There before him, working by the light of firefly lamps, were Flim and Flam, dumping carts of garbage into his yard. The yard he worked so hard to keep clean.
He could take these punks on. He stepped forward and cleared his throat. "Good evening, gentlestals."
Flim and Flam both pronked in suprise. Flam looked like he was about to say something, but MacIntosh continued. "Just what the everloving fuck are you doing dumping garbage in my yard? The yard I work so hard to keep clean, I might add."
Flim and Flam sweated bullets. Literally, pointed little metal shards were dripping out of their skin. And when Flam finally did speak, his mouth unhinged far more than it should have been able to, and the sound that came out was akin to that of steam train that hasn't been adequately oiled. And suddenly the sky was hot pink.
Big Mac Gulped. He had messed around where he shouldn't have stuck his nose too much, and now reality was falling apart. Flim currently had seventy three heads and was turning blue and yellow, and the pile of garbage was singing happily in forbidden tongues like a bastardized animatronic at Whinny Land, or whatever the place Rarity and Applejack visited in the Friends Forever comic was called. He needed to leave, now. He quickly pulled his time dilation ray from his saddle bag and set it for when he belonged. With a flash, he was gone. Moments later, the universe he had been in collapsed completely.