Hello.

Crap. I know it’s not the best way to start a story, all right? But honestly there's not much to it, and I don’t feel like wasting your time or my own. I might not have much waiting for me after all this, but I do have a semblance of a life, somewhere.

My name is Tight Wedge, and I have—what some of the denizens of this fine institution would call—a bit of an attitude. It’s not that I’m rude or anything, just that I like to speak my mind. The fact that my mind is stuck in sarcastic git mode all the time is an unfortunate occurrence.

Like many of my horny contemporaries, and by "horny" I mean exactly what you're thinking, I reside in the beautiful Academy City. A heap of towers, skyscrapers, and high-tech junk tall and shiny enough to impress pretty much anypony who sets eyes on the place. Personally, I think it’s too flashy, but then, who has ever given a damn about my opinion?

I guess my story starts sometime around the time I showed up. No, not on the day my parents first kicked me out of home and sent me packing to this high school. Nor was it when I first entered the front gates, and wandered the sidewalks and hallways with youthful pride, optimism, and adventure, a bounce in my step and a gleam in my eye. Nope. Not even close. When it comes down to it, everything started rolling about two weeks in.

You see, our Great and Shiny Lord Princess Celestia of Canterlot deemed it necessary to grade all of her precious students on an equally great and shiny scale.

The catch? Well, the grading here’s a little special. A certain Twilight Sparkle—don’t get me started on her—created a machine that measures your talent and power and future potential based on a twelve level system.

I’m level one.

Well, shit.

Author's Notes:

Edited by:
The Misfits

I wanted to take a few seconds to warn you, dear readers, of some of the... interesting things that are going to happen in this particular fic.

I've written my fair share of pony over the last two-or-so years, but I've always had a limit on what I could do. Some things I just did not allow myself to do, such as going on rants or making snide remarks, swearing or being less-than-professional in my delivery. (Even if said delivery was sometimes of something utterly silly)

With this story, it's different.
If I want to call my readers idiots in the middle of narration, I will.
If I feel like nerding out and making references to my favourite sci-fi shows that only three other people in existence have seen: I will.
If I have the urge to go on a thousand word rant about math, philosophy, or mini-skirts, (or all three at once) I bloody well will.

I hope you guys enjoy,
Ravens D. Dagger