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// Four Ponies Stuck in A Room 
// Story: I Loathe Having to Make My Literary Work Meet the Public's Taste 
// by McDronePone 
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Four Ponies Stuck in A Room
by Short Quill

Four ponies sat in a room while the world outside was ablaze in turmoil. As the dignitaries of their once mighty kingdom, they were called for a meeting on how to end the civil war that sprung up not too long ago. Yet as they sat there in that sealed room; in that dim light; at that circular table, their bicker and banter never ended with a conclusion.
“We should take all the rebels and pass down harsh judgment,” raved the red dignitary.
“No, I believe we must show them their options and give them a choice of surrendering or succeeding from the kingdom,” suggested the yellow dignitary.
“That’s too risky. I say we appease them and end this conflict now,” pleaded the blue dignitary.
“You’re all idiots. I say we allow this war to continue and make a profit out of it with all the industry needed to supply the weapons,” reasoned the green dignitary.
Back and forth; round and round; on and on the endless resolutions, suggestions, and bargaining continued amongst the four dignitaries, all the while the sound of battle outside grew closer to them. Sooner or later their conversation would be for naught as either the guard would signal the all-clear, or the rebels would crash through the gates and destroy everything.
“Enough of this,” the red dignitary yelled, brandishing his blade. “If you are not with me, than you are all against me!”
“Stay your hand,” cautioned the yellow dignitary as he readied his own sword, “or I’ll stay it for you.”
“I do not wish for violence,” pleaded the blue dignitary as he wearily withdrew his sword, “but if you cannot stay calm, then I won’t hesitate to defend myself.
“Oh fine! If this is what all of you want,” the green dignitary stated and followed with his “then I’ll agree to this madness too.”
And so the tension reached its climax and they all lunged at each other.
Soon enough the war ended, the fighters coming to a not too peaceful yet not too violent resolution. As they rebuild what was left--with a white flag symbolizing their new-found unity--they never found the room with the four ponies lying lifeless.
Four ponies stuck in a room while the world outside continued.

THE END



“We’re not publishing this,” the big pony said plainly. That's the last thing Short Quill wanted to hear.
“But, I worked on that story for a week straight! Fine tuning the pace, making sure each pony was written just right, and everything.” He took the draft from the pony's hooves with his magic and shook them in annoyance. "Isn't this the kind of stuff you're looking for, Mr. Print?"
Print shook his head, much to Short Quill's dissapointment. "Not exactly. It's a decent story, but it's about four random, faceless ponies that our readers won't recognize.”
Short Quill continued to be confused. “Of course they’ll know who they are. I named them specifically. Do you want me to read it to you?”
“Quill, let me tell you something,” Print began, taking his wide, round frame around his desk and past Quill to the office door, where he looked out its window to the ponies working busily on typewriters and print presses. “The ‘Equestrian Tall Tales’ is a big time story leaflet. We don’t just have readers here in Manehatten, but in Hoofington, Baltimare, Filly Delphia, and we’re working on getting published in Canterlot.”
“And this has to do with my story how?”
Print turned back to Quill. “When you’re published in that many big cities, you start to get the general idea of what the readers want,” he hulked back over to the desk and plotted his big rear back down on his chair, “our leaflet is no different.”
Quill remained puzzled at what Print was getting at. “So?”
“So, what our readers like to read right now the most are stories involving the princesses.”
“So you want me to just rewrite my story so that a couple of readers can get their jollies for a few quick seconds,” Quill questioned with agitation. “What can of illogic is that? Why can’t you put my story in there and let some ponies skip it and others read it?”
Print was slowly getting aggravated with this unicorn. “Because even the smallest of opinions can blow up in your face, Quill. You’d be surprised at how many ponies grasp at straws just to criticize us. We put a story that doesn’t live up to what’s hot right now and we can have a huge drop in readers.”
“But,” Quill began but struggled to find a way to finish, “but this is my first chance to really get recognized outside of Manehatten. Surely you’ve read some of my work in the paper’s ‘Stories From your Very Own’ column, right?”
A migraine was beginning to form in Print’s head. “That’s a newspaper, Quill. It has more worries over what readers like than just one section.”
“Look, Mr. Print,” Quill began to plead. “There’s only four days left before your next issue goes out. I’ve read everyone up to this point and I can tell it's obviously something major. All I want is to get this one story published sooner rather than later. Please reconsider?”
“Quill for the—”
“Please.”
“Quill…”
“Pretty please?”
“I…”
“Pretty please with a strawberry minted gummy cherry on a sundae on top?”
“What in the world is th—”
“Pleeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeaaaaaaaaaaa~”
“WOULD YOU QUIT ACTING LIKE A FOAL!” Print’s bellowing outburst could be heard outside the office as multiple ponies quickly turned to see where the yell came from. He had to take few quick huffs and puffs before he could finally have the breath to respond to Quill proper. “If you’re so persistent to get this in now, just rewrite the thing or make up something else. Either way, I’m not putting this in the leaflet as it is.”
Quill was about to respond but the death glare Print was giving quickly discourage any kind of retort. He sighed to in defeat and submitted. “Okay, I’ll come back tomorrow with something else for you. And I promise it’ll,” he struggled to say the next few words, filtering them through his gritted teeth, “give the readers what they want.”
With that said—and a quick glass of water with aspirin for Print—Quill stormed out of the office, grumbling and mumbling obscenities as he walked.
“’What the readers want.’ Oh I’ll give them what they want all right. Princesses here, there, every which where.” And such mumblings continued until he got home to give such readers exactly what they want.