P.A.T.A. Ponies Against Twilight the Alicorn

by Ficta_Scriptor

Chapter 3 - The art of the press!

[A/N] Once again, as you reach the link, open it up into another tab on low volume and wait for the music to begin before continuing for optimum enjoyment!

Chapter 3 – The Art of The Press!

“What’s it like out there, Spike?”

“We’re still surrounded,” the dragon said glumly, peering from the letterbox. “If it makes you feel any better, you’re not getting as much hate-mail. Either everypony has stopped caring, or they’re running out of blood to write the letters with.”

Twilight slumped onto the library floor and groaned. “I might have expected some kind of backlash, but this is beyond ridiculous. Who are they to say that I shouldn’t be a princess!?”

“Maybe you should make some kind of statement to the world. Do an interview telling your side of—”

Spike was cut off as one of the windows was smashed to pieces, a sign-wielding protester trying to push his way into the library.

“We’re gonna get you, you overpowered witch!” he screamed, hurling a brick towards Twilight and smashing a china vase. “Becoming immortal? Not on my watch!”

Acting quickly, Twilight levitated some wooden panels over the broken window while Spike hopped up to hammer them in place. It had practically become a routine at this point.

“You were saying, Spike?”

“What I’m saying is that you should speak to the press and tell your side of the story. If everypony knew how you felt about this, and how much these protests have hurt you, they’d have to let up!”

Outside the library, a young earth pony stallion in a denim jacket was taking photographs of the ensuing riot as hundreds of ponies tried to break through Twilight’s shield spell with anything they could grab hold of. He paused, taking the pencil from behind his ear and jotting a series of notes down. As he was doing this, he was approached by a sand-coloured pegasus mare with an auburn mane.

“You must be new on the reporting scene,” she commented with a sly smile.

“Y-yes,” he replied nervously. “I’ve only been a member of the press for a week now. What gave me away?”

“Just a few things,” she responded, flicking back her mane and extending a hoof. “The name’s Tabloid. I’ve been a reporter for almost 3 years now.”

“Broadsheet, pleased to meet you.” The stallion smiled and shook the mare’s hoof.

“I notice you’re taking a back-seat to the action. Any reason for that?”

“Well, I’m just finishing up with a report about the protest. So long as I have my pictures, some notes about what’s been happening here and some background information on Twilight Sparkle, I’ll have enough for my article.”

Tabloid shook her head. “Oh, to be a rookie again,” she said with a chuckle. “You’ve got a lot to learn, Broadsheet. But don’t worry, I’ll show you the ropes, maybe even take you under my wing.” The pegasus draped her left wing over the stallion’s back and gestured towards the crowd.

“You’d really do that?” he asked excitedly. “It’d be great to get some tips from a veteran reporter.”

“Please, call me Tabloid. And you could say I’ll be teaching you the art of the press…”

“Word by word, piecing it together! Lie by lie, inventing a new story bit by bit,
Make surveys up to serve your mission, that’ll help your story get more hits,
You can scupper facts in lieu of rumours, say she’s got a kidney full of tumours,
I’m writing for the… press!

“Hour by hour, waiting for a picture! Up the skirt, don’t care that her pride has just been hurt,
If you want your readers in a bind, simply get a shot of bare behind,
Say that she’s let her standards drop, even if you’ve stalked her non-stop,
Taking pictures for the… press!

“Photoshop is crucial, for celebrities on the brink,
Change their face, it’s easy! Just alter those clothes,
Do you think she looks sleazy?

“Something cruel, perhaps quite ruthless. For a ride? We’ll let the public decide,
Scrutinise every quote you find, say science proves intelligent design,
Claim to be the voice of reason, even if you’re bordering on treason,
Reporting for the… press!

“Jab by jab, shameful clip,
Money woes, double dip,
Page by page, Lance confessed,
Ruin lives, make them stressed,
And that’s the art of the press!”

“I’m not sure what you’re getting at,” commented Broadsheet, making some more notes. “I’d prefer some more explanation, if that’s OK.”

Tabloid nodded sagely.

“Piece by piece, putting it together. Deadline looms, you could always instigate a fight,
Try and catch them when their clothes look dirty, follow them when they go out at night,
You can hack their phones and read their emails, make offensive jibes about their height,
I’m telling you, my endeavours!”

Broadsheet furrowed his brow. “So… you’re saying we should be cold and heartless?”

“That’s a harsh way of putting it. In a way, we’re doing this for the public. What matters more? A few angry celebrities or a thousand happy readers?”

“Maybe you’re right! Let’s do it!””

“You can’t cower, scour the range,
Celebs are merely prey now, act deranged.
You must forget old words like ‘nice’ and ‘kind’, with drugs celebs are practically inclined,
We rejoice when famous ponies die, dollar signs still spinning in our eyes!

“Reporting is easy, just don’t care at all,
Heckle men who’ve lost their vision,
You could even camp beside a motorway collision.”

Broadsheet rubbed the back of his neck nervously. “I’m not sure if I’m up to this. It sounds like a lot of dangerous work.”

“You’d be surprised how much us reporters can get away with,” Tabloid noted with a sigh. “It doesn’t matter if your outrageous claims get disproven within a day or two; ponies tend to forget things pretty quickly. Once a news story blows over, the public will just start caring about the next big news story.”

“Even when it comes to massacres and global disasters?”

“Those things are a goldmine for us reporters! And when it comes to the public, if it’s not in their own country, most ponies couldn’t give a boar’s rear. After a day or two, their guilt complex wears off completely. Do you remember the mass slaughter of south-east Zebrica a few months ago?”

Broadsheet tried racking his brains. “Well, not anything specific…”

“Exactly! What’s wrong with printing incorrect details if nopony remembers them?”

“And you’re sure this isn’t… wrong?”

Tabloid sniggered. “Hey, we’re reporters. Not philanthropists.”

“So we print our facts based on decision?”
“It doesn’t matter if you don’t know.”
“We could get inside if we had clearance!”
“Don’t you waste your time with law adherence.”
“We can’t get the blame if we misjudge it.”
“Just break down the door if we can budge it.
“Witness the birth of a news creation, as we spread lies about our nation!

“Jab by jab, shameful clip,
Money woes, double dip,
Page by page, Lance confessed,
Ruin lives, make them stressed,
And that’s the art of the press!”

Twilight shot Spike an annoyed look. “You seriously think I should go to the press? After a song like that!?”

The purple dragon laughed nervously, sweeping up the broken vase with a dustpan and brush. “OK, so maybe that’s not the best course of action. So what should we—”

Spike involuntarily drew in a breath, burping a short, green flame as a sealed letter flew out, landing at Twilight’s hooves. She unravelled it, quickly scanning through the contents. Once she’d finished, she put it aside, her previous grumpy demeanour replaced by a conniving grin.

“Who was that?” Spike asked.

“It was from Princess Celestia. We’re going to Canterlot, Spike, to end this once and for all!”

Comments

[RaisingShad0ws]

This is a good idea. Do not disappoint me. Or I will find you, and I will make you rewrite it.
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Not really, But I'm serious. Do not disappoint me.

[Themaskedferret]

Oh dear this should be funny.

[Ficta_Scriptor]

2080052
*Trembles* But how do I find out I've met your expectations!?

[RaisingShad0ws]

2080778
Oh you'll know... You know. You just keep with it. That's all I ask.

[Muhanoid]

Somehow song just was "daaaym, that's a good one ".

Huh. I like where this is going.

[PrincessoftheNight]

Someone please sing that song and put it to clips from "Ponyville Confidential".