//------------------------------//
// Return of the King 
// Story: Pleasuring Techniques and Other Weird-Ass Stories 
// by Regidar 
//------------------------------//

	"Here's your ice cream, Scootaloo!"

"Thank you, Mr. Ice Cream Pony!" Scootaloo said, tossing him a few bits.

The ice cream vendor frowned slightly. "I, um, do have a name, you know..."

Scootaloo's eyes turned into pits of doom and fire, the abysmal cries of a thousand tortured should being converted into banshees echoing in the background. "Y̹̱̬͕̬͓ͤͪ͗̀O̡͖͚̥̲̿́͠U̡͔̻͔͈̦̲̣͈ͥͯ̒̊̎ͪ̆͐̄ ͐ͧ̈͏҉͖̻̜̭̼͓A̸̹ͨ͗̍̅̊̀R̺͕̮̔ͣ̄̒͆ͭ̿ͬE̸̸̤͂̉̇̊̆̄ͫͧ ̴̨͚̰ͯ̃̓͆̅ͯ͂͜H̵̢̱̊ͦ̅̍̉ͧͧ̉ͅĀ̳͈̲̂̍̾̽V̟̜̲̗̅̆̚͜Ḙ̸̻̖͎̥̪͕̔͆̽ͪ͆ ́̏͂ͣ̕҉͎͎͔͈̰͡ͅN̨̩̖̟̳̣̿̚͘O̵͉̐͒ ̴̼̦̪̳͕͇ͪ̉̄̏̕͟Ǹ̷̘̻͚̟̫̾̆̇̑̿̇͞Aͬ̏̉̿̈̍҉̦̣͕̝̰̖͎̤͜M̤̖̟̼̺ͮͩ͌̍ͮ̍ͮ͠E̵̟̞̘̻̿̽͊ͣͧ͂͠!"
ͦ̌̌̒̑ͮ͏̹̟̗͚

"Y̭̩̞̮̠̱̣͒̈́O̶̸̰͎ͬǓ̢͍̻̿͋̐ͤ͌̊̆̀ ̸̧̳̭̳̮͚̰̪̬̔̌̔̈́̔A̸̰̫̍͆͒Ṙ̛̤͇̭͎̈́̀̂ͨ̀̆̚͡Ẹ̛̦̪̼͖̊͛ͦͤ̀ ̰̮̌̒ͥS̈͗͌͏̸̣̰̪̜̪̝͘I͉̝̠̯̭̣̬̪͐̊̒̇̆̚M̳͚̰̩̖̞ͫ͛P̷̢̱͑̓͊̉̋ͯ̀L̶͕̹͉̱͎̑͒͟͠Y͔̳̿̂̇ͩ̎̇ͥͦ͜͢ ̭̜̱̯̹ͣ͒͗͋ͧͤͭͦ̚͡T̖̣̫̦̐̌͗̒H̠͚̲̙̠͚̫ͦͪͩ̆Ȩ̼͖̙̱̙̮̘͗̏̆ͦ̌ͤ̽̾̀ ͩ͏̤̲̝̬̪Ĩ̬͇̼̼̱͓̌̒̄͞C̴̺͇͓͂ͩ̃̇̒̎̐E͔̤͙̩͍ͣ̏̃̂̿̐ ͍̿ͧ̆C̼̭̦̣̰͖̪̟ͤͫ̈́ͨ̐́̚R̢̤̟̠̤͇̿̍͊̚E̢͈̼̮͖̟͇͖͚̐̄ͯ̎͗͑͡Å̗͈͒̈̚M̢͔̰̯̓̔͒͆̔͛̒̆͟͟ ̷͐͐̐̈̈̕͏̱̮̜V̫̥̮͂̈ͨͧ̓ͭͮ̀͞͞E̷̡̦͉͕̟̠̠͇͔̤̅̄̈͢N̙͙͛̄̉̒͛͗ͭ̎̌͠D̶̼ͪͧ͡Ö̡̯̱̗ͯ͌͛̾ͥ̕R͖̳͇ͤͬ͂͆͗ͤ͡


̜̗͓̟͔̲̞̏ͬͩ͟͞͡Y̢̜ͦ͗̏ͪ̀ͥ͟͝O͍̘͐̾ͭ̓ͯ͋̈͝Ư̫̮͕͕ͣ̌ͫ̿̑̈̅̀ ̐͆ͣ҉̨̮͎̱W͇͈͇͖̹̜̭͊̈́͐ͮ̆̂̆I̷̥͖̫͓̼̟̊̅͢L͕̳͍͈̜̳̻̋ͤ̔̽L͈̩͗͜ ̴̷̸͇̼̘̰̐̋ͬ̑̇̌Gͩͧͨ͘͏͙̦̠̣͈̕Ą̵͓̬̞͌ͣ̓́I̷̧̡͚̗͕̞̦͒̌̓ͭ̉̽ͩN̡̡̩̩̫͎͓͚̖̿͋ͧ̄͗͐ͮ̀̚ͅ ̱̫̺̤͇̗̺̜̉ͬ̑ͯͬ́N̗̥͍̳͎͎͍̤ͬ̿̈́̄ͅO̭ͩ̅̾ͣͮ ̶͍̖̹̿̏̌̎̔ͪͤH͇̘̎ͦ̆ͪ͗̌̐̾Aͧ̈ͪ͏̠̘P̤̺̗̪̭̲̣͐̈ͬͤͧ̍͗ͮͅP̛̣̞̯̪̖̫̬̦̍ͣͯ̅̄ͦ̍̀̚I̧̳̫̳ͯ̈̊̓̾̐̀͠Ṅ̯͓̼̙̰͈̖́̒͗ͫ͒̈̕͟E̐̀̄ͭ͊ͦ̂̚҉̖͔͇Ŝ̸̠͖̜̳̻͚̰̗̣ͯͣ̆̓̈S̴͓͍̦̈̽̌̏ͩ͞
̴̬̜̼̹̪͖̋͂̊ͭ̂̒́͟ͅŸ̧̞̮͉̖̲̪̙̜͇ͤ̇͊̐O͎̩̻̼̣̒̾ͩͬͣ͑̑̃͟Ü̙͇̗̟̹ͩ̇ͥ̋̒̅R̛̼͉͎͖͊́̊ ̢̭̳̘̬̬̣̳̄̿̈́̔̾͜͠S̸̰̅ͨ́ͬO̷͉ͤ̔̑̓ͨU̧͍̫̖̦̥̰͖ͪ̽̌̽̅̇̓̈́͘L̢͚̫͙͚̈͑̅ͧ͂̚͠ ̑̓ͯ̍ͧ̚҉̮̗̹̟̱I̭̯̭͓͙͎̫̠ͯ̄ͣ̅̂̌̚̕͠S̯͕͋̓ͪͩ͌͗͛͋͟ ̜̳̖̘̩͚̗͚̗̋͑́͛̈M̵̵̛͕̜̝̫̙͕ͥ̆͒̒̅͌̾I̩̩͕̦̦ͨ͟N̨͖̟͍̥ͤ̓͒͐̈̒͡Eͦ͒ͯ͏̧͕̤̳͖̰̗͔"

The ice cream vendor blinked, and all was normal one more. "Thank again for the ice cream!" Scootaloo called out merrily. The poor pony, who at one time only wanted to vend ice cream, was already feeling himself go mad. He was not ready for the arrival, and when he killed himself but three days later, his dead corpse would become the host of Zalgo. But that doesn't matter right now.

Scootaloo trotted happily away, her ice cream cone curled up in one of her tiny wings. Stopping, she moved the ice cream forward, ready to take her first lick.

"SURPRISE, MOTHAFUCKA!" A large black man yelled as he jumped out from behind a potted plant that was far too small for him to have been hiding behind.

Scootaloo screamed, but it was of no use. The black man was already upon her poor, supple frame. This was indeed, the end.

The afro-ed man grabbed Scootaloo's ice cream, and skipped away merrily. The poor filly fell to the ground, and began to sob.