And Making It Too

“Mother FUCK, is this boring!”

Scootaloo angrily kicked a nearby stool, sending it flying against the nearby wall. She would have decided upon other nearby things, but her friends stopped her. Sweetie Belle grasped one leg, and Apple Bloom grasped the other.

“Scootaloo, kicking things around won’t help,” Sweetie Belle told her pegasus friend. Obviously, the unicorn filly hanging from her friend’s hind leg hadn’t been paying attention in Psychology 101, which clearly states that the first step on the path to a better psyche is to vent your anger through destroying furniture.

“Sweetie Belle’s right,” Apple Bloom said, displaying that she also had not been paying attention is Psychology 101. “We need to work on our project!”

“But it’s so BOOOOORING,” Scootaloo moaned, slithering out of her friends’ grasps. They immediately grabbed hr again, and Scootaloo scowled down at them.

“How do you expect us to get any work done if you’re holding me down?” she asked them, irritated.

“Ah like the furniture in here,” Apple Bloom stated simply.

Scootaloo rolled her eyes. “Look, I promise that I’ll contain myself if you just let go, alright?”

Sweetie Belle and Apple Bloom exchanged uneasy glances. Coming to a silent consensus, they left go of Scootaloo’s supple legs.

The three sat back down in a circle, looking over the documents spread out before them. “Alright, now that that’s that, let’s get to work on our history report!” Apple Bloom said, reaching for a book. Scootaloo’s eye twitched.

One broken chair and a fair amount of chains later, Sweetie Belle and Apple Bloom were gathered around their history work once more. Scootaloo thrashed and writhed against her chains that bound her to a large rock her two friends had found outside, but she could not escape. Just as the other two had planned.

“So, where should we start on our report for Equine History?” Sweetie Belle asked, looking down at her paper. “When the elder alicorns created the land?”

“Ah guess,” Apple Bloom said. “Ah got out a few books from Twilight’s library on the subject so we could get a good idea of what we’re doing this thing on.”

Sweetie Belle looked at the dusty tome that lay before the two of them. It had a strange title, one written is some bizarre language written in obscure runes. Possibly French.

“You sure this is a book of history?” the unicorn filly asked. “It looks like it contains terrible and forbidden knowledge inside.”

“That’s what a history book is, you nitwit,” Scootaloo called out from her rock. “That’s why I suggested we go and do something less dangerous, like lion taming, or cock teasing.”

“Hey, roosters can get vicious,” Apple bloom said. “Ah know that one for a fact!”

“Sure,” Scootaloo said, looking around shiftily. “Roosters.”

Sweetie Belle looked over the book again. “How are we even going to learn anything from this? None of us can read whatever strange language this is written in!”

As she said this, a gust of wind blew through one of the holes in the wall made by Scootaloo’s furniture rampage, clearing the front page of the book from some of the dust caking the front. Below the strange runes, words in Equestrian Common denoted the following: “Translated from French by Phyllis, Destroyer of Worlds.”

The two unchained fillies looked at each other, and smiled. This just got a hell of a lot easier. However, once the initial euphoria of being able to read wore off, Sweetie Belle killed the mood by asking one of those annoying moral questions.

“Wait, if this is by somepony with the title ‘Destroyer of Worlds’, shouldn’t we not read it?”

“Oh, Sweetie Belle,” Scootaloo said with a laugh. “You and your naiveness.”

Sweetie Belle gave her pegasus friend an incredulous look. Apple Bloom nudged Sweetie, then pointed to the book.

“Come on, read it! We ain’t got all day!”

“Why don’t you read it?” Sweetie Belle asked, annoyed.

“Ah can’t read,” Apple Bloom admitted, looking down at her hooves in shame. Sweetie Belle rolled her eyes at this.

“Alright fine, I’ll read it, but you guys owe me one,” Sweetie said, annoyed. Cracking open the book with a terrible kwoof, the young unicorn read the most important part of the book; the disclaimed on the very first page.

“This book is a work of fiction; any resemblence between the figures int his book and real life figures are purely coincidental.” Sweetie sighed. “Well, that’s refreshing.”

“Skip that stupid part,” Scootaloo groaned ignorantly. “Get to the juicy part where all the fighting and sex happens.”

“Pretty sure that’s not what happened in what we are researching,” Sweetie Belle said.

“That’s actually a good point,” Apple Bloom noted thoughtfully. “What is our report about?”

“Hitlercron and the Unicorn Master Race,” Sweetie Belle said, her horn glowing slightly with racial purity. Both Apple Bloom and Scootaloo shared uneasy glances with each other.

“Whatever,” Scootaloo said, straining against her chains slightly. “Let’s just get this stupid thing done with. Read whatever stupid thing we’re supposed to read.”

Sweetie scanned the pages of the book, and frowned. “There’s not really anything in here about what we’re supposed to be researching. Although...” she paused, staring intently at a few lines of the book. “It says here that ‘the truth in history will be revealed once you speak these untranslated runes.’”

“How are you supposed to read something that’s untranslated?” Apple Bloom asked.

“There’s a pronunciation key right over here,” Sweetie Belle said, pointing to a part of the yellowing page.

“Well, what are you doing still talking to us?” Scootaloo asked, irritated. “Read it! Also, my snout itches. Can one of you scratch it?”

“You should have thought about that before destroying that chair!” Apple Bloom told her friend. “That was my ma’s chair, you know. One of the few things Ah’ve had left to remember her by...”

“Not my fault your parents are dead,” Scootaloo said in a low mumble. “Seriously, who gets eaten by a swarm of moths?”

“My parents were very sweater-like in composure!” Apple Bloom said defensively. “Besides, your parents are dead too!”

“Yeah, but they died really cool deaths!” Scootaloo said in an equally defensive tone.

“They were eaten by a giant dandelion,” Apple Bloom reminded her. “Ponies were giggling at their funerals, Applejack even told me.”

Scootaloo grit her teeth and grimaced at Apple Bloom. Sweetie Belle chose that moment to add to the conversation herself, however.

“My parents died pretty cool deaths,” she said matter-of-factly.

“Both of your parents are still alive, Sweetie Belle,” Apple Bloom deadpanned.

“YOU DON’T HAVE TO RUB IT IN!” Sweetie Belle wailed, tears running down her cheeks. “I just wanted to fit in with you and Scoots, and now...”

“Whatever, we can argue over dead parents later,” Scootaloo said. “Just read those stupid runes so we can get this whole mess done with.”

Sweetie Belle returned her gaze to the runes, and cleared her throat. “Oui Oui escargot folie á deux.” She raised an eyebrow. “What the hell kinda nonsense is that?”

As if to answer her, a loud droning sound filled the ears of the three cutie mark crusaders. The three fillies looked all around the clubhouse frantically, searching for this terrible noise’s origination. Soon, there search was ended, as the sound’s origination became horrifyingly evident; the air in the center of the small wooden room was cracking and breaking, as though a storm was manifesting through the very fabric of reality.

With a mind-warping snap!, the affected air transformed into a dark portal of unfathomable terror. From it, seven sickly green tentacles emerged.

Who is it that dares stir the ancient? an all-encompassing voice bellowed.

“Um... it was her,” Scootaloo said, selflessly selling out her friend. Sweetie Belle shot her an angry glance, and then turned back to the dimensional vortex.

“We didn’t mean to do it, we promise!” Sweetie squeaked. All three of the fillies shook in place as the tentacles gyrated and writhed, threatening to envelop the reality in which they inhabited.

Well, I guess if you didn’t mean to do it on purpose, the voice continued on, in a somewhat forgiving tone. The three exchanged relieved glances, before the voice continued on to say. But, I’m also rather pleased you three called me, for you have brought me the Chosen One.

“What?” Sweetie Belle said. “Brought you the chosen one? What’ya mean?”

It’s quite simple, really, the voice explained. I am Squidrok, the creator-squid. I created the universe and all that’s in it— the stars, the sun, space and even the earth you all live on, along with a million other planets with a million and one other species.

“But we were taught that the elder alicorns created the land!” Sweetie Belle said, electing nods of agreement from the other two.

Well, they taught you a load of bullshit, Squidrok said. Anyway, back to all this Chosen One business: after I finished creating everything, I created a chosen one, the one destined to save the universe; Unfortunately, I was super blazed when I created said Chosen One, and I couldn’t remember where I put them. But now, I am face to face with them, and I can take them to where they can cultivate their true powers.

“Well, I always knew that there was something special about me,” Scootaloo said with a grin. “But never that I was the Chosen One, created by the great octopus god—”

Squid.

“The great Calamari god himself!” Scootaloo said enthusiastically, her ego filling the room to such extents that the others found it hard to breath. “So long, faggolas!”

The Chosen One isn’t you, you intellectually inferior cunt-rat, Squidrok said, annoyed. It is the one called Apple Bloom.

Apple Bloom’s mouth fell open. “Me? I can’t be the Chosen One! I’m just Apple Bloom! Little farm pony!”

Chosen Ones always have humble beginnings, Squidrok pointed out. Now come with me; matters of great importance await us! A tentacle shot out from the hole in reality, wrapping around Apple Bloom.

Apple Bloom screamed in horror as she was brought towards the hole. “Help me! Guys! ANYPONY! HELP ME! AH DON’T WANNA BE THE CHOSEN ONE!”

Hush! the voice told her. Your fate is decided!

As for you two, the voice went on to say, five tentacles moving over towards the remaining two fillies, while a sixth wrapped itself around Apple Bloom’s head to silence her, For bringing me the chosen one, here is your reward!

One of the five unoccupied tentacles reached back into the reality-hole, and deposited two items in front of each filly.

“Two copies of ‘The Adventures of General Undergarments’?” Sweetie Belle asked incredulously, staring down at the book in front of her, and then shooting a look over at Scootaloo’s copy, frowning slightly.

No need to thank me, the Creator of Everything said. Your excited little faces are thanks enough. Now, come Apple Bloom! We’ve got an Owl City concert to catch!

With a final snurp!, reality fused back over the hole, only leaving a faint scar hanging in the air. The two remaining fillies looked on at where Squidrok had been, staring on with slightly irked expressions.

“Well,” Scootaloo said, breaking the silence. “That was fucking stupid.”

Sweetie Belle, however, was thinking. “Hey, didn’t that Squid-dude say that he created everything in the universe?”

“So?” Scootaloo said, not quite catching on just yet.

“So...” Sweetie Belle smiled deviously, then nodded a head over towards the materials they were to use for their history report.

***

“And that’s how Equestria was made!” Sweetie Belle concluded to her class. Scootaloo presented the picture of Squidrok for the class to see, the true horror of seeing the divine being perfectly captured in the way only a crayon drawing can depict.

“Uh-huh...” Cheerilee said, narrowing her eyes. Quickly, she ducked down behind her desk, and punched a large red button labeled PANIC!. A small radio popped out, and the school teacher hurriedly spoke into it. “Hello? Yes, we’ve got a class five-code red. That’s right, free thinkers. They’ve figured it all out. They’ve undone what school was all about... they’ve learned the truth.”

Almost instantly, the schoolhouse was swarmed with pony soldiers, who lined up Scootaloo and Sweetie Belle against the wall and peppered them with bullets, until the two foals were killed so hard they died to death. Their work done, they left as quickly as they had come.

Cheerilee re-emerged from under her desk, wiping sweat from her brow. Looking on at her shocked class, she spoke comforting words to them:

“Rumble? Can you please drag the bodies over to the lunch pit? You’ll all be having Sloppy Sweeties— I mean, Sautéed Scootaloos—” the foals raised their eyebrows as Cheerilee fumbled her words.

“You’ll be eating your friends,” the mare decided. Nailed it.

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