A Writer's Guide to Being Octavia

By: ThatOneRandomPony

Sup guys, this is another chapter.

Say whaaaaaat

ANYHOW, this was a collaboration chapter between

ParadoxDerpy's story and mine, where the two characters met up.

But, uh, no editorial work, and I'm tired. So expect simple errors.

But yep, enjoy the story of awesomeness.

My longest chapter.

-~

This is by far the worst plane ride I've ever had the honor of being in.

Let me explain:

After I learned that the ColdStone creamery was in California, I felt like someone had stuck a sword through my face. It hurt, of course. I was going to have to get a ride there, and It couldn't be a car ride. So really the only other option was flying. I wasn't going to walk hundreds of miles to just meet up with some random person- er, pony, so I decided to take a plane. That was the worst decision of my life I have ever made.

-6 hours ago

Staring in awe at the distance from ColdStone and I, I decide that the truly best option would be to fly. It would be fast, and quick. Walking out to the sidewalk, I pull out a crudely written sign that reads:

    NEED RIDE TO AIRPORT

        PAYING $20

Of course, to this scenario I have laid out, there were many different possibilities.

a) I could be taken and murdered to death.

b) Raped THEN murdered to death

c) Be jacked 20 dollars, as well as my other belongings

d) DIE

e) Make it safe to the airport

By all means, these are in descending order of likely-hood.

Not after too long, and many creepy offers, a man aged around 25, maybe 26, pulls up in his Honda, and offers me a ride of no charge. I accept the offer mostly because I feel that a 25 year old's odds of murdering me are less compared to a man aged around 40-50.

Ah, I watch too much criminal minds. I should stop.

"Thanks for the ride" I say, as I climb into the back seat, taking in the strong aroma of the car. It smelled of pine, and, well, a lot of it.

"No problem. The airport, right?" He asks, starting up the car again.

"Yup, just drop me off at the service center."

"Will do" The young aged man says, as he pulls off from the curb, and speeds off towards Seatac.

A long silence occurred until the man peeps up for the second time.

"I've read the news, you know. You're from My Little Pony, right? I'm quite fond of that show myself"

Fuck

The one car ride I get is with a brony.

Dear hope to god he isn't one of those 'crazy obsessed' ones, like you see on YouTube.

But it makes sense. Some random person wouldn't offer me a ride not knowing what I was. Whatever the hell that is.

"Can, uh, you just turn on the radio? I need some music, I kinda don't want to talk about it." I say, staring out the window of the moving hunk of metal.

"Sure, I guess" the man says as he turns the knob located on the dashboard, releasing a blast of sound from the speakers. Bad music, actually.

"Er, 107.7, please." I say, cringing from the poorly made 'music'.

The knob turns and some better music comes on.

Seattle's own Nirvana comes on, playing 'It smells like teen spirit'.

Though the song is pretty decent, it provides little comfort to my damaged life.

Around 20 minutes pass before we pull up at the airport, and I jump out.

I thank the man, and swing the satchel around my body.

Of course, this is where my life becomes a complete replica of hell.

Walking into the airport, the people around me become silent, and stare at me funny with this weird look.

Shit.

Roughly 2 hours later~

I did it. I got a ticket. It was only 250 dollars, too.

Luckily, I was able to ride in the actual coach class of the plane, and not the animal thing.

Looking down at my ticket, it reads: GATE 0B

Thank god, thats the closest gate!

Walking to the security area, I dump all of my belongings into the plastic tray and roll it through the machine

Of course, the bag is clean, but, the security guard seems more than curious to what I am.

“Step aside, please.” The man in blue says to me.

I moan, and step aside to the waiting area.

This obviously can’t go well

The large man in blue comes over and steps to the side of me.

“Do you, uh, mind telling me what you are?”

“For the umpteenth time, I’m a pony, from the show My Little Pony. Don’t you ever read the news? Now if you don’t mind I have a plane to catch” I say, as I grab my things, and walk away from the security guard.

Not the smartest idea, but it worked.

I trot fast to the next gate, and take a seat on one of the chairs.

Ohgod, the people. They’re all staring at me.

Act.

Normal.

Nonetheless, I make through the waiting period of a short 30 minutes, and board my flight. Luckily, I get the front-coach seats. As an extra bonus, the window seat too!

Looking to my left, I notice two empty seats.

Who gets to be the lucky patron that has the honor of sitting next to me? I think to myself chuckling.

Not much later, a single mom with their daughter comes to the row I’m sitting at, and stares at me awkwardly.

They must be the lucky winners

“Uh, Hi” I say briefly to the small family.

The daughter, aged around 7 or 8, seems completely shocked.

“Pony!” I can hear her whisper excitedly to herself.

Shit

The girl rushes to me and hugs tightly

“Ohmygod! You’re a real life pony from that show!”

She beckons to her mom to get her attention

“Can we keep it mom, can we?”

Nope, not ever

“Uh, I hate to burst your bubble, but I’m not a pet”

“It’s a talking pony!  What’s your name, Mrs. Pony?”

“Octavia Phili-”

Where the hell did that come from?!

“Ethan. The name’s Ethan.”

“Ethan, isn’t that a boys name?”

“Er, well it’s a long story. Read the news.”

“Mommy can you get me the news?” The daughter asks, oblivious to the fact ‘the news’ was not a single abject.

I stare at the mom, with an expression made of just pure awkwardness.

“Terribly sorry about my daughter, she just loves horses.”

“Fantastic.” I say, rolling my eyes. I lean my head against the widow, and stare at the gray concrete runway.

“And it’s fine, by the way. Not like today can get any worse.”

A voice comes on in the intercom, informing of the safety precautions, and the plane soon takes off. Now I’m stuck in a flying metal tube with this crazy little eight year old.

“Mrs. Ethan, are you from Ponyland?”

Again with the whole ‘Mrs’ thing...

“No, I’m not. And please, just call me Ethan. I’m not too fond of this whole ‘mrs’ thing.” I say, waving my hoof around in a circle at that last remark.

“Okay Mrs. Ethan!”

“Damnit” I whisper under my own breath.

She’s only as smart as the average 8 year old, and by how good the public education system is doing, I’m assuming that’s not so well

“Just try to keep all your questions at ease for the flight, so if you have any more, please, just get them over with.” I say, bracing for impact.

“Can you do magic? Whadda ‘bout fly?  If you can fly, why are you on the plane? How did you get on earth?  Did you come from a time machine?  Why do you have a bow-tie?  Why do you have a tattoo on your flank?  Whats it like being a pony?  Is it really fun?  Can you make me rainbow?  Can you make me a pony?”

Ohmygod. Screw you, world

“Do you see a horn or wings? Didn’t think so. I’m from earth, always have been, always will be. Bow-ties are cool, for your information. It’s not a tattoo, it’s a cutie mark. I got it when I was-”

Where the hell did that come from? I don’t know how I got this accursed stain on my body! I wasn’t even Octavia!

“Uh, er, it’s not a tattoo. Being a pony? Hell. The exact opposite of fun. I can’t make you a pony, and even if I could, you would regret that choice. Anything else?” I say, not even looking at her, still staring outside the window.

“Did you wish, really hard? Ya’ know, to become a pony?”

“Not even close. I just woke up like this. Today, actually. Again, it’s hell. You do not want to be whatever this is.”

“Oh, okay” the girl says, as she slumps down in her chair.

“Sorry for being a party pooper, today has just been a long, terrible day.”

Of course, for the next 3 hours, she bickers on and off about ponies, how she loves them, and all that stupid stuff.

In three hours, we finally made it into California. Or, thats what I would guess. I feel sorry that mom. I just about passed out, and had to be waken up by flight attendants.

Shaking my head, I stand up and stretch my furry legs.

I walk out of the terminal, and see open benches, located at a terminal that leaves tomorrow at 3pm

Perfect

I walk to the comfiest-looking one, and collapse onto it.

My eyes slowly drift down as my thoughts turn to nothing.

I dreamed of nothing.

I wake up, and stare at the clock located a couple feet away from me.

It reads 2:53

Perfect

Gathering my things, I walk into the main airport, and stare at the main front door exit.

Thank you!

I run out of the exit at full force.

The second I step outside, I regret it.

Heat.

“Damnit.” I say, crawling into one of the cabs parked out front of the airport.

“1030 East Cypress Avenue, please.” I say, buckling in for the short journey.

Soon enough, the taxi comes to a stop, I pay the fare, and hop out.

Walking into the store, I see a ditzy eyed gray mare sitting on a chair.

“Er, Derpy?” I ask, staring at her carefully.

To my surprise, I’m greeted with a large hug, and a somewhat welcoming of my new name.

“Oh, please! Get a hold of yourself!” I say, desperately trying to wench her body from mine.

“Oh, sorry about that. I have had the craziest day” She says, slightly blushing

“You and me both” I mumble to myself, rolling my eyes.

“We need to talk some serious biz” She says, as she gets in life for some over-topped ice cream.

“You mean like getting to New York and setting this thing out? Yeah, I think so.” I say, and pause. I stare down into my breakfast-of-champions bag, and stare back up.

“Can you get me a single-scoop chocolate, please? I have money”

“Sure, anything mixed in?” She asks, as she stares at the wide variety of sugary goods.

“No, thank you. Maybe some Oreos if they have them, but nothing more.”

I’ve never been really fond of toppings in ice cream. I feel that it ruins the wonderful creamy consistency that is chilled milk.

She says something, but at that point I’ve pulled out my laptop and completely zoned her out.

I start to look on any travel sight for the rough cost of a trip.

“Lets see here, New York is around 2500 miles from here, and flight costs are pretty expensive, or, at least to how much money I have left. What about taxis? Nah. That would be so much...” I mumble to myself, while browsing. I’ve always had a bad habit of talking to myself.

Soon, she breaks my concentration.

“Let me see the laptop for a bit once we get our ice cream, okay?” she half asks, half lets me know in advance what she’s going to do.

The last thing I want her to do is use my piece of machinery,

“No offence, but, no” I say, flatly, continuing to look at the travel pages.

“Why?” She asks, staring at me.

“Because I don’t want your hands all over it. Er, hooves. I guess.” I reply, snappily.

I’m not usually a control freak, but, so much has been going on lately.

“I’m not going to break it, just calm down ‘Tavi”

Ugh, again with that annoying nickname.

“It’s not that I think you’re going to break it, I just don’t trust you. I mean, now that you’re Derpy, I’m not sure if there are any psychological changes, or anything along those lines...” I say, stiff as a rock.

“Oh, jeez. You have to point that out, little Ms. Snob” She says. I can tell she’s trying to keep her emotions down

“Well it’s not my fault that you might be a... er... special... horse.” I say, blanking out.

That might have just pushed it there.

Fuck

“SPECIAL?! You have no idea what you just said, bitch.”

Ohgod, I don’t want to die

I shrink back in the chair, staring down at the ground.

I know that people were staring at us.

“Do, uh, do you want to use my laptop?” I ask quietly, not making eye contact.

“Yes, I would. Thank you.” She says, as she takes the machine, and starts to type.

-~

“...and done!” She says, as she finished. “We are going to meet up with the ‘fluttershy’ girl in Kansas City, then we will drive together to New York” She says, staring at the screen. “You might also want to delete your Internet history?”

“W...Why?” I ask, quietly. I have no idea why, but everything, all the emotions seem doubled. I’m still half scared to death from her earlier remarks.

“I logged into my email, and I don’t want you to have it on your computer.”

“Can’t you just clear it?” I ask, hoping she would just comply to one of my requests.

“It’s your laptop” She says, shoving it in my direction.

“No, please, you do it. I’m eating.” I lie, as I shove it back towards her. I’m not really eating it, I’m more just casually licking it over time to make the impression that I am.

“Fine” She says, stretching that word out for forever. She (hopefully) clears the history and cache.

I grab the laptop, and take note at the new background. I stare at her intently.

“Where’s the original background image?” I ask, cold.

It’s the only scrap of memory I have of my old bedroom. Or house, that is.

“It’s on file” She replies.

“Where, though? Change it back. Now.” I demand, wanting that background image more  than anything in the world

“Find it yourself!” She replies, hastily.

“Change it back! Your background was terrible anyways!”

“It was my room! The only scrap of memory I have of home, change it back!

“No, I can’t. You don’t understand!” I say, as I rush out of the store, leaving my ice cream on the table.

“Wait up!” I hear her say behind me.

I can’t take this anymore. My life, it sucks. It’s ruined. My family would hate me, and I’m screwed. I stole money from my mom, and that laptop.

I snapped.

“What do you want?!” I scream at her. Tears were starting to form at the base of my eyes. I didn’t know what I felt, but I knew I was sad and angry.

“It’s okay, I’m sorry for what I said” She says, as she walks slowly towards me.\

“Just... Just grab my things. I don’t feel good when they’re left alone in a busy place like that.” I partially lie. Of course it’s not a good idea to leave expensive things alone, but I also didn’t want to be near that pony anymore.

“Honey, what’s wrong? Things aren’t going to get better if you don’t tell me.”

“Just grab it! I can’t tell you if the constant fear of losing my last personal belongings is tearing me to bits!”

She gets up, and trots back into the shop.

Looking at the sidewalk and the wall, I collapse into the intersection of the two.

I cry.