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// Part one: Wires and Toothpaste 
// Story: Bloody Hell 
// by Henry Hatsworth 
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DISCLAIMER:


THE FOLLOWING WORK OF FANFICTION CONTAINS DANGEROUS LEVELS OF DEADPAN SNARKERY AND ABSURDNESS ON A NOT QUITE EXAGGERATED ENOUGH TO BE INHERENTLY FUNNY YET STILL EXAGGERATED ENOUGH TO MAKE YOU QUESTION JUST ABOUT EVERY WORD THE AUTHOR HAS PUT ONTO HIS VIRTUAL PAPER. PLEASE APPROACH THIS FIC WITH CAUTION AND A HEFTY AMOUNT OF BOOZE. THANK YOU FOR LISTENING.





"Bloody hell." We both said in unison as we stared at the telly. Oh, I'm sorry, I meant to say,"the mass of wires and toothpaste that once functioned as a telly."


Hi. I'm Geoff Daniels, Age 21, and I own a hotdog van in Bristol. Heh, listen to me, I sound like the opening to an episode of The krypton Factor. Ah yes, good ol' Krypton Factor. They don't make TV shows like they used to, nowadays it's all Celebrity Britain's Got The Pop Factor and Possibly A New Celebrity Jesus Christ Soapstar Superstar Strictly on Ice, or CBGTPFPANCJCSSSI. It's strange, for most people, old British television shows such as Krypton Factor either represent an important part of childhood or an obscure bit of pop culture paraphernalia, sandwiched somewhere between Monty Python and Lee Evans. but for me, and indeed the duncical mass of blood, sweat and wank that I call my friend Bill, community liasons officer on the hotdog van and one of my only aquaintances, the Krypton Factor represents something a lot more than that. It represented a complete change in our way of life. A new way of life devoid of the pointless trivialities of modern society such as electricity, entertainment and meat. Nope, no meat where we fuckin' ended up. No thanks to the bloody Krypton Factor.

Anyway, you're probably wandering by now what sort of wild tangent I could be going off onto with this. I mean, what you've heard so far could easily be put in quotation marks and -Boris Johnson placed on the end and nobody would bat an eyelid, in fact we'd all probably be a tad disappointed that that was in fact all we got from the blonde haired buffoon this time around. Anyway, you'll find out what this all ties into in due course, but first I must issue a safety warning: If you are one of those people who have an adverse reaction to descriptions of places so sickeningly sweet that it gives you triple diabetes just to read extracts from them then I must advise you to think for a moment what you're doing searching,"brony" into google, I mean how else are you going to get here? What did you think this was, a fuckin' pornhub? Anyway, with that warning out of the way, let's begin.

As I've said, this story begins with the two of us staring at was once a flat screen tv, but was now less of a 'flat' screen and more of a 'scattered in bits all over the bloody carpet' screen. This was a result of one of Bill's trademark,"I'm gonna feel that 2 fuckin' weeks from now." Drug and Booze nights. And for some unknown reason, presumably because he was also thick enough to use the yellow pages as bog roll that same night, he'd called me over to try and help him fix it. Why me? Why now? Simple, the Krypton Factor was on and we're both damned if we're missing an episode of that. The first thing we did, after clearing out all of the toothpaste from the inside of it and persuading Billy Bob Thornton that, no, this wouldn't be published in a damning tell all book published solely to makes us approximately loadsamoney, we set about trying to repair it as best we could the only way we knew how: Copious amounts of gaffer tape.

So we began gaffer taping down anything that was sticking down or that looked a bit out of place. The end result was about half a telly that looked like it'd just stepped out of the tomb of fucking Amenhotep III. Everything seemed to be going well until a small, yet still somehow fucking blinding light showed up. It hurt my eyes just to look at the bloody thing, yet neither me or Bill couldn't take our eyes of it. it was like when you were a kid and you were always told not to look at the sun but you went outside and looked at the fuckin' thing anyway. As we kept on staring at this light we both found that it was growing bigger and bigger, eventually enveloping the room. 

Now, normally I'd say something about us being rendered silent by this light, except that we really weren't. We were screaming at each other asking what the fuck the other one had done and them responding with that they hadn't done anything, or phrases to that effect. Eventually, at around the point that we'd stopped screaming words at each other and had begun to sound like some horrible orgy of pain in the blackest, thorniest part of Satan's arsehole, the light intensified almost indefinitely. To try and replicate the feeling at home, try stting at your computer at 20 to 2 in the morning and retyping this entire page. It wasn't pleasant, and the light had left us blinded for what felt like several minutes after, during which time we attempted to make sense of things by stumbling around with our hands out in front of us and shouting about everything, like some sort of loud, pathetic zombie. We were less like actual blind people and more like the mildly insensitive yet still somehow oddly funny caricatures of one in almost every cartoon ever produced, which, as we discovered, was oddly befitting of our current location...

Eventually, the blindness wore off, as it were, and we were thankful that we could both see again, that is until we realised what we could see, at which point our bollocks collectively recceded into our bodies at the speed of sound. you see, what we saw were ponies. bright, colourful, cartoon ponies in just about every hue you could think of that has at some point been associated with some kind of confection. Pink, White, purple, blue, pink, green, orange, more pink, pink, pink as hell, even more pink, my god I think my heart's going to give out just typing about it this much. the perplexing part, in hindsight, was that they seemed just as frightened of us as we were of them. Well, I say frightened, when what I mean is emasculated to a degree that, should it ever be weaponised, it would be deemed to cruel to use on even the fucking monkey nazis of 2032. And besides, what reason would they have to be afraid of us? Unless cartoon pony freaks from another dimension have an inherent fear of "kiss me quick" hats and T-shirts with horrible sex jokes printed across them in big bold letters. However, we seemed to forget that instance, and we ran away from where we were, some sort of town square style area, and made for whichever direction seemed to best represent 'away' at that instant. We took what we assumed were back alleys and byroads until we eventually found ourselves in what seemed like a forest, at which point we all realised that we had no wilderness training and were probably going to die. Still, could be worse. It wasn't raining. Oh, wait, yes it was.

We walked for fucking ages in that forest. Our only sense of time was that every 3 minutes and 47 seconds Bill would ask,"Why don't we just go home." At which point I'd turn to him and say something along the lines of,"We're fucking lost! What, did you leave a trail of breadcrumbs through a fucking dimensional wormhole?" At least, I thought this was our only measure of time until I remembered that my watch was still working. After that facepalm-fest, if you will, we carried on walking until we reached some sort of caravan looking thing. Bill voiced his concernt hat it was caravan and most likely wasn't worth our time, until I reminded him that we were lost in a fucking forest in another dimension. Tentatively, I knocked on the door, in case it was home to some as yet unknown eldrich abomination that's go ahead and bash us to death with its cock. However, all we discovered was another pony. A blue one with a fucking cone looking thing on its forehead. It stepped out of the caravan and I swear to fuck I heard a fanfare in the background as it did this. It reared up on its hind legs and from its moouth spilled the following:

"Gaze upon the majesty of the great and powerful Trixie!"

"Fuckin' hell, they talk too." We both said in unison.