Episode 1

Author's Note:

I know this ones a bit much but I thought who cares this works.

Big thanks to:
TheMajorTechie
KukriRyuTsukino

Ponyville, Vine Productions

“So anyways, the rash has stopped but the warts keep on spreading.” Delta Vine explains to his crew.

The grey pony in charge of audio winces before whispering to Delta. “You’re live……..”

“What?” Looking towards the camera, Delta goes pale as he spots the red recording light. “Oh! Well hello there! Welcome to Delta’s talkshow, ‘Who the f*ck are you’!” The unprepared show host immediately starts sorting out his clip-on tie and his hair. Delta Vine was a unicorn pony with a grass green coat. His hair was long and purple with a green stripe down the middle, and he had a purple tie over a white colour around his neck. His cutie mark was a tangle of dark green vines, with purple thorns scattered around the lengths of them. “Today at ‘Vine radio station’, we have three guests joining us! These guests are… Well... What word did I put down that was safe for TV...” Delta begins going through his sheets of paper. “Ah yes, mildly not normal! I believe today we have, Butter Knife, and finally Cryst O'Nian.”

The two guests walk into the room…

Cryst, or Crys as he prefers, was in a much more armored outfit than the others. He wore a black military winter trench coat over what looked like a Chinese Stealth Suit. In the right breast of the coat was a white emblem of an "E" surrounded by thirteen stars. Armored pauldrons sat on his shoulders. At his sides were a wakizashi, a Japanese short sword, sitting in a leather stealth and a Sig Sauer 12.7mm handgun.

He also wore a teal eyepatch with black trim over his right eye which a long but thin scar stretched from. His pale white skin and his long, bright, crystal like, turquoise hair and eyes stood in contrast to his clothing. The thing that most stood out about him was when he smiled, his teeth were that of a carnivore and his ears were pointed.

And last but not least, a small, angry child named Butter Knife entered the room. Yes, she’s a fully-grown mare, but Shink Shank here isn’t exactly the most mature. Or tall. Also, it seems that the two others are human. Too bad she’s a tiny horse. Now she looks even smaller. Womp womp.

ButterCutter glared at the unseen narrator that continues to refuse to call her by her true name. Typical for her and the souls of her five dead parents that she keeps in her accursed heart locket to be annoyed like that. Really the only thing that stands out about this mare’s her eternal eye rolling and obvious black-and-red alicorn-ness. She quite obviously doesn’t want to be there, but she didn’t exactly have much of a choice considering how the rest of her “acquaintances” had recently crash-landed just outside the studio. Figures.

“Well.” Butter Knife looked at the others around her. “Quite the unusual bunch we got here, huh? I bet I can beat all of you in a fight. Thanks for using my real name, by the way.”

No probs, Crab-Dip Guillotine.

Delta rolled his eyes as Edgy McEdgington fumed. “Aaaaanywho, let’s get on to the meat of this show. Since you were the last to step in, why don’t you start us off, Margari—”

Margarine Toast shot a death glare at Delta.

“Ahem. Butter Knife, excuse me for the slip-up. I’ve got some questions for you.”

Butter Knife yawned. “Hurry up with ‘em. I wish to reunite with my… servants aboard my spacecraft.”

“Servants?” Delta raised a brow. “Spacecraft? I feel that we’ve got a far more interesting tale on our hooves if you do the talki—”

“No.”

“..Then why are you even here?” Ryan asked after pausing his game.

“Fine then.” Delta straightened out his tie. “Well, I suppose I should go ahead and ask your questions the—”

Loaf Condiment groaned. “Why am I even here? I’m supposed to be zipping through the stars, wreaking havoc everywhere I am witnessed.”

“Let me finish speaking, plea—”

“Now that I think of it, how did I even get here? I don’t remember anything past walking through the doorway into this blasted room.”

Delta sighed, closing his eyes for a moment. “Your ship crash-landed behind the studio. You’re the only one who didn’t need immediate medical attention, aside from the tall one.”

Distant screams echoed through the room for a moment.

“I’m sure the paramedics will be fine.” Delta laughed. “Now then. Are you finally done complaining?”

Needlehead grunted.

“Okay then! First question… oh.” Delta set down his question sheet and facehoofed. “Where did you come from? I’m guessing you’re gonna say that you came from your shi—”

“I come from a desolate plane of existence by the name of Equus. Hailing from the dystopian he**scape…” Dead Parents paused, furrowing her brows. “He**scape. He**scape. Dangit, why can’t I say that? Why am I censored? NARRATOR!”

Delta Vine raised a brow for the second time within three minutes. Also, screw you too, ICBINB. Don’t think you can say naughty words just ‘cause you aren’t in your own story universe right now. I narrate you, and that means I demand that you stick to your E-rating, you edgy little gumstick!

“What.”

That’s right, I called you a gumstick! How’s that for a nickname?

“You’re lame.”

“Ahem.” Delta cleared his throat. “Are you finished with your conversation with the air?”

“Ÿ̵̱͙̱́ͥ̃e̝ṡ͕̬.̗̫ͮ͆̌̋ͅ”

“Very well then. I’m going to move to the second question now. Are you okay with that?”

“Whatever.”

“Okay. Next, I’d like to know how you were raised.”

This time, it was Butter Knife’s turn to raise a brow. She silently pointed a hoof at the heart locket around her neck.

“O-oh… I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to—”

“I hold the souls of all five of my biological parents within this locket. I have nothing resembling what you mortals would imagine to be a so-called ‘normal’ upbringing, for my nourishment from adolescence even to now is the life-energy of these tormented souls that I once called my parents. In this essay I will—HEY!”

The unseen and unheard narrator chuckled at that last part.

“I can clearly hear you, y’know. Show yourself so I can beat you up once and for all.” Pointiest Stick seethed.

“Will you please, kindly shut up?” Delta groaned. “We still have more questions. Normally, stuff like this is good fodder for the audience, but you? This is too much.”

Toast Toaster huffed. “Fine.”

“Thank you, for the love of Celestia.” Delta rubbed his temples. “Now then. You said something about having five biological parents? Would you mind explaining how that could possibly work?”

“Five ponies and a blender.” Pizza Cutter corrected.

“O-oh, okay then.”

“Do you have any other questions?” Mutant Ceiling Fan cocked her head, ignoring all the various names she’d been called over the past minute by the voice only she can hear.

“Um… let’s see, yup!” Delta tossed a sheet of paper onto the ground. “I’ll go ahead and ask you this one final question before we move on to our next guest for today: What’s your favorite food?”

“The blood of my enemies. Thank you and goodbye.”

“Actually, it’s hash browns with ketchup!” A voice from behind the doorway yelled. “I know you too well, you absolutely stunning mare!”

“FOR THE LOVE OF ALL THINGS UNHOLY, SOMEPONY GET THE SECURITY AND HAUL AWAY THIS STALKER!”

“Aw, you really see me like that? Your best friend, Ego Boost?”

Buttery Smooth screeched like a rusty ladder falling against a chalkboard.

“Well…” Delta chuckled weakly, “That Butter Knife made quite the scene, didn’t she?” Hey, whoever wants to come up next, go ahead. I’m gonna roll some ads and take a powernap.”

~~~

Delta rested his face on the cold surface of his desk. Through the brain-fog, he could just hear the pre-recorded voices of the advertisements playing.

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“Go eat at Sbubby’s. This is a threat.”

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“Every day, one more day passes. One day closer to the heat death of the universe we become. In many years’ time, heat death will become the detriment of not only you, not only your family, but all of us. Call or text the phone number below with ‘#stoptime’ to sign the official petition to stop the passage of time and prevent the heat death of the universe from getting any closer. Only you can help prevent heat death. This advertisement was paid for and produced by the Gathering of Time Wizards Disguised As Household Objects.”

Delta silently reconsidered what advertisements he should air next time.

~~~

“Delta,” the audio pony taps Delta on the shoulder. “Our next guest is waiting.”

But there was no next guest waiting, for an accursed slumber hex had been cast upon the… uh, cast. Hush now, stop the booing. Hey--who threw that tomato? I’ll—

Whilst the previous narrator dealt with their sudden issues, a new one took their place!

“Look at me.” Ankle Cracker pointed a hoof at her eyes. “I am the narrator now.”

But alas, one of the many duties of narration is to almost never properly address the wannabe-edgelord by their name. Failure to accommodate such a duty results in the swift punishment of being doused in hot cocoa for the next three hours.

And so, Butter Knife, AKA me, your new narrator, must now insult herself. Great.

But now, what about that weird sleeping hex thingamabob? What’ll happen with that?

Well, my friend, this is where we pull in the One Above All, the eldritch abomination that has lived for many millennia longer than what others have previously imagined…

A rubber duck with a gun.

Now now, I hear your frightened gasps, and I can tell you now, if I wanted to, I could obliterate such a being with little effort, but what’s the fun in that? Why don’t we make a deal with this demonic force that now haunts us?

Hey you, gun baby. Yeah, you. Remove the curse on everyone else and I’ll pay you with a soul. Not mine, but a soul.

"No!" Delta shouts, "This is my talk show, I'm not gonna let some rubber duck and some stupid narrator take over!" And with a flash of Delta's horn, all the interviewies and there shenanigans were teleported back to where they came. "Note to self," Delta jots into his notebook, "Invite more mentally sound guests."

~Fin~

"Psst."

"Huh?" Delta turns around to his camera man. "An outro? Oh, frick, yeah..... Um..... Have a wonderful night viewers?" Delta shrugs.

"Cut!" The camera man groans finally.

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