//------------------------------//
// Nightmare Moon Steps Into Zecora's Basement 
// Story: Admiral Trampoline Super Biscuit Shouldn't Write Shipfics, Volume I 
// by Super Trampoline 
//------------------------------//

Nightmare Moon made a dramatic entrance into Zecora's subterranean underground basement.

"Bwah hah hah hah ah ha" laughed the imposing edgy dark alicorn of night and eternal night and darkness and moon and stuff. "I have come to grab some dank potions for my upcoming all-night rager. Word on the street is that this hut is the place to be when it comes to amphetamines and MDMA."

"This place indeed is that you seek;
My potions surely leave you weak.
But are you dank enough to try?
My LSA your brain might fry."

"Fool! I am the queen of the Night. I eat Fatboy Slim for Breakfast and shit out the Chemical brothers. Fuck my shit up. Fuck me up, Zecora."

Zecora gazed upon the mighty mistress of the night with lidded eyes.
"Oh handsome mare, You know my name,
And evidentially, my game.
But now I have a quest for you:
To fetch for me a bag of poo."

The mischievous malignant mare reared up in anger. "Fool! Why must I gather shit?"

Zecora smiled knowingly.
"Madam, I know you seek the best,
So trust me when I give this test.
You didn't let me finish there,
For only shit of bird most rare--
A cockatrice to be precise--
Will render your high warm and nice.
Sobriety will be atoned
When on bird-lizard poop you're stoned."

"Alright, because a cockatrice gets you stoned. Haha. But will this shit make me see pony-God? Will the walls of reality melt away? Will Gen 3.5 actually become watchable?"

Zecora grimaced.
"No, my dear, I am afraid
The drugs I sell were never made
To save that pile of rotten pee
The fans call generation three.
But if you truly seek Nirvana
Blissfuller than Spa Twins' sauna,
Then perhaps the high you seek
Shall not be found chewed in your cheek,
But rather when our muzzle tips
Close the distance 'twixt our lips."

At this, the passionate zebra lunged forward, launching her muscular body towards the possessed princess of the night. Instinctually, the mare's maws rotated 30 degrees, such that when they met, they could immediately mash their faces together and with open mouths, proceed to make out.

That's the power of love.

THE END