//------------------------------//
// Part IX: In the Name of Fun 
// Story: Dinky Doo and the Quest for the Sacred Treats 
// by PaulAsaran 
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	At last, after so many hurdles and trials, the Paper Squire and her wary band came upon the most beautiful home of the Timeless Lady Glen-of-Years. A being of nature brimming with kindness, this beloved creature lived within a great house of wood and leaf, normally surrounded by all manner of fauna.

But tonight the cries of animals were naught to be heard, and the lights remained dim, giving the grand home a sense of abandonment. Anxiously did the adventurers approach, and it was Marelin who at last dared to knock upon the ornate oaken door. No sooner did her staff strike the wood than the door burst open and a howling, chill wind pulled the hapless heroes into the structure like a gaping maw sucking down tasty treats.

Disengaging herself from the tangled mass, the Paper Squire arose to find herself within a vast room bedecked with all manner of grim décor. Pumpkins with skeletal faces leered from the shadows, bats with wicked red eyes flapped along the gabled ceiling, and what appeared to be very real specters floated about in an aimless procession. Candles of black flames illuminated the world in a gloomy atmosphere, and the whole of the once-handsome home was now assaulted by all manner of molds, mosses and fungi.

There, suspended in a rusted cage high above the heroes heads, stood She of the Wood, friend of the beasts, the Timeless Lady Glen-of-Years, still resplendent in her gown of leafy green and crown of gardenias. Though her voice was but a quaver, somehow she was still heard by all below. “Be careful, my little ponies,” she did warn, “for the wicked Sir Laughs-a-Lot has come.”

“That’s it,” shouted Marelin, stomping forward and holding her staff high. “Discord, I know it’s you! Stop this nonsense and come out this—”

To the horror – and, at least to the gangsters, amusement – of the others, a great orange pumpkin fell upon the wizard’s head. She stumbled about, her cries muffled and her staff falling uselessly to the floor.

The adventurers huddled together as a wind arose in the room, creating from nothingness a vast cloud of blackness. Great guffaws echoed through the rafters as a monster of legend arose from the dark, its body a confusing mishmash of shapes. It donned a flamboyant tuxedo of shifting hues and wore a mask over its eyes. The beast’s laughter faded as the exit slammed closed, the door itself disappearing in a flash of white.

“Now, now, Marelin,” the creature did tease, “you of all ponies should know how important it is to follow the script, even if I took the liberty of changing it. Didn’t you get the memo?”

“You big meanie!” cried Pip the Pirate, brandishing his blade of steely wood.

“We won’t let you win,” announced the ever-gallant Paper Squire. “We are great heroes!”

“And how intimidating you are.” The fiend smirked and took on a pose of mock distress. “Oh, please, little heroes, don’t smite me with your mighty weapons of foam and wood!” With a bellowing guffaw, he snapped his tail. In a flash of light, the two adventurers found themselves swimming in a cauldron of water. Miniature Sir Laughs-a-Lots danced about the cauldron’s edge, dropping in veggies, roots, spices, plastic pipe shavings, rhubarb on fire, the contents of a can labeled ‘toxic waste,’ and a kitchen sink for that extra kick.

“Sir Laughs-a-Lot, please spare the heroes,” quietly begged the a-bit-too-mildly distressed Lady Glen-of-Years. “They are my friends! They can be your friends, too.”

As the witches knocked over the cauldron, the playful creature floated up to her cage and gave it a shake. “Friends, you say? Why, would friends go on an epic adventure without me? Would friends plan to have fun without inviting the King of Fun? Would friends never offer me any sweets on this most entertaining of nights?”

“We might if you wouldn’t be so naughty,” shouted the Paper Squire, whose soaked disposition did nothing to daunt her bravery.

And the creature did transform into a green being of fur and boasted a broad, nasty grin. It rubbed its hairy hands together and displayed teeth crawling with candied bugs. “But being naughty is so much fun! And since you were naughty to me first, I shall dole out a fitting punishment.” Reverting back to his normal form, he raised his claw and paw high to reveal the five Sacred Treats floating above his head.

“Behold, the Sacred Treats!”

“Hey,” shouted Clydesdale Diamond, “how did you get those?” For indeed, the treats had disappeared from their blessed containers.

“I shall transform your oh-so-holy candies into things so nasty that the Nightmare will never accept them,” Sir Laughs-a-Lot declared amid a heaping helping of chuckles.

“The Macaroons of Chocolaty Glory will be but lumps of coal!” And so did they transform, and the witches cried out in alarm.

“The Sacred Candied Carrots will be naught but rabbit pellets!” And so did they transform, and Pip the Pirate fell to his knees with disgust.

“And I hear one great squire has a certain distaste for pickles,” taunted the creature. “See what has become of your precious Unholy Truffle Amulets!” And he did display a collection of pickles, which danced about the Paper Squire’s head in a makeshift band of tooting and strutting. The squire sobbed in the face of this blatant affront to decency, her weapon shaking with her horror.

“Nightmare Moon will come,” giggled the foul monster, “and when she finds your offerings are but trash, she shall gobble up every foal in Ponyville! Now doesn’t that sound fun?”

“No!” cried Marelin, at last managing to free her head from its orange prison. “Discord, this is far too mature for—”

With a snap of fingers and a flash of light, Marelin was replaced by a golden scepter, the head of which was of her own face possessing an expression most silly. Sir Laughs-a-Lot took hold of the scepter and waved it high in the air amid rolling bouts of laughter.

“I’ve had enough of this,” declared the witch Anti.

“We won’t put up with your antics anymore,” agreed Ben.

“You change Marelin and our candies back,” demanded And.

“Come on, everypony!” shouted the Paper Squire, her anger flaring at the sight of her beloved mentor. “We’re gonna save Ponyville!”

The heroes attacked as one, not a soul prepared to wait out the battle. Even the gangsters Bonnet and Clydesdale joined the fray, for they would never permit their confectionery hoard, ill-gotten or no, to be transformed by such an evil beast.

Sir Laughs-a-Lot did chuckle at their united front, and with his magic summoned many an ally to challenge his foes. For the pirate Pip and the Paper Squire, he conjured flying sharks of marshmallow, who gnashed their soft teeth and weaved about their blades. Against the gangsters arose colorful pop guns that fired jelly beans of only the nastiest flavors. For the witches, the villain chose to conjure special enemies; a flock of flapping, rainbow-colored wigs for Ben, swirling and twirling musical notes that encircled Anti, and a veritable avalanche of living apples with gaping mouths to assault And. And against Tom Dumb and G’rain he erected a shallow glob of sticky jello, in which neither adventurer could maneuver.

And Sir Laughs-a-Lot watched, and he was entertained. He floated up to the Timeless Lady Glen-of-Years and encouraged her to observe the ensuing chaos. “Look, my dear! Did I not tell you they’d enjoy themselves? And to think, that Marelin would have had you simply give the little devils your boon. She’s such a stick-in-the-mud.” He proceeded to dunk the Marelin scepter head-first into an icky glob of muck, which he promptly sent flying in the direction of the gangsters.

But the Lady Glen-of-Years cast a grim frown upon him. “This looks to be fun only for you, Sir Laughs-a-Lot, which is not what we agreed to. I’m sorry, but I must put my hoof down.”

“O-ho?” He eyed her with a toothy grin. “And just what, pray-tell, do you intend to do about it, my dear lady?”

“You haven’t kept your end of the deal,” she replied with a smile of her own, “so I am not required to keep mine.” Then did she turn to the adventurers, each beset by their own conflict and cried out, “Hear me, heroes! Know that I have learned this fiend’s weakness: the Holy Fruit Bombs of Antitrot! Wield them or Ponyville is doomed!”

“Timberjack’s fritter… I mean, fruit bombs?” cried the witch And, fleeing from the stampeding malice of malus. “Where did they go?” And she looked about the scene of battle, complete with gnashing marshmallow sharks and flying booger-flavored jelly beans, and saw her weapon's pouch lying beneath the jello-y trap of G’rain and Tom Dumb.

Seeing that he was the closest, she did call out, “Tom Dumb, you must get to the bombs! You’re our only hope!”

His eyes lit up with understanding.

“How’re apple fritters supposed to stop him?”

Well, some understanding.

The struggling adventures did shout encouragement, and at last Tom Dumb dove for the hidden treats. Yet the jello clung to his body and slowed his movements, and when he grasped the pouch the sticky substance did resist his efforts. Yet, with the fate of the town at stake, the young adventurer dared not surrender, and with a great heave of strength he freed the pouch from its resting place.

He wasted no time, tossing the pouch in its entirety to the witch And, who took out a baked bomb with its electric filling and heaved it above the encroaching apple herd.

“No!” Too late did Sir Laughs-a-Lot see the deadly projectile, which sailed through the air to strike a deadly blow upon his torso and erupt in a fruity explosion of colorful filling and sparks! Upon its impact, the jello that held G’rain and Tom Dumb did fade, and the two joined the witch in the baked bombardment.

“It can’t be,” cried Sir Laughs-a-Lot, who shrank with every blow. “The fruitiness, anything but the fruitiness!”

Upon each explosion, another of his wicked spells came undone, until at last every hero was free to watch as he fell to the onslaught. At last he was but the size of a small dog and lay smeared in juices and fritter crust. Powerless before the heroes, he begged forgiveness. At their command, he freed the Timeless Lady Glen-of-Years, returned her home to its former glory, and even returned the Sacred Treats to their original forms.

“Um, Sir Laughs-a-Lot?” asked the good lady, pointing to a scepter still lodged upside down in the mud.

“Oh, right.” He snapped his fingers and Marelin appeared, her head stuck in the muck.

After taking time to calm the understandably incensed Marelin, the Paper Squire secured from Sir Laughs-a-Lot a promise to be good from that day on, and in return the heroes swore to not neglect the poor creature the next time they sought to have a great adventure such as this one! Only then did the Timeless Lady Glen-of-Years grant the heroes her boon of Ginger Oat Balls.

With the sacred treats obtained, they then left the hero to tend to the reformed creature, whilst they moved on to their last destination: the Monolith of the Nightmare.





“That went rather well, don’t you think?”

“It was kind of fun,” Fluttershy admitted. “But I think you should avoid Twilight for a while.”

“Oh, pish-posh. A little mud is good for the mane, just ask Rarity.”

Fluttershy rolled her eyes and sighed, silently reminding herself that Discord was going to be a long-term project. But she couldn’t deny one thing: his image with the foals had just gained a pretty big boost.

Perhaps that was the whole point.