//------------------------------// // 2 Days of Blueblood // Story: My Little Blueblood // by Chuckward //------------------------------// So, it's been two days since I got Prince Blueblood and I already want to kill myself. Having this pony around is like taking a shotgun to the ear. He's so ridiculously pretentious that it tires me to the point where I can't even enjoy my vast fortune. I have to say that if that little bastard wants anything for Christmas he's gonna have to shape up. I know that these creatures talk in the show, but the last thing I want is for him to start speaking, quite frankly I'm considering getting his voice box removed before he utters a single syllable. I walk over to the couch and see him sprawled out across it. I'm not even sure how he managed it. The couch is large enough to accommodate an entire garrison of polar bears, and this little foal is taking up the entire thing. It's actually a very disturbing sight to behold. See, as I've mentioned before, this pony is two-dimensional, yet it has somehow managed to stretch itself out into a large flat carpet-like abomination. I'm half tempted to sit on him, just to see if he dies. Nah, that'd be too horrible for someone as rich as me, he might stain the couch(perish the thought) and I don't feel like paying the thirty-million dollars it costs to reupholster this thing. I mean sure, that amount of money is practically nothing to me, but it still registers as a huge inconvenience, and I certainly didn't get this rich to suffer inconveniences. Then again, if I don't want to suffer inconveniences then why do I put up with this pretentious pony prick that is currently sprawled out on my couch like a throw rug. I decided to sit down anyway, worst case scenario( or scen-ARE-io if you're a huge jerk) this bastard survives and I'm stuck with him. Naturally I jump onto the couch in the way only a rich person like myself can. I get a running start and swan dive onto the couch. To my dismay, as opposed to dying, Prince Blueblood merely snaps back into shape with a disturbingly loud cracking sound. Damn it, why did he have to live? Oh god, he's looking at me, what does he want? Oh dear lord no. This little arsehole wants me to kiss his hoof. He's holding it out, looking at me expectantly, and I want to murder this little ball of filth. I pick him up by the scruff of his neck, I look him in the eyes as I squeeze his midsection. You'd be surprised how easy it is to squeeze the life out of a creature that is essentially a breathing piece of paper. I crush his ribs with my bare hands, and his eyes pop out of his sockets. A maniacal laugh escapes my mouth as I choke- whoa, total scrubs moment. Well I'm sure those bronies I've been reading about have had similar fantasies. Especially considering some of the fanfictions I've read. Goodness, bronies sure do have sick minds. Well I guess to each their own, even if there is a shocking amount of porn. I suppose the show is pretty good though, nothing exceptional but I can see why it would draw a crowd. Don't try mentioning that on Facepunch though. I got banned from that little forum board just for mentioning the multicolored mares. Oh well, at least I can sit on my own couch now. Speaking of which, I lean forward and grab a Kindle off of my coffee table. I turn to see that Blueblood has decided to lick himself on my couch. Good, now I can hit him even harder. I take a baseball swing stance and stand in front of him, waiting for him to turn his head towards me. The second he does I take a swing and hit him right in the face. He goes flying off the couch and tumbling to the floor. He looks up at me. Man, I never though a cartoon pony could look so pissed off before today. "Bad Blueblood," I say sternly, "No cleaning your genitals on my thirty-million dollar couch." He seems to get the message, and he trots over to his doggy bed( which by the way, much like my clothing costs as much as your house) and lies down for a nap. I have to say, it felt good to smack him with that Kindle, I may have broken it, but that's okay, I was about to throw it out anyway. I sit back down on the couch and turn on my Jumbotron, which I have because I'm rich as hell. I walk up to my Green-ray disc player( I'm so rich that Blu-ray is like trash to me) and put in my favorite Veggie Tales episode. Now Larry The Cucumber is singing about his lips. I love this religious propaganda clumsily disguised as children's entertainment. The song is so catchy that I'm about to sing myself. I'm feeling a the Richmas spirit right now, perhaps I should elaborate, Richmas is like Christmas but made of gold. That's right, I'm so rich that even the holidays I celebrate are gold studded. I call Blueblood over to release my Richmas spirit upon him. "You're an asshole, Prince Blueblood. You really are a pain. You're as annoying as Rob Shneider, as stuck up as Robert Goulet. Prince Blueblood! You're a stuck up douchebag with a stupid ass name. You're a monster, Prince Blueblood. You're ego's way to big. You're face is rather snobbish. You're a spoiled little kid Prince Blueblood! I wouldn't touch you with a, diamond encrusted pole. You're a gross one, Prince Blueblood. You have dog food in your smile. You have all the humility, of Seto fucking Kaiba. Prince Blueblood! Given the choice between the two of you, I'd take, Seto fucking Kaibaaaaaa. Wow! What a rude jerk! Not only did Prince Blueblood leave before I could even finish my song, but he also had the audacity to piss all over my platinum floor. Well, my maid Donald Trump has Richmas off even though he's not even that rich so I guess I'll have to clean it myself. I'm going to kill that pony when I'm done. ____________________________________________________________________________________ Well, hope you enjoyed chapter two, I know I enjoyed writing it. After all, the Grinch makes everything better. Plus I know I would certainly say those things to his face. What would you say to Blueblood if you ever met him?