• Published 14th Nov 2012
  • 2,842 Views, 54 Comments

The Day I Sneezed Pinkie Pie - Dancing Dead



Pinkie Pie arrives on earth from a sneeze. Antics ensue.

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Alright, I'm back... Four chapters, ah ah ah!

What's this? It finally updated!? Holy fuckin' shit! Fuck!

***

“…Don’t worry, I got this shit,” Mike said, then began sprinting like a bat out of hell toward the pair of large, oak doors at the end of the hallway. As he neared them, he jumped into the air and leaned back with his feet out in front of him. Time seemed to slow to a crawl as he impacted the doors, however, they did not budge. Mike hung in the air for a moment, “Shit,” then fell on his ass.

“Doesn’t look like you got it,” Pinkie piped up from the other end of the corridor. She began bouncing towards the human on the floor.

“Shuddup,” he mumbled as he stood himself back upright. The pony motioned for him to take a few steps back. “You think you can get that open?” Mike chuckled.

Pinkie then produced a long, grey, tubular object seemingly from nowhere. “Yeah, watch!”

“Is that what I think it is?”

“I dunno, is it?” She pulled the trigger and the device emitted a very distinct *thunk* noise.

Mike’s eyes widened. “You’re fucking-“ he was cut off by a loud *boom*. Ducking down, the human quickly covered his head with his arms. He lay on the floor for a second before quickly standing back up. Examining the sight before him, he could make out what used to be doors laying on the ground amongst some large chunks of wood and other shit used to build a wall. “Warn me the next time you pull some shit like that!”

“Maybe I will, maybe I won’t,” Pinkie grinned deviously. She replaced the noob toob with the Thompson SMG she carried originally. “We doin’ this or what?”

Mike took his assault rifle back out of his jacket, the leather softly squeaking as he moved. “I guess so.” He walked through the doorway and into an immense room. To his right, the floor was elevated a bit, upon which sat a large wooden desk. Behind the desk sat a morbidly obese man with his back to them, masturbating furiously to lesbian porn. The headphones in his ears prevented him from hearing the blast.

Pinkie hopped up onto the desk behind the man. “ALRIGHT, HAND OVER THE BUBBLE WRAP BEFORE-“ She stopped and was suddenly hypnotized by the obscenities on the screen. Her eyes went wide and her jaw hung open at the sight.

Mike walked up behind her, befuddled at why she suddenly froze. He scanned the desk, looking over papers, pens, and a nameplate with ‘Thomas Eldridge Billingsworth III’ engraved in raised, gold lettering. His eyes finally came to rest on the laptop screen, shamelessly displaying high quality lesbian porn. The human raised his eyebrows at the sight and began to enjoy the video… discreetly, of course. The video seemed familiar to Mike, almost as though he had seen it before, then it hit him; he had downloaded this video to his hard drive one lonely night a few months back.

“Hey, I remember this one.” Brain decided to break his ongoing silence.

Yup… Pretty god damn hot.

The human realized just how distracted he was and pulled his Kalashnikov out of his jacket. He aimed it at the monitor and pulled the trigger, sending a 7.62×39mm through the virtual porn star’s chest. The fat man at the desk jumped and moved quickly to hide himself. He stammered a bit, “Uhhh- I uhh-…” Pinkie giggled at his struggling.

“I bet the last time he moved that fast was when he saw a Costco employee giving away free samples.”

That’s pretty fucked up, dude…

“But it was funny, huh?”

Yeah.

Thomas' face was flushed as he addressed Mike and Pinkie, “Uh, w-what can I help you with, my good man… what in the fuck is that?” He looked dubiously at Pinkie. His voice was that of a classy, rich man. Apparently, he also wasn’t afraid to swear when he saw fit.

“Hi, I’m Pinkie Pie! What’s your name?” She bounced happily about on the desk between the two humans, not even realizing that there was a nameplate right by her hooves.

Thomas was too shocked to acknowledge her question, and instead stared dumbly at her as she hopped around before him. Mike answered in his place, “His name’s Thomas Billingsworth.”

Pinkie gasped loudly and froze in midair. “How do you know that’s his name?! Are you a psychic oh my gosh that’s so cool I have a psychic friend eeeek!” She squealed with joy at the prospect of having a friend with such talents. As much as he didn’t want to, he had to burst her bubble (wrap).

“It’s on his name thing. Right there,” Mike pointed to the nameplate resting on the dark oak surface of the desk.

“…Ooooohhhh.” Pinkie thought for a moment about what they were even in this dude’s office for, then their quest for bubble wrap suddenly came back to her. She grabbed the man by his tie and jammed her gun into his face. “ALRIGHT, ENOUGH FOALING AROUND! WHERE’S THE BUBBLE WRAP?!”

Thomas began laughing. “Oh… Silly pony-thing! You don’t take the bubble wrap, the bubble wrap takes you!” As soon as he said that, four tendrils made of bubble wrap shot out from nowhere and wrapped around the pony’s legs, effectively hog-tying her. They dragged her up to the ceiling and hung her there. She was upside down as she swayed back and forth, slowly turning around and around as she did.

“Heeeyy, what’s the big idea?!” She yelled down to them. Before Thomas could answer, Mike stuck the business end of his assault rifle in the fat man’s face, ready and eagerly waiting to pull the trigger. Pinkie noticed what he was doing and quickly formulated a plan in her head. “Wait!”

Mike was surprised, “What the hell for?! He fuckin’ hog-tied you!”

“But I have an idea!”

“Well, what is it?”

She gave the two a menacing grin, “Suddenly, an oven!”

“What the fu-“ Mike was about to reprimand her for interrupting his previous actions, but then an oven came crashing through the ceiling like a fucking meteor and landed right onto the head of Thomas whatever-the-hell . Mike could no longer fathom what was going on around him.

Misfit Actual, I need a SITREP, do you copy, over? He received static in response. Shit.

A dozen men in suits and earpieces burst through another set of oak doors on the far side of the office. “Mister Billingsworth?!” they seemed concerned as they observed the scene before them: a pink pony suspended from the ceiling with bubble wrap, a man holding an AK-47, and a pair of short, stubby legs sticking out from underneath an oven which appeared to fall through the roof – as noted by the giant fucking hole above it and the shards of drywall scattered about the vicinity. “What happened here?!” the same suited man demanded.

Mike assumed that they were some sort of security force, “A whole lotta nothin’.” he answered, much to their dissatisfaction. Pinkie silently appeared behind the group of rent-a-cops after wrestling herself free of the restraints. He raised his weapon, eager to fire at the band of sentries. Pinkie violently shook her head, signaling him not to fire. He wanted to object, but that would mean he would have to let his guard down and confront his pink friend on the matter, which is exactly what the suits wanted.

Pinkie held up a large sign on a stick which read ‘No matter what, don’t shoot!’ Mike stayed still, save for his eyes which moved slightly to the side to read the sign without letting the feds know. He quietly sighed and let Pinkie do whatever the fuck she was going to do.

Without warning, the guards rushed him. His instincts told him to unload on his assailants, but when it came to Pinkie, it was better to simply accept things without question. So, there he stood, twelve guards running at him at full speed, pistols drawn. Pinkie finally set her plan into motion, “Suddenly, ovens!” she motioned for Mike to rendezvous with her in the doorway from which the guards emerged. He started off at a full sprint towards her, but suddenly skidded to a halt as the fed nearest him was suddenly crushed by an oven similar in appearance to the one that crushed Thomas III.

“Holy shit!” He began running again, much slower this time so as to avoid being flattened by falling kitchen appliances. Two more guards in front of him were crushed, one right after the other. “Fuck!” he quickly slung the rifle over his shoulder and covered his head with his arms as he continued making his way towards the pony, “FUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCK!” he shouted as ovens came crashing through the ceiling and clobbering the would-be security force.

A short, yet extremely hazardous trip later, he was by Pinkie’s side once more as she admired her handiwork: A dozen security guards and one fat dude, all crushed by ovens. A bit of blood from each guard leaked out from underneath the appliances and pooled in the central part of the room. Mike stood, completely awestruck at what he had just experienced. “Um… what the fuck was that?” he finally mustered up the will to say something.

“I would explain it, but I don’t want to give you a headache. I think your brain has been through enough in the last five minutes.”

“You’re god damn right!”

“Well, uh…” Mike slowly took in the sight before him, “Thanks, I guess.”

Pinkie leapt onto his back and draped her hooves over his shoulder. She gave him a loving kiss on the cheek, “You’re welcome!”

“I swear to god if you do this shit again I will never let you call me Misfit Actual again.”

Shut up, you’re just jealous that you don’t know what love feels like.

Brain sniffled a bit, “F-fuck you, man!”

Fuckin’ pansy.

Pinkie leaned in for another kiss, but Mike unwittingly cut her off, “Well, where’s the fuckin’ bubble wrap?” She slid down off of Mike and stood next to him. She decided that she would skip the arbitrary romance for now. The human turned around and looked into the doorway from which the shitty guards came. Feeling suddenly curious, he walked through the doors, Pinkie following closely behind.

They found themselves in… a fucking Mattress Warehouse? Wait, what? Mike, now utterly perplexed, furrowed his brow. The store seemed relatively normal, save for the fact that it was completely devoid of life and in the middle of a fucking skyscraper, hinted at by the windows that reached from the floor to the ceiling and stretched from one wall to the other. Mattresses of all brands and sizes still lined the walls, the lights were still on, and the lounge music droned softly over the store’s speaker system. Typical mattress store, right? Wrong. There was not a human soul in sight… except for one.

You.

You slowly peruse the mattresses that made up the store’s inventory, unaware of Mike and Pinkie’s presence. “Hey!” Mike calls over to you. Startled, you jump a bit and immediately search for the source of the outburst. You finally come across the duo standing at the far side of the store. “You really need to stay the fuck outta the story, reader!” You scratched your head at his accusation, unsure of what he was even talking about. You go back to browsing the furniture.

The human and the party pony look at each other, one giving the other an understanding nod. Mike raises his weapon and aims it in your general direction. He pulls the trigger, sending a torrent of lead screaming through the air. You quickly look around to see the human walking slowly towards you, firing the entire magazine at you and everything behind you as well. You want to run, so you make an attempt to get away, but by then it’s already too late. Your body has already accepted the rounds from the rifle as welcomed guests in your torso.

You fall to the ground in a bloody heap. You begin making soft wheezing noises as blood begins to slowly fill your lungs, telling you that these are the last breaths you will ever take. Mike and Pinkie walk over to your dying body and look down at you. They both shared the same expression. Not amused. “Should’a stayed the fuck outta my story.”

Pinkie pulls out her sub machine gun and points it directly between your eyes. She slowly shakes her head, “When will you ever learn?” she asks no one in particular. You hear her words and for a split second, they echo throughout your mind endlessly. She pulls the trigger, sending a hot .45 caliber bullet straight through your head. It rips through your flesh and bulldozes through your skull and brain before bursting out the back and burying itself deep in the floor.

Pinkie hung her weapon back around her neck and regained her regular, bubbly composure. Mike simply let out a deep sigh. Why does this keep happening?

“So, where’s the bubble wrap?” the pony looked around expectantly.

The human shrugged. “I dunno.” He yanked the now empty magazine out of the well and reached into his jacket for a full one. Meanwhile, Pinkie weighed her options.

“Maybe it’s inside the mattresses!” She exclaimed as Mike put a full magazine into the gun and racked the bolt.

“Uh, maybe it’s not.” He said, slinging the rifle over his shoulder once more.

“Well, there’s only one way to find out!” She happily reached for the tag on a nearby mattress, giving her friend a mild panic.

“Pinkie, no!” Mike stopped her. “Bad things happen when you tear the tags off mattresses, you know.”

Pinkie scoffed, “Yeah, right! What’s the worst that could happen?” she then ripped the tag off the mattress . *Kkssshhhhhhh!*

The human suddenly felt as though he were going to have a heart attack. They waited for something to happen, but nothing ever did. “See? I told you nothing bad would happen. You worry to much, Rosie! Hehe!”

Mike was mildly relieved. He took a deep breath, “Okay, fine. Just don’t do that shit again please.”

“Oh, alright!” Mike turned around to go somewhere, but stopped as soon as he heard more sounds of ripping paper and fabric. He turned around to see Pinkie standing in the middle of the floor with her hooves full of mattress tags.

“Oh, come the fuck on!”

“Nothing bad happened, I told you! Calm down, sheesh!”

Mike facepalmed. He looked around to see if there were any tags still left on their mattresses. He only found one… a motherfucking Sleep Number bed. Its tag was still intact. Pinkie beamed and bounced up to it, “I knew I missed one!”

“God dammit.” Mike deadpanned. He knew that he could do nothing to stop her from breaking the universe at this point, so he just stood and watched her as she ripped the paper right off the mattress. He sighed and accepted their fate. Nothing happened.

“Aw, that’s disappointing.” Pinkie pouted a bit. She slowly trotted over to Mike. If her sadness wasn’t obvious at this point, then Mike would be one dumb motherfucker. She stood up on her hind legs and hugged him tightly around the waist. He stroked her mane, trying to at least comfort her a little bit.

The wind outside picked up dramatically as the windows began rattling in their panes. Mike looked over at them and could see the glare of the lights dancing rapidly back and forth on the glass. Suddenly, the room began to violently shake and the lights began flashing. Moments later, the lights went completely out, some even falling and smashing onto the floor. Just as quickly as it started, the shaking ceased.

Bright pinkish-blue flashes began rapidly illuminating the room from outside. The flashes were not consistent, as they were similar to lightning strikes in how often they occurred. They grew more frequent by the second, however. A loud, mechanical whirring noise then began rumbling throughout the room, causing everything to shake once more, like an earthquake.

Pinkie clung to her friend, rightly scared out of her mind and not knowing what else to do. The faintly colored flashes turned to plain yellowish-white and began to sound more like explosions than lightning strikes. *Blam-blam-blam* Mike scooped Pinkie up in his arms, “We gotta go! We gotta go! Where do we go?!” he yelled over the deafening racket and looking around frantically for some sort of cover. He ran for the front desk with Pinkie still in his arms and firearms still slung over their shoulders, and dove over it. He pushed himself back underneath it and covered her with his arms and jacket as much as he could.

The machine-like whirring turned into a loud, metallic groaning; rising in pitch slowly. Then the windows finally gave in to the outside forces. First, the glass was strewn across the floor; some even landing behind the desk nearby Mike and Pinkie. Large chunks of dirt and other debris flew in afterwards, mixing itself up with the shards of glass. Enormous conflagrations of fire reached through the openings and scorched the ceiling and walls, blackening them with soot.

The constant shaking of the building eventually led to a large bookcase falling up against the desk, keeping the dynamic duo out of harm’s way. Other bits of furniture fell to the floor nearby, some hitting the supports in the room and knocking them loose. Fragments of the ceiling crumpled onto the bookshelf and plunged the two into complete darkness. Eventually, the flames receded and fizzled out on their own. A bit of rumbling and explosions could still be heard, albeit faintly.

Under the rubble they stayed until the only noise that remained was the ear-splitting silence. Pinkie stirred a bit, and with much fear and anxiety in her voice, she whispered to Mike.

“Are we dead?”

To be continued.

Author's Note:

Yeah. Turns out, I'm not dead after all. Oh wait, yes I am! HA! Ha-haaa! Ha haa...

I bet you thought I'd never update this.

Fuck you.

Just kidding.

Anyway, the reason it took this god damn long to update is, well... Truthfully, I just didn't feel like writing. But then today happened and I wrote all this in the span of like 6 hours. Hopefully, the next chapter will be out soon. Maybe within the next few weeks, I dunno. I'm just thankful that you've stuck with me for this long :3

*is talking to the air*

foreveralone.jpg

Comments ( 25 )

:rainbowlaugh::rainbowlaugh::rainbowlaugh: F**K YEAH IT'S BACK!!! :rainbowdetermined2::moustache::eeyup:

2856956

Because I made the fourth wall my bitch.

I don't want to read this story, yet I feel that I must... Curse you Pinkie Pie and your use of fourth wall hypnosis! :pinkiecrazy: (if that's not a thing it needs to be)

2857283

Ah, come on. Give it a try! :rainbowwild:

Brain is best character.

ive been staring at this stories main scream for over 20 min and cant stop saying what....... curse pinkie and her 4th wall breaking powers

Honastly when I first saw the title AK-47's and bubble wrap were not the first things that came to mind. HOWEVER! I have decided to give it a chance and not immediately banish it to that scary dark place where I send everything I don't like! :twilightsmile:Nothing ever escapes from there:pinkiecrazy:
Dun dun duuuuun!

2907337

Fine, I ain't gonna miss ya.

2958273
Ring-a-ding-ding, baby!

2958343 Congratulations, You've managed to utterly confuse me. While still making perfect sense. Which doesn't make sense. Which in turn makes perfect sense.

2958430
The truth is... The game was rigged from the start.

Hi Benny! :pinkiesmile:

What in the god damn...

2958661 The intro to New Vegas was so Epic!

2958681
Well, butter my butt and call me a biscuit!

2958882
Because Victor fucking said so.

2958888
Well Victor is a freakin stalker, you shouldn't trust stalkers. :rainbowwild:
Especially when they ask you to butter their butts.:trollestia:

2959059
Do I need to get F.I.S.T.O. in here?

2959085
No thanks!:rainbowderp: I'm too much man for that tin can to handle... I'd end up frying his circuits with my manliness.:trollestia:

3052983

Y'all take this stuff too seriously. Maybe it's a joke, but lighten up. Yeesh. :facehoof:

3052983

Unfortunately, it does not meet our standards, as befits its status as the "shittiest piece of shit to ever shit."

WOW! If you was anymore of a prick, you might be as tall as my johnson. Now, before you go all huffy-puffy with your retort, take a deep breath, (I recommend you take your head out of your rectum first, lest you want to continue smelling your own liver) and shut your cum pocket.

Seriously. I mean it. Do not say another word, for the sake of all writers out there. We all would appreciate it, thank you.

While you did give some (somewhat) constructive criticism, it was lathered in more hate-filled rhetoric than Zimmerman driving through a 2 Live Crew concert throwing empty Coors cans at everyone.

So, to save the sanity of all current and future authors out there, I will ask you to apply Crazy Glue to your ashen piehole, and seal it forever.

3052983

media.tumblr.com/tumblr_lolik2Mq891qafrh6.gif

Seriously, I didn't write this with you or your group in mind. There's even a disclaimer:

Shameless self insert/the shittiest piece of shit to ever shit.

This is 'evidenced' by the fact that I wasn't trying very hard whilst writing this. I understand that you're trying to help, but I'd suggest getting off your high horse before you try again.

Be on your way, now.

3053006 He did make a good point though, and that's why I'm going through this whole story so that it CAN make it into the Good Grammar Directory. It just might take me a couple days.:pinkiehappy:

What was that one Tarantino movie where he starred with...

Damnit... this just reminds me of a Tarantino movie XD

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