//------------------------------// // Schadenfreude’s Punday Afternoon // Story: The Adventures of Schadenfreude // by Daemon McRae //------------------------------// Chapter 8: Schadenfreude’s Punday Afternoon About half a month passed without too much of note happening after the Royal Canterlot Archives incident. Needless to say a few more rules had been added to the list, which at this point I believe was just a bit shy of 150. Honestly my personal goal is 200, which hasn’t happened yet. One can dream. The next thing of any import that happened after I started my job was a Sunday afternoon some weeks later. Actually, that’s not entirely accurate, quite a bit happened in the space between, but to be honest it was so much like pretty much every other day I have on this job that it didn’t stand out that much to me. To other ponies? I’d like to think so. But it takes relatively spectacular events to stand out as a really good story to me. Either that or just particularly funny. That morning had gone by just like the last few mornings before it: thinking of creative ways to wake up Blueblood (I had chosen joybuzzers to his back hooves this morning, by request. You’d be surprised how many requests I get from other staff when it comes to messing with my boss. I usually only honor about a fifth of them); going to breakfast; generally annoying or disturbing anyone I encountered. The usual. It wasn’t until about noon that something amazing happened. Blueblood and I were sitting down to lunch with a few extended members of the Royal Family (who I honestly couldn’t give two shakes about), with a great deal of brown nosing going on. The only person at the table besides myself that I found at all interesting was this older gentlecolt, a duke I believe, who looked like the amicable, wise old uncle type. He smiled pretty much the entire time and made genuinely polite conversation. His name was Old Faithful, if I recall correctly. Somewhere around the end of the main course, one of the distinctly more pompous “gentlecolts” accidentally knocked his fork off the table as he was making some big sweeping gesture while bragging about something or other to a hoofmaiden. He paused, and looked down with mild disgust at the utensil on the floor, then back up at the hoofmaiden. “Fetch me another,” he said with disdain. She looked a little off-put and nervous, and stammered, “Um… it might take me a bit, the kitchen is a little busy and might be behind in washing dishes.” Now, to a reasonable pony, this would translate as a minute or two while she dashed off and either found one or washed a fork herself (like the one that just fell on the floor). To somepony born with a Silver Spoon up their pooter, this would obviously be an eternity. The “noble” stallion looked almost livid, and more than ready to say something brash, harsh, and demeaning to the already timid hoofmaiden. She was saved, however, by who I now consider one of my greatest heroes: Old Faithful. Before the upstart could get so much as a word out, the kindly uncle chided, “Well, son, looks like you’re forked.” I laughed so hard soup came out my snout a little. This obviously got the attention of a few of our dining compatriots, or at least those who weren’t groaning at the awesome pun. Another hoofmaiden gave me a napkin to clean myself up with. Faithful gave me an approving smile, to which I responded, “That was souperb, good sir.” Which elicited yet more groaning. Blueblood in particular looked to be in particular pain. Faithful gave a hearty belly laugh, and added, “It’s so good to find a pony with a similar pallet for humor.” Eye rolls and heavy sighs. “Oh, I’ve only recently developed a taste for it myself,” I chided. I was surrounded by a chorus of “please stops”s and “Oh Sweet Celestias”, amid groans and sighs and various sounds of distress. It was heavenly. “I have quite the appetite for bad jokes, myself,” Faithful added. “It distresses me that such jokes are so punderrated.” I was trying to keep up with him, but I was laughing too hard, and when I wasn’t laughing I was smiling too big to make proper words. “Ok, ok, I surrender!” I howled. “You are the pundefeated champion!” “Auuugggghhhh, shut up!” Blueblood yelled. It was glorious. ------------------------ After lunch, all of the nobles dispersed, but not after Faithful and I had made plans for drinks later in the week, once I was off the clock. There was no rule yet against me being given alcohol for free from some random guy. I had not, however, given up my mission to slowly kill Blueblood by Death of a Thousand Puns. “You know, I really think we should spend more time with the rest of your family. They’re a lot more fun than I thought,” I mused, as I followed my boss to his next engagement. “Hmmm,” he said quietly. “I find most of them unbearable. Far too stuck up for their own good, expecting everypony to do everything for them, no sense of pride.” I had to physically stop myself from smacking him in the face with a mirror. So I opted for the next best thing. “They sound like royal pains in the flank.” Blueblood flinched, and groaned. “Ohhh, I thought we were done with that.” “Oh, no, I’ve got a lot more of those. My work is always punfinished,” I quipped. “Augggghhhh,” he grunted, and started walking faster. I kept pace with him, easily. “Are you ok, boss? You’re walking pretty fast and you don’t look well. Do you have… the trots?” “Stooooooooooooop!” he cried, now galloping down the hall. He banked a corner relatively hard, and I heard a loud thump followed by cries of discomfort. I trotted to catch up and make sure he was ok. Then I saw who he had run into: Shining Armor. The blue-maned stallion stood up, rubbing his forehead slightly. “What the devil just happened?” he groaned. He glanced down at Blueblood, then up at me. I don’t think it helped that I was barely concealing a smile. And by barely I mean not at all. “Freude, what did you do now?” “Hey, I just told some bad jokes. It’s not my fault Blueblood can’t handle a few bad puns,” I said innocently. Blueblood stood up slowly, groaning rather loudly should anyone who cared hear him. “Well I’m sorry, but I have my limits!” I smiled at him. “Yes, but running blindly around a corner just to get away from me? You must be a glutton for punishment.” Both Blueblood and Shining rolled their eyes at that. “Oh for- has he been at this all day?” Shining asked, probably hoping he wouldn’t get an answer. Blueblood gave his cousin-in-law a pleading glance. “Just an hour or so, please make him stop, I couldn’t take a whole day of this.” It was my turn to roll my eyes. “Oh please, like you’ve never told a bad joke in your life.” “Well I’ve never abused anypony with them!” Bluey barked. “Oh like you’ve never met anypony that could use a thorough quipping,” I said with as much snark as possible. Shining Armor grunted in pain. “Oh, Freude, that was horrible.” Bluey nodded. “He’s becoming punbearable, I tell you!” I raised an eyebrow at my boss, just as the realization of what he’d said struck him. “Oh god… it’s puntagious!” He paused. “Ahhhhhh!” Shining shook his cousin by the shoulders. “Oh get a hold of yourself, Blueblood, you can’t catch a bad sense of humor. You probably just have a bad case of the puns.” The captain stopped for a second, as a look of horror came upon him. “Ahhhhh!” he shouted, holding his head with his hooves. I threw my hooves in the air in victory “The puntagion has spread!” That was a good day.