//------------------------------// // Pure Blood Boasters // Story: My British Pony: Stereotypes Are Magic // by CartsBeforeHorses //------------------------------// Twilight Sparkle and Simon stood inside of Twilight’s tree house. “Oh, sure you’re going to make a moustache appear on me, Twilight,” Simon chuckled. “By the way, how’s that whole sex-change spell progressing, then?” Twilight responded, “But those are impossible.” “My point entirely,” Simon nodded. Twilight Sparkle gasped, stepping back. “Why, I never! I’ll sure show you, you wanker!” She powered up her horn and fired a magical beam at Simon. Suddenly, a twirly moustache, a top hat, and a monocle all appeared on Simon’s head. Simon blinked several times in disbelief, then took his claw and stroked his moustache with it, grinning from ear to ear. “Well stone the crows. You actually did it! And a jolly good show, that. My, I look smashing! Why, the hairs are all trimmed to precisely the same length, and—” Twilight’s horn powered up again, and then Simon’s moustache disappeared. “Oh, I’m sorry,” said Twilight, grinning deviously. “But I thought you said it’s impossible to make a moustache appear.” “Well... it might be impossible, but that doesn’t mean it can’t be done,” Simon conceded, blushing. “That’s exactly what impossible means,” said Twilight. “Is not,” said Simon. “Is so,” Twilight insisted. Simon scratched the back of his head. “Erm… oh, bollocks. Yes, I suppose it is possible. Now can I please have the moustache back?” He got on his hands and knees and pleaded with Twilight. “Please? Pleeeease? I’ll be your best friend!” She chuckled. “Perhaps some other time. Today we need to go to the travelling funfair, remember?” “Oh, that’s correct,” said Simon. “I almost forgot.” Twilight Sparkle and Simon walked outside and into Ponyborough Upon Everfree, where all of the ponies queued around the block for miles to get into the Ponyborough Upon Everfree fair. One of the ponies jumped in the queue, but he was tarred and feathered. After just a few short days of waiting in the queue, Twilight and Simon finally got in. And it was worth the wait. There was fish and chips, marmite-flavoured candyfloss, fried crumpets, funnel figgy pudding, gypsy tart (sold by actual gypsies), Equish muffins, and candied haggis. There were booths and all sorts of whimsical travelling funfair games such as hotel room trashing, do-it-yourself dental work, asking paper duck targets politely if they’d be so kind as to fall over, pinning a tail on a real-life donkey and then laughing at him, and flying a kite up to the highest height. And, of course, the funnest game of all: waiting in a queue to play the games themselves. There was also a crowd of ponies doing a Morris dance. “Look at this!” said Rainbow Chav, smoking a long, golden-brown stick. “They got fried fags ‘ere!” “And all manner of sweets!” said Pinkie Pie, chewing on candy as one of her last remaining teeth cracked. “Aye, it’s the food of ma people!” said Applejack, taking a bite of candied haggis. “Why, I could never eat such unhealthful rubbish,” said Rarity. “It would all go to my thighs, regardless.” “Nae danger, ye numpty,” said Applejack. “What do ye think this is, Amareica? We dinnae get fat here.” Come to think of it, why aren’t there any obese or overweight ponies on the show, anyway? I think that’s fat-shaming, and will file a lawsuit. Also, Equestria Girls and Flash Sentry needs a trigger warning for waifu stealing. Yes, this story now makes fun of America, too. Simon and Twilight walked along, and they saw one of the games: a target shooting booth with French targets such as Naponean Ponaparte holding up white flags. “Step roight up, step roight up!” a barker called. Twilight Sparkle and Simon stopped, walking over to the booth. “See if you can ‘it the targets, there,” he said, pointing with his hoof to the targets. “Just one shilling to play, and if you knock ‘em all over from behoind that loine, you get a proize!” “Very well, then,” said Twilight Sparkle. She reached into her purse and pulled out a shilling, giving it to the barker. “Now then,” said the barker, reaching for the air rifle, “‘Ere you go—” But before he could give her the rifle, Twilight had knocked over all the targets with her telekinesis. “Wot!?” the barker exclaimed. “You was supposed to shoot the targets, not use magic!” “You never specified,” said Twilight. “Uh…” the barker started. “Well, I suppose I didn’t, then. But it’s still a ruddy thing to do, you know!” “Where’s my prize?” asked Twilight. “You don’t get one!” the Barker snapped. “Oh, don’t I?” asked Twilight, raising an eyebrow. “I only did what you said.” “You cheated! You did wot I said, but not wot I meant to—” “Look, look, look,” said Simon, stepping in between the two ponies. “If it makes you feel any better, I’ll shoot the targets for her. I do have hands, after all.” “You’d better ‘it them all, or she don’t get a proize!” the barker scoffed, handing Simon the rifle. Simon gulped, steadying the rifle in his claw, pointing it at the target and staring down the sights. Before he could pull the trigger, however, a policestallion walked up. “Oy!” Simon looked up. “Possession of a firearm? That’s illegal in this country!” the bobby exclaimed. “Please, look, I can explain—” Simon started. “Yes, yes, yes. Tell it to the magistrate!” the officer interrupted, grabbing his hoofcuffs from his pocket and getting out his truncheon. “Flee!” Twilight Sparkle cried, grabbing Simon. He got on her back and she ran, as Yakety Sax began to play. They ran down the street, weaving in and out of the booths, the policestallion on their tail. Twilight rounded a corner around a tent, hiding behind it. But the bobby was too clever for such a ruse, and turned around to chase them. Twilight teleported off, but at this point in the series she hadn’t yet gotten the skill down pat, so only ended up a few metres behind the bobby. He turned around and continued his pursuit. Twilight continued to run, dashing down the main thoroughfare as she saw a giant stage set up for the fair. Near the back of the stage, they saw a sign that said “Dressing Room” on it. Twilight dashed in, shut the door behind her, and locked it. The bobby knocked at the door, pounding on it. “Quick, Simon, we have to get a disguise!” Simon and Twilight frantically looked through the dressers until they found some fair performer clothes. They put them on. “He’ll never recognise us in these!” said Simon, a brown patchwork vest and a white shirt on his body and a straw boater atop his head. “Indeed,” said Twilight, wearing the same. They walked out of the dressing room wearing the clothes, and sure enough, the bobby didn’t recognise them. However, as they walked along, one of the other performers saw them and pulled them aside. “There you are! Come, the show is about to begin!” “Wait, what show—” Twilight started, but she soon found herself pushed onto the stage along with Simon and dozens more performers. “Just sing along; you’ll know the words instantly,” said the performer. He tossed them each a horseshoe. They sang a song which sounded like but was certainly not the song “Me Ol’ Bamboo” from Chitty Chitty Bang Bang itself, since it’s against the rules to post copyrighted lyrics. “A lady wears her nice high heels, and pirates have peg hooves. And sprinters in the marathon they wear their runners, too. Under Spanish manes and tails it’s plain they wear their zapatos. But we make do with our old horseshoes; they’re rusty metal fun! 1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5 - 6 - 7 - Hey! Me ol’ horseshoe, me ol’ horseshoe You’d better bother with me ol’ horseshoe. You can have me saddle or me mule, but you’d better never bother with me ol’ horseshoe.” They all tossed their horseshoes to each other, and then to Twilight, who juggled them all in her telekinesis. The crowd cheered at this display. Then, she tossed the horseshoes back to everypony. The chorus sang, “When walking down the sandy beach?” “You put on your flip flops,” Twilight responded. “And when it’s time to go to sleep?” the chorus sang. “Then get some slippers on,” sang Simon. “In laboratories you might need?” sang the chorus. “Some rubber boots to wear,” sang Twilight and Simon. “Right!” sang the chorus. Then they all sang, “But what we do with our old horseshoes Makes everyone hurrah!” 1 - 2 - 3 - HO! Me ol’ horseshoe, and not bamboo. No copyright: I pulled it out of my wazoo. Everyone knows parody’s fair use. I hope the mods agree with me or I’ll be banned, too.” They all took a bow. Ponies threw shillings at them, and Twilight and Simon took off their hats to catch the money. “I say, how in the world did we know all of those lyrics?” asked Simon. “Well, it certainly isn’t because they’re copyrighted,” said Twilight. “As you can see, this song was an original creation which we made up on the spot.” “Right-o,” said Simon. Suddenly, a puff of smoke appeared as a blue unicorn ran onto the stage. “Greetings, mud-bloods! I am ze great and powerful Lord Trixiemort! Heil!” she spoke in a German accent. “We saw that ye dinnae actually teleport, ye know,” said Applejack. Trixie blushed. “Uh, no, zat’s because I apparated. Zere’s a difference. Now, as I vas saying, I am a pure-blooded unicornmensch, unlike all of you mud-bloods and muggles—” “Can you sing a song like they just did, as well?” Pinkie asked. Trixie frowned. “No, but zat’s not important! I’m here to demand zat you submit to your new pure-blood overlords—” “But without an evil villain song? No showtune? Do you know nothing of showponyship?” asked Rarity. “You really do need to sing some sort of song to introduce yourself,” said Twilight Sparkle. “No!” exclaimed Lord Trixiemort, stomping her hoof on the ground as lightning struck in the air behind her. “No merriment! No makings of music!” “Then no submission,” said Rainbow Chav, condescendingly blowing smoke from her fried fag into the air. “It took a bloody good song to even make us throw our shillings; you’d better believe we’ll only submit to the master race after a propa musical. Nuff said.” Trixiemort scowled, bearing her teeth. “Shut up, you hippogriff!” “You wot, mate?” demanded Rainbow Chav, flying up to Trixiemort and staring her straight in the face. “Avada KedavrAAAAAAHHHH!” Unable to cast her spell, Lord Trixiemort screamed as Rainbow Chav’s dagger pierced her side. However, she did not bleed red blood, but rather mud. “That’s ironic, innit?” laughed Pinkie Pie. “The so-called ‘pure-blood’ is actually a mud-blood ‘erself!” The paramedics arrived two hours later and carted Lord Trixiemort off to hospital, but she bled out and died in the five hours she had to wait in the emergency room queue before seeing a doctor, since they were all busy having socialized teatime. “Simon, take a letter,” said Twilight Sparkle. “Dear Queen Celestia the Second. Today I learned that if a pony is to be taken seriously as a proper villain, they really must sing a song declaring their evil intentions to all the world. Also, my friends and I had quite a fun time waiting in queues today. Though I can’t say the same for Lord Trixiemort, since she is now deceased. Sincerely, Twilight Sparkle.” Unfortunately, little did Twilight know that Lord Trixiemort didn’t die permanently, because she still had seven horcruxes left.