I thought everything was going to turn out okay. I instead find out that I am so far up Shit Creek without a paddle that I'm sitting in the snow on Shit Mountain, waiting for it to melt.

I have not written since I lost my notebook during the conflict with Spike yesterday. I lost it when I tried to use it futilely to swat him away as he came over the top of the table at me with his slingshot. He got a lick of flame on it, and it burned up before I could put the fire out, turning into nothing more than smoke.

Not too long after that, I had him by the shoulders, shaking him in my grasp violently and shouting at him about how he had ruined all of my hard work: That now I was going to be labeled a maniac when I got home since I had no proof of anything that had transpired. We were interrupted by Twilight, who gasped and asked us what we were doing, after seeing him about to breathe fire in my face and me holding him up in the air furiously. I was rather surprised when Spike looked at me with a compromising glare, and I nodded at him: It would make neither of us look good to tell this tale, we agreed.

"Just boys being boys," I told her as I set Spike down, fighting the urge to kick him.

"Wrestling; y'know, manly stuff," he added, as I could see him restraining himself as well.

"Look what you two have done! Books everywhere, papers all over – and why is my table on the floor like that?"

Spike and I looked to each other once again and it seemed that he did not know what to say, so I had to be the one to show initiative. "Playing small-scale Capture the Flag. That's my fort, actually. Everything beyond the tabletop is Benjamenopolis."

"Where's the flag then?"

She had me on that one, and overall was still unamused that we would have chosen to do that in her library instead of taking it outside. "Not a real flag, Twilight. We were actually using..." I paused, hoping to find an object around the room that I could use.

"Cookies," Spike blurted out.

"You've got to be kidding me," she muttered. I was going to say the same thing, but at least he picked something we could claim was already disposed of. She was not going to check us for cookies. At least I seriously hoped she wouldn't. "Fine, whatever, I don't care what you two were doing, just help me clean up, and seriously – Benjamen, Spike – take it outside next time. I'm fine with you two “doing manly stuff”, but have a little consideration, alright?"

"Sure thing," we both stated and began helping her to clean up the mess we had caused. Spike seemed to believe himself victorious in some way as I noticed the confident and sly smirk he kept during our cleanup, but I did not bother to ask him why. I had figured him damaging my property must have been enough to make him believe he had gotten the point across that Rarity was his. As it turns out, there was much more set in motion than even he knew of, and I would only learn about the following day.

One might question how I got my notebook back after it was burned to a crisp? Well, the answer is because it was delivered back to me by an escort. A royal escort: An armed, royal escort in a prison wagon headed to a place called Canterlot.

I am currently sitting in that wagon writing this, as I was given my notebook back before they forced me into the prison carriage. They found me as I was exiting the boutique that morning to head off to my mail route. I heard Twilight and Rarity speaking out on my behalf, asking what was going on and why I was being treated as a criminal, once the gold-armor clad stallions had swiftly subdued me. I was grasped firmly by the back of the hair and shoved into the wagon like a ragdoll. From what I could hear during the exchange, I am wanted for the attempted assassination of Princess Celestia.

Preposterous. Absolutely absurd! There's no possible way this could be a founded claim!

Still, I'm scared. I don't know why I'm being charged with this crime or what the punishments are for such acts here. I wonder if I even did anything, or if maybe this Princess just wishes to see me locked away or beheaded just for being an alien. I can only hope that this is a huge misunderstanding, and that she is the compassionate and benevolent leader that her subjects have claimed her to be since my arrival.

Why assassination though? I was not even anywhere near this place called Canterlot! How could I have done anything to her? And why did they have my notebook? I'm so confused right now, and it is not helping me to cope with what may very well be my impending doom!

I can’t believe this: They're going to execute me. They're going to execute me for trying to kill their Princess, and I didn't even do anything. I'm going to be made a public example of. Maybe they'll have a hanging. What if they put the knot on the back of my neck instead of the side? It won't break my neck if that's the case, and though I'll live for a few moments longer, I'm going to suffocate! That's a lot worse!

What if it's beheading? How long does the brain stay alive after one’s been beheaded? What if the axe is dull? They might be beating on my neck for hours until I finally die from spinal damage!

They may use a firing squad. They may all miss my heart and head. I may be lying on the ground waiting to bleed to death with bullet holes in me!

What if it's drowning?

Burning me at the stake?

Torture Rack?

Draw and quartering?

Starvation?

Crucifixion?

Electrocution?

Lethal Injection?

And my CCMI is ominously playing "Hell and Damnation" while I write this!

I must not panic. I must not lose my cool. I must not lose hope. I have been in worse situations (That's a damn lie and you know it, Benjamen!), and I will make it through this one too. All it takes is a little composure, calm demeanor, and rational thinking.

I'm going to be alright.

No. No. I'm pretty sure I'm going to die.

Here's to hoping that I'll be alright. Perhaps I will have more to write down for clarification as to what is going on tomorrow.

No. No I won't. I'm already dead. Dead man writing. Gonna be dead this time tomorrow. If I write anymore, they killed me and brought me back to life with their magic so they could kill me again the next day too.

I just wish I had someone to stroke my head and tell me that everything is going to be okay right now.