//------------------------------//
// The Best Pies in Ponyville 
// Story: Visiting Chaos 
// by Ink Well Inks Well 
//------------------------------//

	Five visits later, and it was still beyond strange to hear his daughter call an Element of Harmony “Mommy.”
Or “Mom.”
Or “Mama.”
Or “Maman” or “Mutti,” although why Screwball had decided to talk like she was from Prance and Germaneigh Discord wasn’t sure.
No matter what language it was, it was strange to hear. And, according to Pinkie, it was strange for Ponyville to hear, as well. Rumors had started flying over the foal- was she biologically Pinkie’s? Where did she come from? Who was the father? Nopony asked any of these things to her face, apparently, but it didn’t mean the two mares were unaware of the rumors.
Discord couldn’t help but feel a bit awkward at that, but it just made him all the more grateful that Pinkie was looking after his precious little hellspawn. Knowing it was hard for her made it all the more kind of her to do, and he had poofed a note each time expressing his gratitude- only stopping once Screwball said he was getting sappy, because he did not want to get sappy.
Unless the sap was tree sap.
All good adventures ended with one being covered in tree sap. 
But this wasn’t tree sap, this was emotional sap, which he found to be much harder to scrub out.
Today, though, everyone was pretty clean, and Screwball was holding out a report card, face bright.
“All C’s!” she squealed. This was actually horrifying for the draconequus, because C’s were... average.
Average... What had Pinkie done to his little cretin?
Screwball was already explaining, though, that most ponies got A’s or F’s in Cheerilee’s class- A’s for those who actually tried, and F’s for those who didn’t. A C, however, was exceedingly rare.
Discord swelled with pride at that.
“Oh, and an A in art, and an F in history!” she giggled. She showed him the grade, which included a note to Pinkie to perhaps start teaching her history that was actually in the book, and with a less, and he quoted, “slant towards supporting the greatest dictator in Equestrian history.”
Greatest? he cackled. Well, I’m not sure about that! I’m sure old Sombrero would have a few objections, but I’m truly flattered.
“Cheerilee doesn’t like when I talk about you...” Screwball’s ears drooped and she sighed, before perking up again. “But Mommy doesn’t mind, do you Mommy?”
“Nope! Why would I?”
But this did bring up a good question- why wasn’t Pinkie trying to teach a more... "Celestia friendly" version of history?
Before Screwball could go on to explain her mediocrity in math, Pinkie interrupted her. “Screwy’s told me some really funny stories! Is it true that it took Celestia twenty seven times to raise the sun, but it only took Luna two to raise the moon?”
“Yeah!” Screwball laughed. “And- and Auntie Tia almost tossed us into the sun on the first try!” All three of them were cackling with laughter then. Oh, he’d nearly forgotten telling Screwball that one, and it was a classic!
“Well, why would I want you to stop telling stories like that?” Pinkie snorted, still rolling around on the ground. “They’re hilarious!”
And a bit blasphemous, but that’s half the fun!
The poofy-haired pony was wiping tears from her eyes, getting back to her feet. “You know, you should tell your dad about the CMC!”
The filly’s purple eyes swirled even brighter, and she beamed. “Yeah! I’ve been hanging out with these three fillies! Applebloom, Sweetie Belle and Scootaloo! They all really wanna get their cutie marks, and I joined their group! 'Cause I got my cutie mark, but you made me with it, so I dunno what it means! So I thought maybe I could figure it out! They thought it was really cool that I was born with one, and they keep asking me why, but I keep telling ‘em I dunno. ‘Cause I don’t! But that makes it more fun!  So they’re trying everything to help me. Like yesterday we tried carnival games, ‘cause of the ball in my cutie mark- they thought maybe I was really good at that milk bottle game. I wasn’t though, so we tried a bunch’ve other stuff- not all of it had to do with my mark, but it was still lotsa fun! We went bungee jumping and surfing and lion taming and we destroyed seven gardens and nearly burned down Rarity’s house!”
“Not on purpose!” Pinkie cut in, looking at her almost sternly. Or as stern as the Element of Laughter could be, at least.
“Well, not really on purpose, but it was still a lotta fun!”
Discord was practically glowing with pride. His little menace, growing up to wreak havoc on innocent Ponyville civilians with the help of three energetic allies...
Oh, he was a proud Papa indeed!
Screwball hovered up to her usual perch, in between her dad’s horns. 
“Oh, and guess what?”
What?
“Hey, I said guess!”
Discord raised a bushy brow from inside his jail. I am. Not my fault if you can’t tell.
“Mooooom!”
“What, silly?”
“You aren’t guessing!”
The god snorted, as did Pinkie. “But I already know what you’re going to say!”
She stuck her tongue out. “You still gotta guess!”
Pinkie Pie giggled. “Okay, what?”
“I had a project to do and we were supposed to trace our family tree but Cheerilee took me and Scoots and Pip aside and said that it was okay for us to just write a story instead, sooooo,” she giggled, barely able to contain her excitement, “I just said that I was chaos incarnate and you were my dad and Luna and Celestia were my Aunties and Pinkie Pie had adopted me after finding me in a garden and how I used to live in a cave and I was made out of grape soda and cotton candy and- and....” she snorted even more. “I got an A for creativity! Said I should go into writing, I was so good at makin’ up stories!” She was laughing like this was the funniest thing she had ever heard, and Discord found himself chortling too.
Oh, that was too good! And the best part was none of it was a lie, even the story itself! Pinkie was giggling as well.
“She- she was talking to me at the bakery over coffee about putting Screwy in a creative writing course! I could barely keep a straight face!” she smiled. “I read the story, though, and she has a great vocabulary. Must’ve gotten it from her daddy! But her overuse of adjectives really was pretty superfluous!” she grinned as both Screwball and her father looked at her in disbelief. “What? My sister Inkie’s a writer! Sure, it’s a journal about rocks and minerals, but she still taught me about grammatical structure and stuff! And Maud does poetry, so I learned from her, too!”
Discord thought about it for a second or two, then shrugged. Pinkie was already full of surprises, what was one more to add to the list?
Screwball’s reaction was quite a bit different. “Why does your sister write about rocks?! Rocks are really, really boring! No offense, daddy,” she patted her father on the head, giving him a small smile. “You’re the exception. But still... rocks?”
Pinkie shrugged. “Yeah, I guess. There’s gems and minerals, and stuff, and identification, but it’s not my cup of hot cocoa. It’s really hard work, though!  I mean, other than the basics, all I really know about rocks is how to tell a stalagmite from a stalactite, and I lived on a rock farm ‘till I was your age!”
Screwball cocked her head in interest. “What’s the difference?”
“Stalagmite has a ‘m’ in it!”
The filly nodded, that weak explanation more than enough for her. “True, true.”
Then Pinkie lit up, beaming up at Screwball. “Hey, you should tell him about the play!”
“Oh yeah!” the bubbly filly perked up even more. “We’re puttin’ on a play, Daddy! Sweeney Trot: the Demon Barber of Fleet Street!”
Well, that’s exceedingly dark subject matter for Cheerilee to choose for fillies and colts. Perhaps she’s not as sickeningly sweet and dull as she seems. Actually, now that he thought about it, many of the ponies were less horrifically boring and saccharine than he’d believed them to be.
Strange.
“And I got the lead!” she was bouncing excitedly. “Miss Cheerilee said I’d be perfect for Nellie Lovett! I get turn my classmates into meat pies- I can grind ‘em and stuff ‘em in and watch as they scream in the barber’s chair!” she laughed maniacally, and Discord was certain that if he had gifted the child with claws, they would be clenched, as if the ponies she talked about were in her clutches. “Especially since I get to kill Silver Spoon and Diamond Tiara!”
The filly’s face was so twisted, and so disturbed, that if Discord had been anyone but her father, he would have been, admittedly, a bit frightened. 
“Plus I get to sing!” Screwball chirped, face turning back into the innocent, if not slightly crazed expression she normally wore.
Pinkie Pie blinked, looked up at her nervously, gave a rather freaked out look to the draconequus, (and this was Pinkie Pie, mind you, who took pride in being nearly unfazable,) and said, “I- I think I’m gonna keep you away from the customers for a while.”
She frowned. “Why?”
“Well, for one thing, singing ‘A Little Priest’ with Featherweight around the bakery scares off customers a bit. I know you two have to practice, but can you do it somewhere else?”
Screwball blinked again. “Why?”
“Well, ponies don’t really like meat to begin with...”
Blink.
“And most don’t approve of cannibalism...”
Blink.
“And you’re singing about using both to make baked goods. In a bakery.”
Blink.
“Ohhhhhh!” she smiled and nodded in understanding. “Can Pip and I sing our duet together, though?”
“Sure!” she beamed. “I like that one! Wish you didn’t try to kill him at the end, though. Kinda puts a damper on parental relationships when you try to kill the kid!”
“Does it?”
Pinkie nodded. “Yup!”
The filly smiled. “Good to know!” she tapped on the statue again. “Daddy, you hear that?”
	Oh no. My plans are ruined. Curses, Screwball, I’m foiled again! He rolled his eyes, but couldn’t help but smile a bit.
“Think he heard me?”
Pinkie giggled. “Yeah, I’m sure he did.”
The two ponies left soon after, once again citing work and school, leaving Discord realizing something.
He wanted to see that play.
He wanted to see a school play.
A school play.
And he didn’t even want to see it in the hopes something would go wrong- because, let’s face it, something goes wrong in every school play. It’s like a law of nature. The sun comes up, birds cheep, and a set piece will fall on a colt or filly, or a costume will rip, all while someone forgets their lines in the middle of an important monologue.
No, he just wanted to see Screwball perform.
Well, that was just nature wasn’t it, wanting to see your child do well? 
But... he had actually found himself wanting to sit still for- what, three hours?- without expelling any chaos magic, just to watch schoolfillies forget their lines and screw up. 
He thought about the two pink mares, and groaned. If he thought having a family when he was just a pup living in the castle was hard, well...
That was nothing compared to what was in store for him.