"Pinkie Pie, what did you say this was again?"
The hyperactive baker rolled her eyes. "Fanfiction, Twilight. I said it was fanfiction. Oh, and I put you in it! Did you see?"
"Yes Pinkie." Twilight rubbed her hooves across her aching eyes, eyes she was sure were bleeding from the agony they'd just witnessed. And there were a hundred more pages to go. "Yes, I saw."
"Soooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo?" Pinkie took a deep breath. "What did you think?"
I think I need a drink, Twilight thunk. I mean thought. "Well, it's nice."
"Nice?"
"Nice." Twilight nodded slowly. "In the vast annals of pony literature, this is certainly the most . . . most . . . thing I have ever read."
Pinkie stopped bouncing mid-bounce, and stared down at Twilight from her superior (based on altitude) position in the middle of the library. "What do you really think?" Her ice-blue eyes bored into the librarian's very soul.
Twilight began sweating. Profusely. She didn't handle stress well; she knew she didn't handle stress well. She could feel hairs in her mane sproinging out of place, and her tail was rapidly kinking.
"Well?" Pinkie leaned forward, unaware of how impossible that was, given her current I've-turned-off-gravity position.
"Your prose is clunky, you make too many meta references, your premise is absurd, ignores canon, and your characters are out of character. And you shouldn't begin a sentence with 'and.' Furthermore, if you'd paid any attention to equine anatomy at all, you'd know that ponies neither have gall bladders nor appendixes." Twilight sighed. "But your penmareship is very neat."