You cannot ponify the dead parrot sketch with just meeting the gray mare, joining the celestial herd and grazing greener pastures.

And now for something completly different

The Fodder Shoppe Sketch

Pushing the shop's door with his muzzle Mousebender entered the fodder store ringing a bell to alert the proprietor of a customer. Sitting in the corner was a mint green unicorn playing a bazouki while a trio of young fillies calling themselves the Cutie Mark Crusaders were dancing hoping that this would help them get their cutie marks. He cantered up to the counter when a pony appeared from the back greeting him "Good morning, sir."

"Good morning." He replied, "I was sitting in the Ponyville library on Mare St just now, skimming through 'Sanguine Sardine' by Twilight Sparkle when suddenly I came over all peckish."

"Peckish, sir?"

"Esurient."

"Eh?"

"Eee I were all hungry, like."

"Oh, hungry."

"In a nutshell. So I thought to myself 'a little cudding fodder will do the trick'. So I curtailed my Sparkling activities, sallied forth and infiltrated your place of purveyance to negotiate the vending of some fodder comestibles."

"Come again."

"I want to buy some fodder."

"Oh, I thought you were complaining about the fillies."

"Heaven forbid. I am one who delights in all manifestations of the Rule 34 Lolita muse."

"Sorry?"

"I like a nice prance. Now my good stallion, some fodder, please."

"Yes certainly, sir. What would you like?"

"Well how about a little Kentucky Bluegrass."

Suddenly Lyra changed the tune she was playing; though she couldn't figure out why on Celestia's verdant Equestria she did.

"I'm afraid we're fresh out of Kentucky Bluegrass, sir."

"Oh nevermind how are you on Brome."

"Never at the end of the week, sir. Always get it fresh first thing on Maresday."

"Tish, tish. No matter. Well four pounds of Fescue, then if you please, stout chasseur."

"Ah, well, it's been on order for two weeks, sir, I was expecting it this morning."

"Yes, it's not my day is it. Er, Zoysia?"

"Sorry."

"Amaranth?"

"Normally sir, yes but today the wagon broke down."

"Ah. Watercress"

"Sorry."

"Quinoa, Teff?"

"No."

"Any Mongolian Milk Vetch?"

"No."

"Bracken, Barley, Buckwheat, Durum Wheat, Millet?"

"Ah! We do have some millet, sir."

"You do. Excellent."

"It's gone to seed a bit, sir."

"I like it a little seedy."

"Well as a matter of fact it's really gone to seed, sir."

"No matter. No matter. Hoof over the Panicum miliaceum; placere."

"I think it's gone to seed more than you'd like it, sir."

"I don't care how muffin seedy it is. Hoof it over with all speed."

"Yes sir." Looks below the counter and comes back up. "Oh."

"What?"

"The parrot's eaten it."

"A parrot?"

"Norwegian Blue, sir."

"Prairie Foxtail?

"Nope."

"Purple Pampas Grass?"

"Não."

"Yellow Sorrel?"

"Non."

"German Velvetgrass?"

"Nein."

"Siberian Taiga Lichen?"

"Nyet."

"You do have some fodder, do you?"

"Certainly, sir. It's a fodder shop, sir. We've got…"

"No, no, no don't tell me I'm keen to guess."

"Fair enough."

"Timothy?"

"Yes, sir."

"Splendid. Well, I'll have a quarter a bale of that then, please."

"Oh, I'm sorry sir, I thought you were referring to me, Timothy."

"Yellow Goats Beard?"

"No."

"Ozark Dixieland Sorghum?"

There it went again, Lyra suddenly changing the tune she was playing. Though she thought that this really should be a duet and why am I envisioning a rafting trip?

"No."

"Curly Mesquite Grass?"

"No."

"Chihauhauian Sage Brush?"

"Not today sir, no."

"Well let's keep it simple, how about Alfalfa?"

"Well I'm afraid we don't get much call for it around these parts."

"No call for it? It's the single most popular fodder in Equestria!"

"Not around these parts, sir."

"And pray what is the most popular fodder around these parts?"

"Clover, sir."

"I see."

"Yes, sir; It's quite staggeringly popular in the manor, squire."

"Is it?"

"Yes sir, it's our number one seller."

"Is it?"

"Yes, sir."

"Clover, eh?"

"Right."

"OK, I'm game. Have you got any, he asked expecting the answer no?"

"I'll have a look sir . . . nnnnnnoooooooooo."

"Not much of a fodder shop really, is it?"

"Finest in the district, sir."

"And what leads you to that conclusion?"

"Well, it's so clean."

"Well, it's certainly uncontaminated with fodder."

"You haven't asked me about bamboo, sir."

"Is it worth it."

"Could be."

"Okay have you . . . WILL YOU SHUT THAT BLOODY BAZOUKI UP!"

So startled Lyra suddenly teleported away and the cutie mark crusaders ran out the door. Yet again the cutie mark crusaders missed the punchline and fail to get cutie marks in their one true talent.

"Have you got any Bamboo?"

"No."

"No, that figures. It was pretty predictable really. It was an act of pure optimism to pose the question in the first place. Tell me something, do you have any fodder at all."

"Yes sir."

"Really?"

"No, not really sir."

"You haven't?"

"No sir, not a tuft. I was completely wasting your time."

"Well I'm sorry, but I'm going to have to shoot you."

"Right-Oh sir."

"What a senseless waste of pony life." Mousebender said as he tossed a muffin on top of the body of Timothy.

Later, when they found the body the constables chalked it up as another victim of the Cupcake Killer.

That is unless you attribute its total lack of movement to being turned to stone, meeting the Medusa, having tea with Celestia, trying the Fluttershy stare on a cockatrice, gazing at a basilisk, attending a Canterlot garden party, feeling the breathe of the gorgon, became an ASFR cosplayer, catching the eye of the beholder, receiving the Midas touch, partook of petrification potion, taken for granite, shipped with Tom, stoned as a fossil.

Good grief, not a single falafel in sight!