, Spike’s a baby dragon (Her wording.), which makes the Nerd the proud owner of a child slave. Or would it be baby slave?

Okay no, that thing has a fucking mustache. What the fuck is going on? Why is the mustache two colors? And why does half of it look oddly familiar?

Huh, weird. I don’t think we’re in immediate danger, though. Stupid thing is too busy looking at its reflection. If we sneak by then we should be good.

Now, before we risk everything in an attempt at stealth, I feel I should point out…um, hey, is it just me or is the wind starting to pick up a bit? Weird, shouldn’t the wind be chopped apart by the dense trees and crap? And what the fuck is up with that whooshing sound?

***

WINGS ARE NOT FAIR! WHY DOES IT HAVE WINGS? WHAT DOES IT NEED TO CHASE THROUGH THE AIR THAT NECCITATES IT HAVING WINGS? FUCK.

It’s okay, we’re okay, this crap might work to our advantage. That lion thing hit me hard enough that I landed on the other side of the river and with that gay dragon distracting it we can put some real distance between us and them.

No, I’m okay; I don’t think the stinger was in long enough to count as a real sting. I mean, yeah, it hurts a lot, but I’ll be fine. We just have to get out of here.

***

An ancient looking little bridge swaying dangerously over a chasm obscured by mysterious mist with the ruins of an evil looking castle looming past it.

Nope.

***

Like I said, buddy, I’m sure it’s nothing. Just burns a little. I mean, come on, the bite and the scratches are, like, ten times worse than that. I’ll be fine. Please focus.

Okay, since there’s no way I’ll be trying my luck with that deathtrap back there, we gotta go backwards. That means we have to deal with the gay dragon and the newest bane of my existence. And, of course, we can’t forget about those damn wolves.

I’ve got an idea. If we head further downstream we can avoid the dragon and maybe get lucky enough to find a place to pass at. And, like I said before, we’ll stay off the bank of the river itself this time and stay behind the trees where that flying piece of nightmares can’t find me. Not really sure what to do after that other than get out of here.

***

Sorry I didn’t say anything about the gigantic log and all that, wanted to get across and back into cover as quick as I could before stopping to write.

I found this really big log that I could use to cross the river with. Seemed pretty convenient, which means there must be somepony alive around here who can help me out a little. Which, yes, is the plan for right now.

***

Look, Booky, lights! I’m saved! I never thought I’d be able to do it, but with your support behind every step I think we’ve finally seen the absolute worst this forest has to offer.

Come on buddy, lets…is that a zebra?

***

Of fucking course it was a zebra. It just had to be one of those filthy fucking savages. Why couldn’t it have been more of those wooden bastards? Or how about that demon with the wings? I mean, seriously, I’m caring my most treasured positions and I happen to run right into a fucking thief. I’m lucky I got out of there before it started casting curses or tossing spears at me.

I mean, seriously, what the fuck is up with my luck?

Alright, ignoring that brush with death, let’s concentrate on…oh for fucks-

***

GETTING REAL TIRED OF THESE FUCKING WOLVES!

***

You wanna know what else I’m getting real tired of? Climbing tree after tree after-

***

Well, buddy, I think this is it. I’m pretty sure I just broke one my legs. I can’t tell which one, though. There so much pain going through me right now. Any minute now one of those fucking wolves is gonna walk right on up and start eating me alive. And in the soft glow of these fucking flowers that failed to break my fall to boot.

This was such a fucking mistake. I mean, come on, I know everything I’ve said and all, but come on, do you really think I didn’t know what I was doing? I mean, yeah, the Everfree wasn’t supposed to happen, but I knew I was leaving. I’ve known the whole time what this has all been about. I’m scared.

Can you even think to imagine it, Booky? V looks up to me. I’m responsible for her. My decisions have a direct impact on her. I’ve never been much of anything, let alone a role model. The thought that through an action or inaction I could change her entire future is absolutely terrifying. Fuck these timber wolves, that lion thing, these trees, or even the damn zebra, I’ve been running away from the very filly that has put a smile on my face.

How fucked is that?

I should have stayed. Celestia knows I could’ve figured something out. Would it have been easy? I mean, changing everything about me to make sure that little angel has the right kind of pony looking out for her is, even as I wait for my death, the most challenging thing I can think of.

Let it be known that I’m not quitting. I’d never quit on life. My mom gave me this life. It’s the last thing of her I have left. To just throw it away…no, I’d never do that. What can you do, however, when your body just can’t do it anymore? My leg’s probably broken, my burns are probably infected beyond belief, I’m losing blood from that bite, and I’m not feeling too good about those scratches. That goes without mentioning that sting.

To put it bluntly, I’m not doing so hot, buddy.

I’m so sorry I did this to you. Its nice knowing you’ll be here with me as I die, but I’d never wish such an end for you. Just do me a favor and close your eyes when it happens.

I’m getting really tired, Booky.

Huh, you know, as it gets harder to write I’m starting to think of something I hadn’t even considered. I’ve suffered my entire life in efforts to avoid my bastard father. I mean, I can imagine me easily killing that fuck. Always, no matter what crap I did, I’ve thought myself more like my mom than him. Yet look at me now. I’ve run away from a little foal who really needs me cause I was too fucking scared I’d fuck it up.

Funny how life gives you what you gave.

Remember, don’t watch when it happens. I love you, brother. Nighty night…for the last time.

***

So I have an interesting question, why the fuck am I still alive? I mean, I pass out for…um…a few hours and those persistent fucks just quit?

These flowers look really weird in the morning light. Think maybe the wolves didn’t wanna risk touching them for some reason? It’d be awfully convenient, almost as much as that nice little ray of light poking through the trees.

Booky, I can see the sky. I can see the morning sky. Hehe, didn’t think I’d see it again. Kind of helps me forget I’m basically dying right now. Whether it be infection, wild animals, venom, or starvation, I’m done for.

Smoke. I can see smoke. Booky, I can see smoke! Ponyville! I can see smoke in the sky! Booky, do you know what that means? Derpy’s house burned down! And if that happened…that means Ponyville is that way.

I can make it. Booky, we can do this. I’ll probably be imprisoned or something, but we can get home! Broken leg or not, I’m not letting those fucking wolves finish me off. There’s a little filly who needs her best friend to suck it up and beat the odds!

Come on!

Dear Princess Celestia

Dear Princess Celestia,

I’m sorry this reply is reaching you so late but the situation down here has only just settled enough to allow time for a report. If there was any way this could have been handled differently then we would’ve done so. Unfortunately, Ipsa forced the issue into the public eye and I’m afraid that has resulted in a hostile atmosphere. There have been no further incidents of criminal physicality and I am pleased to say that the ponies of Ponyville have, for the most part, maintained their calm enough to prevent a mob mindset. So, while I understand how seriously you’re taking this, there is no need to send a detachment of guards to maintain the peace.

As much as I’d like to address the elephant in the room, I think it’d be better for me to go over some things first. Namely the health of those involved, my friends’ personal opinions on the matter, and some very interesting and disturbing information that has only come to light in the last few hours. As a preface to all of that I’d like to note that this situation is far more complicated than I had initially thought and that you should take that into consideration before reading on.

Again, I am so sorry for my handling of this mess, but the Ponyville legal system, and potentially Equestria’s, are inadequate to provide guidance here and that care must be taken to prevent this from truly eroding into a disaster. Also, I’m sorry if I come off as rude or disrespectful towards your wishes in this letter but the task of navigating this issue towards an overall beneficial end is far more stressing than I ever thought it would be. Again, sorry.

Derpy’s burns aren’t as bad as we first feared and she doesn’t appear to be suffering any mental or emotional trauma, which is a weight off my mind. Thanks to her efforts, no others sustained any serious injuries and I’m pleased to say that she helped prevent the actual confrontation itself from devolving into undo violence. She asked me to inform you that she and her daughters are very appreciative of your well wishes.

Ipsa’s condition, however, is nowhere near as positive, as I touched upon in my last letter. His previously sustained burns have become infected and will require daily checkups and applications of antibiotics to prevent them from further worsening his health. The scratches he sustained vary from minor to major, with the worst requiring similar observation and medical attention as his burns. I’m told that, of those, only the ones across his left flank and his back will leave scars. As I noted before, the bite at the base of his neck looks the worst and, though not deep enough to warrant fatal concern, its severity is to the point that there are worries of blood loss. Not helping things is the fact that there is shrapnel from a shattered fang stuck in the tissue. After all of that, the puncture wound on his side is the most worrying due to the recent revelation that it is a sting from a manticore, one obtained at some point during the night, which means the venom has gone untreated for far longer than the doctors are comfortable with. It’s feels odd to admit that his broken bones are of the least concern.

After today, however, there are A LOT of things that I will be feeling odd about in the future.

You can rest assured that the doctor I spoke with is certain that Ipsa will survive his injuries. I attempted to inform him that you’re as worried for him as you are for Derpy, but I’m afraid that the affects of the venom and the apparent poison joke affliction have left Ipsa mostly unconscious until further notice.

Once we were fully informed on his condition, an internal debate began between my friends. While Rarity and Fluttershy agree that what Ipsa endured whilst in the Everfree more than made up for his attack on Derpy, the others have been arguing that there should be some form of reprisal for his actions. Applejack believes that a restraining order should be given to keep Derpy safe from anymore violent outbursts. Rainbow Dash added on that Ipsa should face official punishment, a demand AJ isn’t sure about. As per usual, Pinkie Pie’s suggestion takes the cake. She thinks that the pains he’s suffered are enough and that he needs somepony to teach him how to put smiles on faces instead of frowns.

I, personally, somewhat agree with Pinkie. She’s got the right idea at least. Judicial action would only serve to further embitter Ipsa at this point. Likewise, if we were to simply allow this incident to speak for itself he would take advantage of the leniency. The best response to what happened today is to give Ipsa some form of psychiatric help. Although, anything overt would have an adverse effect due to his mental state. Any course taken must be more subtle and gentle.

Don’t get me wrong, Princess, Ipsa needs therapy more than anypony I’ve ever known. In fact, after reading his diary I can confirm that his mental state is MUCH worse than I thought. Making matters more complicated is that he’s so far sunken into delusions that any attempt at direct help from somepony else would result in derision, manipulation, and, ultimately, rejection.

That brings me to his diary. Since Ipsa has been unconscious since Applejack’s brother knocked him out this morning, I have been forced to refer to his journal to learn what has been going on. I initially intended to only read the last entry or two, but when I saw what he had written on the last page alone I had to read the whole thing.

To put it bluntly, I’ve never been so disgusted, revolted, and insulted before in my life. To the point that I have legitimately considered passing this matter over to you entirely to avoid allowing such a twisted pony to continue walking amongst us. There is no exaggeration when I say that this book contains some of the foulest things ever put to print. I know such an observation should be expected when looking into the inner thoughts of a stallion, especially with me being a reasonably feminine mare, but not when it goes so far as to be horrible. Shining Armor has always been very open to me and I’ve never known him to have a mind as nightmarishly vile as Ipsa’s, so it isn’t just gender difference.

Although, I must remind myself that not ALL of his diary entries are as bad as the worst. Not only that, I have reason to believe that his nature isn’t entirely something he chose to develop. Ipsa’s been almost entirely on his own since he was just a colt, his ignoring positive influences doing nothing but adding fuel to the fire.

I’m not sure how much of the situation you are aware of, Princess, but Ipsa’s father, a salespony named Sale Barter, fell ill only a few years after the death of his wife and was eventually forced to seek treatment in Canterlot. Even for the average pony that would be an unbelievably sad experience. If Ipsa’s diary is any indication, though we mustn’t overlook the possibility that everything written in it could be untrue, after his father left for Canterlot his already fragile psyche collapsed.

Princess, I’m not even sure there is anything that can be done for somepony so far gone into mental illness, but we have to do something. He needs help; our help. I never thought it even remotely possible, even for villains like Sombra, but harmony has somehow failed a pony who did nothing to deserve it. Ipsa may have made horrid decisions, done terrible things, and planned many more, but his becoming such can’t be held against him. In a sad way he never had a chance.

Again, I’m very aware that the pony we’re dealing with here is a compulsive liar who suffers from complex delusions and thus nothing he’s said or written can be taken totally at face value. For all we know he has concocted this whole mess simply to make all of our lives that much more inconvenient. Worse yet, it is possible he orchestrated everything to give himself an exscuse to attack poor Derpy. There is ample evidence to support his incredibly deceptive nature and his habit of coming up with hair raising schemes to harm others.

I disagree with that possibility, however. I’ve seen Ipsa interact with Shimmer Shade and you can’t fake the smile he gets when around her. I’ll never forget seeing that same look on my face after I met the girls. He’s been so lost in whatever world was behind that closed door, gone in a similar way that I had when I hid away from friends in my studies. As little as he does everypony else, Ipsa truly cares for her. She’s his first real friend since he allowed his friendships to wither away.

As much as I fear what he could be capable of, I think helping him through his illness could do far more good than simply locking him away. I’ll even take personal responsibility for his rehabilitation.

Of course I’d understand if you disagreed, Princess. His actions are reprehensible and the possibility that he’ll target Derpy for another attack is a very real one, though she has pleaded that what he did was merely a misunderstanding. There is the matter of his mental health to consider, but I feel that he shouldn’t be punished for it.

I’m so sorry if I’m coming off as rude, but enough mistakes have been made and the last thing anypony here needs is anymore stress.

Though I have read through it, I will not be sending a copy of his diary with this letter. Instead I’ve included a few key passages that have been heavily paraphrased to protect Ipsa’s privacy. In the same spirit I have written two copies of this message, one for you and an edited one for Ipsa. I feel that if he knew of what has been written in the omitted portions of his letter he would have an adverse reaction, one that could easily derail any attempt at healing his mental wounds.

In case you’re worried for Spike to have overheard the above contents, I have taken the liberty to personally write the two missives. He’ll never know what has been said. All I’ve told him is that I have a letter for you and one for Ipsa. His only involvement will be in the delivery of both. I know you’d never think I’d intentionally expose him to such material, but I felt the need for clarification.

With Love,

Your Faithful Student,

Twilight Sparkle

Hi...

Um, Mr. Booky? It’s, me. V.

Mr. Ipsa was talking to me and, um, he said that…I’m so sorry, Mr. Booky.

Please don’t be mad at him. He’s just scared. It’s okay to be scared, remember? Being scared just means you have a reason to be scared, right? If you have a reason to be scared then you have something you don’t wanna lose, right? That’s what Mr. Ipsa told me when I was scared. He’s just scared of losing his friends, Mr. Booky, so please don’t be mad at him.

I won’t leave him! Mr. Ipsa’s my bestest friend! I didn’t have a lot of friends before he found me. My friends were my neighbors Minty Fresh and her little brother, Doodlebug. They were, um...I…Mommy wanted me to have friends and…she...Mommy made friends for me.

You, Mr. Ipsa, and Mr. Carty are my friends! I love all three of you! That’s why I wanna fix this. I can, right? You won’t be mad at me, will you? Mr. Ipsa needs you, Mr. Booky.

Please help him? He’s too busy trying to make me smile to do a smile of his own. I wanna see him smile. He has a really nice smile, you know? It’s like when it rains after a really hot day. I don’t know the word for it. I’ve been trying to get him to smile really big all day and well, he’s too busy trying to make me smile really big.

Mr. Ipsa told me why he’s mad at you, though. He said you told on him. I don’t anything about that, but you did it for a good reason, right? I know you wouldn’t want him to get in trouble. You’re too good a friend.

I don’t wanna see you and him not being friends. It makes me really sad. He really, really loves you, Mr. Booky. I mean, I know you...know that and that you care about him a bunch…help him? Please? Mr. Ipsa needs your help.

It’s like Ms. Pinkie Pie says, you gotta smile in order to smile. You don’t just smile just cause. Mr. Ipsa needs to smile. He needs it. I don’t wanna see him so sad. Please?

Oh, uh, I gotta go now, Mr. Booky. It’s time for me to take my medicine and I don’t wanna take you with me. I mean, I do wanna take you with me, but I can’t. Mr. Ipsa has to stay here with those wires in him. You gotta stay here with him when I’m not here so he’s not alone.

Okay, I love you! Bye-bye!

Manifesting Destiny

This is for V. Not me, not you; her, it’s for her.

It’s safe to say that I’m furious, righteously pissed right now. Your betrayal, the Derptard’s survival, the most painful irony I can imagine, and the Nerd’s semi-constant vigil have eroded my patience to nothing. It’s by the graces of that amazing filly that I’m holding it together right now.

I’m not good at this kind of thing, not even when I’m only pretending so V won’t be mad. I don’t mend relationships. In fact, before all of this crap happened, I didn’t even have any. So you’re going to be patient with me or else you’ll wind up as kindling.

I suppose I should start at the most noticeable thing; my house. Yes, the Derptard has managed to burn my house down twice. Two times more than I’m happy admitting. Apparently she found my lantern before it started a fire and returned it to my home where it finally did as intended and started a fire.

If you’re paying attention, that means I’m homeless. Again.

Surprisingly enough, I’ve had a few offers for temporary lodging. Blossom, Rarity, Applejack, and the Derptard have all opened their doors to me. I didn’t even get a chance to shoot them all down before the Nerd stepped in and reminded everypony that my hospital stay is gonna be a long one and thus the need for housing is not immediate. She traded off giving her friends’ sympathetic looks with flashing me the occasional glare.

Personally, I think it’s cute that she’s trying to protect them from me. After all, she certainly knows enough about me to be rightfully cautious. Isn’t that right, traitor?

Thankfully she’s kept true to her word; she doesn’t appear to have told the others about what she’s learned. That’ll give me a few options down the road. Not sure what those options are or how they’ll manifest, but I’ll figure that out in time. I’ve got more important matters to deal with.

As you know, the Nerd has stated her intention to ‘reform’ me. I got her to expound upon that idea. Basically she wants to ‘fix’ me. She wants to take my damaged psyche and repair it or help it limp along to a point where I can ‘healthily function’. It’s her belief that my ‘delusions’ are getting in the way of any ‘healing’ I’ve attempted independently and that I need help navigating through that mess (A mess that I had to remind her was my mind, which gave me some satisfaction from the way she stumbled over an apology to the ‘insult’.)

I tried to get her to explain to me what she thinks my ‘delusions’ are, but I couldn’t get her to budge much on that. Got her to tell me that she’s under the opinion that I’m self-defeating, this means that I sabotage my own life. Still not sure what she meant by that. She’s running the show now, though, so I gotta go with it.

As I said before, I’m just a pawn in her friendship games now.

I’m actually pretty glad I’m gonna be locked up in this place for awhile. Being in here means I won’t have to deal with her crap. I’ll also be able to watch over V’s recovery, which I cannot express my delight in.

Now let me be clear, if it means that they’ll all leave me alone and let me have my little friend, then I’ll play the Nerd’s game, whatever the fuck it turns out to be. Will I actually make any strides towards change (Or, as she puts it, ‘reform’.)? I can’t answer that totally yet. If I can tell that it will benefit V then I suppose I will, but I will NOT bend and conform to whatever plan that bitch cooks up. At this point she’s working as a direct analogue for those royal bitches. They’ve got me in their clutches and I refuse to become some cruel parody of myself.

I’ll say it in a new paragraph so you can truly grasp this; I’m willing to do what is needed of me in order for me to be with V and nothing will stop me. If those bitches want to cross me the wrong way in their game then I’ll gladly let them know how far back the line they’ve crossed is.

I haven’t had real friends since my father’s whore, Blossom, and Rose decided they were better off without me. Losing V…I don’t want to do that again. I’m not strong enough. She cares, she actually fucking cares. There isn’t some game being played and she isn’t trying some kind of angle. She looks at me and sees her best friend. That little filly looks at me and sees something nopony has seen since Mom was alive.

Now, as for you and me…well, that’s more complicated.

V wants us to be together. She clearly expects you and I to clear up whatever mess is between us by the next time we see her, but we both know that’s not gonna happen. I put my soul on paper and you gave it away. If you think I’ll ever forgive you for that then you clearly haven’t been paying attention. I can’t have her be upset, though. I’ve finally got a chance to be with my little buddy and I’m not gonna let this crap sully what time we get.

In public, when we’re around others, you and I are gonna act like we used to. Nothing’s changed as far as anypony else is concerned. I’m fine, you’re fine, we’re both fine. When we’re in private, though, that won’t be the case. Whatever we had is dead. You killed it.

It hurts to know that this is where I’ve wound up. This is where I started. I was born here, interred here, and here I am again. The only thing that’s really changed is that every time I come back I’ve lost something else. First I lost my parents, my friends, my home, my possessions, and Shirley. Now I’ve lost my home, my possessions, my health, my self-respect, you, my privacy, and a good chunk of my sanity. The only thing I have to show for any of that pain is V.

Worth it.

Author's Note

Well, here we are. It took me 70 chapters, 133,000 words, 3 years, and multiple life changing events, but I've don't it. We're done. Well...not really. After 70 chapters, 133,000, 3 years, and multiple life changing events, I am ready to begin working on the sequel.

I know, I know, this took me forever to do, but please understand that I'm going to do what I can to prevent the sequel from falling into the same trap.

Now, onto the heartfelt stuff.

Guys, I cannot say how much it means that you've stuck with me through all that mess. It touches me. I've put a lot of work into Ipsa's misery and to see all you enjoying it makes me giddy. This is the first story I've ever successfully written to completion. I wouldn't have been able to do it without all of y'all's support. And by support I mean your comments. They've truly inspired me.

This story is for you, my dear reader, and I promise I won't let our beloved protagonist suffer forever. If you just stick with me then you'll see. You'll all see.

As for this story, well, I'll be editing it on and off as I work on the follow-up. I may recruit help along the way, but that's then and not now.

THANKS FOR READING, YOU BEAUTIFUL READERS! I LOVE ALL OF YA! EVEN YOU, SEETHER!

Until next time!

Hats off to ya!

Entry 3: Unpleasant Pony is Unpleasant

Did I ever tell you that I’m not a morning pony?

Well, it’s actually more like the afternoon really.

No, wait. I’d say evening would be more accurate.

Crap, that won't work either. This is technically my morning and I’m not gonna start calling my morning evening just to appease you.

That being said, however, I can’t in good conscience leave you confused about what time of day it is. That would just be rude of me. And, if I'm not anything, I'm not rude. After all, books are ponies too after all.

There has got to be a way where I still win without you losing. Well, without you losing too poorly.

I can’t say it’s evening cause it’s morning, but I can’t say it’s morning cause it’s evening…

Conundrums are fun.

They aren't.

You know, Booky, you might actually be surprised to know that this isn’t the first time my superior sense of time has clashed against the pathetic norms of society.

Haha, norm.

Anyphrase, yeah, I’ve been in this situation before. I was still at the hospital nursing the burns that the retarded mail-mare gave me when she burned my damn house down. Nurses and doctors would come in and wake me up during the night/day to see how I was doing. Like the assholes they were and probably still are. Jerks.

My response to those unwelcome interruptions? Why, I thought you'd never ask!

Curses, lots and lots of curses. And no, I’m not talking about cussing or spewing obscenities, I’m talking about curses. You know, the ones those dirty zebra savages cast on each other and whatnot? Anyclay, they would wake me up and I’d scream as many curses as I could make up. And make up are the right words for it, since none of those damn chants worked. Unless you count getting suddenly pregnant a curse, because that totally happened. Just, you know, not to me.

You want to know the funniest part?

Of course you do. Who wouldn't? I'm fucking hilarious.

During the day/night, I would scream and holler for help and assistance but receive nothing. Nothing but security guards telling me shut up so that other ponies could sleep. My response? More curses! One of them even worked when this strange barking pony attacked one of the burly security guards who definitely had a fetish for muscles.

Huh, I guess that makes for two curses that have worked, which I find very interesting for, you see, two is more than one but less than three.

Mind boggling, I know.

I’m not gonna lie Booky, you look confused. Was it that day/night thing? Cause I totally told you, in paragraph one, If I'm not mistaken (I'm not.), that would get confusing. I’ll have to think about a way in which I can talk and not confuse- wait!

Are flies called that because they can fly? If so, then why don't we call worms digs? And, for that matter, what even is a hedgehog? A mouse? Shrubbery? So many questions...

Anymay, as I was saying- wait! I've got it! I remembered what I forgot!

You don’t have a name!

Well crap, here I am complaining about confusing you and I haven’t even named you yet. That must be so confusing.

Let’s get right to that in the next paragraph!

First things first, are you a boy book? I don’t see a table of contents, that must mean no. Which must mean that you’re a girl book! Wait, no, you don’t have an index either.

Well crap, what does that mean?

Are you both or neither?

Shirley was a lady…she had a very feminine index that I found to be fitting for a book of her stature. You? You don’t even have a glossary! Which means Chuck is out, which sucks cause I really like that one.

Glenda? Would you like that? No, too indecisive (And no one likes indecision.).

How about Ax McHammer? No, too constructiony.

Why not Zoidberg? Nah, too crablike.

I’m running out of options here Booky. I mean, I could call you Greg, that’s pretty neutral. What do you think Booky, is Greg a good name for you? Cause now that I say it some more I’m starting not to like it.

Hm. This is difficult.

Booky, why can't your name be Booky?

Wait! I've got it! How about Booky?! Is that one you’d be interested in?

It is?!

Haha, got you! I know you can’t talk. You’re a book. That’d be weird. A talking book. As if.

I hereby christen you Booky McHammer.

Alright, where was I?

Oh yes, the morning/evening thing.

Well, let’s see, I’m in a creative mood at the moment and that usually means creative things.

How about evering? Nah, too not good enough.

Hm, how about mevening? I like that one; it has all the oomph of an ‘m’ and all the pizzazz of the ‘ing’ ending.

BoomEEEERAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAANG!

Good'ist morrow, Booky! Did'ist I'ith ever'ith tell'ith thou that'ith I am'ist not'ith a mevening poneigh?

Wow. I managed to piss myself off with that one.

Anykay, it just never clicks with me. I mean, if Celestia meant for ponies to be all hyperactive and ready for the day in the mevening then she wouldn’t have invented coffee. Anyhay, I just don’t like the mevening. Everypony outside is all happy and not sad and they’re all doing stuff while I’m trying to enjoy my breakfast in peace.

Can you believe that!? What more could a stallion ask for than a hearty breakfast?

Worst of all, my mevenings really tend to suck because that’s when ponies usually like to screw around and mess with me.

Who do they think they are interrupting me like that? I mean, party invites, mail delivery (If I ever answer the door when that retard comes a knocking she will be in for a world of pain.), package delivery, cake delivery, candygrams, mandycrams, stopping by to say hello, and other annoying things like that.

What do they think I am; a welcome mat?

Jerks, that’s what they are, they’re all jerks!

Especially Pinkie Pie. It seems like it’s every mevening with that stupid mare. She never takes no for an answer unless you hit her in the face with a big N, a big O, and a big ..

Anymoo, my day is going to be a normal one I suppose. I have to deliver the goodies I found last night to Twilight (NERD.). She’ll definitely buy it all like she always does. I mean, honestly, sometimes I feel really bad about taking advantage of her.

Luckily, those times are few and far between.

Besides, it isn’t like bits are hard to come by for somepony as intrinsically important as she is. She’s the personal student of the Princess herself!

And how fucking stupid is that? Do you need a degree to become a princess? A fucking doctorate?

There’s another point I’d like to bring up; why the fuck is she so important! I mean, I’m not complaining that she IS important; I’m complaining that she is ALWAYS important. If anything ever happens in this place (This place of ponies. One may even liken it to a ville of them, so to say.) it always has something to do with her.

Did Nightmare Moon get out? You bet Twilight had something to do with it. Crap, purple bitch probably unlocked the door.

Are parasprites eating the town and giving me nearly two months of backbreaking labor to do a horrible job cleaning the debris up? You bet Twilight had something to do with it. Little bastards had to come from somewhere and I can't think of anywhere better than the mad scientist's lab. And I'm betting she's got a lab in that tree!

Is there a sudden dragon attack on the town giving me months of backbreaking labor to do a very poor but still kinda decent job cleaning the debris up? You bet Twilight had something to do with it. For my sake, SHE LIVES WITH A DRAGON. As in, there is a fucking DRAGON in her house/tree/library/laboratory/lair. You know who houses DRAGONS? Fucking villains, that's who. And no, I don't mean those that fuck villains. I mean villains. As in, villains themselves.

Did Discord break free and get defeated, leaving me no mess to clean up for once? You bet Twilight had something to do with it. Fucking villain.

Did Town Hall just fall apart? You can bet that Twilight didn’t do that.

Did my house just burn down? You can bet Derpy did it.

Did I nearly burn alive in the flaming remains of my house and possessions? You can bet Derpy did it.

SERIOUSLY. FUCK HER. FUCK HER TO THE GROUND. THAT FUCKING RETARD NEEDS TO GO. THIS WHOLE FUCKING WORLD IS FUCKING TIRED OF HER.

FUCK.

You know what, Booky? It’s curse time.

THE WALL-EYED MARE IS A PAIN IN THE PLOT AND I HOPE HER LEGS BREAK SO SHE MAY NOT TROT!

GREY PONIES ARE DUMB, STUPID, AND RETARDED AND I HOPE HER BREATH WILL ALWAYS SMELL LIKE SHE FARTED!

EYE TO THE LEFT, EYE TO THE RIGHT, I HOPE SHE BURNS TO DEATH ALL DAMN NIGHT!

ROSES ARE RED, VIOLETS ARE BLUE, FUCK THAT BITCH!

Phew!

Catharsis!

That really helps!

Too bad none of that’s gonna happen. She freaking deserves it to happen.

I’d love to stay and talk my dear old friend, but breakfast is calling for me and I have stuff to do today.

Entry 16 - Evil Face is Evil and has a Face

Booky, you honestly won’t believe the nightday and daynight I’ve had! Great things have come to pass and greater things lurk on the horizon yet! Sure, there were a few unfortunate encounters that I would rather have not happened, but the positively magic event that followed more than made up for it!

On that note, I must mention how evil I am feeling right now. It isn’t often that I get that warm and fuzzy feeling deep within my heart. I’m not even kidding about it, I desperately felt the urge to go and find a cat to stroke malevolently whilst I contemplate my plan. Can you believe that?! How often does anypony get to feel that pure evil flow through their being?! It’s an evil so dark that it requires the use of props to properly display to others! However, I must stick to going over things in the order in which they occurred. Otherwise, I’ll be here all damn evenoring (Yep, that’s a thing now.) going over how giddy I am over the wonderfulness that occurred to me.

As with any great story, mine started out with an unfortunate tragedy that befell me whilst I was occupied with thoughts. It may come as a surprise to you, but this horrible moment actually marks my very first kiss. Confusing? Well, I’ll get to it in the coming paragraphs.

I left the house with plenty of time to be fashionably late to meet Octavia at her house. Aware of the acute possibility that I might complete plan GETTING’ BUSY, I decided to adorn myself and V with the nicest bowtie things that Rarity provided. Let me be straight with you; we looked fucking sharp. Mares and stallions alike were awed by our very presence…well…more like MY presence rather than V’s, after all, no shame to her or anything, but I had my hotness on high and my SWAG turned on. There was little that could be done for the onlookers trapped by my stunning combo of SWAG and hotness.

During this calm before the storm, several ponies actually said hi rather than waving from a distance. Many of them said something along the lines of a compliment or something, but I paid them no mind. The only three faces I recognized were met with extreme feelings (Either pleasantness or innate desire to destroy.) from me. I’ll start with the most pleasant of the bunch.

Remember that stallion who gave me a rose a few days ago or something? No? Well shame on you, Booky. I’m docking a brownie point for that. Anyhue, he approached me again nightday and gave me a whole freaking bouquet of roses this time around. Can you freaking believe this guy?! I’d love to know his name so that I could remember to actually say hi to him every now and never, but he rushed off just like last time. I swear, he looked like a caramel-colored blur the way he appeared and disappeared. Not taking any chances, I decided that I could be later than I planned on being with Octavia by giving her the roses to make up for it. Yep, things were going pretty well right there.

The second pony who got a special reaction out of me was none other than Lyra the Destroyer. Dear Celestia, I swear she actively tries to butcher language itself, which would mean that the previous encounter wasn’t just a fluke. I refuse to repeat what she said this time. I won’t have your innocence ruined by her forked tongue. It’s bad enough that I had to hear it, but for V to hear her talk was too much. I mean come on; the poor girl’s just a stupid little filly. There’s absolutely no damn reason she should have her world view of language raped at such an age! However, I realized that freaking out and stamping the fires of ignorance out would be a bad way to start the nightday (That realization would come back to bite my flank quicker than I had predicted it would.) and, thusly, I maintained my cool and simply greeted her and wished her well.

Imagine my surprise when the most obvious agent of the conspiracy against me, Rose, appeared from the crowd with a beaming smile. Being in a traumatized state from enduring Lyra the Evil’s annoyance, I was just about ready to buck her away before she could ruin my nightday. Imagine my further surprise when she hoofed over a few bits whilst blushing madly. I still don’t quite get why she did that. Her course of actions went from saying hi to me, to saying hi to V, to complimenting our attires, to blushing madly, and, finally, to giving me money. That’s a train of events that got derailed somewhere along the way. I haven’t even a bucking clue as to why she would do that. I’m grateful she did as I was actually banking on Octavia paying for the meal. So I thanked her before trotting along with V beaming happily. I’m glad the little critter actually enjoyed all the attention. That way I know she won’t mind when I put her between crowds and me.

Do you see how life likes to falter? At first, I get roses, then I have my ears raped, and then somepony gave me money. I was stupid not to call life on its bluff right then and there. I probably would’ve fared much better had I done so.

The horror began after I had safely secured the roses and bits into my saddlebag. Why didn’t I pay attention? Why didn’t my damn Annoysense (Yeah, that’s a thing now.) warn me of the oncoming peril? AND WHY THE TARTARUS CAN’T THAT RETARD WATCH WHERE SHE’S FLYING?!

Yep, you guessed it. My nightday was initially ruined by none other than Derptard herself.

I turned around, blissfully unaware of the crap life was about to take on me, and came face to face with the retarded bane of my existence. There was only a split second of realization as I saw her misaligned eyes approach me at lightning speed before the collision. For exactly two minutes I felt nothing but a distinct pressure in three places. One, on my nose where the brunt of the hit occurred. Two, on my body after she flung my glorious self to the ground and landed upon me. And three, on my lips where her lips pressed up against mine. In a move that has haunted me since and forever will; my natural reaction was to kiss back.

By the crinkle of your pages, I'm guessing I didn't mention that her lips were puckered and making kissing motions.

Before I could take the necessary action of destroying her, the first feeling I got beyond the numbness of the impact was the pain in my nose and the wetness of blood running out of my nostrils.

Naturally, the retard tried to apologize to me profusely as I unevenly screamed in both rage and pain. V hurried to my rescue and helped me up and hugged me worriedly around my foreleg. That move, though restricting my potential for destroying the retard, earned her twenty brownie points, which puts her five beneath you. Despite that hindrance, it felt nice to actually have somepony comfort me in some way. For exactly one second I was happy V was there for me. Why only one second? Well, that second moment was the one where I realized how much in the right I’d be to absolutely obliterate Derpy right then and there.

My reasoning for not doing so? Well, by the time I realized ready I was to kill her, we were both surrounded by ponies trying to help us. Actually, they were surrounding Derptard and trying to help her. It’s that kind of stuff that helped me realize that a conspiracy DOES exist. Otherwise how would they all know to protect her?

Anyslay, I was not without aid. Rose and the lesbian (Yeah, I’m not entirely sure where she came from either.) were both assisting me with concerned eyes. It was their eyes that made me realize something that has only further engrained my hatred for Derpy. Rather than the half-lidded gaze that should have been there, they were both filled with concern and worry.

Allow me to take a moment to tell you something that will never be forgotten. Derpy Hooves broke my SWAG. That’s right; the one nightday I pull it out with the intent of using it and it gets broken by a flying retard. As you are probably now aware, I did not get laid and thus plan GETTING’ BUSY failed nightday. However, that doesn’t mean there wasn’t any success. That just means that Derpy sabotaged my secret weapon.

Something I won’t soon forget.

Rose had to get back to work and thus did not stay to make sure I was okay. By go back to work, I actually mean that she went to report to her superiors that their plan worked perfectly. I must admit, I’m actually impressed by the complexity of her distracting me with money and thus allowing the Derptard to bash my face in with her face.

The lesbian lingered long enough to make sure nothing serious was wrong. I had feared that my nose was broken and would look all crooked and crap, but she assured me that nothing was wrong. Rainbow actually earned herself five brownie points by calming me down with her compliments on my attire and her assurances that there was little to no swelling from the impact.

Normal Ipsa would’ve then have taken the opportunity to verbally destroy the crying retard. WHY THE HAY WAS SHE CRYING WHEN I WAS THE ONE WHO GOT HURT? Ugh, stupid idiot. Luckily for her, normal Ipsa probably had a concussion or something and thus was kept at bay while not-normal Ipsa thanked the lesbian before heading on his merry way to meet Octavia.

The date went splendidly after a clunky start. You see, in the time it took for me to arrive to Octavia’s, my nose actually swelled up a bit. Yep, I greeted her looking like a bucking clown. She hid her surprise wonderfully and took the flowers with a blush. I cannot help but state that had my SWAG not been broken, then she would’ve swooned right there.

The food was nice enough for my tastes. We went to some café or something not very fancy. I can’t really remember too well considering my possible concussion. I can tell you that our conversation went swimmingly. We mostly talked about music…well…she talked about music while I added my opinion when applicable. She has led such an interesting life. I’d relate it all to you, but that would be rude.

What has sold me on feelings for her is that she actually LISTENED when I told her some of the happier experiences I’ve endured. Mainly, I told her of the time I tried my hoof at the piano, my original button collection, my record-breaking fall from the roof of Ponyville’s hospital, my crazy uncle Shenanigan who married a tree, my quiet aunt Pine who WAS a tree, and about the time I got hit by the Friendship Express. She really enjoyed hearing about all of that. Too bad I couldn’t tell her the whole story about any of it. How my piano teacher is currently in prison for using his lessons to molest foals (I was not one of the ones that got bad touched, as my dad refused to pay for any more lessons.), about how I have nightmares sometimes about the screaming agony of my button collection as it melted in the fire, the fact that the record-breaking fall was a bone-breaking suicide attempt, about the murder-suicide committed by my aunt and uncle, or that the incident with the Friendship Express was yet another suicide attempt.

V, bless her heart, just sat there and listened in like she always does. Whenever the situation called for it and it was appropriate, V would laugh along with us and giggled whenever she knew the funny part of a story was coming up. She even ate her salad adorably. The best part about having her there? V kept her eyes on the unicorn stalker that always appears whenever I’m around Octavia.

The date ended with my second kiss ever! This one was a lot nicer than the first and I actually felt like trotting on clouds for a bit afterward. It occurred inside her wonderfully furnished apartment which I had to enter due to V having to go potty. I swear, that girl set that situation up for me. She’s my damn wing-filly!

That’s three brownie points for her! You’d better watch your ass, Booky.

I returned home quickly due to not wanting to encounter the Derptard and encountered her anyway at my front door. She was waiting with slightly puffing eyes from crying and a look of hopeful guilt that I will cherish. That look also proves that she’s not entirely clueless as she realized that she had made a mistake. Lucky for her, I was still riding high off Octavia’s kiss for my rage to take over. Plus, I was still woozy from the possible concussion.

She apologized exactly forty times before giving me a massive bag of freshly baked muffins. As if that wasn’t enough, she begged and pleaded with me to allow her a chance to make up for her blunder. Yeah no, I told her to bugger off before I destroyed her entirely.

Nah, I’m just messing with you.

I couldn’t take an aggressive approach as my concussion was preventing focus and there were still ponies about who would witness any misdeed. I politely told her that my schedule can’t accommodate for anything at the moment and that I was already late for work. I’m glad that lie worked…I’m not sure how long I could’ve held up from bucking her face in.

Work wasn’t anything epic. V and I enjoyed a quiet night with Carty as we shared the muffins while I picked up garbage. There was only one item I could find that was sellable and thus rendered the shift a failure. However, that find is what is going to allow me to be naughty and evil.

Booky, allow me to present you with the knowledge that I found a diamond-studded tiara over near the schoolhouse. You see, I recognize this thing as belonging to a certain target of my rage. Oh yes, my evil will be well served with this thing.

What should I do? Make V wear it to school? Melt it? Destroy it in front of the little crap? Wear it myself? Or just sell it to somepony Diamond Tiara hates so that she can see them wear it? THERE ARE SO MANY POSSIBILITIES! The best part about it is that there is absolutely nothing she can do to get it back from me!

Hahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahaha!

No, but seriously, I think I have a concussion and I have to take the brat to school in a few hours. So sleepy time awaits.

Brownie Count:

You: 26

V: 24

Rainbow ‘Lesbian’ Dash: 5

Author's Note

Greetings true believers! I wrote this entry while extremely tired and missing a toenail…which I suppose doesn’t really affect anything beyond my toe. I just had to get this out of my system before I drove myself crazy over imagining how pissed off Ipsa would be should any of that happen to him.

You know the deal; share this story with those who need a perspective changer on life and whatnot.

This is Wearin Hat signing off!

Hats off to ya!

Feel of Dreams

I suppose it all started when I was zero years old. Don’t get me wrong, I enjoyed being so young and free, but even back then it still happened. I remember getting my first real good look at the world and being awed by the beauty of it all. Everything was so very white, so very clean. It was almost like the room had never even seen a speck of dust before. You can say I was amazed, but inspired is probably the better term. No, it wasn’t the seeming sterility of this new world that had me so affected, it was that I was surrounded by giant versions of me, although some of them had white rectangles where their mouths should’ve been. It was so incredible. For those few seconds of true naivety I wanted to become a giant just like them, that way I could live and reproduce, which was a thought that just felt natural. All seemed so right.

That was when one of the giants brought their hoof across my plot.

Perhaps it’s fitting that my very first breath was accompanied by a scream of pain. Then again, isn’t that the point of me telling you this dreary tale?

Hay if I know.

Now, I bet you’re wondering a few things. How do I know you’re doing so? Well, your binding always cringes whenever you have something on your mind and right now it’s convulsing. Let me go ahead and address your concerns in order of their occurrence over my nightday.

As you’ll recall, I had to meet with SB for our date at midnight, which -given that I didn’t want to ruin the smell of the olive bathwater by picking crap up- put my work off until the later part of the nightday. That wasn’t gonna be an issue from the start; I’m more than capable of moving through the town at twice my normal speed, I simply choose not to so that I can spend as much time picking up as little crap as I can. No, the issue was that I spent the entirety of the time leading up to that doing absolutely nothing.

Yeah, I bet you know where this is going.

When I am given time to do nothing and simply sit idle, my mind tends to drift towards unpleasant thoughts. Thoughts such as how my mom never knew my favorite color. I cried for a good two or so hours. Wasn’t anything too bad, I mean, I’ve done worse. However, where it got bad was when I realized that I didn’t know HER favorite color.

Haha, yeah, I threw a ‘small’ tantrum over that one.

Imagine not knowing something like that. She is probably the most important pony in my mind and yet I don’t know such an inconsequential yet such a personal detail like that. What kind of son am I?

She loved me so damn much, more than you -being such a simple book- can ever understand. Every day was something special with us. Whether that be playing my favorite game, playing her favorite game -she loved bingo-, gardening, going to town together -she tolerated it better than I did, can, or ever will-, mixing chocolate milk, her reading books to me, me trying -and failing- to read books to her, or just simply spending time together.

It would always be just another normal day in the thriving city of Ipsapolis with the Ipsalites going about their day as usual. Then the great and terrifying Mombeast would come to abduct the highly treasured magazines of the pillow fortress. Never to let such a fiend get away with her treachery, the hero with the ever changing name would meet her before she could make her escape. The Hero would demand she yield, she would declare that she would only do so if she could have a kiss on the cheek from her most precious colt, a trap the Hero would always see coming -especially since he had given in once and had to endure a nigh endless barrage of tickling-. Her plan failed, the Mombeast would make a break for it, but the Hero would never let her get away. Before she could respond, the majestic Hero would set upon her with eye-beams. She would fall and the Hero would have to go and hug her back to health, as a hero never kills. Plus, she liked my hugs, they made her smile.

Sure, bingo was boring as all holy crap; it still had a charm that not even I could deny. A monotonous voice would call out number and letter after number and letter after number and letter. Whenever she would take me to bingo with her, time would pass so quickly and smoothly. In a way, it was kind of soothing to just do something and then stop doing it. That’s what it was like. Also, whenever she did win, she would get this smile that just made everything melt away. You can’t put a price on that.

Though I fucking hate gardening -despite being boring and repetitive, it forces me to be out in the open where other ponies might try to talk to me-, with her it was different. We would prod and dig around the dirt and make sure to do everything just right and in such a precise way. Sure, when we gardened, she would invite her best friend and her daughter to visit. I never really liked Petunia and her small as crap daughter Roseluck -mental note, make sure that Rose the Ally is not her-. However, my disliking of those two was easily ignored because it made her smile that smile. I loved that smile. I still do.

I mostly paid attention to myself rather than everypony else when she wanted to go to town. Sure, I loved spending time with her, but that didn’t mean that all those ponies made me feel comfortable. In fact, it was quite the opposite; I hated talking to them all -I’ve grown up so very much since those days-. She made it fun, though. I can’t count the number of times she would be talking with somepony and then turn to me and ask me about something she knew I was obsessed with at the time. I would tell her and anypony listening all about it. She liked it when I did that. It made her smile.

Despite how ultimately amazing I am, the mixing of chocolate milk was never something I counted as a skill of mine. My grip was always so shaky cause I knew that if I messed up then I would have ruined something that I could share with her. Typically she’d let me stir the mixture after she put it all together. Shortly after she started doing that she learned to hold the glass for me so I wouldn’t go tipping it over every time I tried to stir it. However, my failings aside, there were few things mom enjoyed more than sharing chocolate milk with me. Hay, she even said that the mixing was her favorite part. We both loved chocolate milk. You should’ve seen it, Booky. Even when I’d screw up and knock the glass over, she’d have that smile of hers, that heavenly smile.

My favorite series of books when I was younger were called, “The Adventures of Happy Trails”. Those stupid tales, I hate them so very much nowadays. They tell the story of an Earth pony colt going on adventures to find his cutie mark. Each story would drive home how special he was despite his lack of mark and that it wasn’t a mark that made a pony special. I hate that lesson. However, at the time I could connect with the main character due to my lack of overt talent and obvious lack of cutie mark. Mom would curl up with me under a blanket and read to me from those books. She always made it so special. Each character had a specific voice and accent and every scene was perfectly narrated. We would laugh at his foalish antics, we would cry as he would try and fail to find what it was that made him special -never quite realizing that it was his heart of gold that made him stand out-, we would sit in silent trepidation of what would come next as he ventured forth on his quest, and she would smile as I enjoyed every aspect of those stories. I think I liked those books more for her smile than the story told within their pages.

Even more than reading to me from my favorite books, she liked it when I would try to read to her with her favorite books. Being as obsessed with language as she was those books often had a good deal of verbiage. Something I’m sure entertained her to no end when her colt son would stumble through those complicated words with the earnest attempt to gain a smile from her. In a way, that made these interactions the absolute most special. She would lay there, her attention completely focused on the colt cuddled next to her, and simply watch as I did my very best to read her books in the same manner she did. I think my grandmother still has those books. They were left to me in her will, but I’ve never had the willpower to actually go and get them. They made her smile so much.

That’s what hurt me the most. Not that she died to those damn bees, not that my dad had to be the hero and get me away from those damn bees, and not that I no longer had her around. No, what has always hurt the most is that I’m responsible for turning that smile into an eternal frown. Such a beautiful, angelic smile; I’m a monster for destroying it. I hate myself more than words can express. That smile alone could fix every single problem I have right now.

So yeah…you can see why I hate having time to think.

All of that thinking put me into a mood that shouldn’t require imagination to consider how conflicting it was with the task ahead of me. Luckily I had until midnight to get my crap together, which gave me roughly thirty minutes.

Yep.

Though my pain was still very fresh, I managed to force it to subside as I approached the gazebo. Let me go ahead and say that seeing that thing in the moonlight gave me a confidence I wasn’t aware I was lacking. It was as if I was staring down my destiny and I didn’t fear the final judgment at all.

Yeah, deep stuff.

I held my head high as I entered the gazebo and stood proudly in the empty structure. Sure, her not being on time was like an oozing irritation on my anger-nub, but I was willing to be patient. After all, one must act strange to acquire strange. So, rather than destroy the gazebo -I like writing that word for some reason- I waited in the magical setting.

Beams of light came down from the moon and were revealed by the few reeds around the pond. Dots of light would occasionally blip in and out of existence as bugs tried to acquire strange of their own. There was even the reoccurring noise of some frogs simply enjoying their nightday.

My reflection stared back at me from the pond as the moon caught my beautiful face perfectly. I blinked in slight disbelief as gusts of weak wind wisped through my mane and created the utter definition of sex appeal. The entire scene was made perfect by the feint scent of olives that I had soaked in for this very nightday. Everything was perfect. Rarity knows her craft.

The serenity of the scene was shattered by the telltale sound of a pony approaching the gazebo.

My heart fluttered and my mouth ran dry, the signs of true nervousness rearing their heads. The fur under my bowtie-thingy -which Rarity told me, is called a collar and bowtie combo- bristled in anticipation of the soon-to-be arrived pony. An ache began to resonate through my body as my heart raced with the increasing volume of the pony’s hooffalls. The need to abandon my plan and crawl back into my shell became very clear and reasonable to me at that moment; however, Rarity’s words steeled my confidence. And with that confidence I turned to face the newly arrived pony.

Only to find Rarity’s little sister Sweetie Belle.

Read that sentence. Fucking read it.

Now, I’m going to go ahead and guess that you’re wondering why it was her who had approached me. Well, my bookish companion, I wondered the exact same fucking thing.

Let me transcribe for you the thoughts that went through my mind as I saw her standing there, a sheepish smile on her face framed by a blush.

‘The fuck is she doing here?’

‘Who the fuck is she?’

‘Oh, yeah, that’s Rarity’s little sister, Sweetie Spell.’

‘The fuck is Sweetie Spell doing here?’

‘Oh crap, did I leave something at Rarity’s?’

‘Nah, probably not, I don’t really own anything that could be left anywhere.’

‘Oh, right.’

‘Yeah, but still, the fuck?’

‘Is she blushing?’

‘Why is she blushing?’

‘She lost that damn tiara, didn’t she?’

‘Stupid fillies, always being stupid.’

‘Wait, isn’t her name Sweetie Belle?’

‘Oh yeah! That’s it! Sweetie Belle!’

‘The fuck is Sweetie…Belle…um…oh no…’

That’s right; I figured it out before she even had a chance to explain it.

Sweetie Belle was SB. Which, given the situation I was in at the time, made me look like a pedophile.

Well, facing the sexual attention of an underage -REALLY UNDERAGE- filly, I could do only one thing; facehoof.

She told me that she thanked me for coming to meet her and that she really did have something important to talk about with me and that her leaving that note and this whole situation was not what I thought it was.

Yep, you read that right. I’ve been preparing for a sexy romp with a foal machine only to find that it was never going to be anything even remotely sexual or even romantic. To make matters worse, it wasn’t even a damn foal machine that tricked me, it was a damned filly. However, being that Sweetie happens to be one of the two foals I don’t hate having around, I decided to give her the benefit of the doubt.

That was, however, until she said she wanted to talk about V.

Yep, as you can now tell, my nightday was going to be one of THOSE nightdays. Oh, and don’t worry, it gets worse.

Before I could even begin to tell her off, Sweetie dropped some knowledge on me. According to her, Diamond Tiara had been bullying V and that it had culminated in that little bitch tricking my dear -never said this changing crap was going to be painless- V into showing up at the schoolhouse so that she and that other little bitch could try and get her to steal the tiara back from Sweetie. V, being trained to resist such evil temptations by her immortal master -me-, didn’t even give them a second to try and convince her. Yeah, get ready for this. V simply turned her back on those bitches and started walking away casually.

Celestia damn it I love that filly.

However, that turned out to be a bad idea, as it pissed Diamond Tiara off so much that she started chasing after her. Chasing after her for what, you would ask if you had a mouth? Not even a fucking clue. Perhaps that stupid bitch wanted to pin V down so that they could try and convince her again. I’m assuming that she didn’t plan that particular leg of her plan out so well.

V, being a sheltered mute, became terrified of the angry bitch behind her and rushed out blindly from behind the schoolhouse and right under an oncoming wagon’s wheel.

One moment please, the feels have found me again.

…

Alright, sorry about that, where was I? Oh, right, Diamond Tiara’s death sentence.

The wagon managed to crush V’s hind-legs, breaking them both.

Oh…it seems I’m gonna need another moment…

Ah, there we go. Nothing like swallowing the pain! I have to admit that the taste never gets old.

Now, where was I? Oh, right, ultimate sadness.

Sweetie Belle the Deceiver told me that V was put up into the hospital for those and other injuries. Apparently the owner and operator of that damn wagon realized he ran over a foal and made a hard stop, inadvertently making a crate of the dreaded potatoes fall onto V and give her a nice, big kiss on the face. Also apparent from Sweetie Belle the Tricker of Those Who Do Not Like Being Tricked was that Diamond Tiara was nowhere to be seen after the accident began.

Coward didn’t even own up to it.

The only reason she knew any of those details is because V was kind and conscience enough to write them out for her.

I tried to keep a cool, calm demeanor. I did not keep a cool, calm demeanor. I tried to keep my outrage contained. I did not keep my outrage contained. I tried to keep my verbiage clean. I did not keep my verbiage clean. I tried not to teach Sweetie Belle the Liar a list of new words and anatomical terms. I did indeed teach Sweetie Belle the Leaver of Misleading Notes a list of new words and anatomical terms.

Needless to say, she was rather dumbstruck when I finally managed to drag myself out of the pond I had somehow thrown myself into. And no, that’s not a metaphor. It was not a pond of feelings I was crawling out of. It was a pond of water. And no, that’s not a metaphor either. It was not emotion in the form of water. It was some good old AQUA in the form of water.

She calmed me down a bit after that little misstep. You know, the one that put me into the water. The step that made me practice being a scuba diver.

Sweetie Belle the Author of Misdirection told me that it had actually happened a little while ago and that there were a few ponies trying to get in touch with me. Apparently -which is apparently the word of the evenoring- V had written several notes asking specifically for me. When asked why, V only kept replying that she was really scared and really hurt and that she needed “Mr. Ipsa” to tell her it was okay and the pain would go away.

Oh hey, look, feels…

I demanded to know which hospital room she was in. Sweetie Belle the Creator of the Note told me what room she was in. She then promptly got the fuck out of my way. I think I heard her pleading with me not to tell her sister she was out. I promised that I wouldn’t. I lied.

I must say that lugging Carty through the streets and up to the hospital took much longer than I thought it would. Hay, I even managed to pick some crap up on the way. Cause, you know, I was on the job.

The second I got to the hospital I barged in and was immediately met by quite the familiar sight.

Booky, remember when I said that the hospital staff hated me? Well, the leader of that brigade of hate was a particular Royal Guard wannabe who acted as the hospital’s security guard. I recognized him. He recognized me. I recognized him recognizing me. Yep, it was one of those moments.

I told him to show me where V was. He told me to get the fuck out of the hospital. I told him to suck the long and fat one. He told me to go to Tartarus. I told him to go get a real job as a male prostitute and let me by. He told me that he would be forced to remove me from the building if I would not leave. I told him that this nightday was not one on which he wanted to fuck with me on. He told my face SCRUNCH as his hoof met my face for the first time in a few years.

Yes, that’s why I have a black eye and my face looks like Mrs. Cake’s plot. However, what you cannot see is that his nuts are probably around the same size after I gave him a measured retaliatory strike to them.

I wish I could say that I got past him and found V. I wish I could say that I told her that it was going to be okay; that there was nothing to be afraid of and that the pain would go away. I wish I could say that I told her that she was a wuss for needing me to tell her something she knows I taught her already. I wish I could smile at her like my mom smiled at me. I wish it was all true. Reality, unfortunately, is not fond of wishes.

The rest of the hospital staff arrived right after I hopefully took from him the ability to reproduce. My bruised plot was outside faster than I thought a bunch of nerds could carry me -they must’ve done some working out after the last time they tried that on me-. Not deterred -and with an awesome mask of blood forming- I barged right back inside. They again put me outside without much trouble, though I heard a few nurses making mention of my bleeding nose, which was countered by the sound of a doctor telling me to go fuck myself. Real professional, dude.

I tried three times and it only ended in failure and gained me a small audience.

I’m just going to go ahead and skip ahead to the part where I took Carty off and got back to work with a new limp, black eye, and bloody nose. I’d have left a note on V’s window, but her window is on the third floor. Something that only fueled my pain.

Yep, you see where this is going.

I spent the rest of the daynight working silently with a bloody, swollen face and a newly ripped bowtie-thingy. Oh, did I mention I was in a bad mood? Cause I was. I REALLY was. You might be wondering if my work managed to distract me long enough for the pain to go away. Nope, something so much worse happened.

I was on my way back from leaving Carty at Sweet Apple Acres when I broke down and started crying. I’m not sure when I stopped. All I know is that the dark ice that was my world slowly became engulfed into a warm embrace. Oh how delirious I was from emotion that I gave in and returned that soothing hug, one that called out to me and told me that it was gonna be okay, that the pain was going to go away and that there was nothing to be scared of -funny how life comes full fucking circle-. That’s when I forced myself to look upon who it was that was now bringing me to peace; that’s when I saw that smile.

Oh Celestia, that smile. It was like mom’s…only…different…not as warm, no, more understanding that hers. Rather than saying that its owner loved me unconditionally and would accept any and all actions from me no matter their intent, this smile told me that it knew my pain and that there was peaceful sunlight just behind this dark cloud of agony.

I recall seeing that smile, looking at it in such a way so as to understand it. The way it naturally curled across those lips, the way it was in every way genuine, and the overall inviting thought that looking at them made me feel. There was only one second where I look at her slightly misaligned eyes before I gave into my pain and kissed her.

You read that right, I kissed her. I kissed Derpy Hooves. I kissed her and I knew I was doing it. If this path of change isn’t the right one then it’s far too late to do anything about it.

She was surprised at first, but accepted it after I pulled away in my own shock. I thought she would return the kiss, that we’d have a true kiss, a thought that burns my mind to admit to hoping and thinking of. Instead, she widened her smile and hugged me.

We stayed like that until my emotions stabilized enough for me to stand up. She helped me home. And now I’m here.

And no, I don’t have anything for the Break-It-Down game.

Author's Note

Greetings true believers! It is I, the Wearer of Hats!

Well, here we are, one year into this...interesting story. I have to say that I've enjoyed every second of this story. Hopefully, all of you have enjoyed it as well. I intend to finish this story and have it actually come to a satisfactory ending.

I love every one of y'all reading this story and sharing it with those who have also grown to enjoy it. It truly makes me teary eyed to know that any one of you like it. I certainly didn't think this story would get anywhere near the reactions it has gotten.

It even got featured on July 4th!

So thank you, all of you, for giving me the confidence to see this story through to the very end. I'm not sure how much more there is left before I reach the final chapter, but we're getting there!

Hats off to ya!

Hi!

Hi Mr. Booky! It’s me, V!

I’m so happy you came to visit me in the hospital! I know I get a lot of visitors, but the two I want the most are you and Mr. Ipsa! And you’re here! Now, all we have to do is get him up here somehow.

What do you think, Mr. Booky? I know the hospital ponies don’t like him very much, but they’re just being mean! He doesn’t deserve to be bullied like that! All Mr. Ipsa wants is to come see me, right? So why not let him? I know he can be pretty mean too, but he’s a really nice pony! You know that more than anypony, Mr. Booky!

Hehe, oh well, he can come next time! I’d love for him to meet Mommy and Daddy.

Oh! That reminds me!

Mr. Booky, this is Mommy and this Daddy. Mommy, Daddy, this is Mr. Booky, he’s Mr. Ipsa’s best friend!

Hehe, they like you! Then again, how couldn’t they? You’re best friends with Commander Bob Sheppard! Hehe!

Oh yeah, Mr. Booky, have you met Miss Octavia? It’s okay if you haven’t, I know you don’t get outside a whole lot.

Mr. Booky, this is Miss Octavia. Miss Octavia, this is Mr. Booky, he’s Mr. Ipsa’s best friend!

I really like Miss Octavia, Mr. Booky. She’s super nice and super sweet. She’s here visiting me too! And, as you know, Mr. Ipsa REALLY likes her! Hehe!

Like I said, I’ve been getting a whole lot of visitors and I’ve made a lot of friends! Miss Cheerilee brought the WHOLE class up here, can you believe that? They all wanted to see if I was alright! That’s so sweet of them! That was yesterday, though, so I can’t introduce you to Miss Cheerilee.

Apple Bloom, Sweetie Belle, and Scootaloo come to see me a whole lot too! They’re really great friends! Hehe, they told me that Mr. Ipsa is a Cutie Mark Crusader too! I didn’t think he’d wanna do something like that! I’m so proud of him! I hope he gets his cutie mark really soon. Apple Bloom tells me it’s been really hard for her not to have her mark yet and she’s only my age! Poor Mr. Ipsa is really old and he still doesn’t have his!

I miss you and Mr. Ipsa so much, Mr. Booky. I love Mommy and Daddy, but you and Mr. Ipsa are just really great. I’d love to come and do a sleepover again sometime really soon, but I’d have to ask Mommy, Daddy, and Mr. Ipsa about that.

The only pony from class who didn’t visit me was Diamond Tiara. Even Silver Spoon said she was sorry! Why does Diamond have to be so mean? I know I don’t have my cutie mark yet, but that doesn’t mean she has to be so mean. I really thought she was gonna be my friend when I first met her. Instead she’s just been bullying me and my friends!

All of this silly bullying over a cutie mark. Mr. Booky, if Mr. Ipsa can live without one then I can too! They aren’t so great that it means we have to bully others who don’t have their cutie marks yet. Diamond Tiara doesn’t deserve her cutie mark! She’s just too mean! I wish it would just go away so she could know what it’s like.

That’s really mean, Mr. Booky, but I just get really mad when I think about how she bullies ponies.

Oh, have you said hi to Miss Sparkle or Miss Octavia yet? Come on, they aren’t that bad! Say hi!

68

How dare you. That wasn’t your story to tell. You had no right. You betrayed me.

No. You said enough. Shut up, just shut up. Sit there and stay quiet.

You were supposed to be the one I could trust. The only one I could come to when everypony else pushed me away. You know things about me that even I refuse to admit. I needed you to be the one light in all of this darkness. I needed you.

That’s not the point. I don’t care who it was you told. I don’t care why you told. What matters is that you told. You did the one thing I asked you not to do.

Don’t think it doesn’t matter who you told, because it does matter. It matters to everypony who was never meant to know what you do. What was weight off my shoulders to me will be damning evidence for them. The things I told you will be used to ruin me.

Exaggerating? You think I’m blowing this out of proportion? Princess Celestia has been sent copies of things I told you. The ruler of Equestria, the very pony who I have constantly rundown as a tyrant and liar, a pony who has every reason to end me, has been sent key passages from my diary.

What did I say? I told you that I don’t care why you did it. You do know what that means, right? When I say I don’t care, that means that nothing you say is going to change things. So you can go ahead and- help? You thought you were helping?

By telling Twilight everything, every little thing, you have created an obstacle that I cannot overcome. You saw what her letter said. She’s going to try to intervene in my life and she’s going to keep Celestia up-to-date as she does it. Twilight wants to change everything about me.

Do you know what will happen if I throw it all back in her face? If I so much as dare to deny her then Celestia will, at best, throw me into a dungeon where I’ll never see V again.

I have to let her do this.

I should burn you. You deserve nothing less.

You are a disgrace.

Shut up. Just. Stop. Talking.