"Don't Look Out the Window, DEAR MOTHER OF GOD DON'T LOOK OUT THE WINDOW"

"The memo had gone out the beginning of the following week, and it was too little, too late. But I can hardly blame them, after all it takes quite a bit to make a whole neighborhood forget a thing like that. In fact it would take several bits, maybe thousands of bits, to make us forget. Unfortunately, that is way beyond the police budget.

'Beware the Traveling Salesmare,' read the memo, badly xeroxed, and hastily stapled to a sad looking tree among posters bearing the vaguely familiar face of a young dragon and the word MISSING.

Below that there was a thick block of fine print, but I didn't read that.

Who has time for that?

OOOOOOOO foreshadowing, yes, yes, surely this will be my undoing and blah blah blah, I know how these cliches work! I've been written into several stories now, I've experienced trials and character development!

I KNOW HOW STUFF WORKS.

Thank you very much.

But yeah, didn't read the thick block of fine print.

Who has time for that?

I sure didn't.

Nobody seems to have time for anything these days. I guess there's a general atmosphere of paranoia? I suppose that's to be expected when the intestines of one fourth of the population are strung from lamp post to lamp post, like demented Hearts Warming Eve decorations.

Yeah, that'll do it.

But, that now happens every couple of moons or so. It doesn't seem to be that big of a deal anymore.

Well, since that dark shroud descended over the Everfree Forest, and Zecora ran into town covered in blood (we could not tell if it was her's or somepony else's.) and screaming terrified words in a language that none of us could understand. That was kind of a big deal, but most ponies went about their daily rounds anyway with little more than an odd glance sideways.

In the face of an event such as that, you'd think that everyone would freak out....except that they didn't. It seemed easier for them to just forget.

Would this explain why the streets are almost empty, silent except for my rushed hoof steps?

Clip-clop-clip-clop.

There had been whispers, rumors, about events surrounding the princess. Could never really get a straight story out of any-pony though.

Clip-clop-clip-clop.

Now, there were no whispers, no rumors. Only the echos of empty streets.

Clip-clop-clip-clop

Some suggested that Twilight Sparkle had been moved to Canterlot for her safety, after the horrific entrails and lampposts incident.

Clip-clop-clip-clop

A well fortified kingdom, surely this would keep her safe?

And any lips that would utter those words would get a fine and swift smack on the mouth, because we already know that, we didn't want to hear things we already knew. No, no, no.

Our ears are HUNGRY for FRESH gossip, our lusts would not be so easily sated.

What happened exactly? Did any-pony actually know?

No, no, no.

At this point the whole information stream had degenerated into a stupid and badly played game of telephone, and yet no-pony seemed actually bored with it.

Well, I WAS BORED WITH IT. But only sometimes."

Comments

[Jdts7]

Now who in their right mind is galavanting through Ponyville after all that?