Episode 18: Dr. Whooves on the Daily Show

It was uncertain why, out of no where, the name “Dr. Whooves” would seem like an odd sounding name to Jon, especially since he had heard it a few times already. Maybe it was because he had time to let it set in, or because he was now thinking more clearly, or maybe the fact that it decided to register now was by complete coincidence. For whatever reason one thing was for sure; it being that the way Time Turner referred to himself as the doctor caused Jon to stop and reevaluate the situation.

“Wait, wait, wait a minute,” Jon protested. “Your name is Dr. Whooves?”

Like a computer rebooting itself, his brain began to adjust to this new development and process it accordingly, section by section. Everything he learned about this mysterious pony was now being cross-referenced with his expert knowledge of television; his prefered medium.

“Yes... I was under the impression that this too had already been established?” Whooves answered.

Much like how the evidence of his potentially not being a doctor led Jon to believe he was a con-man, there was now new evidence to be considered; evidence that was implying he was something so much more than anything he could have possibly imagined.

“So you’re telling me that this... all of this: You being a timekeeper, the outfit, the accent, the name Time Turner and now Dr. Whooves... all of this is just by chance here?” Jon asked.

For a split second the smile on Whooves’ face almost vanished as it arched at a crooked angle in response to him tilting his head. As to be expected, this seemingly random series of questions appeared to be unwarranted and without a point, leaving him understandably confused.

“I’m afraid... I don’t know what you’re getting at here,” Whooves admitted as he gave him an odd look like he was speculating whether or not he was losing his mind; something which given what he’d been through he was fully ready to consider. Not helping at all, Jon threw his arms in the air and arched his back like was begging Scotty to beam him up.

“AAAAAAAAARGH!” Jon moaned, slamming both his palms over his face in apparent frustration. “This world!”

Were anyone else in the same position as the Earthpony doctor they would have made the next logical step by asking if he was alright; Whooves instead saw this as an opportunity to try and sample some of Coatcheck’s excellent food. So, while Jon was busy experimenting with how long he could hold his position, the dapper young Earthpony leaned forward and helped himself to some of Jon’s garlic bread which he dipped into the eggplant spread.

Throwing himself back to a more dignified sitting position, Jon opened his eyes just in time to see Whooves toss the perfectly baked bread into his mouth. He was still in a state of disbelief, though it was hard to notice past his tired and sunken face. Placing his elbow on the table, Jon just silently observed Whooves who in turn continued to drink his tea. Again, were it anyone else this would have felt awkward, but to the brown Earthpony he didn’t mind.

“So... again just so I’m clear... your name is Dr. Whooves,” Jon finally said.

“Let me check,” Whooves rebutted as he stopped to make pretend he was thinking. “Yes, yes it is.”

Leaning to the side of the table, Jon began to examine his Cutie Mark as he had already forgotten what it was. Even with Whooves’ sports jacket on he could clearly see it was an hourglass, thus adding to his speculation.

In an act that was usually set aside for monkeys, the doctor decided to mimic Jon by leaning to the side to stare at him in the same manner. Their eyes locked with Jon’s being tired but observant and the doctor’s being whimsical out of slight amusement. So many things still left to be discussed, but Jon wanted to be absolutely sure of the basics first.

“So, just to be sure... your name is... Dr. Whooves!” Jon repeated with selected emphasis. Getting up, he leaned in close, his tie now resting atop his sandwich. “Doctor Who....ves.”

“Again, you are correct Jonathan Stu... art,” he answered.

With the way Jon fell back on his seat with a sigh, looking absolutely demoralized, one might assume he had lost a bet or was just told his favorite show had been cancelled. But no, he was just surprised, surprised by the amount of insanity he had to deal with whenever he visited this world.

With nothing else left to say the conversation again shifted to silence, this being the apex of awkwardness for anyone watching. With Jon in deep thought, and Whooves sipping away at his tea, neither dared to make the next move, least of all Whooves who was amused by Jon’s sudden bout of confusion, believing that there was a good chance he was going insane.

“Alright... Whooves, can I ask you something?” Jon said, breaking the silence.

“If it’s about my name the answer is still the same,” he answered. “You um... might want to write that down.”

“No, no, it’s not that, it’s...” Jon paused as he realized the absurdity of what he was about to ask. “Okay, fair warning, what I’m about to ask you is going to sound completely left-field.”

“Oooo, well color me interested,” Whooves said with giddy anticipation, as he was still under the whimsical impression that Jon believed him to be a fake. “Go on then Jonathan, ask of me whatever you’d like! I am an open book... the kind with the really nice hardback covers and attached bookmark.”

Whether or not he was actually excited about this was irrelevant. As much as he knew that what he was about to ask was damn near impossible he couldn't ignore all the telltale signs, doing so would go against his philosophy.

“Alright then... Dr. Whooves... this may be the alcohol talking but do you,” Jon said, pausing to see if his guest was paying attention while he took a long sip of his tea. “... do you have a blue tardis that’s actually a time machine?”

As if the question itself was a bomb going off, everyone in the restaurant now had their attention on the table Jon and Whooves were occupying. They couldn't hear what he had asked but the absurdity of it would have been enough to warrant their attention. The reason why all eyes were on them was because, upon being asked if he was a time traveler, Whooves had dropped his cup of tea on the ground where it shattered into pieces against a sharp rock.

For the first time since his arrival Whooves’ ever changing yet still present smile disappeared and gave way to a look of infinite surprise. His mouth dropped and struggled to form sentences, his eyes now wide like an owl having seen daylight for the first time, and his body was trembling like he was in great pain, which someone might’ve thought by how desperately he was trying to catch his breath.

Coatcheck, who had by now popped his head from the kitchen to investigate, noticed his good friend looking as helpless as he was terrified. He thought about exiting his house to see if he was alright but his plan was cut short by Whooves finally breaking free from his paralysis in the form of slowly raising his hoof to point at Jon.

“H-h-ho-h-ho-h-how do you know ab-about that!?” he demanded to know. His voice wavered in shock like he was being electrocuted and his hoof shook like he was freezing, giving him very little right to be demanding anything. His face changed now to fear as a startling realization came over him. “Y-y-you... you’re from.... who sent you!? I don’t-- but how... how is this possible!? I was the only one who... this can’t be real! This can’t... this-- HOW DID YOU FIND ME!?”

“Whoa! Okay, you need to calm down!” Jon begged. Whooves was now standing with a look of terror on his face, yelling and pointing his hoof at the human; making it impossible to garner any more attention than he already was. “Listen, I was just asking cause--”

“Are you with them!?” Whooves asked while slowly walking away and looking in all directions like he was surrounded, still trying to make sense of what was happening as another realization came to him. “Did Twilight send you!? I’m not going back! I’M NEVER GOING BACK AND YOU CAN’T MAKE ME!”

The sound of whispering could be heard all throughout the restaurant; for once it wasn’t because of Jon. Whooves now stood a few feet away from Jon like he was contemplating running away, with a face that couldn't decide if it was surprised, scared, or angry. Standing up himself, Jon tried to see if he could calm him down but in practice it just made him more nervous.

“Stay back!” Whooves ordered in an attempted firm tone that was still laced with fear. “Get any closer and I’ll... I’ll...”

For some reason he began to alternate between looking over his shoulder at a nearby house and at his satchel which was still left by the table. Jon could only imagine what was going through his mind but it must have been something of great importance since he quickly and without warning dove at the table and grabbed his bag.

Without any more words he turned around and tried to run away as far from Jon as quickly as possible. Though this action proved to be impossible since Jon had preempted this attempted fleeing by grabbing on the other side of his shoulder bag.

“Wait!” Jon pleaded, refusing to let go. “J-just wait a second would ya.”

“Let go!” Whooves demanded. “I swear if you don’t let go of me I will--”

“Will ya just listen to me for a second!” Jon interrupted so loudly that Coatcheck reevaluated his plan to intervene. “I know what you’re feeling right now... you’re confused, scared, and unsure about what’s going on... trust me I’ve been through this before, I’ve felt the same way since I discovered this world.”

Hearing this seemed to have resonated within Whooves since he was no longer playing tug-of-war with his own bag but instead resigned himself to standing perfectly still, at least for the time being. Jon’s earnestness was enough to show the Earthpony that he was willing to take this nice and slow.

"You must believe me." Jon assured him with an authoritative yet comforting tone. "I'm not here to hurt you."

To demonstrate this and his willingness to cooperate himself, Jon released his grip from Whooves’ bag and took a step back. Now that the initial shock had evaporated and common sense now in control he realized that Jon was speaking the truth. He meant Whooves no harm and even if he did now that he had his bag back he was in no real danger. Despite not knowing him personally he could now tell that Jon was no enemy of his.

But the question still remained.

“How... how do you know... about me?” Whooves asked.

“Please,” Jon said as he motioned for him to sit back down. “Allow me to explain.”