Two years ago, the FimFic world was taken by storm with the second installment of The Wizard of Whitetail Woods which, confoundingly, was numbered 3. [Editor’s note: don’t ask about how the third installment was numbered; it's completely irrational.] Some people thought the author couldn’t count,* while others were convinced that somewhere there must exist a Wizard of Whitetail Woods 2 and were willing to go to whatever lengths required to find it.

Thus, defying all good sense, an effort was made to comb through stacks of rough drafts, dog-eared notebooks, and wherever else such a story might be found. Several pre-readers were contacted, none of whom would admit to having ever heard of the author or the story.

Admiral Biscuit is well known for never writing outlines, which made the researcher’s task of piecing together all the found fragments into ~~a cohesive narrative~~ chapters difficult.

The first chapter, presented here, was found on the garage floor, being used to soak up oil from a 1983 Chevy S-10 Durango**.

_________________________________
*The chapter numbering scheme implies that the not only can the author not count, he is also unaware of the difference between numbers, letters, and symbols. We can only imagine what other horrors an unfound story might harbor.

**Yes, Chevy really had a Durango trimline on the S-10s. Deal with it.

The Wizard of Whitetail Woods II
Chapter 1—Enter the Doctor, Which Doctor?
Admiral Biscuit

The Mareiott was a well-appointed hotel, especially for a hotel built on the edge of Whitetail Woods. One of the amenities, one which the Wizard immediately made use of, was the medical room service.

Instead of having one of those fancy-restaurant-menu-leatherette-folders with a list of services on it, the room instead had a stack of pre-filled-out cards with a room number and a service required. The top card listed ‘doctor,’ and the one below it listed ‘sexy doctor.’

Under that was ‘tacos’.

Any reasonable person or pony would have immediately selected one of the ‘doctor’ cards and stuck it into the pneumatic tube [ponies hadn’t invented telephones]; the Wizard instead reached into KitKat’s saddlebags and got out one of his spellbooks, intending to retire to the bathroom to enjoy his erection which had lasted more than four hours.

KitKat, at least, was a reasonable pony. She grabbed the ‘doctor’ card and stuck it in the cylindrical container, and then put in the ‘tacos’ card as well, because she was hungry. Before the Wizard could protest, she slammed the button on the capsule pipeline, and the cylindrical capsule (with cards) zipped off to wherever.

The Wizard zipped off to the bathroom.

(In hindsight, it wouldn’t be entirely true to say that the wizard was the one who made use of the pneumatic doctor summoning system, but he was the one who benefitted from it, so. . . .)

Five minutes later (the system was very efficient), the cylindrical capsule returned with a taco in it. Also five minutes later, there was a knock at the door (the doctor was very efficient), and also five minutes later, the Wizard was finished arguing with Henry Longfellow.

The doctor was wearing a stethoscope and carrying a medical bag in her teeth. She had booties on all four hooves ‘for your protection’ and a perpetual scowl—her sense of humor had been shot off in the war. “I’m Doctor Spotsen Dots.”

KitKat had a taco in her mouth (which had been wrapped for her protection, and to keep taco filling out of the cylindrical capsule). She opened the bathroom door, pointed to the wizard, and muttered through a mouthful of lettuce, refried beans, sour cream, cheese, tortilla, and taco, “That’s the problem.”

“Uh.” Dr. Dots looked him up and down, then lowered her voice. “I think you’d find a pest removal service more of what you’re looking for. I can’t just murder him, I took a hippocratic oath.”

“You’re not supposed to murder him. He got bit by a Brazilian Wandering Spider.”

“Oh, I see.” She glanced at the afflicted member. “Are you sure? They normally cause priapism in males . . . he is male, isn’t he?”

“It’s even less impressive when it’s flaccid,” Kitkat informed her. Kitkat normally would have used a slang term for the current condition and circumstances of Wizard’s jade stalk, but she was talking to a medical professional and should use professional terms.

“I can hear you, you know.”

“Yeah, whatever.” The doctor pulled a pair of half-spectacles out of her medical bag and propped them on her nose. “You want me to fix your pingas, or you want to wait until it falls off?” The doctor was a doctor, and any slang she used was, by default, medical in nature.

The next thing she pulled out of her medical bag was a needle that might have been at home injecting ketamine into horses from the next stall over. She stepped into the bathroom as the Wizard cowered back but there was nowhere to go. He slipped and fell into the bathtub, and as the doctor descended over him, he managed to mutter out, “Do you even have a medical degree?”

“I left it in the pocket of my other pair of pants,” she replied, and brought the needle down.

💉💉💉

To his good fortune, as soon as the doctor stuck her needle into the wizard’s corpus cavernosum, he passed out. He didn’t see as she removed all the ischemic blood, which was the consistency of

•••

“Why do doctors compare everything to food?” KitKat asked.

The doctor shrugged. “Ease of communication, I guess. Or else I’m hungry.”

“You want a taco?” She tilted her head to the PTTTM system. “Room’s paid for with the Wizard’s credit card. It’s a business expense, so he can write it off on his taxes.”

“Might as well.” Dr. Spotsen stripped off her booties and replaced them with fresh booties. “Tell him to inspect his cauda frequently, and if any unexplained swelling or discharge occurs, he should seek further medical care.”

“I don’t think he’ll have any trouble remembering to run his hands all over it.” KitKat sighed. “Well, if I’ve learned nothing so far from this misadventure, I’ve learned to never sign a NDA from a wizard in a bar.”

“Why’s that?”

“I can’t tell you.”

Author's Note

I hate to tell y’all, but more chapters might be found. Don’t be lulled into a sunk cost fallacy; you still have time to escape.