Fimfic Authors Are In Your Bed

by Admiral Biscuit

The Cutie Mark Crusaders Redecorate Your Bedroom (Charelzzz)

The Cutie Mark Crusaders Destroy Redecorate Your Bedroom
Charelzzz

Another day at work, dealing with unreasonable managers, uncaring coworkers and insane customers. Your boss calls you back in for two hours of inventorying after you punch out. “Don’t punch back in; I’m not authorized to authorize unauthorized overtime. But I need you to inventory stock room three. Don’t worry, I’ll take care of you next week,” he says with a wink of his beady little eye, the word “LIAR” glowing red on his sweaty forehead in 124 point comic sans. You shrug, long having accepted that expecting justice in this world is a sucker’s game.

Five and a half hours later, you are hunched over the steering wheel of your 1985 Hyundai Excel, your eyes barely focused due to an excess of sprocket counting, on a street that is blessedly deserted, as all other commuters, including your boss, have all since had their dinners and gone to bed. Your cheap apartment beckons as you wedge your miserable Korean rustmobile into a microspace accidentally left between two high-end SUVs. You make the long climb to your walkup, briefly stopping at the 99th step to curse the ghost of Harriet Stratemeyer Adams, as usual, and there it is… your door.

The door is all that stands between you and blessed unconsciousness; the experience of oblivion, wrapped in the arms of Morpheus in your bed. You are sure that nothing else bad can happen to you today as you wrestle with the old lock. It finally gives way to your insistent twistings with a click that sounds like the gates of paradise opening before you. Bed… bed… bed… the word blazes in your mind as you stagger into the closet you call a living room.

Then you hear a crash from behind the door your bedroom. Oh no. Not tonight.

The muffled voice of a female youth calls out, indistinctly as though the speaker had her mouth full of something. A feeling, a unique combination of dread, anger and exhaustion which you have come to call drenghaustion, fills you as you take a tentative step to the door.

A second voice, even squeakier and more muffled than the first, responds. Two ponies? What have I done to deserve this? The faces of ex-girlfriends flash through your mind. Even so…

Then you hear a third voice, strong and distinct. “No cutie marks yet, girls! I thought for sure we’d get ‘em this time!”

By all the little gods of inexplicable bruises and disposable feminine products! It can’t be! Not… not...

You bang your shin against the coffee table, knocking a slice of stale Domino’s pizza to land on the floor with a clang, but the nerves anxiously sending pain signals to your brain are unable to break through the storm of panic that has overloaded your mind. You reach for the doorknob, and steel yourself for the worst as you turn and pull.

You are not prepared. You could not be. No human could be. Not for the Cutie Mark Crusaders in the midst of a Cutie Mark Quest.

You enter the room and notice that walls have been painted, apparently at random, in verdigris, purple and olive. The quality of the brush work, leaving behind patches of the original pale yellow, with blending, buildup, streaks and drippings makes the result look like something a color-blind Jackson Pollack could have produced at the height of his vomit period. The rug will have to be burned and you’d shiver from the breeze permitted by the busted window if not for the warmth of the rage building up in your viscera.

Your end tables have been glued together at an odd angle in an apparent attempt to remedy your lack of a dresser. Your eyes track upward to note that the priceless collection of dog-eared early ‘80s rock band posters is nowhere to be seen, replaced instead with a poster of a rainbow-colored thunderbolt, a painting of what appears to be a red apple and some white construction paper where glue and purple glitter has been used to produce the awkward semblance of a unicorn. You now have frilly pink valences above your broken window, which manage somehow to clash with the nightmare randomness of the wall. The glow-in-the-dark stars that had faithfully mapped the constellations on your ceiling have been arranged into a smiley face.

“Ahem.” The peeping of a pony throat clearing calls your attention to the authors of this atrocity.

A pale yellow earth pony filly with her red mane in a big pink bow drops the pathetic remains of a pillow case from her mouth and looks at you with impossibly large eyes, causing your pancreas to start cramping due to a sudden massive excess of blood sugar

An orange pegasus filly with a short plum mane, perched on the bent up corner of a mattress, turns her enormous glistening adorableness projectors on you, assaulting your nervous system with cuteness rays.

You instinctively shift your eyes away from the sources of so much unfiltered sweetness, but it is a mistake, for your eyes land on a white unicorn filly as she levitates a bottle of glue and several splinters of what were once a headboard above her fluffy purple mane, and her green eyes are so full of pure saccharine that the only thing that prevents you from immediately regurgitating the leftover burrito you found in the fridge and stole from a nameless co-worker is your absolute paralysis as you realize that the shards, shreds and slivers that are piled between the trio is all that remains the reason for your existence; your bed.

“We’re sorry, mister.” The unicorn filly makes a moue as she eyes the shattered bed with distaste.

“We’ve made beds before and there weren’t never this kind of problem!” The earth pony filly’s ears droop in shame.

“I guess human beds are just REALLY different from Equestrian beds!” The pegasus frowns at the wreckage and then shrugs.

“No Cutie Mark Crusader human bed making cutie marks for us,” say the three in mournful unison.

Applebloom looks sideways at the other two. “It didn’t work out any better than the interior decorating.”

Scootaloo nods mutely as Sweetie Belle shakes her head. “Yeah, and that’s kind of hard to believe!”

Your left eyelid is the first thing to be released from the rigor of your shock and horror. You know this, because it starts to twitch.

“Hey, are you OK, mister?” Sweetie Belle cocks her head, which is proportioned for maximum cuteness, as spittle starts to appear on your lips.

“Your face is getting kind of red.” Scootaloo regards you, worry showing in her weaponized cuteness projectors.

“Yeah, that ain’t a nice kind of apple red neither, more like a got your flank paddled by Granny Smith for stealing pies from the windowsill kind of red.” Applebloom takes a few tentative steps towards you, concern in her innocent features. “Say, are you sick?”

Your twitching intensifies.

The three crusaders looked at one another, joy and hope lighting their features as they shout, “Cutie Mark Crusaders Human Paramedics!”

Your drenghaustion is quickly replaced with icy terror as visions of your tender body rendered into a state similar to that of your bedroom fill your mind’s eye. You manage to gain enough control over your body to start to violently shake your head, and you start to make strangled “Nnnnnnnnnn!” sounds.

“Nnnnn… naeglaria fowleri? Have you been swimming near industrial outlet pipes?” says Sweetie Belle with fascination.

“Nnnnn… nail fungus?” Applebloom sticks out her tongue. “If that’s anything like hoof fungus, I don’t know if I want to touch you. Maybe we could just amputate?” Sweetie Belle smiles as she starts to scrounge around for scissors.

“Nnnnn… now? Now! He wants medical attention NOW guys!” Scootaloo’s wings are almost buzzing as she jumps up and down in excitement.

“NO!” Your brain goes into survival mode and gets control of your panicked body. “No! No, no, no!” you cry, looking at the disappointed fillies. “What. Have. You. Done?”

“Oh, well we were just trying to make your bed, and decorate your room up nice, like we said. Weren’t you listening?” Sweetie Belle looks at you with annoyance.

“How did you manage to destroy my bed!?” You are now genuinely curious as well as terrified, angry, and exhausted. “And you made so many small pieces out of it! Look, you broke a screw in two!” You pick up the thick corner fastener which has been sheared in twain. “How could so much destructive force exist in three small pony bodies!?” You gesture expansively, encompassing the superfund site that had once been your cosy little bedroom.

“So that’s the thanks we get for trying to do you a favor?” Scootaloo regards you indignantly as Sweetie Belle frowns, looking for the scissors with renewed vigor.

“Hold on girls, he has a raht to be upset. We did sort of mess up his place a little.” Applebloom looks at a bedpost-shaped hole in the wall. “We should make it up to him somehow. Ah know! Cutie Mark Crusaders plumbing cutie marks!” The other two look at her as though she just had the best idea in the world.

“Stop!” you shout, visions of flood and destruction filling your aching eyes. “No plumbing! No cooking! No carpet cleaning! No nothing! Just get out so I can start cleaning up the wreckage! Or maybe I’ll just burn the apartment building down!”

“Oh, but we can’t go anywhere yet! We just have to get our cutie marks!” Applebloom looks at you with pleading in her diabetes-inducing eyes.

“Yes please, we just have to get our cutie marks! We can’t stay blank flanks forever!” Scootaloo’s Mark Four Cuteblasters brim with unshed tears.

Sweetie Belle’s angelic lower lip starts to quiver. “Oh, come on, please, mister? We promise to do our best!” Their combined appeal is irresistible. Maybe they could sort your comic book collection? No! File your taxes? No! Demolition? Perhaps, but possibly redundant after this.

Then an idea comes to you. A brilliant idea. A brilliant, evil idea.

The three fillies back up towards a corner of what remains of your bedroom. “Your smile is like, seriously creepy, mister,” Scootaloo says, worry in her voice.

“Oh, I know what you can do to help me,” you say in your Grinchiest voice. “You’re going to be great! Now, here’s what we’ll do…”

Fifteen minutes later, they’re piling out of your car. They stand together on the sidewalk under the night sky and cry out, “Cutie Mark Crusaders sprocket stock clerks!” You unlock the door and usher them in.

“Now, work really hard, kids! I’m going to go home and catch some sleep. Just remember that you have to be done and out of here before seven AM when Mister Slobbington opens up!”

“You got it, mister, and thanks!” Applebloom smiles at you and bounces down the hall to the stock room with her friends. You drive home, grab a spare pillow and blanket, and get on the couch. As you close your eyes, you think you hear a crashing sound well off in the distance. You sleep the sleep of the just.

Comments

[Admiral Biscuit]

5511302
fc02.deviantart.net/fs70/f/2012/355/6/6/6646971a34d2a13a2fa4922d2d13aa83-d5ooyma.png

[Maxes Altho]

5514354 I think that picture made me a Rarity fan.

In regards to this episode: stream1.gifsoup.com/view7/3463092/fucking-genius-o.gif

[Ember Q Discordia]

5513525 I meant, 你會發現一個驚人的馬在你的床上。

[Maniac92]

Did this chapter just end on a win for the main character? That's got to be a first.

[nioniosbbbb]

*EVIL MANIACAL LAUGHTER!*

[Ardwolf]

Yes.

I wondered how long it would take him to crack. Of course now he has to worry about the police, but some things just must be...

Bravo, Charelzzz!

[sbloom85]

Sweet, sweet revenge.

Appleblook

Seriously?

Oh, come one, please, mister?

come on

[kooarbiter]

5514069

not personally, but youtube can have some very intense videos

[MythrilMoth]

Eebul!

[Maxes Altho]

5517257 No. he was drinking whiskey on the rocks, so...

[ARandomCritic]

I work at a Walmart, so I loved how he set the CMC on "Destroy" in his stockroom. One of the best endings yet.

[Dinkledash]

5515660 Appleblook sounds like the Dolanized version.

[Dinkledash]

5518344 Thank you!

[kooarbiter]

YES NOW THIS CHAPTER I LIKE

[MythrilMoth]

5521273 Your sarcasm wasn't obvious at all. Your comment read exactly like you randomly deciding to be an asshole, and as there are an unbelievable number of random assholes on this site...it's not hard to see why one would assume your intent was hostile.

Using a bunch of emoticons after the video clip doesn't automatically imply sarcasm.

If your intent was not hostile, well...it was still taken as such, and I won't apologize, because it frankly wasn't necessary for you to post that in any case.

Take this as a lesson for future encounters with others.

[Dinkledash]

5521303 Thanks!

[kooarbiter]

5521334

and I'm just sitting here, laughing at everyone down voting my comment like it makes a difference, just becuase someone took a joke out of context and got offended

[Dinkledash]

5522350 Every time I see a new comment on this chapter I wonder if it is someone who says they liked the chapter or had a helpful critique but it's this thing...

[Nyerguds]

5523298
Hee. This chapter went about as expected... and then ends on a brilliant twist

Nice one, Charelzzz. You both did the Obligatory Mental Wrecking, and yet you managed to give The Guy a break and end it on a positive note

[Nikita]

Congrats, mister. You just weaponized CMC

[Dinkledash]

5531403 They were always weaponized, just camouflaged under layers of cuteness.

[The Hissing Fool]

Hyundai Excel...

I see what you did there.