//------------------------------//
// Soft Shell, Hard Heart 
// Story: Not another Pony in Equestria 
// by Admiral Biscuit 
//------------------------------//

Soft Shell, Hard Heart:
Majin Syekoh Makes Love to Soft Shell Tacos

It was a dark and stormy night in Baltimare, where the EquestriaGirlsCon convention was in full swing. Majin Syekoh, the ponified protagonist of our prose, was hungry and tired and possibly drunk because he'd trotted all the way from the Zepplin-port along the outer harbor and to the inner harbor (which is why he was tired); he had not eaten all day long because all the restaurants had long lines (and the city was paved with cement and the weed-control ponies did such a good job that there weren't any weeds to snack on).

Also he may have come across a half empty bottle of tequila and of course the friendly thing to do when one finds litter on the ground is to properly dispose of it, but you can't recycle glass bottles when they're full of liquid and of course it would be wasteful to to just pour it on the ground, so he did what any friendly stallion would do and drained the bottle and then properly disposed of it (the bottle, not the liquor) in a recycle bin.

Then he staggered down to the water taxi, which—as is normal in Baltimare—was a giant swan with a saddle on its back. And a cardboard cutout of Maud for some reason.

The swan boat water taxi paddled sedately across the harbor, until it arrived at bar where writerponies were all gathered. As writers, they had chosen the darkest, dankest, dullest, dive-y-est bar in all of Baltimare and were speaking in hushed whispers over tall tumblers about their latest projects. Maud (the real one, not the cardboard cutout) was standing on a table in one corner softly reciting rock ballads.

Majin stumbled to his seat and sat, planting his forehooves firmly on the table, like a boss.

Before everypony could even finish greeting him properly, a sexy stallion who was cosplaying as Equestria-Girls Sonata leaned over the table and placed his large, firm REDACTED on Majin's shoulder and breathlessly whispered into his furry little ear, "Would you like to taste my taco?"

He didn't know what else to do, so he just nodded meekly and and cracked his pasterns and waited to see what came next.

Not too long after—certainly not more than a few minutes—Sonata Dick tapped him on the brisket and then bent over the table in front of him and revealed his soft taco.

Majin's thought were clouded by the drink and the exhaustion and the hunger and Maud's soft prose and the sweet seductive scent of tacos and so it was inevitable that instead of eating the taco he climbed up onto the table and made sweet, sweet love to the soft, soft taco.

THE END