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"So you're telling me you wore some mystical necklace that gave you powers beyond your wildest dreams and turn you evil?"

Trixie nodded. "Yes. Trixie obviously saw through Twilight Sparkle's plot and just was..." she waved a hoof. "Too lenient. And she isn't evil anymore. She is not wearing the Alicorn Amulet."

Vinyl Scratch snorted at the word 'plot'. "Really? What did it look like, the plot?"

"It was rather complicated, if you ask Trixie. Why do you ask her?" Trixie asked, puzzled by the immature mare.

Vinyl rubbed her forehead. "You don't get it, do you?" she started laughing in disbelief when Trixie shook her head.

"Why do you laugh at her? Stop this at once!" Trixie barked.

"Trixie, a plot is an as- posterior. When a stallion's talking about how they stay with their marefriend for the plot, it means-" she stopped midspeech. "I can't believe I'm having this talk with you," she muttered. She cleared her throat. "Well, let's just leave that conversation at that. So... how 'bout them Piggers?" She swung an arm to emphasize.

"The Great and Powerful Trixie does not have time for such foolishness such as hoofball."

"That creepy guy who followed you liked the Piggers."

"Who? Oh right, that Sethisto fellow was a... slightly unorthodox fan," Trixie admitted. "I- She supposes that his newspaper photographs were a bit startling."

"Trix, the restraining order was the right thing to do." Vinyl reassured her. Her eyes wandered to the clock over the mantle. "Gak, I'm late!" she leaped up from her lounging position on the pleather recliner. She wrapped her 'wicked cool shades' in a magical aura and donned them over her crimson eyes. "Later, Trixie! Don't invite strange stallions in without me!" she called and slammed the door behind her.

Trixie sighed. This had been the fifth time she had told her roommate about the Alicorn Amulet and somehow she always forgot. Every. Celestia-blessed. Time. At least now she got some peace and quiet now that the loud disk jockey had left. She never had gotten what that mare had seen in her 'wubs' and 'bass drops'. But under her alias, DJ P0N-3 had become a sensation in nightclubs across Canterlot. When she cranked up the 'wubstep' or whatever she called it, young ponies cheered and converged in masses before her almighty speakers. She was a god, ready to smite the unworthy with her bass cannon. Something Trixie had longed her entire life for, only to have it stripped away by her roommate and best friend. It cut her deeply when Vinyl came home, electric and alive with the night's story. Whether it was a massive bust for underage drinking or a fight had broken out among the ranks of the dancing, Trixie wilted a little more inside. When Vinyl asked her what she did that day, Trixie would always reply the same thing: earned some tips in the Canterlot Plaza. Ate some salad. Vinyl would just shrug and say 'That's cool' and go back to fixing whatever snack food was for breakfast that day.

Thinking of this, Trixie suddenly became very tired. Sleep could block the rogue thoughts out and hopefully revive her sense of purpose. Yes, closing her eyes was very appetizing right now. Trixie just had to write the day's event in her journal before the fatigue overcame her.

She lit her horn and it took on a lavender hue as it called over a quill and her notebook.

3/14

Trixie performed the mustache spell on a bald stallion today. One appeared, but upon seeing it gray, he demanded his money back. "You can't change age," she said boldly and totally not cowering on the ground. He raised a hoof as if to hit her when a green pegasus rushed to his side, urging him to not hurt Trixie; a pretty face like his can't go to prison. He brightened up.

"I was just messing with... an old friend. Yeah, ain't that right, Shimmer?

'Shimmer' nodded curtly and the pair walked away, apparently chatting. Trixie was relieved that the brute had left.

She told Vinyl about the Amulet again at night. Vinyl had to leave for her DJing. I wonder if I Trixie will be adored like that one day.

So tired.

Trixie thinks she might be under the weather a bit. Magicae Influenza had been going around lately.

So tired. Trixie thinks she might sleep now.

Trixie set the quill down on the stained coffee table. She couldn't keep her eyes focused on the words anymore, every time she would try, they would swim back out the opposite way. Trixie sighed and returned the journal to the bookshelf and the quill to the junk drawer. She contemplated going to her bedroom three doors down the hall, but decided against it. So tired... yes, the couch looked nice. All she needs is the fleece blanket and it'll be fine. It'll all be okay.

All be okay.

Those three words sent chills down her spine and temporarily chased to drowsiness away as a pale yellow face flashed, unbidden, into her mind. Get out! Trixie thought viciously and recalled a song by an earth pony named Octavia composed. I can't see you! She hummed the song loudly until the face was completely tuned out. Yes, finally she's gone. Her eyes drooped and she literally sagged beneath the weight of fatigue crashing down upon her, stronger than before. The couch was starting to look like a cloud in terms of comfort. Trixie made it over and collapsed face first into the cushion. With a small inkling of magic, she tugged the blanket down on herself. She heard a loud voice talking outside the apartment.

The last thought Trixie had before succumbing was, That's unusual. Maybe Vinyl came home early-?

Pain. All was pain.

It should fade soon. The bliss of contentment.

Hurts. Back. Piercing.

So beautiful. Do I get to touch?

Ow! Hurts worse.

Never ending agony.

Mind foggy... did I have a horn? No... Yes, I have a horn...

Hurt fading. Forelegs... back hooves... was something between?

No, not possible...

Eyes itch. Something in them, perhaps?

Sides tickle. Is Vinyl back?

It's all coming back.

Stay away! I don't want to remember. I don't want to. I don't want...

Trixie woke as the sun started shining through slats in the blinds. She groaned. Can't Princess Celestia lower the sun for, oh she wouldn't know, six hours?

"Morning sunshine," Vinyl greeted her.

"Go away," Trixie grumbled. "Trixie thought you were supposed to be sleeping in and she be the early bird."

"Who, me?" Vinyl acted mortified. "Why would I do that? I'm the Great and Powerful DEEEJAAAAAAAYYY!" She reared up on her hind legs, managing to stay upright for a few seconds before falling to all fours again.

"That's just rude. She wants to know if you have toast ready."

"I can put some in now, if you want. You sound like you had a rough night." Vinyl said. "Sleep much?"

"Trixie wouldn't know. She still feels tired, since somepony left the curtains open." Trixie gestured wildly to the window.

Vinyl whistled, long and low. "You must've been hammered."

"Vinyl!"

"Heh heh, I know which buttons to press, miss Great and Powerful." a popping noise was heard from the kitchen. "Toast's done."

Trixie grunted a few times to simulate effort. "It's no use... Trixie is stuck. You must bring the toast to Trixie. Lightly buttered, please."

A few moments silence and a few more of scraping and Vinyl came into the living room levitating two pieces of buttered toast on a paper plate. "As you wish, milady." she said sarcastically.

Trixie sat up and leaned forward eagerly, anticipating the delicious buttery crunch and spray of crumbs. Her waitress however, stood slack jawed.

"What is it?" Trixie asked.

Vinyl lifted one quivering hoof at her.

"Does she have a wart or acne?" Trixie asked, dread in the pit of her stomach. Cosmetic problems were the worst for showmares; psychics are the performers that are supposed to be sub-par in the beauty department. Trixie was not a vain pony, but wanted to be presentable for business.

Vinyl ever so slightly shook her head. She pointed, this time more accurately, to her back.

"Will you-" Trixie began irritably. Then she looked at her back. She was speechless for a moment. Then she found words. "Well, that puts me in a pickle."

Settled on her back were two blue wings.