I stomped my hoof down on the hard ground, startling all the ponies around me. "You know what, Discord? Screw history!" I stomped off into the distance, thinking about what I could possibly do about it. Suddenly, Discord reappeared in front of me.
"Well, dear," he stated, "if you're so negative towards the history of Equestria, why don't you change it?"
Ooooh boy, he has that grin again. He always does that when he comes up with an idea, especially if it's one that could be directed towards me. Seconds ago, we had an argument about the past, and exactly how it could effect the present, and future. Frankly, I'm not all that fond of what goes on around me everyday, and because of that, I simply agreed with Discord, and stormed off.
Now, though, he was back. My dear old daddy, messing with me as usual. At least he isn't stuffing cream pies up my hat again. This time, he knew exactly what I was thinking.
"So..." he said sinisterly in a deep, raspy voice, "do you want to rewrite time?"
I stopped cold in my tracks. Of course I wanted to rewrite time, anything that could possibly lead to a more fun Equestria. "Of course," I exclaimed happily, "When do we start?!"
Once again, dad had that smug little grin. Of course he knew when we would start.
"Well," he said matter-of-factly, "There's the available choices of tomorrow, next week, or in the time it takes to buck Luna over the moon."
"Buck Luna over the moon!" I cheered, knowing exactly how fast that would be. One should never underestimate how quickly Discord can fling the princess of the night over her own satellite.
"Well strap me to a TARDIS and fly me through the sun, let's go!" Shouted Discord, his voice artificially echoing all across Equestria.
~~~{}~~~
Well then. That was faster than I thought it was going to be. Discord chimed in, replying to my thoughts. "And if you thought that was fast, just see how quickly I can grow a potato from my ear!"
And just like that, a fresh potato popped out from my dad's ear, baking itself evenly as it began flying away to who-knows-where. After gawking at the sight for a few seconds --I had never seen that happen before-- I turned back to dad. "So, where are we anyways?" I asked.
"Simple," he replied, "but it's not a matter of where or when, it's a matter of both, 'whren'."
"Ok, fine," I said, "Whren are we?"
Immediately, dad piped up with enough enthusiasm to propel a rocket. "We are about six-hundred-fifty years before the rise of the Sisters, and currently, we're standing on top of an Earth Pony stallion's eyebrows."
Ok, that's just weird. "And why are we standing here?" I asked.
"Once again," dad replied, "simple. Because of the butterfly effect, your tiny hooves and my tiny feet put together will cause an immense itch on the stallion's brow, and by the time he reaches up to scratch, we'll be gone, and so will his productivity on the farm for those three seconds of scratching. Since he's a farmer, that'll lead to a widespread famine in a decade or so, and ultimately, will lead to a much more preferable future for the both of us."
"Oh," I replied, "so we're gonna teleport back just about..." I looked at Disc--dad's left eye for the time, "...now."
~~~{}~~~
Dad was certainly right about that whole "butterfly effect" thing. I can still kinda recognize this place as the spot that we left from just a few minutes ago, but other than the surrounding mountains, this place is entirely unrecognizable. I turned around to find dad's floating face on a balloon.
"Well, kid, do ya like it?" he said with his usual grin, "Or should I have sprinkled some more itching powder into those 'brows?"
I took a long look around us. Everywhere, there were tan colored Earth Ponies. Up in the sky, instead of the Sun, there was a massive, floating, (and glowing!) potato, studded with bits of chives, and emitting bright rays of sour cream down towards the ground. Where the "Welcome to Canterlot!" sign was, there was now a "Welcome to BakedPotatoLand!" sign, evidently made from potatoes. I turned back to dad, who was munching on pop-tato, some sort of potato variant to popcorn. "So..." I began, "why potato?"
Dad took one last heap of pop-tato and shoveled it into his mouth. "Why not potato?"