“Now class, this is a really interesting statue.” Cheerilee pointed at the sculpture in question. “He has the head of a pony and a body made up of all sorts of things. What do you suppose that represents?”
“A late-night rendezvous between a snake, a goat, and Apple Bloom’s mom?”
Apple Bloom turned to Scootaloo with the scrunch-faced fury of a thousand irate kittens. “Oh, it’s on now, cloud-sucker!” She sprang at Scootaloo, tackling her to the ground.
Nearby, Sweetie Belle checked her non-existent watch. “Three minutes into the field trip. That’s a new—”
“Sweetie!” yelled Apple Bloom. “Stop referencing future memes and hold her wings down for me!”
Scootaloo batted the other filly’s flailing limbs away. “Geez, Bloom! Can’t you take a joke?”
“My parents are deeeeeeeeeaaaaaaaaaaaaaad!!!”
“That’s a ‘no’, then.”
The two continued grappling like a pair of intoxicated octopi. As a tumbleweed breaks and shatters against the inevitable cliff face, so too did they smack into the statue. Instead of breaking into little pieces, however, they simply rebounded with a sound like a baseball bat hitting a watermelon.
Scootaloo sat back up, shaking her head. She had just enough time to notice the statue swaying ponderously, and then it tipped and fell over, sending another font of dust into the sky.
“Scootaloo?” Apple Bloom called, picking herself off the ground. “We just cut this thing short, didn’t we?” she said to Sweetie Belle.
“More like squashed it flat, I think,” she said, cocking her head at the fallen statue. The smooth white stone had splintered all along its surface, but was otherwise intact. “Oh, nope, she’s still alive.”
Scootaloo looked up at them with a blasé expression, despite the fact that the statue’s open maw was all but clamped around her neck. With an audible “pop”, she extricated herself from the mouth. “So yeah,” she said, “what’s up with that statue, anyway?”
“Well,” said Cheerilee, frowning. “I was going to explain exactly what it was, but now that you’ve gone and ruined it, I think it’s best that I dole out punishment instead. You started the fight, Scootaloo, so you’ll have to make up for it.”
“Oh, okay. So, what, am I going to have to write an essay on how fighting is bad?”
“Oh no, I think this calls for the most powerful weapon in the teacher’s arsenal.”
“Bad grades?”
“No.”
“Suspension?”
“No.”
“Late-afternoon meetings in the darkened basement of the schoolhouse that must never, ever be mentioned to your parents, fellow students, or future offspring?”
“I was thinking more along the lines of… tedious manual labor.” She smiled wide. “It’ll build character!”
Scootaloo’s anguished cry would’ve split the heavens, if they had cared enough to part ways for her.
“Great, so now I’m stuck in this big maze while Ms. Cheerilee and the rest are probably laughing it up in some ice cream parlor somewhere. It’s not right. Sure, she’s the teacher and all, but she can’t just leave me here unsupervised! Heck, this isn’t even her garden! She doesn’t have any authority here! Ah, but she still somehow gets to order a little filly into the maze to start picking up trash, which I’m pretty sure is against, like, all child labor laws.” She suddenly cut short her expository rambling, looking around. “And now I am so freaking lost.”
“Oh no, I’d say you’ve been found.”
“Really, Talking Hedge?” she said to one of the nearby hedges, which, unbeknownst to her sense of irony, was only capable of whispering. “Well, good to know at least one of us is an optimist.” She blinked. “Wait.”
Casting her gaze upward, Scootaloo beheld not the faraway clouds, but something much closer and hovering just overhead. It looked down at her the way a chameleon eyes its dinner while on acid.
“Well, hello there, my little chickadee!” it said.
Despite her mouth’s protestations, Scootaloo managed to make it cooperate. “...What?”
The thing grinned, spreading its arms wide. “Now you… You can call me… ‘Toola-Roola.’” His grin suddenly turned stone-faced. “But only if you’re partial to getting your ears replaced with hedgehogs and having an angry god of anarchy use you as a butt-scratcher!” His grin returned. “If not, then call me ‘Discord! Lord. Of. Chaos!’” He held out his paw. “Charmed.”
Scootaloo searched for some grand inquiry, one that would perfectly encapsulate the myriad questions cart-wheeling through her psyche. “…What?”
“Y’know, you remind me of myself at a young age, back when all I cared about was juggling unicorns. Word of advice”—he wrapped an arm around her shoulders, one claw pointed skyward—“if you juggle a unicorn, mind the pointy end.”
She wormed her way out of his chummy embrace. “No, seriously. What?”
“Really? I wasn’t clear enough?” He sighed. “Oh, and here I thought a kindred spirit of mine would be more… bright.”
Scootaloo looked at him with a level stare. “Yeah, okay, crazy statue-guy. I’m just going to keep trying to find my way out of here. See ya.”
“Aw… You just want to leave it at that? Without me telling you about how important you are?”
Scootaloo’s better judgment told her to keep walking, but then her ego jumped it with a knife and dragged it into a dark alley. “Okay, I’ll bite. What are you talking about?”
“Like I said, we’re kindred spirits, you and I. You take death like a champ, I laugh in the face of it.”
Her eyes widened. “Wait, you know about that? You know what’s going on with me?”
“Hmm…” He grinned. “Maybe I do.”
“Well, tell me!”
“I think it would be best if I showed you instead. Here, watch.”
He snapped his talons with a bright snap, and suddenly, a rubber chicken hit Scootaloo’s face at mach six.
WHOO! IT'S SEASON 2, MOTHERFUCKERS! LET'S GOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!
Belligerent Sock, by the way, is an incredibly talented writer, and he and I have been working on a spiritual crossover with the Ace Attorney series. If you have any love for Phoenix Wright, court procedurals, lawyer humor, or more of Sock's excellent writing, then go check it out if you haven't already.
A Turnabout in Kind
We'll be releasing a new chapter of it come Thursday. Go read it!
A rubber chicken at mach six? Dear lord Scoots is going to be feeling that in the morning.
Scoot, do you really want to see her garden?
...
I guess it couldn't be worse than any other day of the week, but still.
Also, good to see that Discord got that gig with Bethesda. Good lines if nothing else.
...
Now I want to see Scoot get wabbajacked.
4349562 Given the nature of this story, don't count on it.
Hail Lord Sheogora- I mean Discord!
*GASSSP*
A CHAPTER WHERE SCOOTALOO DIDN'T DIE?!
Who are you and what have you done with alexmagnet!!
Well, I guess that means...
Scoots just got 'chickened out'.
4349660
Whoa, whoa, whoa, hold up there a minute. If you read the end of the chapter again, you'll see Scootaloo gets pelted with a rubber chicken at mach 6. If that doesn't kill her, well... I don't know what will.
4349660 I think that rubber chicken at mach six at the end might've did her in.
4349660
pretty sure the majority of scoots body just got obliterated, i mean mach 6 is pretty damn fast....
Wait, what's this?
A coherent plot?
...I think I'm going to faint.
Ok. Mach 6 rubber chicken to the face. Seems legit! :3
4349671 It's rubber. That makes it nonlethal.
And the plot finally rears its ugly head!
...
Sorry, I could only keep that thought for so long.
Rubber chicken to the face at mach 6. Ooooo that's gonna leave a mark. A big, red mark. A big, red, searing mark. Discord is being himself again. EVERYBODY RUN!
Let's do some math here (Because I'm bored and have nothing else to do )
Also, before I start, I'd like to say these are estimations, and aren't meant to be taken too seriously.
Let's assume that the rubber chickens has a mass of ~50 grams, or .05 kilograms.
Also, Mach 1 is ~340 m/s, mach 2 is 680 m/s, etc.
And let's just say that the rubber chicken accelerated to mach six in ~1/5 seconds.
So as a lot of you may or may not know, the formula for force is ma=f (m=mass, a=acceleration, f=force)
We already know that the mass is ~.05 kilograms, and if you haven't figured it out yet, velocity is ~2040 m/s
So for acceleration, we need velocity over time, or 2040/.2 = 10200 m/s/s
Then if we just use the force formula stated above, and take 10200 * .05, we can find out that or chicken had ~510 newtons of force, which would be like an 115 pound weight falling on you.
tl;dr Scootaloo probably died and I have way too much time on my hands.
Wow... Poor Scoots got Rubber Scootalooed to death... Impressive... LOL
And then you let me down.
That's a cliffhanger. A cliffhanger by any other name is just the same.
4349817
Then this isn't lethal either. I mean, it's just a little piece of lead.
mentalfloss.com/sites/default/files/styles/article_640x430/public/bullet_5.jpg
And neither is this steel-cutting laser. I mean, it's just a bright light. . . .
cdn.thomasnet.com/ccp/10041702/173422.jpg
4349981
The rate of acceleration determines how much force was required to get it to that speed. It is the rate of deceleration that determines how much force was imparted on Scootaloo.
Hmm. Possible backstory? Well, I can hope. And then my hopes will die. Like Scootaloo.
...
Wow, that got depressing quickly.
In any case, looking forward to more. Discord is always enjoyable.
4349981
We're also assuming a perfectly spherical rubber chicken, right?
4350393 Everyone knows lead poisoning is fatal.
4349981 Rubber chickens are considerably heavier than that. They are often the approximate size of a chicken, and the classical ones were rather thick latex.
So they'd probably weigh closer to 0.5-1.0 kg.
I have lab mice that weigh more than 50 grams. I had one that was about 100 grams. The thing looked like a white blob with a head and 4 little feet.
4349981 >>>which would be like an 115 pound weight falling on you.>>>
Are you assuming atmospheric free-falling critical velocity?
Cuz you could survive if it fell on you from, like 4 inches above you from a resting position. Devil's in the details.
4349817 Actually, at Mach 6 (assuming speed of sound at sea level), the chicken would smash through her body, and given its elastic composition, would spread out like a bullet, increasing the area of damage much like a soft lead bullet (say, a Civil War era miniball).
Scoots' head would be splattered all over the place.
Is this the chapter where it's finally confirmed that Scoot's parents went to a Cthulhu cult while drunk and then conceived her that night?
And next chapter she decides to become a superheroine named... uhm.. (can't use copyrighted name... that's too lazy... ah!) The Enigmare!
Oooo... that's actually damned good! I need to copyright that!
God dammit, Sock.
The unfortunate Scootaloo has inherited the curse of the rubber chicken.
this requires appropriate sound effects
[youtube=www.youtube.com/watch?v=otQPmygQ33c]
what
Cheerilee's garden...
Oooooooh Deeeeeeaaaaath~
i390.photobucket.com/albums/oo345/stryke81/MLP/85422__UNOPT__pinkie-pie_artist-atryl_death_discworld_death-of-discworld.png
4353044 Ahh, thanks for clarifying!
4350679 No, because there are no cows in a vacuum. Obviously.
And Boneless became a murderer
Don't know why, but I lost it at "Butt Scratcher." My sides are in Siberia right now.
The Rubber Scootaloo.
4349671
I believe you could have made it go mach 13,000, but I am pretty sure we are reaching light speed around that point.
And suddenly, a stuffed tiger leapt out of nowhere and started to maul Scootaloo.
Definitely building character.
That was funnier then it should've been I will admit.
4350763 At Mach 6?
Discord: "Wai---there was supposed to be a Canterlot shattering Rainbow Boom. What happened to my Rainbow Boom!?"