Death of the author · 7:17am Feb 27th, 2021
Somepony was singing. More specifically, Twilight Sparkle was singing. To be exact, Twilight Sparkle was singing and she did so in the shower. So, she was a shower-singer, just like Celestia. How very droll. Only the most annoying of optimists sang in the shower, in Luna's experience. Of course, it could also be that Twilight sang while soaking in the tub, that was also an option. To know the truth, one would have to intrude—which was exactly what Luna decided to do.
She drifted, spilling from tenebrous shadow to shadow, formless and without body. But not without perception. She could still see, still hear, she could touch and experience sensation. While she understood how this worked, it would be impossible to explain to a common little pony without driving them barking mad. Little ponies liked to see out of two eyes, in a wholesome, regular, mundane manner. Being able to see around them in a three-hundred and sixty degree field of view in all conceivable directions overloaded their little pony brains, gave them headaches, and left them a drooling mess.
One day, she might very well grant Overcast The Sight, because the little stinker had it coming.
So, Twilight Sparkle wasted a perfectly opportune time for meditation and self-reflection with shower singing. Little ponies randomly burst out into song, on occasion. Of course, big ponies did too, much to Luna's dour consternation. It was like some kind of curse. Life might already be perfectly dreadful, boring and tedious, when all of a sudden the urge to start singing would strike like lightning. It was an especially perfidious magic, one that inflected possession upon the body and made one flail about whilst caterwauling and inciting a state of bedlam.
Worst of all, during Luna's entire one-thousand year absence, no cure had been found.
Twilight Sparkle sang a nauseating tune about casting one's troubles into bubbles and then popping them one by one, which somehow absolved one of all their tribulations. It was the worst sort of rubbish, saccharine, sickly-sweet, and an outright falsehood. One simply did not cast one's troubles into bathtime bubbles and—oh no! Luna felt it gnawing at her conscience! The dreadful urge to join in and sing!
Left with no other choice, she had to ruin the moment; she had to ruin Tubtime Troubadour Twilight Sparkle's song and dance number before Luna herself could be infected with this malignant magical malady. Luna had no desire whatsoever to pour her heart out in a heartfelt duet with her sister's prized and much-beloved apprentice. Already, the urge was terrifyingly strong, and gaining strength with each passing second.
Teeth bared in a wolfish smile, Luna materialised like a grim spectre right beside the tub, an ill-omen, a dire sign of worse fates yet to come. When she was mostly solid, she said, "We bid thee a good even, Twilight Sparkle."
Naturally, Twilight Sparkle responded in much the same way any little pony taking a bath might respond when the embodiment of nighttime terrors manifested right next to the bath in which they sat and smiled at them. She screamed. Her silly song became a shriek of terror, reaching a pitch that would surely disrupt the biological directives and reproductive urges of the local bat populations. Eyes wide, uvula wagging from side to side, Twilight Sparkle produced a truly impressive volume, one worthy of praise.
The soap—her soap—levitated aloft in a magenta dweomer fell prey to gravity when her magic failed. There was a satisfying "THADONK!" sound when the soap struck the sidewall of the wrought iron clawfooted tub; it then bounced, rising up in a resplendent arc, and then much to Luna's amusement, the soap went into Twilight Sparkle's wide-open wailing maw, where it was promptly swallowed in an accidental manner to prevent an unhealthy bout of airway restriction.
It was no different than swallowing a horse pill, and at least the soap was slippery.
Having witnessed an entirely logical but extremely chaotic sequenced series of random events, Luna beamed. Her earlier melancholy took wing and her recalcitrant humours did an on the spot correction. At least Twilight was no longer screaming. The poor young mare wagged and waggled and waved her tongue about while her eyes crossed and uncrossed, as one did when one swallowed a bar of soap. Luna took in every detail, every sound, every bit of sensory input and committed them to memory, because Twilight Sparkle would relive this moment in dreams for decades to come.
Her hind legs kicked against the tub as she thrashed about, shuddering, and the waves Twilight created splashed over the sides of the tub, soaking Luna. Tub thumping, the unicorn flailed about, no doubt suffering some distress from the taste left on her tongue. Luna might have sympathised, but she was far too amused at the moment. Enough amusement for two, if one took the Royal We into consideration.
"Blargh!" Twilight blarghed, no doubt blarghing to clear her soapy throat.
This is what killed him.
Someone will be farting bubbles for weeks 😁
Oh. Oh dear! Now, that's a bad case of diarrhea ahead of young ms. Sparkle! Eating soap tends to clean you out quite t h o u r o u g h l y, gut biome included, and a whole bar would accelerate this phenomenon, rapidly.
Poor Twilight!
Poor Author!
You write an strange and entertaining Luna!
5463006
You seem to be talking from personal experience...do tell, was there any sideffects from such througly intestinal cleasing ?
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It can't be an intentional reference to THAT, can it?
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Might as well post it.
... late to the party again. but....
I think I may have broken something while flailing about in laughter. Not sure what broke my fall.