The Adventures of Nick the Knife and Steven Magnet

Prologue

Hello. My name is Nick, Nick the Knife; also known as sir Knifely the sharp. Once I was a normal knife like everyknife else. Until one faithful day.
But let’s just start at the beginning.

I was born in the forge of the royal Canterlot Blacksmith, with Tartarus like temperatures surrounding my eternal being. I was one of the best and finest knifes the blacksmith ever made and because of this received a sandalwood handle. If this wasn’t good enough, I was brought to princess Celestia as her own personal knife.
I felt so honored.

It was year seven BL [(Before Luna) No, not before she was born, but before she came back from her thousand year banishment on the moon!] when I got my title as sir Knifely the sharp.

Princess Celestia discovered a new student to teach about a year ago and brought her to dinner for the first time. Her name was Twilight Sparkle, a little unicorn filly.
She adored me the moment she saw me lying on the table, polished like a fine dagger. Celestia saw this and decided to loosen the tension in the room by giving me my official name sir Knifely the sharp and what can I say? It worked. Twilight, formerly salt column, began to giggle and lost all the tension that was in her body moments before.

It was a good time. Apparently the best time of my short life. Unfortunately it was over soon.

Hardly two years after I received my title I was knifenapped.

I really don’t hold anything against the knifenapper. Sure. At first I was furious and if I could, would have stabbed him, but I soon found out that he had debts with some griffon Mafioso and had to knifenap me, so they wouldn’t burn down his house, with his wife and his two little girls still inside. Because of this I swore to myself to never ever play poker.

For the next three years I suffered under the horrible food of an old griffon mafia boss.
Finally, after so many forked up years of suffering, the old mafia boss died. I thought he was stinking when he was alive. Whoa! It was like nothing compared to the gases leaving him when he was dead.
For my stomachs sake I’ll leave out the exact odor of his dead body.

Fortunately for me, his son was killed a few weeks ago (Must have helped the old fart to finally pass away.), so his grandson was taking over. He couldn’t use most of the stuff from the old fart and sold most of it to anyone who was interested.
I was brought by a scarred bartender pony, who worked in the bar ‘The Drinking Colt’ (Best name ever I know.). He was a grump and rough to no extend, but it was far better than that old griffon. Eeeew! Never want to think of him again. The memory is still sending shivers down my handle.

The bar was run by a, always drunk, pony, who cared for nothing in the world as long as there was enough booze around to drink. Guess what? That idiot of an owner ruined himself in two years flat. Two years! Can you believe this? That forktard just drank half of the stuff himself, raging at anypony that would dare to even think about getting between him and his beloved cider.

In the meantime this rough son of a hydra called bar*tender* (Hellooohoooooo!) used me like a butcher knife and managed to break off my precious sandalwood handle. He then replaced it with, believe it or not, a bad fitting ordinary pinewood handle. Pinewood! What in tarnation do I look like? Some stupid old, doesn’t matter what it looks like, kitchen knife?! But wait there is more! Don’t think it’s just over jet. As he glued me to this crappy piece of wood, he covered his hooves in glue too and was glued to the bar with me right next to him. Sometimes I still want to face steel myself for his lack of intelligence. However. After he and I were freed again, that foal did it. He laid me to close to the edge of the bar and I fell off to the ground and beneath the bar. I was sure he would notice that I was gone, but noooooo, he just went on, got another knife from somewhere and left after his shift was over in the morning.
Now to top off his dumbness, He returned the next evening, wondering where I had gone to.

(Note to myself: Rip his balls off someday.)
If I would have had a voice back then, I would have screamed like there was no tomorrow, so that he would have found me. Looking back now, that would have been a stupid idea. Whatever. I was lying under that bar for as long as the bar lasted (Using the same word for a building and some piece of interior. There goes logic.).
It was only for a few months, but man it was boooring.

As soon as the old owner went bankrupt, he sold the bar to somepony else and this one finally had some taste.
The new owner didn’t like the whole style of the bar, so the whole interior was ripped out and, surprise surprise, there I was. The workers brought me out of the building and laid me down on a pile of hay, so I was out of the way. They intended to take me home and use me themselves, but as the new owner visited the construction workers, to see what progress they are making, he found me and in an instant saw the quality of my blade. He took me and gave me a whole makeover. When I was shining again, he decided, that I would be worth to be one of the knifes used in his restaurant / bar, named ‘The Blue Mare’.

For the next five years, there was nothing special going on, except that little incident at princess Luna’s return from her thousand year banishment on the moon as Nightmare Moon, nearly bringing nighttime eternal, only stopped by the bearers of the Elements of Harmony (Twilight is the most powerful of the party. I’m so proud that mare did It.), turned into her old kind self again and getting back together with Celestia again. (What? I’m a knife. This is not that interesting for me at all. Only mentioned it because of Twilight.)

I was treated rather well the time being. I attended several banquets and cut my way through the lives of normal ponies as well as some fancy ones. From time to time I heard some nice gossip about what have been going on lately. You know relationships, crushes, debts to be paid, bla bla bla, uninteresting rubbish, bla bla.

The interesting part began, as I was laid on a table prepared to hear the same old stories again and again. But not this time. I ignored the two mares that were sitting at the table at first, but as the name Twilight fell I was curious to hear from her again. I switched my attention from the oh so interesting pattern of the tablecloth, which suddenly got boring as Tartarus, to the two mares, in order to hear more about her. If I would have had eyes then, they would have popped out instantly. I was not only witnessing a conversation about Twilight, I was witnessing a conversation with Twilight. I was sure that she’d recognize me, but she didn’t.
Ok, I lost my original handle and a bit of my shining attitude, but was I really unrecognizable?
No no no. She was clearly distracted by the mare she was dating.
How I knew? A mare is not fidgeting around and blushing for nothing when she’s with another one and we were in ‘The Blue Mare’ after all.
There is another bar called the same, where fillies are dating other fillies and this place is just slightly different.
Also Twilight tried to cut her mushroom steak-burger with my back, what is not the best way to cut things. I really was a bit ashamed of Twilight there and hoped that she would calm down.

Bad luck never far from me, she didn’t calm down.

Her date was making a move touching her hoof to look if Twilight was all right. That was enough for her to lose concentration and turn me into a rocket, speeding through the room, cutting off a fair amount of her date’s hair, missing an older mare that was seated next to them, flying out of the only real window that was fortunately open, slicing my way through some more manes, half a pair of mutton chops and a mustache, before flying off into the Everfree Forest, still wrapped in Twilight’s magic grip.

It was strange that it didn’t already fade away or brought me back to the restaurant.
However, I was flying through the forest for quite a time now (I wonder why I never got stuck in a tree or something.), when I heard a river coming closer (Ok, it was not the river coming closer but I. Big deal.).
As I was flying out of the woods, I saw a purple sea serpent with styled orange hair and a orange mustache, looking himself all over in a mirror. (That for sure was the most narcissistic sea serpent I ever saw.)
I flew by and cut off the right part of his mustache, before I finally hit a tree and got stuck.