//------------------------------// // The Mandate // Story: The Mandate // by Mod On Death //------------------------------// Mr. Bates woke up early and found his mouth tasting terribly. He turned and looked at his alarm to find that it was about three in the morning. "Ugh. Please let this be a dream." After about five minutes of just lying there it was apparent that it wasn't one. With little else to do, he got up from his bed and went to his bathroom to brush his teeth. Still half asleep, he ended up walking into his dog's cage, stubbing his hoof in the process. "Gah! Freaking-" "BARK BARK BARK!" his dog yelled upon hearing his master wake him up. He suddenly got out of his cage and got right in front of Bate's path, walking in a way where his head was pointing to him and also walking in the most annoying way for his master to pass through. "Come on, Barky. Just go back to sleep." He moved through his kitchen, the animal still following behind, or in this case, ahead. He got to his bathroom and flipped on the lights, blinding him in the process. With blurry eyes, he opened up his cabinet and reached in to get his toothbrush only to have it fall into his sink. "Hate it when that happens." He washed it off with hot water and got the toothpaste out. He took off the cap and that also fell into the sink. Fishing it out, he finally squeezed out on the tube, only to find that there wasn't anything left in it. Thinking that there must be some somewhere else, he went and turned around. He quickly heard the dog yelp as he stumbled over it and fell face flat onto the floor. His face was immediately filled with pain, especially his nose. He looked into the mirror and saw his nose bloody and bent. It was right then when he remembered that he was queasy when he saw blood and fell back on the floor. It was several hours before he woke up again, his body sore from the falls and awkward position he ended up sleeping in. The dog also decided to mess with the cabinet and ended up pulling it off the wall, spilling its contents everywhere. Bates got up, his body aching as he did so. He looked around and saw that there was light outside. He went over to this clock and found that it said it was half past eight. Seeing that he was late he left for work right then, deciding to clean up all his stuff when he got back. It was only when he left his house did he finally taste his mouth and remember how terrible it was. When he tried to get back in his house he found that he had locked himself out. With no place else to go, he sighed and resigned himself to work. "Heyfield! If you don't get your stuff off my desk I'll let it on fire!" Sound yelled as she threw his pockets off of her desk. "I'm trying to make a story here, so cut me some slack!" he yelled while picking up his pockets off the floor. "What's the story? 'Pocket Guy and the Grunge Brigade'? They have the ability to have super large muscles and guns with no pupils?" The two were going at it as Mr. Bates finally came in. "Can you keep it down?" Queso asked. "I'm trying to think up new storyline." "By that, you mean just do another crossover," Low Web said with contempt. "Maybe I should, and the crossover could be with the good characters that we have against all your clones." "That saga wasn't bad!" Low Web continued to yell at Joe Queso while Bates listened with disinterest. His ears were ringing from all this yelling while his writers continued to create chaos. "Come on, guys. Let's not fight over this," Buronson told his coworkers. "After all, we all know that my Hoof of the South Star series is the thing that keeps us in business." "You tell 'em, Burry!" Sound cheered for her writer. "Oh, shut it, Sound," Red Lead, the Penciller that worked with Heyfield told her. "You know that Heyfield and I started a new generation of art style. If anything, we helped make this company." "Too bad that art style was terrible," Tres Williams, the fashionable penciller for Queso said, laughing while he taunted. "Well at least they can get their stuff finished in less than two months," Finch replied. "You take so long that the people who bought the previous issue have forgotten about the comic by the time the new issue's been released." The yelling continued, each pony complaining about the other's styles. Bates managed to hear all of this even when he closed up his office. "Maybe if I close my eyes I'll be able to sleep," he said, hoping that they'd shut up soon. His hopes were dashed, however, when somepony started knocking on his door. "Who is it?" "Golden Bell and Cloverbud," Cloverbud said in a flat tone. "We need to talk about the new toys that we'll be releasing this fall." "Come in," he replied drearily. The two entered, both carrying tons of papers with them. Bates raised his head to see this and just wanted to go back to bed. That, or somewhere he'd be able to actually sleep. "You know, I'm just the Editor here. Why is this my job?" "Because of weird job responsibilities," Cloverbud replied. "We need you to check over each of these toy designs and see if they're accurate. Afterward, I'll look at your notes and decide if they're correct. Then we pass them onto the toy makers and do this again another three times." "Also, I'll be deciding if we listen to your notes or not," Golden Bell said quietly. "After all, we can't spend too much, but also need to look good." "Hey, you there, Mr. Bates?" Sound called out while looking into his office. "Obviously," Tres Williams derided. "Sir, we're in desperate need of new art supplies. I was wondering if you would mind placing the order soon." "Yeah. Make sure to in for extra black markers!" Red Lead yelled out. "Heyfield and I need some more of that." "And stencils! Gotta get my stencils!" Finch added. "I need red," Queso said flatly, as if realizing he was the last one to ask. "Yeah. Also, you mind pushing all of our due dates back a couple weeks? We've got to finish up our current projects. Taking our time to get them just right." The other writers mumbled in agreement with Buronson, saying that they needed time as well. It was at that moment that Bates started to breathe heavily. "Can't any of you do this without having to annoy me?" He was starting to feel his blood boil, his tired body adding to the rage. "Well, your job is to help us, so sorta not?" Heyfield's statement finally drove Bates into a frenzy, sending out a scream that shook his office. "Look! If you really want my help, then I'll give it. I'll give it in my OWN way! What I'm going to do is give," he took a deep breath and declared, "an editorial mandate." Right then, the entire staff of Trot Comics heard this and suddenly gasped, realizing that they had just made the biggest mistake possible; angering your Editor until he made a mandate. "Now, here's what's gonna happen. Buronson, Sound, you both need my help?" "Uh, nope! We're completely-" "Too late! Mandate time! Your main character, whoever she is, is now a Princess of the Wasteland. Also, she's going to become an Alicorn now." Sound and Buronson both gasped in horror at the idea of changing their character completely. "Now, onto Heyfield." "Mr. Bates, I don't think-" "Oh, Heyfield. So confident. I think you and should create a comedy series. Also, there can't be any fighting whatsoever." The staff actually thought that Heyfield was going to have a heart attack by how he reacted to this. "Now, onto Joe." "No! Please!" "Joe! I want you to do a giant crossover event with a good amount of our superhero characters, and have it politically based! Also, make sure that you don't spend too much time elaborating on one side, or else someone might not like how their side looks." "Well, sucks to be you guys," Low Web said, somehow ignorant of being next. "Don't worry, Low Web, you'll have some fun as well!" Bates said cheerfully. "Guess what? Bring back the clones!" "Why?!" Low Web was now on the floor, weeping. "I thought you said that it was good," Heyfield reminded him. "I lied!" "Okay! Now, onto you two," Bates said, directing his attention at Cloverbud and Golden Bell. "I want you to choose the toy designs for yourself! And I'm not getting any of you any art supplies. You know why? Cause as of now I'm on vacation! I'm going straight to the nearest beach to relax. I'll be gone for two weeks and you better have it all done and shipped by then, cause I'm not gonna get the blame for when they bomb! Good day!" And with that, Mr. Bates left Trot Comics in the hands of the staff. After five minutes, everypony realized what had just happened and screamed.