My Little Pony, My Little Pony, and Me 322: Way Too Much Ghost Sex Talk For an Episode with a Princess in Itby Sixes_And_SevensChaptersOozeSaddle Rager's Side GigEcto-JuicesWisteria BloomOozeThe McColtroy Brothers are not experts, and their advice should never be taken seriously. Scraps claims to be a ‘sexpert’, but if there’s a degree on his wall… well, I haven’t seen it. Also, this show isn’t for kids, which I mention only so the foals out there will know how cool they are for listening. What’s up, you cool foals? The music faded out, slowly replaced by the sound of distant crashing waves. Three stallions, heads slightly bowed, sat at a desk, each one with his own personal microphone. “Hello,” murmured the first stallion, with his sea-green coat and dark mane. Soft music, interspersed with chimes, began to play over the waves in the background. “And welcome to My Brother My Brother and Me. I am your oldest brother and personal nutritionist, Juice McColtroy. Have you touched wheat or any wheat by-products recently? 'Cause them boys gonna fuck you right up." “I am your middlest brother and your fashion guru, Scraps McColtroy,” the violet-coated stallion to his left intoned. "What's in this season? It's bow ties. But not where you would expect!" “And I am your sweet baby brother and your… coach,” said the last stallion, who was tan with a close cropped mane, “Ditto McColtroy. Get down and give me twenty... lotus... positions?” “We here at My Brother My Brother and Me are pleased to announce the creation of our new lifestyle brand,” Juice continued, in that same gentle voice. “Ooze.” “Ooze,” Ditto echoed. “Ooze,” Scraps said. “You see, for so long, we’ve had people writing into us so we could solve their problems.” “So now,” Ditto said, “we’re taking the proactive approach, and selling all the answers right to you.” “That’s right,” Juice said. “With our new line of health products, we can guarantee that you will be cleaned, spiritually and physically.” “Emotionally and mentally,” Scraps added. “Outside and inside, if ya know what I mean,” Ditto said. “We nasty,” Scraps agreed. “Nasty and cleansing.” “Shabby and baroque,” Juice intoned. “And you too can enjoy the many benefits of our lifestyle brand,” Ditto intoned. “Like, here’s an example. One time we got a question from somepony who wanted to teach their child to do all his poops in a bag, for environmental reasons.” “And now, you too can purchase a box of Ooze-branded, lilac-scented matches that you can use to burn that pony’s house down,” Juice said. “Or, maybe you’re having relationship problems and you need to pack your bags and move away. But you just don’t have the right luggage to pack up your ding-dang strawberries in.” “Order our limited-edition miniature strawberry suitcase, the perfect size and shape to fit one little berry in,” Scraps said. “It’s lined with real velvet made from the upper lip hair of a Saddle Arabian prince, and it’s on sale for only three thousand bits. Buy eleven, and get the twelfth one free.” Juice nodded and continued. “Or maybe you want to explore alternative medicine, like, for instance…” He trailed off, grinning, and reached out to press a button. “Taint Tanning,” a prerecorded voice intoned. Scraps started wheezing and Ditto had to put his head on the desk, shoulders shaking. Ignoring them, Juice set his head on his hoof and continued. “...or, you know, taking medicine for something it was never meant to treat, or putting vinegar in your sexual orifices,” Juice said. “In which case, perhaps I can interest you in our most popular product, the totally-free Wakeup Call.” “Wakeup call, wakeup call,” both of his brothers murmured in a gentle susurration, desperately trying to contain their laughter. “That’s where you explain what you’re trying to do to my wife, medical doctor Syringe McColtroy, and she explains to you on her podcast how that maybe what you’ve suggested will actually permanently fuck you up,” Juice expounded. “No matter what your situation, we are here to advise you,” Scraps said. “To relieve the aching burden from around your neck,” Ditto said. “All for the low, low price of, saaay, the equivalent value of a modest house,” Juice said, his composure cracking slightly. “We take bits, checks, buckball trading cards, your firstborn, the souls of the innocent, and all of your critical thinking skills.” Scraps struck a gong, and all three brothers sat up a little straighter. “For now, though, let’s focus on this old, dilapidated husk of a self-help guide,” Juice said, his voice normal once more. “I mean -- look at it, we were hardly even making chicken scratch off it.” “Yeah, I’m so glad we went into the market of selling candles that smell like our dicks,” Ditto said. Juice chortled. “Y-- I mean -- it really does sound almost even worse that way around, doesn’t it?” “But it sells!” Scraps said brightly. “It sells. And think about just how much time we wasted giving away our nuggets of wisdom for free.” “Aaah, yeah, it’s a disgrace,” Juice said, nodding. “It is a disgrace.” Scraps tilted his head. “Are you still talking about our show?” “Of course, Scraps, what else could I have been talking about?” Juice said. “It’s not like there’s some other unscrupulous seller of overpriced and dangerous self-care items.” “Of course, of course, what could I have been thinking,” Scraps said. “Anyway,” Juice said. “As you have by now certainly gleaned, this is an advice show -- albeit one for a slightly outdated era, now. We got any buyers on the old property yet, boys?” “Well, there’s been some talk of the Yahooves Answers Service acquiring it,” Ditto said. “From muck it came, and to muck it shall return, I guess.” “Isn’t the saying, ‘from Earth it came’?” Scraps wondered. Ditto tilted his head to the side. “Eehhh… not where Yahooves Answers are concerned.” “Fair,” Scraps concurred. “Still, we must’ve done something right,” Juice said. “Considering that we’re the only radio show to be played in not just one, but two universes!” “Yeah, suck it, every other radio show!” Scraps cheered. “Huff our dick-scented candles, Stop Ponecasting Yourself!” Ditto said. “Ride off into the sunset, Filly Geniuses!” Scraps added. “Jordan? Hey, Jordan, hey Jesse?” Ditto continued. “It’s time for you to go.” "Nobody Listens to Paula Poundpone?" Juice began. "...Uhh..." "That -- that one kinda comes prepackaged for our purposes here," Ditto said. "Mm," Scraps agreed. “That’s right, for the second-ever time, this episode of MBMBAM will be broadcast across the dimensions, into the strange and mysterious world of the humans!” Juice continued. “We’re still waiting to get an official response back, but y’know. We got time. In the meantime, it is our duty, our pleasure, and our honor to present to you this week’s show.” Saddle Rager's Side GigDitto leaned back in his chair. “Alright, Juice, hit us with that first question.” “Okay, here we go. Hello, brothers. A kirin moved in recently, and the two of us formed a fast friendship. I have a "Welcome to the Neighborhood" pepper-grilling party coming up, and I want to know if it's out of line to ask my neighbor to light the briquettes as part of being the guest of honor. I know that I should just ask her and not you guys, but it feels awkward to discuss it. Still, I just want to light up the grill, not my whole backyard. Thoughts? - Flammable in Fillydelphia” “Well, first of all, you are correct,” Scraps said. “You should just ask her.” Ditto nodded emphatically. “We are not in any way sufficiently familiar with the kirin and their culture, and we cannot provide any definitive answers.” “Can we ever?” Scraps asked. “No, which is why we’re still gonna goof on this one,” Juice said. “I mean, it feels kinda rude to ask, doesn’t it? Like, they have to get really angry in order to catch on fire, and that feels like a weird thing to ask of somecreature.” “Well -- now hold on,” Ditto said. “Last time I checked those funny books, that seemed to be the Saddle Rager’s whole deal.” “True,” Juice said, nodding along. “True, true. Counterpoint, though, when she gets mad and starts breaking down the city, she does do it to stop the city getting broken down by worse things and not, like, smashing a pinata.” “Well, not in the comics!” Scraps said. “Marevel wouldn’t want to put out a comic that was just the Power Ponies at a birthday party, right?” “So she does it off the page,” Juice mused, resting his head on his hooves. “In the margins, as it were.” “And maybe -- maybe she does it as a day job?” Scraps suggested. There was a long pause. “...She hits pinatas. As a day job,” Ditto said flatly. “Scraps, you do realize that Raised Banner has a doctorate, yes?” “Well, no. Not hit pinatas, obviously,” Scraps said. “Not for a job. But, y’know. She gets the lids off of pickle jars for ponies. Uh, maybe she knocks down buildings.” “She does that last one anyway,” Juice said. Scraps rolled his eyes. “No, like… buildings that are supposed to be knocked down. Old ones that are falling apart, and sure, they could bring in a wrecking ball, but why bother when you have a Saddle Rager?” “Again. Doctorate,” Ditto said. “What, you think some fancy piece of paper makes you too good to knock down buildings?” Scraps challenged. “I mean, no, but she already has a day job!” Ditto said. “She’s a physicist and a superhero and you think she moonlights getting the lids off of jars?” “She might! Are you saying that if one of the other Power Ponies couldn’t--” “You can say Humdrum,” Juice said. “If Humdrum couldn’t get the lid off a pickle jar, she wouldn’t go all giant rage monster to help them out?” “Okay, fine. Sure,” Ditto said. “But as a job?” “I bet Zapp has a real good side gig on the weather patrol,” Juice said idly. “I mean, I guess if you wanna make some storms, but most ponies don’t.” “Be handy in a drought.” “I -- okay, fine.” “I bet a lot of superheroes have side hustles,” Scraps said thoughtfully. “Not Bruce Mane,” Ditto said. “Not Pony Stark.” “No, probably not them,” Juice said. “But y’know, a lot of them are journalists, probably struggling to make ends meet, and they need a second job to keep them in spandex and capes.” “Mm.” Ditto nodded. “That is true. Wondergriffon wouldn’t be able to make down payments on the Invisible Blimp on a journalist’s salary.” “She probably does rodeos,” Scraps said. “Because of the --” “Because of the lasso, yes,” Ditto said. “Superpony could probably work at the hospital, save them a bunch of money on x-ray machines.” “What about Spidercolt?” Juice asked. Ditto tilted his head. “Mm, honestly I think Spidercolt is living pretty believably on a photographer’s salary, considering he still lives with his aunt.” “Fair, fair… So, uh, back to the question at hoof,” Juice said. “Is it alright to ask your new kirin pal to do this?” “What if,” Ditto said, leaning forward in his seat. “You were like, ‘Hey, do you wanna light this barbeque up?’ and if it turns out that’s not cool, you just have a box of matches there and are like, ‘No, I just meant ‘cause you’re the special guest and all. You wanna?’” “The ol’ switcheroonie,” Juice said, nodding. “Alright…” “Oh! But then, you’ve put gunpowder in the charcoal!” Scraps said, sitting forward. “And then your yard catches fire!” There was a long pause. “Why,” Ditto said, sitting back. “Just… why.” “It goes back to what we were saying about Saddle Rager, and how she breaks the city to protect it from getting broken even worse by bad guys! Your new kirin friend could catch fire to create, like, a fire break? One of those things you get in forest fires, you know, where the fireponies burn down some trees in a controlled burn so that they can’t catch fire when the bigger fire comes around!” There was a longer pause. “Scraps?” Juice said. “Hey, Scraps? That might be the dumbest shit you’ve ever said, ever.” “It’s a real thing!” Scraps protested. “I know it’s a real fuckin’ thing, Scraps,” Juice said wearily. “Fire break. Great. Yay. You did just make her burn down half your neighborhood, though.” “Buuut, she saved the other half!” Scraps said. “Look at the glass as half-full!” “That doesn’t change the fact that it’s half-full of kerosene!” Ditto said, exasperated. “None of what you’ve said changes the central premise of burning down your house, which is not the ideal way to welcome your new neighbor!” “...Unless,” Juice said. “Unless?” said Scraps. “Wha -- no! No, no ‘unless’,” Ditto said. “You can’t -- you can’t come back from -- Juice, why would you help him?” “Hey, Ditto?” Juice said. “Unless…” Ditto rolled his eyes and rested his cheek on a hoof. “Unless,” he said flatly. “Unless you spin it so that this isn’t just a barbecue, it’s the world’s biggest campfire,” Juice said. “All the fireponies come around with, y’know, sticks and mini-marshmallows and carrot dogs, and you all sing Kumbaya --” “Around the charred and smoking ruins of your home,” Ditto finished. “It’s a community-building exercise!” Scraps insisted. “Actually, literally once the fire goes out and you have to rebuild your neighborhood.” “I… okay,” Ditto said, utterly defeated. “Okay. That’s the answer, burn down your house to avoid social anxiety. Seems to check out pretty well to me.” Ecto-Juices“Hey, Ditto, give us that Yahooves,” Juice said. “Alright, this one was sent in by Yahooves Mailpony Ditzy Doo, makin’ the rounds, and it was written by Yahooves user SmoothKitten. They ask, Are you still a virgin if your first time is with a ghost?” There was a long pause. “Is there… more?” Scraps asked. “None given, nor required!” Ditto answered, grinning broadly. “Are you still…” Juice trailed off. “I mean, did you, ya know, finish in this scenario? It seems like the chill of the grave on your nasty parts would be something of a mood killer, yeah?” “I think that for the purposes of this question, that we have to assume this question-asker did at least gain some amount of sexual gratification from the act,” Ditto said. “My question is, what kind of ghost rules are we talking about here? If it was incorporeal, then I’m gonna say that’s a no-go. There needs to be some kind of physical contact… involved, or else it’s just you and your somewhat haunted hoof.” “Yeah, true,” Scraps said. “Maybe if it was possessing somepony, or something.” “Something?” Ditto asked. “Some thinggggg? Uh, excuse me! Excuse me, Scraps, but, uhhhh, what kind of thing exactly are you proposing here?” "I, um," Scraps said, suddenly looking rather flustered. "Hello yes please explain to me now what kind of thing you were talking about?" Ditto said, locking his wide, unblinking eyes with his brother. “Um… maybe… a bed? Or, like, a set of socks that it could put on all four of its spooky hooves?” Scraps looked from one brother to the other. “Alright, fine, if you’re gonna make me say it, I was proposing a haunted dildo. Are you happy now?” “No,” said Juice. “No,” said Ditto. Scraps nodded. “Yeah, okay. That’s fair.” “But now that we’re here, I guess we have to fuckin’ talk about it now,” Ditto said, resting his weary head on his hoof. “Yeah. Shit,” Juice said. “So… does the dildo float around?” “Probably?” Scraps said. “It’s probably pretty cold, too, ‘cause of the dead pony handling it.” “No, now hold on,” Ditto said. “There’s no guarantee that it’s a pony ghost. What if it’s a dragon ghost? Or, callback, a kirin ghost? Do they, fiery as they are, retain any of their heat after death?” “The chill of the grave douses all flames, Ditto, c’mon,” Juice said. “Don’t try to get out of this haunted fuckin’ dildo conversation that our brother has foisted on us.” “All flames except for the fire within the loins, clearly,” Scraps noted. “Or within the heart,” Juice said. “You don’t know what’s motivating this spectral love machine.” "Alright, fine, let's talk about the haunted dildo, then," Ditto said. “The nice thing is that it would probably be made out of latex,” Scraps said thoughtfully. “Which is like, an insulator, so the chill of the grave would be muted against your bits.” “That’s…" Ditto hesitated for a long moment. "I hesitate to call it a plus." "Uh-huh," Juice said, nodding. Ditto exhaled. "But it’s not nothing, and it's definitely not a minus, I'll say that." “Now, my question is, could a whole ghost fit inside of a dildo?” Juice asked. “Like, I recognize that it’s intangible and whatever, but could the entire spirit of a pony -- or, as Ditto so astutely pointed out, any other creature -- fit fully inside of such a small space?” "A breezie?" Ditto suggested. "Them's some tiny boys. You could fit two or three of them in a sex toy, I bet." “Well… there are two alternatives to possessing it,” Scraps said. “One, it’s just holding the ding-dang thing aloft with its spiritual might.” “Can’t imagine that would satisfy the ghost,” Juice noted. “Two, it’s just the ghost’s own dick inside of there.” “Option three,” Ditto said. “Full-body possession item. A dress form or something, wearing a strap-on.” “Interesting,” Juice said. “Also, if I may say, very upsetting mental image.” “I do not like the way this discussion is going,” Scraps said. Ditto nodded. “Yeah, I hate this. Let’s… let’s shift gears here.” “If you were gonna have sex with a ghost, whose ghost would you choose?” Juice asked. Silence reigned. “Hey, Juice? Hey, Juice? What the FUCK?” Ditto asked. “Listen," Juice said, struggling not to laugh. "I’m just saying--” “You were just saying that there would be a scenario in which you would fuck a ghost,” Scraps said. Juice pursed his lips. “Well. No, I wouldn’t really, 'cause I don’t wanna -- I wouldn't cheat on my wife, not even if it was a really hot ghost." "Couldn't be that hot," Ditto said. "You said it yourself, chill of the grave--" "Chill of the grave extinguishes only non-metaphorical flames," Juice said firmly. "Anyway. We’ve entered into a theoretical plane, now.” “Well, yeah,” Scraps said. “I mean, any ghost-fucking is theoretical.” “The Yahooves Answer Service begs to differ,” Ditto replied, arching an eyebrow. “True.” “So, uh… I don’t wanna push on those answers or nothin’...” Juice began. “Oh, no. You started this train, you answer first,” Ditto said firmly, crossing his hooves over his chest. “Shit,” Juice muttered. He considered for several long seconds. “Uh… Marelin Monroe.” “Booo, that's a cop-out,” Scraps said, shaking his head. “It’s a valid answer, and I’m sticking to it," Juice said, leaning on the table. "How about you, clever-hooves?” “Um…" Scraps scratched his beard. "Spear Shaker, the bard himself.” “Is it because of the name?” Ditto asked. “No, I just feel like, y’know, he wrote Ponyo and Muliet and all those other romances, I bet he’d have some great pillow talk. Sometimes you just feel cute and you want to have a sonnet composed about you, I dunno.” “What about you, Ditto? What ghost would you--” “Slimer.” There was a long, heavy silence. “One of us had to say it!” Ditto said, when the horrified stares of his brothers became to heavy to bear. “Any other answer would be audio poison! One of us had to say it, and neither of you two cowards were willing to --” “None of us had to say it,” Juice said, head buried in his hooves. “Does -- does Slimer even have like… equipment? Does he have genitals? I won’t even speculate on what kind of genitals they might be at this stage, because we’re already going deep into the darkness right now.” “He’s just a big blob of… Slimer!” Scraps said. “Is Slimer even a ‘he’?” Ditto asked. “Like, there was never a scene where he introduced himself. The Ghostbuckers don’t know his real name, let alone his pronouns.” “Ghostbuckers 3 had that thing with Slimer and the lady Slimer,” Juice said thoughtfully. “Gender presentation and gender identity aren’t the same thing, though,” Scraps said. “And Slimer doesn’t really present as anything except, um. Ectoplasm.” "It doesn't matter, anyway, we're just worried about the Slimer genitals right now," Ditto pointed out. Scraps gasped in mock horror. "You mean you're not interested in getting to know Slimer as a person? For shame, Ditto! You're only interested in his Slimer slime? His Ecto-juices, if you will?" "...I won't, actually," Ditto said. “I… I super will not, wasn’t that like, an actual drink back when we were colts? That green soda or whatever?” “You’re thinking of -- it's actual name was the 'Ecto-Cooler',” Juice said thoughtfully. “Not that it matters, since now that you’ve put it in that context, I’ll never be able to drink it, or even look at it, ever again.” “We may have to go on a mission to find and destroy the world’s remaining stock of Ecto-Cooler,” Ditto said solemnly. There was a long silence. “I… I think we need to move on,” Scraps said. “Desperately,” Juice agreed. Wisteria Bloom“Okay, Juice,” Ditto said. “Hit us with another question.” “Sure thing, Ditto,” Juice said, looking his brother dead in the eye. “I’d love that. That sounds like a great idea.” “...Okay,” Ditto said, a note of caution in his voice. “So then --” “BOOP-OOP-A-BOOP-A-BOOP-A-DOOP-OOP-BOOP-A-DOOP!” Juice called out, pulling out a magazine from under the desk. “No,” Ditto said. “No, just fucking no. Not after the question we just had.” “It does seem in pretty poor taste,” Scraps agreed. “Poor taste, nothing, I’m just so fuckin’ done with ghosts right now!” Ditto said. “This just in! Hot off the presses, straight from the eBray trade papers,” Juice said, waving the magazine in the air. “That’s right, ladies and gentlemen, what we have here is a Haunted Doll Watch!” Ditto leaned back in his chair. “Mmkay, fine, hit me.” “Okay,” Juice said. “Ahem, hem. HAUNTED DOLL WISTERIA BLOOM PARANORMAL ACTIVITY - MYSTERIOUS NOISES - GLOWING ORBS.” “Hell yeah,” Scraps said, nodding. “Get those orbs in there.” “AUTHENTIC! ANTIQUE! HAUNTED! Condition: Good" “Now, uh,” Juice said, holding up a hoof. “I wanna make clear here exactly how incorrect that last statement is real quick.” He slid the magazine onto the table in front of his brothers. Scraps and Ditto leaned in, then immediately recoiled. “Oh sweet Celestia!” Scraps said. “I mean -- um. Fuck. That doll is fucked.” “Are those burn marks?” Ditto asked. “Is that what happened to its mane?” “Very perceptive of you, Ditto,” Juice said, picking up the magazine once more. “Let’s see. “Today, I am pleased to introduce you to Wisteria Bloom, the powerful spirit of an ancient earth pony mage, who bound herself to this vessel after her death with potent necromantic Magyck. “To be clear,” Juice interrupted himself. “That is ‘magic’ spelled with a ‘y’ and an extra ‘k’, so you know shit is serious.” “Why do ponies spell it like that?” Scraps wondered. “Like, is it just to emphasize the power of it? Unicorns do magic all the time, but magyck? That shit’s out of your league, bud.” “It’s like the misspelling increased the power,” Ditto said thoughtfully. “‘Magyck’ is more powerful than ‘Magick’ without a ‘y’, which is more powerful than plain ol’ ‘magic’. But ‘majyck’? With a ‘j’, a ‘y’, and a ‘k’? Blows all that other shit right out of the water.” “It’s like ‘thicc,” Juice said. Before either of his brothers could fully react to that, he hurried on. “Wisteria is a practitioner of White Magyck, an inherently creative form of spellcasting, and she is ready to show you her power.” “This doll is fuckin’ ripped,” Ditto interjected. “Check out her sweet, thicc, magyck muscles,” Scraps said, grinning broadly. “Because of Wisteria’s great strength --” Ditto interrupted, eyes wide. “Holy shit, is this ghost doll actually ripped? Has she got, like, abs and pecs?” “She could bench your scrawny flank like a toothpick,” Juice said. “Alright, alright, it goes on for a little like that, let me see… Okay, here. “I first encountered Wisteria while doing an urban exploration of a two-century-old tenement in Lawndon, now closed to the public.” “And urban exploration is…” Scraps asked. “Breaking and entering, but you brag about it to your friends,” Ditto explained. “You go into old abandoned buildings and snoop around,” Juice said. “Probably the easiest way to get like, supernaturally fucked up. “She was sitting in a room that, judging by the size of the bed, I would guess belonged to a child. The doll itself lay in a corner, undisturbed by the passage of time. I touched it, and immediately knew that there was a powerful presence in this vessel. I put it in my satchel and departed to consult with the spirit realm.” “So, you broke into a kid’s room and stole their dolly,” Ditto said. “Wow. Okay.” “Through the use of seances, I was able to discover that the spirit’s name is Wisteria Bloom, and that she was a powerful earth pony mage. Time does not pass the same way in the spirit realm, and so I cannot be sure how long ago she lived. However, I would estimate from certain things she has mentioned that she lived prior to the unification of the three pony tribes. “And, uh, attached we have this picture of the doll with a Ouija board and an EMF meter,” Juice said, sliding the picture to his brothers. “Hey, Juice? How do you know what an EMF meter looks like?” Scraps asked. “Well, it’s mostly ‘cause of this next sentence here,” Juice said, tapping the page for emphasis as he read, “The Ouija board and EMF meter ARE NOT INCLUDED IN THIS SALE!!!!” Scraps and Ditto both burst into laughter. “Yeah,” Ditto said. “Yeah, that -- that’s fair.” “Wisteria is a powerful user of White Magyck, an inherently creative force that can help you to achieve your goals and dreams. She is an incredibly active spirit. She manifests herself in shining purple orbs, and you may hear her running around the house at night --” “Excuse me?” Ditto squawked. “Uh, no? No, I don’t think this one’s gonna do it for me. Imagine, imagine trying to drift off to dreamland when you hear these little fucking porcelain hooves skittering and clicking on your floor. I think the fuck not.” “Well, hold on,” Juice said, holding up a hoof. “That’s the downside, for sure, but wait until you hear the bennies.” “...Mmkay,” Ditto said, doubtful. “Wisteria is a practitioner of Wish Magyck, the magical practice of wish-granting. To make use of this power, simply burn an offering, such as incense, money, or alcohol, before the doll and meditate on your desire. Larger wishes require larger offerings.” “Okay,” Ditto said. “Now, let me tell you what I find buckwild about that. It doesn’t give you any idea of what the exchange rate is. Do I need to burn a whole bottle of bourbon to get that big promotion at work? How many sticks of incense do I gotta fry for my wallet to magically turn up?” “Trial and error, I guess,” Juice said. “Uh, oh, there’s some conditions to purchase. First, “Wisteria is a spirit of White Magyck, and as such, I would like her to go to a home with good intentions or a fellow practicer of White Magick. I do not judge those that seek to practice Black Magick, and neither does Wisteria.” “It seems like you kinda do, though,” Scraps said. “It seems like you’re kinda saying, ‘I don’t discriminate, but if you practice Black Magyck, I’m not selling you this doll, fuck you’.” “Yeah, it’s a shame,” Juice agreed. “Also, “This is not a doll for the faint of heart! Buyers must be eighteen years or older to purchase.” Scraps pursed his lips. “Eighteen years or older.” “That is indeed what this listing states,” Juice said. “...So…” Ditto trailed off. “Maybe… maybe the doll is down to clown?” “I can’t speak to that, you would have to ask Wisteria yourself,” Juice said casually. “Although, as the seller mentions once again in this next paragraph, "The Ouija board and EMF meter ARE NOT INCLUDED IN THIS SALE!!!!” So you’d have to figure out your own way of communicating with her.” “That’s important in any relationship,” Scraps said, nodding sagely. “God, just imagine those horny, horny ghost messages, though,” Ditto said. “‘I’m a freak in the sheets, and I’m always in a sheet’.” “‘Bustin’ makes me feel good’,” Scraps added. Ditto rested his chin on a hoof. “If she’s staying around you and doing you favors because you like, pay her, does that make her your sugar baby?” “Objectively, yes,” Juice said. “It’s weird, because she’s centuries older than you.” “It’s also weird because, you know, she’s a doll and not real,” Scraps pointed out. Juice cleared his throat again. “Alright, now we get into the boring part.” He breathed in, then started to read aloud rapidly. “EBray rules insist that I state that this is for entertainment purposes only, you are buying a tangible doll. The seller cannot guarantee that any supernatural events will or will not happen in association with the doll, and is not responsible for the actions taken by this doll once it is in your hooves. You must be 18 years or older to purchase.” “That’s the worst part of this segment,” Scraps said. “Really pulls the rug out from under our hooves.” “Can I say, though? That thing about not being responsible for the actions of the doll undercuts the undercutting,” Ditto said. “Like, I don’t think eBray is especially psyched to see you say, ‘Hey, this ghost doll may or may not be real! I’m not saying which! But I can’t be responsible for her behavior!’ I don’t think that’s what they want in the disclaimer.” “How much is she selling for, Juice?” Scraps asked. “Uhh, looks like a hundred and thirty bits,” Juice replied. “But with, y’know, free shipping.” “Oh, yeah, great,” Ditto said. “Just sell this magic, wish-granting ghost doll instead of wishing for, you know, a million bits.” “But you have to pay for your wishes, Ditto,” Scraps pointed out. “Maybe the cost of a wish for a million bits is itself a million bits.” “Well that’s pretty fuckin’ pointless, isn’t it?” Ditto asked. “Hey, Wisteria, here’s my offering of five bits, I wish I had a hayburger.” “It’s like DoorDash but for haunted dolls,” Juice said. “DollDash,” Scraps said, nodding. “Well, anyway, if you want to keep your haunted, spectral sugar baby doll around, you know what you’re gonna need?” Juice asked. “... Ghost traps?” Scraps tried. “Yes, which you’ll need to buy with money. Let’s go to that Money Zone.”
OozeThe McColtroy Brothers are not experts, and their advice should never be taken seriously. Scraps claims to be a ‘sexpert’, but if there’s a degree on his wall… well, I haven’t seen it. Also, this show isn’t for kids, which I mention only so the foals out there will know how cool they are for listening. What’s up, you cool foals? The music faded out, slowly replaced by the sound of distant crashing waves. Three stallions, heads slightly bowed, sat at a desk, each one with his own personal microphone. “Hello,” murmured the first stallion, with his sea-green coat and dark mane. Soft music, interspersed with chimes, began to play over the waves in the background. “And welcome to My Brother My Brother and Me. I am your oldest brother and personal nutritionist, Juice McColtroy. Have you touched wheat or any wheat by-products recently? 'Cause them boys gonna fuck you right up." “I am your middlest brother and your fashion guru, Scraps McColtroy,” the violet-coated stallion to his left intoned. "What's in this season? It's bow ties. But not where you would expect!" “And I am your sweet baby brother and your… coach,” said the last stallion, who was tan with a close cropped mane, “Ditto McColtroy. Get down and give me twenty... lotus... positions?” “We here at My Brother My Brother and Me are pleased to announce the creation of our new lifestyle brand,” Juice continued, in that same gentle voice. “Ooze.” “Ooze,” Ditto echoed. “Ooze,” Scraps said. “You see, for so long, we’ve had people writing into us so we could solve their problems.” “So now,” Ditto said, “we’re taking the proactive approach, and selling all the answers right to you.” “That’s right,” Juice said. “With our new line of health products, we can guarantee that you will be cleaned, spiritually and physically.” “Emotionally and mentally,” Scraps added. “Outside and inside, if ya know what I mean,” Ditto said. “We nasty,” Scraps agreed. “Nasty and cleansing.” “Shabby and baroque,” Juice intoned. “And you too can enjoy the many benefits of our lifestyle brand,” Ditto intoned. “Like, here’s an example. One time we got a question from somepony who wanted to teach their child to do all his poops in a bag, for environmental reasons.” “And now, you too can purchase a box of Ooze-branded, lilac-scented matches that you can use to burn that pony’s house down,” Juice said. “Or, maybe you’re having relationship problems and you need to pack your bags and move away. But you just don’t have the right luggage to pack up your ding-dang strawberries in.” “Order our limited-edition miniature strawberry suitcase, the perfect size and shape to fit one little berry in,” Scraps said. “It’s lined with real velvet made from the upper lip hair of a Saddle Arabian prince, and it’s on sale for only three thousand bits. Buy eleven, and get the twelfth one free.” Juice nodded and continued. “Or maybe you want to explore alternative medicine, like, for instance…” He trailed off, grinning, and reached out to press a button. “Taint Tanning,” a prerecorded voice intoned. Scraps started wheezing and Ditto had to put his head on the desk, shoulders shaking. Ignoring them, Juice set his head on his hoof and continued. “...or, you know, taking medicine for something it was never meant to treat, or putting vinegar in your sexual orifices,” Juice said. “In which case, perhaps I can interest you in our most popular product, the totally-free Wakeup Call.” “Wakeup call, wakeup call,” both of his brothers murmured in a gentle susurration, desperately trying to contain their laughter. “That’s where you explain what you’re trying to do to my wife, medical doctor Syringe McColtroy, and she explains to you on her podcast how that maybe what you’ve suggested will actually permanently fuck you up,” Juice expounded. “No matter what your situation, we are here to advise you,” Scraps said. “To relieve the aching burden from around your neck,” Ditto said. “All for the low, low price of, saaay, the equivalent value of a modest house,” Juice said, his composure cracking slightly. “We take bits, checks, buckball trading cards, your firstborn, the souls of the innocent, and all of your critical thinking skills.” Scraps struck a gong, and all three brothers sat up a little straighter. “For now, though, let’s focus on this old, dilapidated husk of a self-help guide,” Juice said, his voice normal once more. “I mean -- look at it, we were hardly even making chicken scratch off it.” “Yeah, I’m so glad we went into the market of selling candles that smell like our dicks,” Ditto said. Juice chortled. “Y-- I mean -- it really does sound almost even worse that way around, doesn’t it?” “But it sells!” Scraps said brightly. “It sells. And think about just how much time we wasted giving away our nuggets of wisdom for free.” “Aaah, yeah, it’s a disgrace,” Juice said, nodding. “It is a disgrace.” Scraps tilted his head. “Are you still talking about our show?” “Of course, Scraps, what else could I have been talking about?” Juice said. “It’s not like there’s some other unscrupulous seller of overpriced and dangerous self-care items.” “Of course, of course, what could I have been thinking,” Scraps said. “Anyway,” Juice said. “As you have by now certainly gleaned, this is an advice show -- albeit one for a slightly outdated era, now. We got any buyers on the old property yet, boys?” “Well, there’s been some talk of the Yahooves Answers Service acquiring it,” Ditto said. “From muck it came, and to muck it shall return, I guess.” “Isn’t the saying, ‘from Earth it came’?” Scraps wondered. Ditto tilted his head to the side. “Eehhh… not where Yahooves Answers are concerned.” “Fair,” Scraps concurred. “Still, we must’ve done something right,” Juice said. “Considering that we’re the only radio show to be played in not just one, but two universes!” “Yeah, suck it, every other radio show!” Scraps cheered. “Huff our dick-scented candles, Stop Ponecasting Yourself!” Ditto said. “Ride off into the sunset, Filly Geniuses!” Scraps added. “Jordan? Hey, Jordan, hey Jesse?” Ditto continued. “It’s time for you to go.” "Nobody Listens to Paula Poundpone?" Juice began. "...Uhh..." "That -- that one kinda comes prepackaged for our purposes here," Ditto said. "Mm," Scraps agreed. “That’s right, for the second-ever time, this episode of MBMBAM will be broadcast across the dimensions, into the strange and mysterious world of the humans!” Juice continued. “We’re still waiting to get an official response back, but y’know. We got time. In the meantime, it is our duty, our pleasure, and our honor to present to you this week’s show.”
Saddle Rager's Side GigDitto leaned back in his chair. “Alright, Juice, hit us with that first question.” “Okay, here we go. Hello, brothers. A kirin moved in recently, and the two of us formed a fast friendship. I have a "Welcome to the Neighborhood" pepper-grilling party coming up, and I want to know if it's out of line to ask my neighbor to light the briquettes as part of being the guest of honor. I know that I should just ask her and not you guys, but it feels awkward to discuss it. Still, I just want to light up the grill, not my whole backyard. Thoughts? - Flammable in Fillydelphia” “Well, first of all, you are correct,” Scraps said. “You should just ask her.” Ditto nodded emphatically. “We are not in any way sufficiently familiar with the kirin and their culture, and we cannot provide any definitive answers.” “Can we ever?” Scraps asked. “No, which is why we’re still gonna goof on this one,” Juice said. “I mean, it feels kinda rude to ask, doesn’t it? Like, they have to get really angry in order to catch on fire, and that feels like a weird thing to ask of somecreature.” “Well -- now hold on,” Ditto said. “Last time I checked those funny books, that seemed to be the Saddle Rager’s whole deal.” “True,” Juice said, nodding along. “True, true. Counterpoint, though, when she gets mad and starts breaking down the city, she does do it to stop the city getting broken down by worse things and not, like, smashing a pinata.” “Well, not in the comics!” Scraps said. “Marevel wouldn’t want to put out a comic that was just the Power Ponies at a birthday party, right?” “So she does it off the page,” Juice mused, resting his head on his hooves. “In the margins, as it were.” “And maybe -- maybe she does it as a day job?” Scraps suggested. There was a long pause. “...She hits pinatas. As a day job,” Ditto said flatly. “Scraps, you do realize that Raised Banner has a doctorate, yes?” “Well, no. Not hit pinatas, obviously,” Scraps said. “Not for a job. But, y’know. She gets the lids off of pickle jars for ponies. Uh, maybe she knocks down buildings.” “She does that last one anyway,” Juice said. Scraps rolled his eyes. “No, like… buildings that are supposed to be knocked down. Old ones that are falling apart, and sure, they could bring in a wrecking ball, but why bother when you have a Saddle Rager?” “Again. Doctorate,” Ditto said. “What, you think some fancy piece of paper makes you too good to knock down buildings?” Scraps challenged. “I mean, no, but she already has a day job!” Ditto said. “She’s a physicist and a superhero and you think she moonlights getting the lids off of jars?” “She might! Are you saying that if one of the other Power Ponies couldn’t--” “You can say Humdrum,” Juice said. “If Humdrum couldn’t get the lid off a pickle jar, she wouldn’t go all giant rage monster to help them out?” “Okay, fine. Sure,” Ditto said. “But as a job?” “I bet Zapp has a real good side gig on the weather patrol,” Juice said idly. “I mean, I guess if you wanna make some storms, but most ponies don’t.” “Be handy in a drought.” “I -- okay, fine.” “I bet a lot of superheroes have side hustles,” Scraps said thoughtfully. “Not Bruce Mane,” Ditto said. “Not Pony Stark.” “No, probably not them,” Juice said. “But y’know, a lot of them are journalists, probably struggling to make ends meet, and they need a second job to keep them in spandex and capes.” “Mm.” Ditto nodded. “That is true. Wondergriffon wouldn’t be able to make down payments on the Invisible Blimp on a journalist’s salary.” “She probably does rodeos,” Scraps said. “Because of the --” “Because of the lasso, yes,” Ditto said. “Superpony could probably work at the hospital, save them a bunch of money on x-ray machines.” “What about Spidercolt?” Juice asked. Ditto tilted his head. “Mm, honestly I think Spidercolt is living pretty believably on a photographer’s salary, considering he still lives with his aunt.” “Fair, fair… So, uh, back to the question at hoof,” Juice said. “Is it alright to ask your new kirin pal to do this?” “What if,” Ditto said, leaning forward in his seat. “You were like, ‘Hey, do you wanna light this barbeque up?’ and if it turns out that’s not cool, you just have a box of matches there and are like, ‘No, I just meant ‘cause you’re the special guest and all. You wanna?’” “The ol’ switcheroonie,” Juice said, nodding. “Alright…” “Oh! But then, you’ve put gunpowder in the charcoal!” Scraps said, sitting forward. “And then your yard catches fire!” There was a long pause. “Why,” Ditto said, sitting back. “Just… why.” “It goes back to what we were saying about Saddle Rager, and how she breaks the city to protect it from getting broken even worse by bad guys! Your new kirin friend could catch fire to create, like, a fire break? One of those things you get in forest fires, you know, where the fireponies burn down some trees in a controlled burn so that they can’t catch fire when the bigger fire comes around!” There was a longer pause. “Scraps?” Juice said. “Hey, Scraps? That might be the dumbest shit you’ve ever said, ever.” “It’s a real thing!” Scraps protested. “I know it’s a real fuckin’ thing, Scraps,” Juice said wearily. “Fire break. Great. Yay. You did just make her burn down half your neighborhood, though.” “Buuut, she saved the other half!” Scraps said. “Look at the glass as half-full!” “That doesn’t change the fact that it’s half-full of kerosene!” Ditto said, exasperated. “None of what you’ve said changes the central premise of burning down your house, which is not the ideal way to welcome your new neighbor!” “...Unless,” Juice said. “Unless?” said Scraps. “Wha -- no! No, no ‘unless’,” Ditto said. “You can’t -- you can’t come back from -- Juice, why would you help him?” “Hey, Ditto?” Juice said. “Unless…” Ditto rolled his eyes and rested his cheek on a hoof. “Unless,” he said flatly. “Unless you spin it so that this isn’t just a barbecue, it’s the world’s biggest campfire,” Juice said. “All the fireponies come around with, y’know, sticks and mini-marshmallows and carrot dogs, and you all sing Kumbaya --” “Around the charred and smoking ruins of your home,” Ditto finished. “It’s a community-building exercise!” Scraps insisted. “Actually, literally once the fire goes out and you have to rebuild your neighborhood.” “I… okay,” Ditto said, utterly defeated. “Okay. That’s the answer, burn down your house to avoid social anxiety. Seems to check out pretty well to me.”
Ecto-Juices“Hey, Ditto, give us that Yahooves,” Juice said. “Alright, this one was sent in by Yahooves Mailpony Ditzy Doo, makin’ the rounds, and it was written by Yahooves user SmoothKitten. They ask, Are you still a virgin if your first time is with a ghost?” There was a long pause. “Is there… more?” Scraps asked. “None given, nor required!” Ditto answered, grinning broadly. “Are you still…” Juice trailed off. “I mean, did you, ya know, finish in this scenario? It seems like the chill of the grave on your nasty parts would be something of a mood killer, yeah?” “I think that for the purposes of this question, that we have to assume this question-asker did at least gain some amount of sexual gratification from the act,” Ditto said. “My question is, what kind of ghost rules are we talking about here? If it was incorporeal, then I’m gonna say that’s a no-go. There needs to be some kind of physical contact… involved, or else it’s just you and your somewhat haunted hoof.” “Yeah, true,” Scraps said. “Maybe if it was possessing somepony, or something.” “Something?” Ditto asked. “Some thinggggg? Uh, excuse me! Excuse me, Scraps, but, uhhhh, what kind of thing exactly are you proposing here?” "I, um," Scraps said, suddenly looking rather flustered. "Hello yes please explain to me now what kind of thing you were talking about?" Ditto said, locking his wide, unblinking eyes with his brother. “Um… maybe… a bed? Or, like, a set of socks that it could put on all four of its spooky hooves?” Scraps looked from one brother to the other. “Alright, fine, if you’re gonna make me say it, I was proposing a haunted dildo. Are you happy now?” “No,” said Juice. “No,” said Ditto. Scraps nodded. “Yeah, okay. That’s fair.” “But now that we’re here, I guess we have to fuckin’ talk about it now,” Ditto said, resting his weary head on his hoof. “Yeah. Shit,” Juice said. “So… does the dildo float around?” “Probably?” Scraps said. “It’s probably pretty cold, too, ‘cause of the dead pony handling it.” “No, now hold on,” Ditto said. “There’s no guarantee that it’s a pony ghost. What if it’s a dragon ghost? Or, callback, a kirin ghost? Do they, fiery as they are, retain any of their heat after death?” “The chill of the grave douses all flames, Ditto, c’mon,” Juice said. “Don’t try to get out of this haunted fuckin’ dildo conversation that our brother has foisted on us.” “All flames except for the fire within the loins, clearly,” Scraps noted. “Or within the heart,” Juice said. “You don’t know what’s motivating this spectral love machine.” "Alright, fine, let's talk about the haunted dildo, then," Ditto said. “The nice thing is that it would probably be made out of latex,” Scraps said thoughtfully. “Which is like, an insulator, so the chill of the grave would be muted against your bits.” “That’s…" Ditto hesitated for a long moment. "I hesitate to call it a plus." "Uh-huh," Juice said, nodding. Ditto exhaled. "But it’s not nothing, and it's definitely not a minus, I'll say that." “Now, my question is, could a whole ghost fit inside of a dildo?” Juice asked. “Like, I recognize that it’s intangible and whatever, but could the entire spirit of a pony -- or, as Ditto so astutely pointed out, any other creature -- fit fully inside of such a small space?” "A breezie?" Ditto suggested. "Them's some tiny boys. You could fit two or three of them in a sex toy, I bet." “Well… there are two alternatives to possessing it,” Scraps said. “One, it’s just holding the ding-dang thing aloft with its spiritual might.” “Can’t imagine that would satisfy the ghost,” Juice noted. “Two, it’s just the ghost’s own dick inside of there.” “Option three,” Ditto said. “Full-body possession item. A dress form or something, wearing a strap-on.” “Interesting,” Juice said. “Also, if I may say, very upsetting mental image.” “I do not like the way this discussion is going,” Scraps said. Ditto nodded. “Yeah, I hate this. Let’s… let’s shift gears here.” “If you were gonna have sex with a ghost, whose ghost would you choose?” Juice asked. Silence reigned. “Hey, Juice? Hey, Juice? What the FUCK?” Ditto asked. “Listen," Juice said, struggling not to laugh. "I’m just saying--” “You were just saying that there would be a scenario in which you would fuck a ghost,” Scraps said. Juice pursed his lips. “Well. No, I wouldn’t really, 'cause I don’t wanna -- I wouldn't cheat on my wife, not even if it was a really hot ghost." "Couldn't be that hot," Ditto said. "You said it yourself, chill of the grave--" "Chill of the grave extinguishes only non-metaphorical flames," Juice said firmly. "Anyway. We’ve entered into a theoretical plane, now.” “Well, yeah,” Scraps said. “I mean, any ghost-fucking is theoretical.” “The Yahooves Answer Service begs to differ,” Ditto replied, arching an eyebrow. “True.” “So, uh… I don’t wanna push on those answers or nothin’...” Juice began. “Oh, no. You started this train, you answer first,” Ditto said firmly, crossing his hooves over his chest. “Shit,” Juice muttered. He considered for several long seconds. “Uh… Marelin Monroe.” “Booo, that's a cop-out,” Scraps said, shaking his head. “It’s a valid answer, and I’m sticking to it," Juice said, leaning on the table. "How about you, clever-hooves?” “Um…" Scraps scratched his beard. "Spear Shaker, the bard himself.” “Is it because of the name?” Ditto asked. “No, I just feel like, y’know, he wrote Ponyo and Muliet and all those other romances, I bet he’d have some great pillow talk. Sometimes you just feel cute and you want to have a sonnet composed about you, I dunno.” “What about you, Ditto? What ghost would you--” “Slimer.” There was a long, heavy silence. “One of us had to say it!” Ditto said, when the horrified stares of his brothers became to heavy to bear. “Any other answer would be audio poison! One of us had to say it, and neither of you two cowards were willing to --” “None of us had to say it,” Juice said, head buried in his hooves. “Does -- does Slimer even have like… equipment? Does he have genitals? I won’t even speculate on what kind of genitals they might be at this stage, because we’re already going deep into the darkness right now.” “He’s just a big blob of… Slimer!” Scraps said. “Is Slimer even a ‘he’?” Ditto asked. “Like, there was never a scene where he introduced himself. The Ghostbuckers don’t know his real name, let alone his pronouns.” “Ghostbuckers 3 had that thing with Slimer and the lady Slimer,” Juice said thoughtfully. “Gender presentation and gender identity aren’t the same thing, though,” Scraps said. “And Slimer doesn’t really present as anything except, um. Ectoplasm.” "It doesn't matter, anyway, we're just worried about the Slimer genitals right now," Ditto pointed out. Scraps gasped in mock horror. "You mean you're not interested in getting to know Slimer as a person? For shame, Ditto! You're only interested in his Slimer slime? His Ecto-juices, if you will?" "...I won't, actually," Ditto said. “I… I super will not, wasn’t that like, an actual drink back when we were colts? That green soda or whatever?” “You’re thinking of -- it's actual name was the 'Ecto-Cooler',” Juice said thoughtfully. “Not that it matters, since now that you’ve put it in that context, I’ll never be able to drink it, or even look at it, ever again.” “We may have to go on a mission to find and destroy the world’s remaining stock of Ecto-Cooler,” Ditto said solemnly. There was a long silence. “I… I think we need to move on,” Scraps said. “Desperately,” Juice agreed.
Wisteria Bloom“Okay, Juice,” Ditto said. “Hit us with another question.” “Sure thing, Ditto,” Juice said, looking his brother dead in the eye. “I’d love that. That sounds like a great idea.” “...Okay,” Ditto said, a note of caution in his voice. “So then --” “BOOP-OOP-A-BOOP-A-BOOP-A-DOOP-OOP-BOOP-A-DOOP!” Juice called out, pulling out a magazine from under the desk. “No,” Ditto said. “No, just fucking no. Not after the question we just had.” “It does seem in pretty poor taste,” Scraps agreed. “Poor taste, nothing, I’m just so fuckin’ done with ghosts right now!” Ditto said. “This just in! Hot off the presses, straight from the eBray trade papers,” Juice said, waving the magazine in the air. “That’s right, ladies and gentlemen, what we have here is a Haunted Doll Watch!” Ditto leaned back in his chair. “Mmkay, fine, hit me.” “Okay,” Juice said. “Ahem, hem. HAUNTED DOLL WISTERIA BLOOM PARANORMAL ACTIVITY - MYSTERIOUS NOISES - GLOWING ORBS.” “Hell yeah,” Scraps said, nodding. “Get those orbs in there.” “AUTHENTIC! ANTIQUE! HAUNTED! Condition: Good" “Now, uh,” Juice said, holding up a hoof. “I wanna make clear here exactly how incorrect that last statement is real quick.” He slid the magazine onto the table in front of his brothers. Scraps and Ditto leaned in, then immediately recoiled. “Oh sweet Celestia!” Scraps said. “I mean -- um. Fuck. That doll is fucked.” “Are those burn marks?” Ditto asked. “Is that what happened to its mane?” “Very perceptive of you, Ditto,” Juice said, picking up the magazine once more. “Let’s see. “Today, I am pleased to introduce you to Wisteria Bloom, the powerful spirit of an ancient earth pony mage, who bound herself to this vessel after her death with potent necromantic Magyck. “To be clear,” Juice interrupted himself. “That is ‘magic’ spelled with a ‘y’ and an extra ‘k’, so you know shit is serious.” “Why do ponies spell it like that?” Scraps wondered. “Like, is it just to emphasize the power of it? Unicorns do magic all the time, but magyck? That shit’s out of your league, bud.” “It’s like the misspelling increased the power,” Ditto said thoughtfully. “‘Magyck’ is more powerful than ‘Magick’ without a ‘y’, which is more powerful than plain ol’ ‘magic’. But ‘majyck’? With a ‘j’, a ‘y’, and a ‘k’? Blows all that other shit right out of the water.” “It’s like ‘thicc,” Juice said. Before either of his brothers could fully react to that, he hurried on. “Wisteria is a practitioner of White Magyck, an inherently creative form of spellcasting, and she is ready to show you her power.” “This doll is fuckin’ ripped,” Ditto interjected. “Check out her sweet, thicc, magyck muscles,” Scraps said, grinning broadly. “Because of Wisteria’s great strength --” Ditto interrupted, eyes wide. “Holy shit, is this ghost doll actually ripped? Has she got, like, abs and pecs?” “She could bench your scrawny flank like a toothpick,” Juice said. “Alright, alright, it goes on for a little like that, let me see… Okay, here. “I first encountered Wisteria while doing an urban exploration of a two-century-old tenement in Lawndon, now closed to the public.” “And urban exploration is…” Scraps asked. “Breaking and entering, but you brag about it to your friends,” Ditto explained. “You go into old abandoned buildings and snoop around,” Juice said. “Probably the easiest way to get like, supernaturally fucked up. “She was sitting in a room that, judging by the size of the bed, I would guess belonged to a child. The doll itself lay in a corner, undisturbed by the passage of time. I touched it, and immediately knew that there was a powerful presence in this vessel. I put it in my satchel and departed to consult with the spirit realm.” “So, you broke into a kid’s room and stole their dolly,” Ditto said. “Wow. Okay.” “Through the use of seances, I was able to discover that the spirit’s name is Wisteria Bloom, and that she was a powerful earth pony mage. Time does not pass the same way in the spirit realm, and so I cannot be sure how long ago she lived. However, I would estimate from certain things she has mentioned that she lived prior to the unification of the three pony tribes. “And, uh, attached we have this picture of the doll with a Ouija board and an EMF meter,” Juice said, sliding the picture to his brothers. “Hey, Juice? How do you know what an EMF meter looks like?” Scraps asked. “Well, it’s mostly ‘cause of this next sentence here,” Juice said, tapping the page for emphasis as he read, “The Ouija board and EMF meter ARE NOT INCLUDED IN THIS SALE!!!!” Scraps and Ditto both burst into laughter. “Yeah,” Ditto said. “Yeah, that -- that’s fair.” “Wisteria is a powerful user of White Magyck, an inherently creative force that can help you to achieve your goals and dreams. She is an incredibly active spirit. She manifests herself in shining purple orbs, and you may hear her running around the house at night --” “Excuse me?” Ditto squawked. “Uh, no? No, I don’t think this one’s gonna do it for me. Imagine, imagine trying to drift off to dreamland when you hear these little fucking porcelain hooves skittering and clicking on your floor. I think the fuck not.” “Well, hold on,” Juice said, holding up a hoof. “That’s the downside, for sure, but wait until you hear the bennies.” “...Mmkay,” Ditto said, doubtful. “Wisteria is a practitioner of Wish Magyck, the magical practice of wish-granting. To make use of this power, simply burn an offering, such as incense, money, or alcohol, before the doll and meditate on your desire. Larger wishes require larger offerings.” “Okay,” Ditto said. “Now, let me tell you what I find buckwild about that. It doesn’t give you any idea of what the exchange rate is. Do I need to burn a whole bottle of bourbon to get that big promotion at work? How many sticks of incense do I gotta fry for my wallet to magically turn up?” “Trial and error, I guess,” Juice said. “Uh, oh, there’s some conditions to purchase. First, “Wisteria is a spirit of White Magyck, and as such, I would like her to go to a home with good intentions or a fellow practicer of White Magick. I do not judge those that seek to practice Black Magick, and neither does Wisteria.” “It seems like you kinda do, though,” Scraps said. “It seems like you’re kinda saying, ‘I don’t discriminate, but if you practice Black Magyck, I’m not selling you this doll, fuck you’.” “Yeah, it’s a shame,” Juice agreed. “Also, “This is not a doll for the faint of heart! Buyers must be eighteen years or older to purchase.” Scraps pursed his lips. “Eighteen years or older.” “That is indeed what this listing states,” Juice said. “...So…” Ditto trailed off. “Maybe… maybe the doll is down to clown?” “I can’t speak to that, you would have to ask Wisteria yourself,” Juice said casually. “Although, as the seller mentions once again in this next paragraph, "The Ouija board and EMF meter ARE NOT INCLUDED IN THIS SALE!!!!” So you’d have to figure out your own way of communicating with her.” “That’s important in any relationship,” Scraps said, nodding sagely. “God, just imagine those horny, horny ghost messages, though,” Ditto said. “‘I’m a freak in the sheets, and I’m always in a sheet’.” “‘Bustin’ makes me feel good’,” Scraps added. Ditto rested his chin on a hoof. “If she’s staying around you and doing you favors because you like, pay her, does that make her your sugar baby?” “Objectively, yes,” Juice said. “It’s weird, because she’s centuries older than you.” “It’s also weird because, you know, she’s a doll and not real,” Scraps pointed out. Juice cleared his throat again. “Alright, now we get into the boring part.” He breathed in, then started to read aloud rapidly. “EBray rules insist that I state that this is for entertainment purposes only, you are buying a tangible doll. The seller cannot guarantee that any supernatural events will or will not happen in association with the doll, and is not responsible for the actions taken by this doll once it is in your hooves. You must be 18 years or older to purchase.” “That’s the worst part of this segment,” Scraps said. “Really pulls the rug out from under our hooves.” “Can I say, though? That thing about not being responsible for the actions of the doll undercuts the undercutting,” Ditto said. “Like, I don’t think eBray is especially psyched to see you say, ‘Hey, this ghost doll may or may not be real! I’m not saying which! But I can’t be responsible for her behavior!’ I don’t think that’s what they want in the disclaimer.” “How much is she selling for, Juice?” Scraps asked. “Uhh, looks like a hundred and thirty bits,” Juice replied. “But with, y’know, free shipping.” “Oh, yeah, great,” Ditto said. “Just sell this magic, wish-granting ghost doll instead of wishing for, you know, a million bits.” “But you have to pay for your wishes, Ditto,” Scraps pointed out. “Maybe the cost of a wish for a million bits is itself a million bits.” “Well that’s pretty fuckin’ pointless, isn’t it?” Ditto asked. “Hey, Wisteria, here’s my offering of five bits, I wish I had a hayburger.” “It’s like DoorDash but for haunted dolls,” Juice said. “DollDash,” Scraps said, nodding. “Well, anyway, if you want to keep your haunted, spectral sugar baby doll around, you know what you’re gonna need?” Juice asked. “... Ghost traps?” Scraps tried. “Yes, which you’ll need to buy with money. Let’s go to that Money Zone.”
