The Incredibly Confusing and Strange Memories of Mister Pancake Oregano Crackpot the Third

by StrongBrush1

Rating: teen
Tags: Slice of Life, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Dark, Other, Comedy
Length: 2972

An inside look at the life and psyche of a very special pegasus.

Pancake Oregano Crackpot III is a strange pony. He is a pegasus who only has one right wing, a glass left eye, and a small room at a home for "special" ponies. What exactly happened? How did Crackpot lose his wing, his eye and his mind? (Heck if I know.)

This fic is based on the "Ask Crackpot" Tumblr by RomanRazor.

EDIT: Featured on Equestria Daily.

Published 2013-02-24 02:50:01 UTC
Last updated 2013-02-24 02:50:01 UTC

The Incredibly Confusing and Strange Memories of Mr. Pancake Oregano Crackpot the Third

Pancake Oregano Crackpot III stared into the mirror. He studied his reflection carefully, all the time being fully aware that it was studying him back. Him and his mirror pony self had been staring at each other for over an hour, and it was clear that neither of them was going to win unless the other one gave up. What would the other one win, or do if he won? The maroon-maned stallion didn’t know, but he was sure it wasn’t good.

Crackpot suddenly realized that there was one way of keeping his mirror self from gaining advantage. He had to block the view of the mirror. He quickly set to work covering up the glass with any and all strips of paper or tape he could find lying around. He could no longer see his mirror self, but he also knew that it could no longer see him. He was safe. For now.

There was a knock at the door. It was time for his morning meal. He was never really a fan of Oatmeal, but he couldn’t really complain. Plus, it matched the color of his coat. He ate it up as quickly as he could and washed it down with his glass of orange juice. Afterwards, he took the pills they gave him and flushed them down the toilet. He had never liked pills. He found that their effects were decidedly un-natural and scary for him to even think about.

Speaking of scary, today was his visit with Doctor Proctor. He wasn’t afraid of the doctor. He was just nervous about what the doctor did. It was like he was being opened up for the world to see. Opening up helped him feel less nervous, but he felt more comfortable staying closed.

Crackpot was escorted to the Doctor’s office by the nurse. He really liked the nurse, but always got the strange feeling that the nurse didn’t like him. She never smiled at him or tried to hold a conversation with him, or even looked at him. She just stared down the hallway and led him into the office, like always.

The one-winged pegasus entered the office and sat across from Doctor Proctor, or “The Doc”, as the more talkative patients called him. Doc was an old donkey, but incredibly knowledgeable. He knew more about the patients in the hospital than any of the staff. There were even rumors floating around that Doc had once been a patient here himself. But everyone knew better than to pry into the Doc’s business.

“Have a seat,” the Doc told Crackpot.

“Thanks Doc.”

The door closed. With his one good eye, Crackpot looked around the room and found it surprisingly empty. He wasn’t sure why the Doctor kept his office so empty all the time. Wasn’t it usually good to have something to hold on to? Unless the Doc was holding on to that single plastic plant (Crackpot knew it was plastic because he had tried to taste it before), he must be pretty lonely.

“So, Mister Crackpot...”

“Just call me Pancake. Or Crackpot. Either one, really.”

“Very well. Now, Pancake, how are you feeling right now?”

“Well doc, truth be told I’m feeling kinda we...” Pancake stopped for a second before opening his mouth again.

Crackpot sneezed and then proceeded to rub his snout. “Are you feeling better now?”

“Yeah, I guess there must be a storm coming tonight or something. My nose acts all funny whenever it starts to rain. And then my left eye starts to itch.”

“Curious. I thought your left eye was a false one.”

“Well, it is, but I still get an itch in there now and again. Maybe I just need to take it out more.” Crackpot reached for his false eye to take it out.

“That’s quite alright.” Pancake put down his arm. He knew when to stop in front of the Doc. “I’m just interested in this predisposition of yours. Do you recall how and when this started happening?”

“I don’t know, I’ve just always had this thing about thunderstorms. I can’t really remember anything too well before I came here.”

“What about after?”

“Well, all I remember is that when I came here, I only had one eye and one wing. I guess that’s what ponies mean when they say I’m special!”

The Doc looked calmly at Crackpot, who as always was fidgeting about in his chair, toying around with his fake eye, and grinning like a maniac. “Do you remember anything about your life before you came here?”

“Well, sometimes I remember it one way, and sometimes I remember it a different way. Sometimes it involves ninja ponies, other times it’s aliens, sometimes it’s just me and my parents... Most of the time it involves swords though.”

“Do you remember your parents well?”

“I don’t even know if I have parents. But, I try not to worry about it too much.”

The Doc never really knew what was going through Crackpot’s mind. There was definitely something unusual about it, but he wasn’t sure what it was. The most he could figure is that whatever had taken his left eye and wing had also damaged his brain and affected his memory. The only problem was, nopony was sure what exactly had happened.

There was no record of a “Crackpot” family in Equestria, or even of Pancake himself before he was found and admitted to the Ponyville General Hospital, unconscious, badly injured and bleeding where his left wing and eye should have respectively been. It was a miracle that Pancake had even survived, let alone been able to stand up straight, walk and talk.

“Can you tell me what you do remember?”

“Well, I can try.” Pancake gathered his thoughts. Remembering things usually took him awhile. “The first thing I remember was a lot of yelling. I don’t remember who was yelling or about what. All I remember was a lot of loud noises. It think it might have been stormy out, but I’m not sure. I just remember that there was a lot of noise, and then it was suddenly quiet. All I remember clearly is my last name... ’Crackpot.’ At least, I think so.”

The Doc pondered this for a moment. Possible traumatic experience, involving parents or caretakers. ”So, Pancake, what do you think it means?”

“I don’t know, Doc. Maybe they were yelling about me? About where I’m supposed to go, what I’m supposed to do or say or wear... Come to think of it, what am I supposed to wear? I know I don’t usually wear anything, but... hm...”

“I think we ought to take a break, Pancake. Is that alright with you?”

“Sure! I think Screwball wants to see me anyway.”

“Maybe we can talk about your friend later.”

“Okay, thanks Doc!” Crackpot trotted out the door, head held high and wing held out.

The Doc just got up and went to his desk to ponder the last meeting. He was usually pretty good at figuring ponies out, but Crackpot was a tough one. With no history, no memory, and no known relations, that one-winged pegasus was a puzzle with way too many missing pieces to truly finish.

Screwball was crouching behind the couch, busy setting up another scheme when Crackpot walked in. “You wanted to see me, Screwball?”

The purple-maned pony looked around to see her good friend Pancake standing behind her. Screwball didn’t know much about Crackpot, but the two had been very close friends ever since she met him in the ward. She greeted him with a hug. “Cracky! You’re just in time. Watch this.” Screwball lifted up a nearby fishing pole and threw a line over, catching the end of the line into a bowl of soup. “I call it spoon fishing!” Screwball reeled in the line, and sure enough, on the end was a spoon.

“That’s neat! So, what are we supposed to do with it?”

“What can’t we do with it?”

Crackpot got an idea. “Give me the spoon.” Screwball lended him the spoon, which he used to help pop out his false eye, before sneaking up and putting them both into the soup. Then, he hid and waited behind the couch with Screwball.

When the nurse came back, she took one look at the eye and screamed, nearly falling over in her chair. The two friends couldn’t help but laugh at their simple, but hilarious prank.

The nurse was not so amused. She walked over to the two troublemakers and threw Crackpot his fake eye back. “I don’t have time to deal with you two right now.” She took her soup and left the room, grumbling all the way.

“I don’t think she likes me,” said Crackpot, putting his fake eye back in.

“What makes you say that?”

“The way she looks at me, it’s like I’m making her go crazy.”

“Isn’t driving someone crazy a good thing, though?

“I guess it’s only if they want to go crazy. What do you think?”

“I think your eye is in the wrong way.” Screwball came up to Pancake and fixed the eye so it looked straight. “That’s better. Now you don’t look so wonky.”

“I can’t really tell the difference. You still look nice either way.”

Screwball smiled at Pancake, and then started to yawn. “I think I’m gonna go take a nap. Later, Cracky.”

“Bye Screwy.” The pink mare with the purple mane walked off to her room. Crackpot didn’t know why, but something about Screwball made him feel happy in an extra special way. He always figured it was just because they were best friends forever.

Pancake still had about an hour and a half to kill, so he decided to go see if his B.B.B.P.O.M.F. (Bestest Best Buddy Pal of Mine Forever) Steel Repose was awake yet. As usual, though, the bat-pony was conserving his energy. Crackpot attempted to wake up the sleeping jet black stallion, but he was as tough to move as he was to beat in a fight.

Ever since Pancake had come to the home, he had heard amazing stories of Steel’s exploits as a royal guard, once capturing the entire “Mares of Diomedes” gang by himself. These days, however, Steel tended to reserve his energy for when he needed it most. Crackpot knew it was only a matter of time before Steel was ready to strike, like a sidewinder sleeping on its back.

Crackpot took a seat next to Steel and started talking. “Hey, Steel, my bestest best buddy! How’s it hanging?”

No response.

“Get it? Hanging? Because you’re a bat-pony?”

Still no answer.

“I guess it wasn’t that funny a joke. So, how’ve you been?”

Steel’s ear twitched a bit.

“I’m feeling good too. I talked to the Doc this morning.”

Silence.

“He was just asking a bunch of questions about my wing and my eye. Something about my mom and dad, I think.”

Stillness.

“I told him I don’t remember stuff too well. I guess I’ve just never thought about it. Although I guess I do wonder why I only have one wing. And the fake eye.”

Nothing.

“I know, it’s pretty neat, isn’t it? At least, I think so.”

Steel tossed in the bed a bit.

“What do you mean?”

More tossing.

“Well, yeah, I mean, of course Screwball likes it. It’s helped us pull off a lot of great tricks. Wait, you don’t mean...?”

Steel shuffled about a bit more.

“Steel! I like her, but... as a friend!”

No response.

“Well, I mean, I guess I’ve thought about it, but... Let’s just change the subject.”

Steel turned away from Pancake.

“Look, I’m sorry if I yelled at you, but...”

Further silence.

“Steel, buddy, don’t do this to me.”

Steel laid down flat on his back.

“It’s okay, I’m sorry too. I shouldn’t have yelled at you. So, we cool?”

Yet more silence.

“Thanks, buddy. I guess I better go talk to the Doc again. See ya.”

Crackpot hopped off of the bed and left Steel alone for a bit.

There was a loud thump at the door of the Doc’s office.

“Come in,” the old donkey said, barely looking up.

Pancake opened the door and went to sit down on the couch.

“Pancake, you do realize that the term 'use your head' is a figure of speech, right?”

“I know. I just like to use my head.”

“Now, I believe we were about to discuss your friend.”

“Which one?”

“The mare, Screwball?”

“Oh, yeah, Screwy! She’s one of my best friends here. I always feel really happy whenever I talk to her. Not like regular happy. I mean like super high octane happy!”

“How long have you two known each other?”

“I don’t know. Maybe three, four years?”

“Have you two ever spent... quality time together?”

“Yeah. We’ve gone out together on Nightmare Night every year since we met. She always tells me I look cute in my costume. Actually, she tells me I look cute a lot.”

“Have you ever considered that your friend might have... certain feelings for you?”

“What kind of feelings? You mean like my super high octane happy feeling?”

“Like that, yes.”

“She always feels how I feel when we’re together. We really understand each other pretty well. To be honest though...” Crackpot lowered his voice. “I think she might like me a bit more than I like her. Like, a really tiny bit.”

“Intriguing. You mentioned you have another friend here?”

“Yeah, Steel Repose! He’s my B.P.B.B.B.P.O.M.F!”

“B.P.B.B.B.P.O.M.F?”

“Bat pony bestest best buddy pal of mine forever. We have an understanding like nopony else. It also helps that he’s like the most awesome friend I could ever ask for!”

“And when did you and Mr. Repose meet?”

“We’ve been tight ever since I came here. I’ve heard about all of his stories as a royal guard, and I talk to him a lot.”

“If I understand correctly, Mr. Repose is a bat-pony. Is he ever sleepy when he talks to you? Or asleep when you go to talk to him?”

“All the time. But me and Steel are on a really high level of understanding. It’s like he doesn’t even have to be awake for us to talk to each other.”

“So you talk to him while he’s asleep?”

“Yeah, I guess. But Steel’s never really asleep. I know for a fact that he’s always ready to pounce the first opportunity he gets.”

“Very interesting.” The Doc took mental notes. Evidently, Crackpot had an unusual understanding of the world around him. Not entirely wrong, but simply unusual. “Have your friends ever asked you about your... handicaps?”

“You mean the wing and the eye? Sometimes. I never really know what to tell them, though.”

“Do you recall the last memory you had before you lost your wing?”

“Well, I don’t remember much. I was flying along, and it was really dark. I think I might have been flying away from something. But the next thing I knew, as I was flying down, I got a sharp pain in my side, and then I got flung down into a bunch of trees. I stayed awake long enough to notice that I was bleeding a lot and my wing was gone. Then it got even darker and I fell asleep. When I woke up, I was in a white room with a nervous lady and a yelling guy in a white coat. They asked for my name, and I told them it was Pancake. Or at least, I thought it was.”

“So you’re not even sure what your name is?”

“Well, I know it’s Pancake now. Isn’t that all that matters?”

The Doc pondered this for a moment. Maybe he’d been looking into the case history too much. “Maybe you’re right. So... do you feel like your lost wing has been a problem since you came here?”

“Well, I kinda miss flying. I tried flying with one wing for a bit, and that didn’t work. But it’s been fine for the most part. It doesn’t hurt anymore, and I’ve just sorta gotten used to it. I mean, I guess it’s the kind of thing you have to get used to.”

“There are many things you have to get used to. Speaking of which, do you feel comfortable here in the home?”

“As long as I have somepony close by, yeah.”

“I’m glad to hear it. Have you got any plans for today?”

Crackpot shifted his eyes a bit and lowered his voice. “I can’t tell you. It’s a secret.”

The Doc smiled a bit. “Well, I won’t keep you, Mr. Crackpot. I’m sure you have a busy day ahead of you.”

“Believe me, I do. And it involves a lot of bubblegum.”

“Have a good afternoon.”

“Thanks Doc. You’re the best doctor I know! Well, you’re the only doctor I know, but still!”

“Thank you, Pancake.”

“See ya, Doc.” Crackpot tried to get up using his one wing, but didn’t get up very far before he landed on the ground. He got up and left the Doc’s office, feeling better about himself, but still thinking about what the Doc asked him. He didn’t know who he was, how he had gotten here or why he was here. But all that really mattered was who he was now, who his friends were, and where he was going. And with so much good stuff ahead of him, why would he ever want to look back?

Author's Note

Be sure to leave a constructive comment if you liked the story. Or even if you didn't.

And before you ask, yes. I did ask for permission from RomanRazor before posting this.