Day 1

Apologies for any errors that may appear in this entry. I am forced to write with my muzzle, using pencil, as my phonograph–my usual method of transcription–is inaccessible at the moment. Not to mention that I am writing this in a carriage as it is drawn through the air, and I am not adept to flight. Earth ponies generally aren’t.

I’m writing this entry on the fly–literally–because I will have little time to set down events once I land in Ponyville. Also, I highly suspect that, in my rushed exodus from Canterlot, most of my previous entries have been left behind.

Which means that I need to set them down again, albeit in a brief fashion.

My name is Whooves, Doctor Whooves. And before you start jumping to conclusions, I am not a medical doctor or a surgeon. I am a doctor of psychology. Young, considering the ridiculous amount of schooling it takes to get said position. I was running a solid business in Canterlot up until two days ago, when the Princess herself paid me a visit. Since that visit, my life has been upside-down and unstable, sporadically shot with deductions from my physical property and mental health.

The good news is sparse, but comforting all the same. Truth is, I’m not really a stranger to Ponyville. In fact, I spent last winter there, helping with Winter Wrap-Up; I consider it something of a second home.

Ah, but my mission. I get distracted far too easily.

This is all confidential, of course. Apparently, Celestia’s star pupil had something of a mental breakdown a little while back, and now the Princess has considered it a good precaution to have an official psychologist in Ponyville to observe her–and the rest of the Bearers’–mental condition. Obviously, they can’t know of this mission, and so I’ll be opening shop in Ponyville as something of a cover. The Princess has already arranged for my residence and affairs to be in order.

Ponyville approaches, and my muzzle isn’t used to this much writing.

Later, via phonograph.

Well, that was interesting, to say the least.

I was deposited just outside Ponyville, to avoid any suspicion that might arise from my royal escort, with nothing but a pair of saddlebags and a scrap of paper with the address of my apartment. Actually, I wasn’t even sure if it was an apartment at the time. Turns out it wasn’t–I’m not quite sure why I assumed that. It’s not exactly comforting to have no idea where you are going or if you’re life’s accumulation of physical property is going to make it there successfully. Needless to say, most of it did, as this is being recorded on my precious phonograph.

Nevertheless, it was irritating at the time. But I’m getting distracted again. On with my entry into Ponyville.

I trotted into Ponyville sometime mid-morning, and began weaving my way through the streets, trying to track down the address. Trotting through the streets, my chaotic life began taking physical abuse as a certain pink pony slammed into me most unceremoniously. I’d seen her before. She’s a resident of Ponyville, and one of the Bearers too. I just can’t remember her name exactly. It was some kind of alliteration, I think.

“Hi Whooves! Welcome back from Canterlot! Oh! You know what this calls for? A PARTY!”

She gave me a last squeeze of her forced hug and bounded off.

I was starting to remember why I spent most of my time in Canterlot. Ponyville is nice, but lacks a certain quality of respect that Canterlot possesses.

And this particular pony is particularly obnoxious. But very, very interesting. From the information I received from the Princess, which included several stories for background information, this pony–ah yes, Pinkie Pie, that was her name–is bipolar. Or manic-depressive, whichever you prefer.

But not your typical bipolar case. Typically, manic-depressive patients are usually in a state of relatively normal emotional level, or slightly depressed, with only very occasional manic episodes. Pinkie Pie is a completely different case, from what I’ve seen and heard. She seems to be in a constant state of mania with the occasional onset of severe depression and aggression, likely induced by conditions similar to a past foalhood experience, or stimuli conflicting with her driving force (in her case, anything that impedes laughter).

Anyway, after brushing the mud off as best I could, I continued on my way. I found what I thought was my new home. I was impressed. The Princess didn’t skimp on this. I had my own house. So, imagine my confusion when two ponies trotted up and unlocked it, and entered.

“Excuse me, do you mares live here?” I asked.

The mint green unicorn stopped and looked at me. “Um, yes.” She smiled. “Can I help you?”

“I’m looking for this address,” I replied, pulling out the slip of paper with said information on it.

“Oh! Well, you’re only one house off,” she said, motioning to the house next door, which looked nearly identical. Built by the same company, probably. She continued, “Are you moving in there? It’s been empty for quite a while now.”

I responded in the affirmative.

“Oh, how nice to meet you! I’m Lyra, and this is, um...” She looked around. “Bonbon, come meet our new neighbor!”

A cream-coated earth pony with a purple and pink mane emerged from the house she had disappeared into moment before.

“Hello, I’m Bonbon. You’re... Whooves, right?” Apparently my reputation in this town is larger than I anticipated.

“Yes. Doctor Whooves.”

After a few more pleasantries, I took my leave and went to investigate my house. The moving company had already come and gone, leaving the key under the mat as arranged. At least they got the address right. I don’t want to imagine what would be happening right now if that had gone awry.

Most of my things made the trip without damage, although my previous journal entries and the few other things I kept tucked in away in a certain cranny at my Canterlot dwelling are missing, as I anticipated. The rest of the afternoon I spent settling in, unpacking, moving my furniture, and dusting. I could have sworn there was an inch of dust in here.

After cleaning up satisfactorily, I realized that I had missed lunch, and was excruciatingly hungry. I am used to rather scheduled meals from my time back in Canterlot, where things aren’t so flat-out hectic. So, home in a rough order, I locked up and went to see if there were any good restaurants in Ponyville. On my previous visits here, I had had the opportunity to plan ahead and bring my own trappings, but since the encounter with the Princess, I have planned absolutely nothing. The only reason I have a single ounce of sanity left is through the foresight and planning of the Princess. Kind of bittersweet; she tears up my life by its roots, and yet manages to have me thanking her for keeping some of it together.

There aren’t any restaurants here worth speaking of. A few that are suitable enough, but none that can hold a candle to Canterlot’s fine dining.

My choice (I forget the exact name now) landed me at a table within earshot of a conversation between none other than two of the Bearers! I didn’t think they saw me, so I sat still, with my menu covering my face, trying to be as unobtrusive as possible. Normally I don’t support eavesdropping, but I kind of had an exception granted by the Princess.

If it sounds like I’m covering my tail a lot by using Celestia’s title repeatedly, it’s because that’s exactly what I’m doing.

The conversation was between Rarity, the Element of Generosity, rising fashion star, and a yellow-coated, pink-maned pegasus. Fluttershy, I remembered.

“...no, Fluttershy, not that kind of doctor. He’s a psychologist.”

A chill ran through me as I realized they were talking about me. Cover blown, or so I thought.

“Oh, that’s nice. What does that kind of doctor do?”

“Oh, um...” Rarity tapped her chin as she tried to find a way to explain my job. “He’s a doctor for ponies who have problems in their mind, or problems in their life.”

“I hope he doesn’t get too much business. I mean, I want him to succeed, but I hope he doesn’t have to...” Fluttershy tried to explain. Oddly enough, I understand exactly what she means.

“Oh, many more ponies have problems than you realize, darling. These are the kinds of issues ponies keep under the surface. Most don’t even realize they have them!” Rarity informed. Fluttershy gave a small “Eep!”

Miss Rarity seems to have a more advanced understanding of what we psychologists do, possibly even having experience with one.

Rarity went on, slightly oblivious to Fluttershy’s reaction as ideas popped into her head. “I looked it up, but there never were any in Ponyville, till now!” She gave a clop of joy. “I wonder when he’ll be open, and where he’s at?”

“Oh Rarity, you don’t need a psych- psy- ...this kind of doctor, do you?”

“Well I surely hope not, darling,” Rarity responded, “but unfortunately, the dark depths of my past may be, even now, preying on me, an abyss left to fester since my foalhood.”

The drama oozed from her voice. She was one of those patients. Not that that meant there wasn’t something off in her psych, but yeah. Good to know I’d have business, though.

And actually, this will help my cover somewhat. What better way to have a look at somepony than to have them willingly come into the examining room?

I mean, “get a look at” as in get to know. Not... yeah. I am a gentlecolt.

...which brings me to something else I’ve noticed about Ponyville. There is an overabundance of mares, greatly outnumbering the stallions. And of the stallions I do see, not many of them are what I would call... exuberant studs. The only one I’ve seen that has the potential for this quality, given some time and training, is a farm pony named Macintosh, brother to Applejack, Bearer of Honesty. Canterlot isn’t exactly littered with handsome specimens, but at least Canterlot has some stallions.

Ponyville’s lack of males kind of worries me. Mainly because... well let’s just say I think a few mares in the restaurant had eyes for my flanks. Not that I mind, but it’s a serious worry when I’m getting attention without even trying to woo anypony. I may be young, but I’m... frankly, kind of boring. Brown mane, tan coat. Seriously?

Oh, distracted again. Apologies.

The waiter asked me if I was ready. Honestly, I hadn’t looked at the menu, so I told him to surprise me, not wanting to attract attention by his presence at my table. He left without a fuss, thankfully. I listened in on the conversation again.

It had turned to gossip, which I will not bother to repeat, as it probably doesn’t have much content concerning anything I would be interested in. Still, I stayed, in case something relevant should come up. Minutes passed.

I was about to leave and find someplace else to eat where I wouldn’t have to worry about being discovered, when a third voice joined in.

“Hello girls! How was your trip to the spa?” That was Twilight Sparkle, the prized student herself.

“Oh it was simply heavenly, darling. Care to join us for dinner?”

Twilight sat with a nod and smiled. “What’s the latest news?”

“Oh, Rarity was just telling me about the new mind doctor in town,” Fluttershy said quietly. Quietly enough that it was almost hard to hear.

“You mean Doctor Whooves? I saw him on my way in. He’s over-”

I didn’t stay to hear the rest.

Back here, I took a shower, then broke out this lovely piece of equipment, and now it’s about time I hit the sack. Big day tomorrow, what with setting up the business and all.

Goodnight.