Short Scraps and Explosions

by shortskirtsandexplosions

The Werewolves Came on a Friday pt 1

This is unfinished, but I don't think it was ever born to begin with.

The history behind this is long and sordid. It began as a fake gag fic that would be linked to randomly from the main body of EoP's failed Kaizo Petra arc. I threw it in via a hyperlink, suggesting that Scootaloo possessed a copy of the pulp fiction novel in her airship. I giggled like a schoolgirl. Candlestick head was not amused.

Later, I reassembled the crack!fic pieces on a whim and interwove them between a seemingly unrelated slice-of-life fic idea about Scootaloo returning home to Ponyville after being gone for several years, then... having two separate affairs with... grown-up Dinky and milf Cheerilee?

Yeah...

Needless to say, this crud never went anywhere, which is probably why I tried slapping the experimental shiet up on Imploding Colon's name and not SS&E. I took it off around the time I wrote Gift, as I realized the structure of Gift's narrative was stupidly similar to the Scootaloo portions of this... travesty. It's all for the best. IC is best as a vessel for the Austraeoh series and nothing else.

Still, the actual WEREWOLF bits amuse me to no end, and it harkens back to days when I would write crack!fics for the lulz (as opposed to now, when I wrote crack!fics for the subs... meh).

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The Werewolves Came on a Friday

a novel by Pony Riley

Chapter One: The Bloodying

It was a dark and stormy night. Yori Bits and Gallant Hooves were on a date. At that very moment, they were parking their wagon atop Bridle Point, overlooking the glittering vista of Wellingtrot. Gallant was in the process of nuzzling the nape of Yori's neck, but she was too busy staring up at the moon.

“Honey, I can't think with you breathing on me,” Yori boredly murmured, a tad bit flushed.

“Mmmm...” Gallant throated. “I can hardly breathe with you thinking.”

“There's something wyrd about the moon tonight,” Yori said in an ominous voice. She possessed a long, curly mane that was blue on the left side and green on the right, and her eyes held alternating pupils within the same beatific spectrum. Her coat was a majestic silken texture that changed colors with her moods, but only when she was earnest, and right then she was yellow with contemplation. As Gallant lustfully leaned into her, Yori gazed with sparkling soul-mirrors into the great ivory depths of the lunar orb highlighting the black canvas night. “Do you remember the prophecy, Gallant? About how the werewolves will come on a Friday?”

“Oh darling, I was hoping we would come on a Friday...”

“This is serious, Gallant!” She exclaimed, turning turquoise, a dominant trait her mother had genetically hoofed down to the young filly before she inexplicably died in a tragic whaling accident. “My village was attacked by werewolves when I was a child, and it happened on a full moon!”

“Honey, relax,” Gallant smiled and wagged his eyebrows like the suave stallion he was. He leaned a forelimb around her as the two reclined in the front of the wooden wagon under starlight and shooting stars. “That was a long time ago, and we agreed never to talk about it since you came out of the clinic.”

Yori shuddered and looked at her trembling hooves. “They told me I was crazy. And then they all died.”

“Besides, tonight is a Thursday!” Gallant simpered. “What's the worst that could happen?”

Just then, there was a howling, faint and foreboding, and it came from the distance. Yori heard it. She wondered if Gallant heard it too. “Did you hear that howling?”

“Sugar lumpkins, there's gonna be howling alright. Hah hah hah!”

“I'm serious!” Yori said, once again turquoise. “It's almost as if—” Her blue and green eyes widened. “Oh no... Midnight has struck!”

“Yeah, so?”

“Don't you get it?!” She looked at him horror. Lightning struck and illuminated the far corners of her suddenly cyan face. “It is now... FRIDAY.”

“Yeah, well, thank Celestia-Raahghgglglglghghhgh!!” Gallant garbled, his eyes exploding as a pair of claws protruded through his skull.

Yori screamed.

Gallant's upper cranium was dislodged from his mouth as a pawed hand reached through, severing his voice box and spilling shreds of his trachea out all over the reins of the wagon. He bled and bled, bursting open from behind, because a werewolf was suddenly there. What's more, the werewolf was shredding through the back of the sputtering stallion, because he could.

Yori bellowed.

Gallant's neck was sliced down the center. His blood spilled all over the wagon's seat, floor, and plywood. There was not a spot that wasn't covered in blood, there was that much of it. A few other random juices joined the mix, because the werewolf was next tearing into his intestines and dislodging them one spongy rope at a time, doing a lot of growling in between and maybe some hissing laughter.

Yori shrieked.

Gallant wasn't done bleeding, not by a long shot. If a pony could be paid in bleeding, he would be a millionaire. His limbs split apart and his hooves shattered like kidney stones as the hairy lycanthrope finished bursting through his torso, only to explode out the other side with a laughing cackle.

Yori hollered. She scrambled for the door to the wagon as the lycanthrope drooled after her. Several knife-licking seconds passed, and finally she opened the wagon. Gallons of blood poured out as she scrambled onto the grass, bathed in the stuff. She couldn't tell what her emotion was because her entire coat was covered in crimson. The werewolf glared at her, its fiery eyes burning like twin torches of searing infernos. Frightened, she scrambled onto all fours and galloped down the hill of Bridle Point. On either side of her, wagons full of starcrossed lovers shook and splattered red juices everywhere as one or both of the neck-licking occupants succumbed to the power of the moon.

“Oh no!” Yori sobbed in mid-canter. “All of the lovers are turning into werewolves!”

Hearing a rising cacophony of hungry howling behind her, she ran as fast as she could into the country roads. She saw an overturned wagon full of unicorns being pounced on by their fanged infant children. The asphalt pooled over with blood and it was all very wet.

“Oh no!” Yori gasped. “The babies are werewolves!”

She ran swiftly into town, blazing her way—bloody and screaming—into downtown Wellingtrot. She hopped over half-eaten and slaughtered sheep, only to hear a distant flock of cawing noises from high up above. Gazing into the moonlit sky, she saw several black figures morphing in midair, exchanging feathers for wagging tails and claws.

“Oh no!” Yori whimpered. “The crows are becoming werewolves!”

The world thundered and echoed with the falling bodies of avian lycanthropes striking the ground on either side of her. Roofs caved in, park benches exploded, and wagon alarms went off from the multiple impacting bodies. Horrified beyond belief, Yori sprinted towards her apartment, her blue and green mane hair glittering in the wind like a comet-tail of candy coated hysteria. Just as she arrived at the front gates of her home, she heard a loud honking sound. She spun around and gasped, breathlessly, the air leaving her lungs, without a word.

A huge truck was plowing through several trees and barreling towards her. There was a struggling going on in the driver's seat, and the windshield was being painted with wet, red, crimson blood.

“Oh no!” Yori cried. “The semi truck drivers are werewolving too!” She fumbled for her keys, and then realized something more horrifying than all that had happened on that stormy night previous. “I left my keys in the wagon!”

The semi truck bore down on the helpless damsel of a mare. She cowered against the door to her home, her only escape, and screamed long and hard into the hot, scary, throbbing night.

“Nooooooooooooooooo!”

And then everything was nothing but truck.

Comments

[The Great Turnip]

Mental.