Twilight Sparkle had the smeasles.

I have the smeasles, she thought snuggly, allowing each word to slot into place. Oh dear.

The smeasles can be a very upsetting ailment to have. At first it’s not so bad. Just some mild sweating and anxiety. Then the coughing comes. If your depression worsens or you have thoughts of suicide. It’s pretty bad standing on a stone and looking alone.

You always, always know you have the smeasles.

What’s worse, you know there’s nothing you can do about it.

Twilight Sparkle had the smealses.

Her prayers to Apollo begging rest won’t wash away the tears.

She looked around her room, noting the dimly rising temperature. A visit to the doctor won’t help. But it would be something to do. A waste of time.

She’ll be wasting just as much time here. Stuck in a smeasly sorrow.

She levitated a saddlebag to her and rushed out the door, distraught hairs whiffling with the wind.

“I have the smealses!” she shouted through town. The ponies glanced at her oddly.

Twilight Sparkle had the smealses. She was sure of it. What’s more, she knew of no remedy.



“You have the smeasles,” said the doctor dully. “No doubt about it.”

“I know.” A short huff hit her throat. “I want to know how to get rid of them!”

“Mm, well...” The doctor consulted the cover of a Better Homes and Gardens magazine lying beside them. “Rest is best. Wait for the thing to blow over. There’s nothing I can give you to help with that.”

Twilight groaned.

“Isn’t there someone I can go to for help?”

“A psychologist might be able to help you.”

Her solid grin groaned again.



“Tell me how you feel about that?” she said sympathetically.

“How I feel about feeling sick?” she asked redundantly.

“Why, yes. What is the deeper emotional trauma you’re here to uncover?”

“I have the smealses, okay! I just want to get better! But I know I can’t.”

“So, would you say the source of your stress is this disease, then?”

“Ya.”

“And this disease is the smeasles?”

“Correct.”

“Ah, mm, mwakay. Here. Take this.” She tossed her a bottle of rattle.

“Um, okay,” Twilight said, catching it. “What’s in it?”

“Pills.”

“Okay...”

“Take one when you get home. And every day after that.”

“Uh... what are they?”

“Xemyberofentrol Pseudenefren.”

“I’ve never heard of that.”

“It’s for smealses.”

“Really?”

“Yes, really.”



Twilight Sparkle popped a pill into her mouth and swallowed.

“Eckt,” she bittered. “Hey, I don’t have the smealses any more!” she said brightly.

Twilight Sparkle was thus cured of the smealses.

A very dangerous disease indeed. It’s one of the many magical ailments that can befall a unicorn. It’s nature is rather diabolical. And there isn’t any cure.

Actually, I think Star Swirl the Bearded died of the smealses. I’d have to check his biography to be sure, though.

It’s nature is simple: The smealses is a disease which makes you believe you have an incurable disease called the smealses.