The Tragedy

Speedy Wackerface pulled away from his desk for a moment, and looked out the window, longing for another chance to be with his weedwacker. She consumed all of his thoughts, day and night. Every time he tried to concentrate, all he could think of was Marijuana Slicer the Third. Her real name was Princess Darth Tetrahydrocannabinol Wacker the Third Esquire, but she said he could call her by her nickname. When he attempted to talk to her though, everything spilled out of his mouth in the wrong order. However privileged he was to be able to call her by the same name her friends did, it helped his confidence none. Even last night, when he was trying to complement how beautifully her cord sliced through the grass, all he could stutter was "Your cord... cool."

Around anypony else, he was different. But around Marijuana Slicer the Third, he was a different pony. Everything he said had to be planned out, and he had difficulties being spontaneous. He always stuck to only eating cake on Fridays. He couldn't help how she subconsciously willed how he acted.

He sighed, and pushed his muzzle back into the book he was reading.

Weedwackersweedwackersweedwackers! The book hissed. He simply couldn't concentrate. But even if he couldn't concentrate, he couldn't do anything else either. He had to talk to her, but he couldn't. It just wouldn't work. Anxiety would take over before it could happen.

Eventually he convinced himself that he had to go out there. As much as he didn't want to have to face her, he summed up all of the confidence he could and trotted out the back door of his house, into his yard. Marijuana Slicer the Third's slender, intimidating figure was leaning against his house, beaconing him. He walked forward, shaking at her majesty. She turned her engine on, and made a very slight purr, mesmerizing Speedy. But he held strong, and kept his confidence this time. He remembered his cutie mark: a grenade driving a racecar. It helped him uphold his confidence, so whenever he was intimidated, he could think of it.

"Do you wanna go... wack some weeds? We... we could make up Weed puns. If you want."

She vroomed her engine louder. Wacking weeds wasn't part of her plans tonight. Nor was making up puns. She was planning on having some real fun tonight.

Against his better judgment, he nervously nodded his head. With anyone else, he probably would have argued otherwise... but this was Marijuana Slicer. He couldn't think of what to say fast enough, but he didn't want to change his mind now. His too logical thinking had ruled his life for the past few weeks of this, and he wanted it to stop. That was what had put him in his position of helplessness earlier; he was determined to make this work.

Shakily, he trotted up towards her, now only several inches away from her. He engine vroomed louder. The lever was edging its way slowly higher, the volume of the sound increasing to the point where a few neighbors began turning their heads to look at what was going on.

"Shhh, shhhh... calm down..." He put his hoof up to the switch, and slowly decreased his beloved Weedwacker's power. "Calm down."

Suddenly, it snapped, whipping him out of his formerly tranquil mood.

It raced across the yard, and under his legs, the power at full throttle. This is why they had been recalled; why they were assumed to be too dangerous. He thought he could handle it, but he was wrong. Hopefully not listening to others had been worth the risk; if it wasn't, well. Everypony knew how that would go.

It was still trying to come towards him. Whether he knew it or not, Marijuana Slicer the Third had been trying to talk to him as well. Life for a Weedwacker can be hard too. This was one of the many thoughts with the highest priority in her mind as she was flying towards him, needing to speak to him for one last time. This was the end for her; she knew this moment would have too come. This moment was the worst one in which for it to happen to her, but Marijuana Slicer had to make the most of it. Talking to Speedy one last time was the single thing that cold alleviate her pain.

He began climbing the steps back into his house, the weedwacker close behind him. Finding her intentions wasn't the most important thing for him right now; right now he needed to get away.

His hooves tripped up on the bottom most step, the hard concrete blocking his way. Their neighbors kept their eyes glued to the scene. He glanced behind him, and panicked. What if he couldn't escape in time? Would he? She was racing towards him far too fast. On his stomach now, he clawed at the edge of the stair, his hooves making no progress. They just didn't offer enough resistance. Each time he made another desperate lunge at the concrete, his bloodstream filled with adrenaline, and his mind clouded, he accomplished nothing.

The weedwacker, with its outdated metal blades exposed, finally reached him. Marijuana Slicer hadn't thought for long enough about what she was doing, and sawed right through his legs, up to his waist, and out through the top of his spine. She fell over, numb and vroomless at what she had done. She had no place in this world anymore, after how the evening had unfolded. Shreds of marshmallow and candy lay everywhere.

---

Neighbors who had watched it unfold came up to the scene, and one covered up the remains of the pair with a blanket. The Mayor would be upset to hear what had happened; this kind of thing never happened in Ponyville. Ever. It was unheard of. Around the yard, circling Speedy and Marijuana Slicer, they all looked down at the now limp fragments that had once been many of their's friend.

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