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				<a id="mw-mf-last-modified" data-timestamp="1476655604" href="http://mulpwiki.org/index.php/Special:History/A_Mistake_and_a_Correction" data-user-name="HotRobotSlave" data-user-gender="unknown" class="top-bar truncated-text">Last modified on 16 October 2016, at 22:06</a>		<script>
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			<h1 id="section_0">A Mistake and a Correction</h1><ul id="page-actions" class="hlist"><li id="ca-edit" class="icon icon-32px icon-edit" title="Edit the lead section of this page."></li><li id="ca-talk" class="hidden icon icon-32px icon-talk"><a href="http://mulpwiki.org/index.php?title=Talk:A_Mistake_and_a_Correction&amp;action=edit&amp;redlink=1" title="Discussion about the content page [t]" accesskey="t">Discussion</a></li><li id="ca-watch" class="watch-this-article icon icon-32px"><a href="http://mulpwiki.org/index.php?title=Special:UserLogin&amp;returnto=A+Mistake+and+a+Correction" title="Add this page to your watchlist [w]" accesskey="w"></a></li></ul>		</div>
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<td><b>Writefag</b>
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<td> Nop3
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<td><b>Pastebin link</b>:
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<td><b>Pastebin creation</b>
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<td>Sunday 15th of May 2016 10:48:26 PM CDT
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<td><b>Last Pastebin update</b>
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<td>Sunday 15th of May 2016 10:48:26 PM CDT
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</div><h3><span class="mw-headline" id="A_Mistake_and_a_Correction">A Mistake and a Correction</span><a href="A_Mistake_and_a_Correction#/editor/1" title="Edit section: A Mistake and a Correction" data-section="1" class="edit-page icon icon-32px icon-edit enabled">Edit</a></h3><div>
<div dir="ltr" class="mw-geshi mw-code mw-content-ltr"><div class="gettext source-gettext">&#160;<br /><span class="co4">&gt;It's 1 AM in the morning</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;Browsing /mlp/ for something interesting</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;Two choices thread</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;Hey, these are usually pretty entertaining.</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;They sometimes have pretty good writers too.</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;What harm is there in leaving a reply?</span><br />&quot;If I had to choose; Option <span class="nu0">2</span>. I'm not about to get sucked into pastel land.&quot;<br /><span class="co4">&gt;Post</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;You wonder when the parts you ordered for your corvette are going to arrive.</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;It's already been a week.</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;You're a total car enthusiast, and after grinding 2 jobs for a few years you'd finally been able to buy a new C7 Corvette.</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;Feelsgoodman</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;Your Corvette was your only motivation to get out of bed sometimes.</span><br />&quot;Might as well deal with those wheel wells.&quot;<br /><span class="co4">&gt;After only 3 weeks of owning the C7, you'd starting modding it.</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;First, an intake.</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;Then an exhaust.</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;Then some weight reduction.</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;Then an ECU reflash.</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;Every time you gained some power, you got used to it after a day or two, which led to more mods.</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;And more power.</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;This time, it was stripping the rear wheel wells of plastic to make room for bigger tires.</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;30 minutes pass</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;Your doorbell rings through the house.</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;This is unusual, as you live in the middle of a pine forest in a cabin, about 15 minutes away from the nearest civilization.</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;You look out the garage door window to see a UPS truck pulling away.</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;At last!</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;Maybe your new harness has finally arrived.</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;You rush out to the front door, and retrieve a medium size cardboard box from the doorstep.</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;It has the SIMPSON Racing Equipment logo on it, so it's definitely it.</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;You open the box, and sure enough.</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;The 5-point harness you ordered 2 weeks ago.</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;Thunder rumbles outside, and you notice it getting darker.</span><br />&quot;Let's throw this in real quick.&quot;<br /><span class="co4">&gt;You head back to your garage, and open the C7's driver side door to get to work.</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;As you bolt the two waist straps to the floor, the thunder grows louder outside, and the wind starts to pick up outside the cabin.</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;Then, mid-installation, you hear another sound.</span><br />-----<br /><span class="co4">&gt;A car door slamming, (presumable the same vehicle) starting and driving off.</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;Out here?</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;Literally in the middle of the woods?</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;You poke your head out of the Corvette just in time to see through the garage window, a white van pulling away.</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;What did they do?</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;Curious, yet cautious, you step towards the garage door and peer out the window in the direction of the front door.</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;An oddly shapen burlap sack, tied shut with twine, lies on your porch.</span><br />&quot;What in God's name could that be?&quot;<br /><span class="co4">&gt;You stop for a moment, and think.</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;Did you order anything that would come in a burlap sack?</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;Not that you can remember.</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;You walk through the house, to the front door.</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;You peer around the area, just to be sure there isn't someone waiting to jump you the moment you step outside.</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;Nothing out of the ordinary.</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;Damn.</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;Living out in the woods can be nerve-racking sometimes.</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;You open the door, and study the sack carefully.</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;It's sitting in such a way that would suggest that its contents are quite oddly shapen.</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;You nudge it with your foot.</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;Its contents have some resistance, so it's not like a bag of grain, or apples or anything.</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;Rain starts falling on the pavement of your driveway outside the porch.</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;You look back down to the sack, contemplating your next move.</span><br />&quot;Well, there's no use just letting it sit on the porch.&quot;<br /><span class="co4">&gt;You decide to bring it in, and investigate its contents.</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;You grab it by the neck, and hoist it up.</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;It's surprisingly heavy, maybe 40 pounds at least.</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;You bring it in, and set it on your living room floor.</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;Upon closer inspection, the sack looks rather old, and dirty.</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;All beat up and stuff.</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;And the twine is knotted and frayed in such a way that would take you HOURS to untie.</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;Knife to the rescue.</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;You cut the old twine, and it falls away.</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;The neck of the sack slackens and opens up.</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;You lean over to peer inside</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;IMMEDIATELY JUMP BACK</span><br />&quot;...WHAT?!&quot;<br /><span class="co4">&gt;This has got to be some kind of joke.</span><br />&quot;How is this even possible?&quot;<br /><span class="co4">&gt;For in that sack, lied Octavia, the pony.</span><br />-----<br /><span class="co4">&gt;Step 1</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;Don't freak out</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;Step 2</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;Don't freak out</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;Step 3</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;Don'T FREAK OUt</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;freak out</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;You trip over the sack, and move your legs out from underneath yourself to aviod squashing pone</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;Your face smashes into the floor</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;You get up, eyes watering from the pain</span><br />&quot;What am I going to do now...&quot;<br /><span class="co4">&gt;The clock read 2:23 AM</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;Octavia is still out cold, inside the sack.</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;Might as well take her out.</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;You reach into the bag, and lift out the limp Octavia.</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;You set her on the couch, in what appears to be the most comfortable position achievable.</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;What now?</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;Food.</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;Eh, what do ponies eat?</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;Dasies and shit?</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;There's some salad in the fridge.</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;Perfect.</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;You don't really know why there's any of this rabbit food in here, but you're glad you have it now, anyway.</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;You dump some of the salad onto a plate, and grab yourself a loaf of bread from atop the fridge to snack on.</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;You return to the livingroom, salad in hand, and view Octavia's sleeping figure on the couch.</span><br />&quot;Maybe not the couch.&quot;<br /><span class="co4">&gt;You decide to move her to your bed instead, inter-universal travel warrants more rest than a shitty couch can provide.</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;You set the plate aside, and lift her in your arms.</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;She's breathing steadily, and doesn't appear to be in pain.</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;You enter your bedroom, and set her down on the bed.</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;You pull a blanket over her, and turn to exit the room.</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;You'd been pushing it to the back of your mind for all this time, but it was becoming harder and harder to ignore.</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;Sure, to you it was but a silly theoretical question of morals regarding fictional characters.</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;How were you to know?</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;Some shitty general, meaning nothing.</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;This was probably some kind of cruel trick.</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;Whatever, you have classical music pone now.</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;Win.</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;The living room around you is a bit messy, and cluttered.</span><br />&quot;First impressions are everything, may as well tidy up...&quot;<br /><span class="co4">&gt;You go about cleaning the living room, all the while thinking about the situation you're in.</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;A literal shitshow.</span><br />-----<br /><span class="co4">&gt;Your mind travels back to the Corvette, and the unfinished work on it.</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;You glance over to the microwave clock</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;3:12 AM</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;Jesus, it's late</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;You'd go to sleep, but it would be difficult with everything on your mind.</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;You decide to contiue your work on the Vette.</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;You resumed tearing the useless plastic filler out of the rear wheel wells,</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;All the while thinking aobut what you were going to do.</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;You finished up the passenger side and test fitted your new drag wheels and radials.</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;Like a glove.</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;Those shortened axels were a handful, but it was worth it.</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;You stood up, ready to take on the other side.</span><br />&quot;Well, perhaps I should check on her.&quot;<br /><span class="co4">&gt;You turn around, and walk into the house.</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;On the way through the kitchen, you note the microwave clock: 3:56 AM.</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;You poke your head into the bedroom, and shine your phone light at the bed.</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;Octavia is sleeping peacefully, in a different position that you set her in.</span><br />'Good.' You thought.<br />'She isn't dead.'<br /><span class="co4">&gt;You head back to the garage.</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;The driver's side wheel well was a bit different, there was a mounting point for the plastic bits behind the fuel filler neck.</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;It took a while to work around, but eventually you got it unbolted and removed.</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;After fitting the other rear tire, and letting the car down off of the jack, you were very tempted to take the Vette out for a spin.</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;Pone.</span><br />&quot;Dammit.&quot;<br /><span class="co4">&gt;Why would you not take this pone off of your mind?</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;You had this feeling that something terrible was going to happen, and having a literal supernatural turn of events happen was not aidng in how you felt.</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;You dont know why, but you feel like something is happeing NOW.</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;Like, right now.</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;Your ratchet clatters to the concrete floor as you dash towards the door, and through the kitchen.</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;A massive thunderclap rattles the house as the bedroom door comes into sight.</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;It's cracked open.</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;You left it completely closed.</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;Your heard begins to do gymnastics in your throat, and you halt dead in your tracks, merely steps away from the door.</span><br />-----<br /><span class="co4">&gt;You close your eyes, and hold your breath</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;Listening as hard as you can through the torrential downpour.</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;Not a sound.</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;Breath still held.</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;You inch closer and closer to the door, your eyes struggling to adjust to the low light.</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;In a split second descision, you throw the door open and flip the lightswitch.</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;There.</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;In your room.</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;The infamous neckbeard himself.</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;OP.</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;He was in a comical sneaking position, hands above him, tip-toeing all the while.</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;His head whips around to peer at you over his trenchcoat collar.</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;No.</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;THIS was the last straw.</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;Your sanity had already taken enough damage.</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;You swing the door shut behind you, and press your back to the door.</span><br />&quot;No, this isn't happening.&quot;<br />&quot;I choose to not accept this.&quot;<br /><span class="co4">&gt;You simply cease all brain activity and die momentarily.</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;Returning to function, you open the door, prepared for the worst.</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;Same picture.</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;OP, in his comic sneaking pose, a few paces closer to the sleeping pone.</span><br />&quot;huh?&quot;<br /><span class="co4">&gt;There were no words to describe the confusion you are feeling.</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;&quot;Look pal.&quot;</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;&quot;You picked option 2, I delivered a pony.&quot;</span><br />&quot;Ok?&quot;<br /><span class="co4">&gt;&quot;And it was the wrong pony.&quot;</span><br />&quot;Oh.&quot;<br /><span class="co4">&gt;&quot;So I'm here, to take this pony back, and give you a brand new one!&quot;</span><br />&quot;...&quot;<br /><span class="co4">&gt;&quot;Please don't hurt me.&quot;</span><br />&quot;...&quot;<br /><span class="co4">&gt;&quot;Look, the forces that be are gonna have my head on a silver platter if I don't do this.&quot;</span><br />&quot;I understand, dude.&quot;<br /><span class="co4">&gt;&quot;Y-you're cool with it?&quot;</span><br />&quot;Yeah. Actually, can you just not give me a pony?&quot;<br /><span class="co4">&gt;OP resumes his shitty act of professionalism, and adjusts his fedora.</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;&quot;No-can-do pal. You selected option two, you're gonna see the results. You do know the rules don't you?&quot;</span><br />&quot;Uh, I think I remember the important bits, yeah.&quot;<br /><span class="co4">&gt;&quot;You THINK you know or you actually know?&quot;</span><br />&quot;Whatever. I can just check the thread.&quot;<br /><span class="co4">&gt;&quot;If you're sure.&quot;</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;You both just stand there for a moment, looking at the snoozing pony.</span><br />-----<br /><span class="co4">&gt;Suddenly, OP springs into action, much faster than a man of his size could ever have moved.</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;He snached up Octavia around the middle, and stuffed her in a new burlap sack that he conjured from his massive trenchcoat.</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;The sack dissapeared into said trenchcoat, and OP threw down a small glass vial, filling the room with white smoke.</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;It caused your eyes to water, and you were coughing profusely.</span><br />&quot;Was that really necessary?&quot;<br /><span class="co4">&gt;You step out of the fucking gas chamber into the hallway, and down that, towards the living room.</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;Out of the front living room window, you see the white van pulling away, down the road through the forest.</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;You sit down on your couch, a grin spread across your face.</span><br />&quot;Stupid faggot. He forgot to give me a replacement.&quot;<br /><span class="co4">&gt;It was interesting really.</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;Hadn't he said he'd be in deep shit if he didn't fix the issue and give you another pony?</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;Not like it matters.</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;YOU wouldn'e be the one getting in trouble.</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;You didn't really care for taking �on the responsability of a pony anyway.</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;Through the rain, you hear the sound of rubber screeching on wet pavement.</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;You peer out the front window in curiosity.</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;You see a pair of reverse lights on a van fast approaching your driveway.</span><br />&quot;...Goddamnit.&quot;<br /><span class="co4">&gt;OP backs clean up to your house, and hops out, rummaging in his trenchcoat.</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;He walks onto the porch, and conjures yet another sack, placing it on your doorstep.</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;He attaches a small note to it, and waddles back to his van.</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;It starts up, and the old van pulls away once again into the dense forest.</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;Hopefully for the last time.</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;You get up from your couch, and make your way to the front door.</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;Opening it, you get hit in the face with 2 things:</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;A torrent of wet wind, and a truckload of d�j� vu.</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;Not hours before, you had been staring at the same picture.</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;Doorstep.</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;Burlap sack.</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;Except, this time, it had a note attached.</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;'Here's the correct one. Read the rules.'</span><br />&quot;...Here we go again.&quot;<br /><span class="co4">&gt;You pick up the sack, and close the door.</span><br />-----<br /><span class="co4">&gt;You return to your couch, and set the sack at your feet.</span><br />&quot;So. What'll it be this time, OP?&quot;<br /><span class="co4">&gt;You stare blankly at the sack, as if expecting an answer.</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;There's no difference in this sack and the last one.</span></div></div>




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