//------------------------------// // 120 Days of Ass Kickin' (Unedited) // Story: Cupcakes A$$ Kicking. // by thewaffler //------------------------------// Canterlot, a city we’ve not touched much on in the story, lay serenely snuggled against the side of the mountain it called home. All was good this morning, rich ponies were getting unnecessary work done from coffee enemas to taint waxings, merchants were hiking up the cost of souvenirs to unsuspecting tourists, Luna was going to bed, Gary Gygax was doing a crossword puzzle, Celestia was downing her second helping of Prench toast and Discord was turning the castle maze into a giant bounce house much to the dismay of the visiting minotaur prime minister. Like I said it was the start to a beautiful day, that was until... “WHAT DO YOU MEAN, I'M AN ASSHOLE?!” The voice of a pompous stallion screamed in his version of the Royal Equestrian voice as he stepped back from his computer wearing an expression of extreme disdain. “Sire?” The prince’s butler Percy trotted into the room upon hearing his young master’s angered voice. “I turn down one gold digging mare, one of hundreds of mares and suddenly, I’m the demonic love-foal of that prick from Frozen and that bloke that bothers Supermane. They made me into fucking Caligula.” Yeah, the hoomans hadn’t been exactly kind to the prince he served. Blueblood was so angry he had to look up on the hooman internet to find a proper villain to use as his analogy to fit this situation. “My dear sweet aunt, this blows boat ponies.” “It’s not just this fic, I’ve read others where I do terrible things ranging from speciesism, racism, murder, rape, pedophila and more murder to general rudeness and buggery. This one is just the straw that breaks the metaphorical camel’s back.” “I love my aunts, Cadence and my brother-in-law Shining Armor and I love good roast as much as the next stallion, but his has gotta end.” “I am a stallion of dignity and grace and I’m gonna give some of these hoo-mans a piece of my glorious royal mind.” “Um… sire aren’t you you taking this a bit far?” Blueblood trotted back to his laptop, picked it up and shoved it in the face of his ever faithful servant. “Read the last three paragraphs of chapter one.” Percy did as instructed and looked positively green. “Shall, I send for a chariot?” “Yes and send a call to the costume shop for we will be going through my revenge with an element of class.” On Earth, prince blueblood stood in front of a reasonably average suburban home. As he mentioned they stopped by the costume shop and were currently dressed in a manner not too dissimilar to the Green Hornet and Kato with the major difference being that the prince wanted to be Kato because he thought the outfit looked better. Far be it for Percy to question his master. *Knock* *Knock* *knock* Opening the door was a writer of one of the most lurid fan fictions that Blueblood had ever read. Rubbing his eyes, he couldn’t believe what he was seeing on his front porch. “Prince Blueblood?!” “You my dear sir are a piece of shit. You want evil, I’ll show you evil. I’m gonna take your mother out for a wonderful time and never call her again.” “Oh, god no...” “Yes, and on top of that I’m gonna borrow your car and not refill the tank.” “You monster!” And on that bombshell prince Blueblood left, but not before stealing all his shoes and filing his entire house with Legos, the little triangular ones. Not only guaranteeing that the hooman would be in immense pain, but that his vacuum cleaner would most certainly meet its untimely death. The stallion also kept his word and broke the heart of a middle-aged single mother as well as leaving the car on bone empty. Overkill? Meh, maybe? Our prince continued his reign of terror in fast paced montage with a song that may or may not have been performed by Stroke 9 (Kick Some Ass). Let’s face it when you’re loaded you can afford to hire your own sound guys and band to follow you as you carry out your half ass revenge ideas. That’s exactly what Blueblood did earlier that day. (Begin Flashback) “I want you fine gentlemen to be my minstrels while I carry out my acts of self justice.” “No.” The band said in unison. “I have a chest full of gems and gold trinkets.” Blueblood looked over to Percy. “Bring out the chest!” The ever faithful butler wheeled out a massive treasure chest and opened it to reveal a shit ton of gold and jewels. “On second thought, we’d be more than happy to work for you.” (End Flashback) Finally, our vindictive prince approached the last home on his list of ass kickings. It was the writer of “180 Days Around Blueblood.” The unicorn once again approached the door and gave it a few solid knocks. “Yes?” “I have a message for a mister Lars Marson.” Opening the door the young man looked in awe at the pony before him. “Holy crap, it’s prince Blueblood, I’ve been wanting to do this for awhile now.” The hooman cocked his arm back and took a swing at the royal stallion making direct contact with his jaw causing him to stumble backwards onto the porch. “That was for being a total nobhead to my favorite pony.” Dazed, Blueblood righted himself and used his magic to pull the engine off a passing jetliner and hurl it into the brony’s house with extreme prejudice. *SMASH* *BWOOOM* “Suck it, Donnie Darko.” Don’t worry all the passengers on the plane were totally safe, because they were all saved by Spider-man because everyone gets one. Don’t question it, just drop it and move on. “Well, Percy looks we got through to them and there will never be another story where I’m written as a total douche bag, ever again.” With that, the prince and his butler went home. The End? >> Nope, because Blueblood is an easy target. As for what Celestia and company was doing? “You aren’t allowed to dance in our town!” The city council of Nowhere, Nebraska shouted at the defiant teenager that dared to join movement and music together. *KAAAA-BOOOOOM* Smoke poured through the hole in the wall in was what used to be the left side of a high school gym. “The Hell, he can’t!” Celestia said as she stood over the rubble wearing an old World War Two helmet whilst holding a bazooka. “What the dev--” Just as the town’s mayor was about to question all of this, Discord poofed into existence and turned half of the council of evil into decorative rocks with googly eyes. “Children, thou art free to pursue joys of merriment and dancing.” Unbeknownst to the high school students, the royal friends and Gary Gygax freed hundreds of DJs from a secret work farm underneath city hall. Like a tsunami of people, the formerly enslaved music mixers filed through the hole brandishing keyboards, keytars, mixing boards and turn tables like weapons. The hard work of digging through hard rock for precious stones had made them strong and now they could get their revenge on their captors. Charging their instruments like proton packs they began to play and direct their sick beats at their aggressors. (Imagine your own favorite artists...Me? I like Madeon, Mord Fustang, but it could be who ever you want it to be.) “NOOOOOO, YOUR BEATS ARE TOO POWERFUL!!!” The rest of council screamed as they exploded like a Power Rangers villain, complete with the sparks and guitar riff.