• Published 13th Jul 2013
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Twilight gets stung by a bee (and other short stories) - GrouchoMarxDisciple

Twilight has a close encounter with a stinging striped insect.

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This chapter will cause a C&D from Hasbro

Short story #3: Fluttershy has a serious conversation with herself about the feelings of a bowl of milk

Have you ever stopped to pause on the short, sad life of a drop of milk?

No, really, hear me out on this one. Your life goes like this: You start out as grass, get processed through this... beast's innards to become milk. You get squeezed out of a fleshy... thing, and placed in refrigeration, making you miss the stinky warmth of the udder place. Sometimes you are boiled, or given treatments to remove "bacteria" that you may have got from the cow. Maybe you end up baked into a cake, beaten and scorched, or perhaps as a cookie, dry and cracked. People are allergic to you, and tend to drink milk without stopping for a polite conversation first. The end is like the beginning, you are ingested somehow, be it by a calf or by a man, and you are no longer milk.

No, really, it's depressing. Picture it as the next Disney movie.

In this world, we do not stop to think about these things. You, today, didn't think about how hard being a laptop must be, or a television, or a rug. All of these items, if they do live, lead terrible lives. Solitude makes one think such things.

Fluttershy never meant to be alone so much, but between you and me, animals don't talk much, and friends get busy and can't. Many times, there is so much to do, but no one (pony or non) to share the burden with. Not that Fluttershy minds, all that much. It's just that sometimes, it leads you to think weird and slightly depressing things, like that bit about the milk back there.

The bowl of milk in question was laying out on the floor of the living room of Fluttershy's house. She had set it there that morning, anticipating that one of her animal friends would drink it at some point during the day (the kittens in particular were fond of milk). What struck her as bizarre about this particular bowl of milk was that no one went to it, or even gave it a second glance. The kitties played with their yarn, the ferrets stayed outside, and Harry the Bear didn't even notice it.

Fluttershy wondered how the bowl of milk felt about that. It didn't matter that she wondered aloud, there was nopony there, and the animals wouldn't tell. "I mean, the fact that no animal is drinking it is a good thing, right? The milk's life is made longer, and the milk stays milk for longer." Fluttershy nodded. "The bowl of milk must not care that much, because when an animal so much as looks at it, it's own life becomes in danger."

She smiled at the bowl of milk, sitting on her floor there, but instead of returning that glow, the milk seemed pale and dead. She wondered, for a split second, if she hurt its feelings.

"But, milk spoils if it stays milk for too long, even if it is refrigerated and not touched. We can try and prolong its life, but there almost seems to be no point."

The milk jiggled a bit. Either it was nodding at her, or Harry was raiding the fridge in the next room.

"Wow, then the life of milk really is sad. You start, they freeze you, you get drank, or you spoil. Either way, you aren't really milk anymore after that."

The milk stopped, almost as if begging her to ask the logically following question.

"So, does a bowl of milk have a purpose in life? Is there a reason for all this torture and despair? Is the life of the milk meaningless?" Her eyes moistened.

The milk simply reflected her face.

"No, I can't believe that. There is something that milk exists for, I know it. Everything, from the smallest worm to Princess Celestia, exists for a reason."1

The milk simply rippled a bit, as if to say "Yes, go on".

"So what could it possibly be? It's probably not evil, so its purpose isn't to spill or make a mess. Milk is much to benevolent to enjoy things like that." She began pacing while she talked, and each time she did, the milk rippled, as if to egg her on her line of logic. "But what benevolent purpose could Milk strive for? There has to be something..."

"Maybe Milk exists to strengthen the calf of the mother. That's what its original use is, to make the calf grow big and strong." She smiled, and turned to face Milk. He rippled one last time, as if telling her to continue, to keep going.

"But, then, what about this bowl? Milk has to have a reason to keep living, he has to. Even though his chance to help a calf is gone, he an still help strengthen a filly or a colt, can't he?" This time, the milk seemed to glow. "Is that why you exist? To find somepony in need, and strengthen them?"

The milk perfectly reflected her face, as if it were made of glass.

"I know why you exist, milk. You exist because you are something that strengthens us, makes us stand stronger, and helps us grow. You make our bones strong enough to last a lifetime, and give us nutrition for out brains and hearts. This is your purpose. You have a reason to exist."

She picked up Milk. Looking him straight in the (reflected) eyes, she smiled.

"I understand why you exist, Milk. Thank you. We are all in your debt. Even though your life is short and sad, there is good behind it." With that, she closed her eyes and held the bowl to her lips.

It was the best Milk she ever tasted.

Isn't the life of the Mental Health Patient sad?

Hear me out on this one. You never know the difference between truth and fiction. Friends and basketballs become the same. You experience so much, without ever truly knowing the world. Your glimpses of it are few, and you create stories from those. The nurses take care of you, and the medicine makes you more delirious. It's a short, sad life.

Twilight watched as her friend Fluttershy rambled on about milk. It was the same saucer they brought her every day, but this time, she wouldn't stop talking. She didn't acknowledge her friend, not even when she said her name.

After Angel Bunny and Big Mac died in that fire, her mind froze on a specific day. Her animals were out playing, and everything was fine. She didn't see her friends, because her friends weren't there that day.

That day, she drank the milk.

And every day after, they brought her a new saucer. If they didn't, she'd shut down until the next day.

It's right after she starts drinking that the fire started. It won't be until long when she 'hears' about it.

But until then, she is simply content to lay there, her saucer empty, and close her eyes. In her world, her biggest worry is that she won't get to drink something that good ever again.

It almost seems silly to Twilight. What possible significance could a saucer of milk have?

Author's Note:

Funny premise, serious story.

I'm depressed now. Off to watch Animaniacs.