Silly short stories for your entertainment. Not related to anything else I have written. Also not a floatation device.
There comes a time in life when a guy just has to buckle down and write the greatest story he has ever written.
That time is not now, and that story is not this one. But hey, we could all use a little silliness in our lives.
Presenting Sensational Serials: Silly, Short Stories for Silly, Short Ponies, a selection of silly serials and short stories showcasing certain someponies in strange, silly, and sometimes shocking situations! (Too much alliteration? I think not!) Starring all kinds of ponies, even the ones nobody really likes or has ever heard of! Some of them even have continuity! Probably!
Princess Twilight Sparkle stepped back to admire the house of cards she'd built. It hadn’t been easy, but with the careful application of sound science (and maybe just a tiny bit of paste), she'd done it.
And then, it collapsed as one crystal wall of her library detonated. She whipped her head around to bear witness to a four-wheeled metal monstrosity colliding with floor and spinning, skidding to a halt just before it hit her.
With her admittedly limited exposure to the human world, she was able to identify it as an automobile.
Those of us who actually care about this kind of stuff, of course, would have correctly identified it as as hot rod red 1963 Ford Thunderbird convertible — supercharged — with all chrome hubcaps and a custom six-speed transmission.
And in the driver's seat was King Sombra, wearing a very urgent expression.
“Get in the car!” he shouted.
Twilight responded as any rational creature in the same situation by saying, “What?” with wide, confused eyes. This, naturally, did not help Sombra’s mood.
“Don’t ask me stupid questions, just get in the car!”
Her mind was neatly made up for her when several bolts of orange light went streaking past her head. She looked frantically in the direction they originated from — namely, the hole that the Thunderbird had punched through the wall — just in time to see a robotic, rocket-propelled alicorn explode in a shower of sparks and crash to the floor in a twisted heap, courtesy of Sombra's return fire. Five more were approaching fast from the distance. Not sparing another thought at how absurd her day had just become, Twilight scrambled over the door and into the passenger seat.
“Buckle up. It’s gonna be a rough ride,” Sombra ordered, shifting to first gear.
“What?” Twilight asked.
The only answer she received was Sombra mashing the hoof-shaped accelerator to the floor. The ‘TROTOMETER’ jumped almost immediately to 6,000 RPM and the engine roared like a dragon.
He dropped the clutch.
Twilight — being an irresponsible passenger and not wearing a seatbelt — was pinned in her seat as the front end lifted off the ground for a split second, the automobile lurching forward towards another wall just as the five metallicorns zoomed in through the giant hole. She screamed as Sombra punched a button on the dashboard, ripping opened another hole, this one through time and space. The Thunderbird and its frantic passengers raced through, the metallicorns dove in after them, and the portal winked out of existence with a slurp, leaving the library in silent disarray.
The door opened. “Twilight, I found the —” said Spike as he saw the giant hole in the wall. A glance around revealed no sign of Twilight Sparkle. He considered the situation for several seconds.
“Nope,” he decided. He quietly shut the door as he left.
Twily and Sombs: What Happens in the Back Seat....
The quiet evening over an abandoned industrial park — located, in order to save words on description, somewhere in the American heartland — ended in a burst of blue light as a hole in time and space was ripped opened on the roadway and a hot rod red 1963 Ford Thunderbird convertible — supercharged — with all chrome hubcaps and a custom six-speed transmission exploded onto the street like a shot from a cannon. It pulled to the left just briefly before its driver, one King Sombra, regained control. As Princess Twilight Sparkle struggled to control her breathing in the passenger seat, he looked up in the rearview to see the portal they’d emerged from close, leaving an empty street in their wake.
“Ha!” Sombra pumped his hoof in the air as he drove, wearing a manic grin. “We lost them!”
“Yes, we did!” Twilight replied at a volume suggesting she was not quite agreeing. “And all it took was you senselessly risking our lives for minimal payoff! You psychomaniac! Are you missing the part of your brain responsible for responsibility, or were you just shattered crystal for so long it made you that reckless?!”
“Hey! I had everything under control!” Sombra insisted.
“Before or after you drove us off the road? The road that was on the side of a mountain!” Twilight fired back.
“We got away, didn’t we?!” Sombra demanded, glaring at his passenger.
“Watch the road, pinhead!”
“Raugh!”
Inarticulately screaming with inarticulate rage, Sombra jerked the wheel hard to the left, sending the Thunderbird fishtailing through a T-intersection and up a curb cut into a parking lot before it came to a dead stop, hood pointed towards the streets and rear bumper just inches from the brick wall of the empty warehouse it almost hit.
“There! We’re stopped in between the lines with the e-brake on! Are you happy now?!” Sombra screamed.
“No! Because it still doesn’t address the issue of you being an insane pinhead, you insane pinhead!” Twilight screamed back.
“Forget your noise! I was brilliant!” Sombra shouted indignantly.
“Yes, of course, brilliant! Because we won’t have to worry about the metallicorns when we’re dead, will we?!” Twilight snarled, her mouth twisted with rage.
“Maybe you should’ve tried friendshipping them to the scrap yard!” Somber retorted. That, of course, only made things worse.
“Screw you!” shouted Sombra, leaning forward even more aggressively.
Their faces were centimeters apart, both of them sporting angry expressions and sucking down huge lungfuls of air. It was Twilight who broke the silence, an excited grin spreading across her face.
“Get in the back seat.”
Prince Blueblood Saves the Royal Wedding (kind of)
Chrysalis, Queen of the Changelings, had won. Celestia was defeated, the Elements of harmony rendered ineffective, and no one was in any position to stop her. The day had been just perfect, and she couldn’t help but sing.
~The kind of day I've dreamed since I was sma-
At least until the doors to the throne room burst opened and rudely interrupted her (again). With an angry huff, she and everyone else present turned around to look at the newest arrived, and were greeted by the sight on a white-furred stallion with a blonde mane, in a tuxedo jacket that looked as though he’d only managed to pull it on seconds before entering, panting as if he’d run a great distance, face turned towards the ground as he gasped.
“Nopony panic!” he said, sucking in a deep breath and finally looking up. “I’m here… now….”
He looked left, and was flanked by angry-looking bug ponies. He looked right, and was flanked by angry-looking bug ponies. “Huh,” he said after a few moments, “I’m, sorry, I didn’t realize there was a theme.”
“There is.”
Adopting a sinister smile once again, Chrysalis approached the stallion, taking in the details as she did. “Ah, you’re Prince Blueblood. I recognize you now. But yes, there is a theme. The End of Equestria has rather a nice ring to it, don’t you think?"
Blueblood looked around again. The ponies quivering in fear. Those insufferable mares from Ponyville (and Fluttershy) under heavy guard by more bug ponies. Auntie Celestia in some kind of evil cocoon! Cousin Cady covered in goo! Shining Armor… Shining Armor!
“Wait a minute!” Blueblood said, suddenly realizing what was happening. “This isn’t a wedding! It’s a hostage situation!"
“Oh, look at that. You’ve managed to guess the game.” Even as she spoke, Chrysalis walked even closer to Blueblood. Her movements would have been sensual on another mare. Really, on any mare that wasn’t part insect. “For what little it counts for, at any rate."
“You won’t get away with this!” Blueblood replied, snarling his answer out.
“Oh, won’t I?” Chrysalis asked, sauntering even closer. “All the loose ends are tied off. I suppose there is you to consider, but you’re Prince Blueblood! The pony who lazes about growing fat while others do all the real work. And now, all the others are indisposed, and there is nothing that you can do about it.” She stopped before him and dipped her head down until her muzzle was mere inches from his. “Is there?"
Many made the mistake of thinking that Prince Blueblood was basically useless, serving no real function anywhere in Equestria. Very quickly, they all learned just how wrong they were. Chrysalis herself was mere seconds away from learning the terrible mistake she had just made by accosting the Prince when he said seven, defiant words that would change forever the balance of power in the universe.
“Get your ugly face away from me."
The changeling recoiled away in shock, and then her expression flashed with anger. “How dare you!” she shouted. He horn burned bright with magic, energy rushing to the tip, preparing to erase all traces of the cretin before her.
Had Chrysalis known what was to come, she would not have ignored Blueblood’s rising war cry, for rather than dealing swift and deadly revenge, she was instead punched in the face, and then hammered by a veritable wall of royal hooves, too fast to avoid, too fast to even count.
"Atatatatatata wa-ta!"
Chrysalis recoiled away from the last blow, and the entirety of the throne room (save Blueblood) recoiled away from the absolute mess her face had become. She hurt. She felt like she was coming apart at her figurative (and perhaps even her literal) seams. She couldn't focus, her magic vanishing as if it had never been there at all, and she only barely registered another shout from Blueblood before she felt his hooves dancing over her again.
"Atatatatatata-”
The barrage ended suddenly. Just long enough for Blueblood to spin about and buck her in the chest hard enough to crack her muscles.
“Wa-cha!”
Chrysalis, Queen of the Changeling, flew through the air, tumbling end over end and wailing in absolutely agony. Her back collided with the wall hard enough to leave and indentation in her approximate shape, and she stuck there, suspended in the air by the force she had been hit with. And then, she exploded outward like a water balloon filled with iridescent, green blood.
The changelings all gaped in horror, and then spun to look at Blueblood, eyes wide with terror. Blueblood, his back to them, wiped the beginnings of a bead of sweat from his brow, and then turned around to face the swarm, asking a single question that told each of them their fate was sealed.
“Who’s next?”
“Who’s next?”
“Who’s next?”
“Who’s next?”
“Who’s next… who’s next….” Blueblood mewled, still in the throes of sleep. “Who’s n-AH!” Up until he rolled out of bed and landed with a hard thump on the floor. “Ow….”
Taking a few moments to compose himself, he rolled over and pushed himself up to his haunches before taking in the room around him. Plush rug over stone floor, enormous four-poster bed, reading cushion guarded by a gigantic pile of stuffed animals. Yes, he was in his bedroom. “Huh. Guess it was just a dream,” he said to no one in particular. With a mighty yawn, he observed his alarm clock. Specifically, he observed how late in the afternoon it was. “Ah! The wedding!”
Seconds later, the door to his chambers flew opened and Blueblood exploded out into the corridor, tuxedo halfway on and making no progress fast. “Crap, crap, crap, crap!” He went sliding across the floor, whipping himself in a circle and pulling his forelegs into the air long enough to finish getting his jacket on. And then, he skidded to a halt just as somepony, or rather, something else did.
They stopped just inches away from each other, staring at who they had run into. Standing before Blueblood, looking just as surprised as him, was one of the black, chitinous monsters he’d seen just the night before: A changeling. His eyes widened in shock, and then his blood boiled: No love stealing bug was going to ruin his cousin’s wedding!
The Prince’s body suddenly surged to life, and he sprung forward so quickly, he surprised even himself. Before the changeling had a chance to react, he thrust his hoof forward and into its muzzle.
“A-ta!"
The result was immediate, and as if he were lightly bonking a changeling in the nose to absolutely no effect, he lightly bonked the changeling in the nose to absolutely no effect.
The changeling looked at Blueblood.
Blueblood looked at the changeling.
The changeling glanced to Blueblood’s outstretched hoof, and then back to the pony himself, eyes narrowed.
“Eh, heh heh,” Blueblood said nervously, smiling uneasily as he withdrew his leg and placed it back on the floor. He was shaking, just a little bit. He was starting to sweat bullets. He was in trouble. “You’re, erm, already dead?”
Completely unamused by anything that had just happened, the changeling took a single step forward and raised and laid its own hoof on Blueblood’s shoulder, right where it met with the neck and withers, and tweaked the nerves clustered there. In an instant, the Prince lost consciousness and fell to the ground in a messy heap, as if he were a puppet that had all its strings cut simultaneously.
The changeling watched the heap of pony for a moment, and then with a disgusted snort, turned and trotted away to join the rest of the swarm, leaving Blueblood to continue being what he was best at being: Basically useless.
To say that ‘stuff happens in Ponyville’ might be one of the most grossly misleading understatements that could be reasonably made about almost anything. For this and other reasons, on the afternoon when a group of two dozen ponies, covered from head to hoof in obscuring black cloaks, walked into town pushing a large covered cart down the thoroughfare, the citizens of Ponyville were not nearly as concerned as they probably should have been about what was obviously a doomsday cult. After the apparent cult bypassed the market completely and turned towards the large crystal castle inhabited by Ponyville’s own Princess Twilight Sparkle, the citizens decided to ignore them completely. The exact implications of this nonchalance will be shown at a later date.
Unlike the citizens of Ponyville, the two armed and armored pegasi standing guard before the castle front door remained concerned as the two dozen cloaked ponies approached; that was their job, after all. Their concern did not lessen when the group came to a stop just before the stairs leading up and stood as still as statues. By the time the minute mark had passed, both pegasi were justifiably worried. “May we help you, citizens?” the one to the left of the doors asked.
“We have come,” one of the cloaked strangers near the front said, “For her!” With dramatic flare, he found his cloak into the air, and the sunlight gleamed off his sleek, midnight blue armor and helmet. He was larger than most stallions, standing half a head taller and a full hoof wider than even former Captain Shining Armor. His black chitin shone as if it were polished, his scythe-like horn was sharp, and even his tattered, membraneous wings seemed to subtly vibrate with the restrained power of a tornado.
His was a name adored by some, but feared by many more: Commander Wrecker.
Twenty three other cloaks joined his in the air, sunlight reflecting off the armored bodies of a horde of—
“Changelings!”
In an instant, the wings of both guards snapped opened, deploying the steel blades affixed to them, but to no avail; Wrecker’s horn sparked with acid green magic, and both guards a yelp of surprise as they were jolted into the air, mere moments before they gave a yelp of pain as their heads were slammed together. Rendered unconscious, they were dropped without ceremony to the hard landing in front of the doors. Rearing up, Wrecker slammed both front hooves onto the cart and upended it, sending two dozen spears flying into the air, only to be expertly caught by each and every changeling. Raising his own spear into the air, Wrecker sounded his rallying cry and charged.
“BONZAI!”
Princess Twilight's castle doors were no match for Wrecker; he possessed both size and strength enough to act as a living battering ram, and smashed them opened with his shoulder on the first try. Twenty three changelings were hot on his heels as he went barreling down the corridors, domestic staff and visitors alike diving out of the way. It was less than a minute before the doors to Princess Twilight's throne room came into sight.
“Onwards, valiant changelings!” Wrecker ordered. He pushed himself harder, and the rest of his horde galloped all the faster to keep up with him. “At last, the Purple Menace will get what's coming to her!”
As one, the horde of two dozen changelings crashed against the doors in front of them and forced their way into and then came to a scrunching halt inside Princess Twilight's royal ballroom, which was completely devoid of any ponies at all.
After a moment of surprise, Wrecker whirled around to face his fellows and gave a mighty war cry before charging back into the corridor. Without wasting a moment, they followed after him, screaming as they ran through the castle. Finally, their corrected course came to an end the doors leading to Princess Twilight's throne room. As one, the horde of two dozen changelings crashed against them and forced their way into Princess Twilight's laundry room, containing a single, very surprised maid and no one else.
“Uh...” said Wrecker, glancing around the room. After a moment, he spied another door, and whirled around to face his fellows and gave a mighty war cry, pointing to the door with his spear, before charging at it, the horde screaming as they followed after him.
5 minutes later....
Three ponies in white kitchen smocks stared in horror at the doorway leading into the room they occupied.
A single pot of water threatened to boil over.
A horde of two dozen changelings wearing armor and wielding spears stared uncomprehendingly at Princess Twilight's royal kitchen. Wrecker raised his hoof and coughed into it, and then gestured to the others with it. All of them slowly and silently filed back out the doorway.
11 minutes later...
The door to Princess Twilight's empty drawing room opened and a changeling ducked her head in momentarily before leaving and closing the door.
“This isn't it either!”
23 minutes later…
“Did you learn to draw maps by playing Ogres & Oubliettes?” Wrecker demanded of another changeling, who cowered beneath his shadow.
“Well, um… yes?” the changeling offered weakly. Wrecker looked down at the ink-marred paper that was serving as their map, the rooms laid out as if on a grid. Hardly accurate or to scale, but at least it let them see what they had tried already.
“Well, you’re getting results, and I won’t argue with that,” Wrecker concluded. “Now, where are we again?”
“In the bedroom,” another changeling said.
“Yes, but whose bedroom?”
At that instant, the doors to the unknown bedroom burst opened and Princess Twilight charged in and slid to a halt, looking expectantly at the empty bed in front of her. An instant after that, her expression shifted to frustration and she stomped her hoof on the ground. “Phooey!” she said. A stomping hoof not belonging to her pulled her attention to the horde of two dozen changelings, and her eyes widened in shock, surprise, and fear as Wrecker took an aggressive, commanding stance, pointing the tip of his spear at her from across the room.
“Hear me, Purple Menace! We changelings tire of your oppression of our kind, and offer you our ultimatum. Surrender immediately, and be destroyed.”
“Don’t you mean ‘or’?” asked another of the changelings. The scathing look offered by Wreck did nothing to dissuade their sedition. “And do we really have to do this? Look, I can’t speak for anybuggy else, but me? I’m not feeling the whole justice thing anymore.”
Wrecker was stunned. “What do you mean you’re not ‘feeling it’ anymore?” he demanded. “How can you not be feeling it? Our revenge is right in front of us!”
“I didn’t really want revenge,” said another changeling, stunning Wrecker further, “I was just tired of working at that mall.”
“I thought we were going on an adventure!” said a third, “Or a quest. Oh! An adventure quest!”
“I don’t really care what we do, I just want to go home,” a fourth chimed in.
“Alright, fine!” Wrecker shouted, “We’ll go home, you quitters! This was a terrible idea, anyway.” To his credit, he only moped for a moment before pointing his spear at Twilight from across the room. “Hear me, Purple Menace! We changelings tire of your labyrinthine abode, and offer you our ultimatum. Direct us to the gate, or be destroyed.”
“One, I don’t appreciate all these threats about my imminent destruction!” Twilight said, somehow managing to yell without actually yelling, although the barely restrained rise of his wings revealed her irritation, “And two, when you say ‘direct us to the gate’, should I take that to mean that none of you now where we are either?”
The changelings looked at Twilight silently and evenly for several moments, until Wrecker gave voice to the question they all wanted to ask: “What do you mean, ‘either’?”
1 hour, six minutes later…
The doors burst opened with only the smallest of shoves from Wrecker’s shoulder, and he immediately surveyed his new surroundings as the rest of his horde of two dozen minus one changelings and one alicorn princess stepped in after him. “Oh, come on, this is ridiculous!” he exclaimed after a single look around the unknown bedroom, “How the heck do we keep ending up here?”
“Wasn't the door on the other wall last time?” Twilight asked. None of the changelings present were keen on answering her; the possibilities were too frightening to consider.
“Never mind that, just, just bring the map,” Wrecker ordered, voice not possessing even half the fire when the changelings had first begun their crusade, “There has to be some way out of here.”
“Why don’t we just take the secret escape tunnel?” suggested one of the other changelings. She was answered with silence.
“What secret escape tunnel?” asked a perplexed Twilight.
“The one behind the armoire.” Without waiting, the changeling walked over to the armoire in question and gave the knob on the front a turn one way and then the other with her teeth, and with a low grinding, the armoire slid to the side, revealing a doorway in the wall that led immediately to a spiraling staircase downward. The changeling looked back to her fellows to see them staring with their jaws hanging opened.
“You knew that was there and you let us go running around the castle for an hour? And six minutes? Why didn’t you say anything?” Wrecker demanded.
“Well, I started to, but then Princess Twilight showed up, and you both looked like you were having so much fun arguing—“
“Debating!” Twilight quickly corrected.
“— with each other, so I didn’t want to interrupt.”
The horde of twenty tree changelings and one alicorn princess looked at the lone changeling silently and evenly for several moments. “Great, even good manners impede us now,” Wrecker huffed. “Whatever, forget it, let’s just go.”
Twilight’s eyes widened, just a bit. “Through the tunnel?” she asked. “We don’t know where it leads, or how long it is. It’ll be pitch black!”
“We all have magic, so it won’t be pitch black, and even if it was, we clearly don’t know where the corridors in here lead, and I’m pretty sure those guards outside don’t know either, seeing as they haven’t found us yet, so I fail to see how going into the tunnel somehow leaves us worse off than we currently are.”
“I have guards outside?”
Wrecker ignored the question. “Besides, it’s an escape tunnel, so it has to let out somewhere at least reasonably nearby. How long could it possibly take?”
??? later...
Night Light was in his personal study-slash-library in the Sparkle family home in Canterlot, organizing his books. Normally, this would not have been cause for any sort of alarm, but it had been so long since he’d done it. It wasn’t because he was lazy, of course. it was because every time he’d tried in the past, he would immediately think of her, and he just couldn’t do it. But finally, he was going to do it. He’d picked a place to start, and was just ready to shelve the first book he’d shelved in far, far too long.
And then, his favorite chair unceremoniously fell over and the floor all but exploded as huge mounds of dirt were pushed up into the room from underground, followed by a black form the rough size and shape of a pony, the afternoon sun gleaming off its midnight blue armor as it entered the library and left Night Light with his mouth agape, book falling useless to the floor.
“Changelings!”
Changelings, covered in dirt and wearing dented armor and carrying spears that had seen better decades, came pouring out of the hole in the floor. They spread around the room, checking behind furniture, glancing out the windows, and otherwise making a nuisance of themselves with their illegal occupation of sovereign territory. Two dozen changelings altogether, if he counted the tiny one that went weaving between the legs of all the others, looking at everything with all the wonder that only a foal was capable of.
“Clear!” one of them shouted back down the hole, “All except for some old guy!”
“Hey!” said Night Light in protest. The changelings ignored him.
Next out of the hole came the largest and most muscley changeling Night Light had ever seen. Larger even than most ponies, standing half a head taller and a full hoof wider than Shining Armor. This changeling, he knew, must have been their commander. As soon as he was in the opened, the changeling commander looked around the room once, and then turned back into the hole. “Careful,” he said to somepony behind him, “It’s slippery.”
The breath hitched in Night Light’s throat when she walked out from the hole. Her form was immaculate: The dirt-smudged, purple fur, the unkempt mane, the ruffled feathers of her wings, the spiral horn in desperate need of a filing, and the very pregnant belly. When she locked eyes with him, emotions changing from surprise, to shock, and finally settling on teary joy, he was certain his heart stopped. “Dad?” she said to him, her voice like that of a princess.
“T-Twilight?” Night Light said, momentarily forgetting about the changelings in his study. “It’s been three years!”
Twilight suddenly narrowed her eyes into a scowl and glared at the changeling commander, standing right next to her. “‘I know exactly where we’re going’, huh?” she said, “I told you we should have taken that left at Cowbuquerque!”
The changeling commander looked from Twilight to Night Light with a resignation in its eye that the stallion recognized all too well; the resignation of a stallion that knew he was beaten.
“Yes, dear,” he said, “You were absolutely right about that.”
Frantic and erratic wing beats stirred the air in a cloud-constructed kitchen in a cloud-constructed mansion floating in the air over Ponyville as Rainbow Dash excitedly watched her over. “Almost…”
‘Ding!’ went a timer.
“Done!”
With triumphant flair, she opened that oven and quickly whisked away an enormous covered tray — almost as big as she was — to to her cloud-constructed table in her cloud-constructed dining room. Rubbing her hooves together and licking her chops, she tore away the concealing foil to reveal and tiny piece of quiche that occupied only a tiny fraction of the tray.
Rainbow Dash stared uncomprehendingly at what sat in front of her. “Where’s the rest of it?”
Tired of eating postage stamps disguised as meals? It’s time to switch to Hungry Mare Instant Dinners!
Why settle for a sample when you can gorge yourself on delicious veggie patties and hay fries, succulent stuffed peppers, or mouth-watering lasagna in a fraction of the time demanded by other brands?
Quick, tasty, mare-sized portions.
Hungry Mare!
Because filly food isn’t filling food!
“Who said that?!” Rainbow Dash demanded as she looked frantically around her dining room.
Omake Theatre with Velvet Step: The Nice If Exceedingly-Suspicious Repairpony
A gift for Crystal Wishes, although there’s a chance that after actually reading it, she’ll instead consider it a declaration of war: A risk I’m willing to take.
With a mighty yawn, Velvet Step lifted her head from the sofa pillow in victory: The pink-coated, mauve-maned mare had conquered the world of dancing, the world of home ownership, and now the world of sleep!
Or, more accurately, the front door of dancing, the foyer of home ownership, and the gently-sloping hill of sleep, but she’d only had a nap to work with so those are still pretty serious accomplishments considering.
Her victory celebration — which, to the untrained eye, probably looked a lot like rubbing sleep out of her eyes — was cut short when her attention was firmly drawn to the kitchen by the sound of metal lightly clanging against metal, and her breath hitched forcefully in her throat: There was a changeling in her home!
But then, she remembered that it was just Socket Wrench, the repairpony who was recommended to her by a neighbor when the kitchen faucet had decided to take a crack at being a fountain (and who was also apparently stricken with a series of very bizarre recessive traits inherited from his parents), and relaxed. It took only another moment before he noticed her.
“Welcome back!” he said.
“Thanks. How long was I out?” Velvet asked.
“Only about a half hour,” Socket replied, tossing some tool or another into his bag before hefting it across his back. “But perfect timing! I’m just finishing up.”
“Thank goodness! I thought for sure I was going to drown for a little bit. How much do I owe you?” Velvet asked as she rose from the sofa.
“Well, what say you to, oh, six bits?”
Velvet Step blanched. “That’s all?”
“For something that took thirty minutes and no weird parts? Of course that’s all!” Socket was getting very agitated. “Who in their right mind would charge more than that?”
“The repairpony I talked to before you?”
A brief silence fell.
“Yeah, that does sound like something he’d do,” Socket mused. “Tell you what. There’s this bakery up the way, Sunridge Sweets. Do you know it?”
Velvet smirked. “Oh, I think I do,” she said.
“Great! How about a round of cocoa and cake, say, tomorrow at noon, and we’ll call it even?”
“I think that’s a great idea!”
“Glad to hear it!”
Socket shuffled one leg almost nervously. “Well, anyway, gotta get to my next appointment. See you tomorrow, Ms. Step?”
“See you tomorrow, Mister Wrench.”
With happy nods, they trotted to the front door, repairpony exiting and resident remaining to shut the door behind him.
What a curious fellow! If she had to describe him with one word, it would be ‘nice’. If she had to describe him with three words, they would be ‘nice, if exceedingly-suspicious’, the presence of the hyphen turning two words into one and the total thus counting as only three words (editor’s note: this is untrue). She had even momentarily suspected that he might be a changeling when he first arrived, but quickly decided that was silly.
True, his legs were suspiciously riddled with holes.
And true, his cutie mark did look suspiciously like makeup.
And true, some of his teeth did look suspiciously like fangs.
But his luxuriant, red mustache had laid those concerns to rest almost immediately; everypony knew that changelings couldn’t grow facial hair.
“Better figure out how to let him down gently, just in case,” Velvet concluded.
Outside, of course, was a completely different story.
“And that’s how we do it! Vril Drox collects again!”
The — in all truth, not very convincingly — disguised changeling shuffle-danced to the left, and to the right, then shuffled in a tight circle before striking a pose for a nonexistent camera, a tarsus stroking his artificial facial hair.
“Just gotta flash the ‘stache!”
Omake Theatre with Velvet Step: The Plan That Had No Business Working But Did, Somehow
The next day at Sunridge Sweets is not when this part of the story takes place, but rest assured that when professional dancer and professional earth pony Velvet Step met her friend there for cocoa and cake, it left the proprietors — who also happened to be her parents — confused as to the exact nature of their relationship, possessed of several questions about their daughter, and possessed of even more questions about her apparent date.
Most critically, however, nothing caught fire or exploded, so it was still mostly an overall success. Probably, at least; we’ll never really know.
Rather than Sunridge Sweets, the next part of the story begins with the dainty and graceful Velvet Step standing at a counter and waiting in a shop that she really and truly had no business being in. Fortunately, nopony seemed to notice.
“I’m so sorry about the mix-up again,” said the shop owner — also a professional earth pony — from the other side of the counter as he earnestly kept his eyes on a bath of very, very hot oil.
“Nonsense! It happens more often than you think,” replied Velvet Step with a cheery smile, purposefully trying to prevent the issue from being pressed further. It was miracle enough that she, a professional dancer, was receiving no odd looks despite being in the midst of a shop that specialized in the production and sale of deep fat fried potatoes and dipping sauces composed primarily of mayonnaise. Being a professional earth pony was itself less helpful to blending in than most would believe, but that’s not important (though it is mildly interesting).
“Still, thanks for not holding it against us,” the shop’s owner said, dumping a basket of hot fries into a large bowl and giving them a good toss with lemon pepper and a large spoonful of minced garlic. He stopped to regard her again. “You know, I can’t help but feel I know you from somewhere. You seem very familiar.”
“I get that,” Velvet replied. “Just have one of those faces, I guess.”
“Yeah, must be,” said the frypony as he transferred Velvet’s purchase from the bowl to a box and dropped it onto the counter. “Here you are, Mister Eagle Eye. We hope to see you again!”
With a nod, Velvet slid the box into her bags, turned and walked out the door. She only made it a few steps before she stopped, a wry smile across across her face, perfectly plain for her companion to see.
“So, did it work?” asked Socket Wrench, the nice if exceedingly-suspicious repairpony she had once mistaken for a changeling. He may have also been a professional earth pony, but this was unlikely as he had a suspiciously curved horn and was most probably a professional unicorn.
“Like a Section Sergeant!” Velvet replied with a happy giggle. “I don’t know how, but I don’t think I care, either! He bought the whole story, hook, line and sinker!”
Socket barked once with laughter. “I don’t want to say ‘I told you so’, but I told you so.”
Velvet rolled her eyes. “Yes, you did, and you were right,” she said, one hoof stroking her artificial facial hair.
Velvet Step fidgeted nervously, and that fact struck her as silly. She had danced in front of hundreds, or thousands of ponies, with her reputation and the reputation of her troupe on the line. There was no good reason for her to be —
“Nervous?”
Velvet looked up at Socket Wrench, the repairpony she had once mistaken for a changeling. “Why would I be nervous?” she asked. “I’ve only done this never.”
“You’re nervous,” Socket Wrench said with a teasing grin. “Don’t be. You’ll do just fine.”
The reassurance did little to calm Velvet’s nerves. “What if it doesn’t fit?” she asked.
“It’ll fit,” Socket Wrench replied. “I’ve done this dozens of times, and I know it looks too big, but it’ll fit.”
Velvet was quiet for a moment. “Ok. I trust you,” she said. She took a deep breath, and then stuffed her hoof through the slot in the vending machine. Without wasting a moment, Socket Wrench put his shoulder into it, and after several seconds of grunting and violent rocking, they were greatly rewarded as a shower of candy spilled onto the ground.
“Jackpot!”
Omake Theatre with Velvet Step: The Weird Things That Happen When Crystal Wishes Isn't Home
Velvet Step’s condo suddenly became crowded as two dozen changelings — including the absolute largest one she’d ever seen — and one mulberry purple and visibly pregnant alicorn came spilling out her kitchen, leaving her to do what any sane pony would do: Stare at the impossibility of it from the safety of her couch in uncomprehending shock.
“Oh, yes,” the big changeling said sardonically as it looked around. “Clearly we’re back in Ponyville. I’d recognize the crystal walls of your castle anywhere.”
“Don’t sass me, Wrecker. Don’t forget this is all your fault,” snapped the alicorn.
“Uh, Commander? Princess? Small problem,” said another of the changelings, directing their attention to Velvet. Smiling nervously, Velvet waved at them in what she hoped was a placating manner.
“Well,” said Wrecker. “So much for the stealthy approach.”
“Don’t worry, I’ll mind wipe her,” said one changeling.
“You most certainly will not do something so harsh! I’ll hypnotize her,” said another.
“Don’t bother with that hippie garbage. I’ll take care of her,” said a third.
“No, no, no!” shouted the purple alicorn. “No mind wiping —” She jabbed her hoof at the changeling that had suggested so — “No hypnosis —” She jabbed her hoof at the changeling that had suggested so — “No whatever you were going to do —” She jabbed her hoof at the changeling that had suggested so — “Put it back!” She whirled about and jabbed her hoof towards the other end of the room.
Velvet’s gaze followed it to find another changeling that had been in the middle of lifting a framed picture from its spot by the front door. After a few seconds of hesitation, it placed it back on its hanger and dejectedly rejoined the others. The alicorn watched it move the way a mother might watch a foal, and finally placed her hoof back down. “Good. Now, everypony stay together and don’t touch anything while I figure out where to go. There’s bound to be an anchor point we can use for a portal,” she said.
“Maybe it’s in my closet?” Velvet suggested, still in something of a daze. “Three sweaters disappeared from it this year and I know my roommate doesn’t have them.”
“Yes, that’s…” the alicorn began before trailing off. All at once, she smiled widely. “Yes, thank you! Erm, which way?” When Velvet numbly pointed towards her room, she was answered with a happy nod. “Perfect! Alright, everypony, let’s go.” With that said, the alicorn started towards Velvet’s room, followed by Wrecker, and then by all the others. Their hoof steps faded into total quiet after a few moments.
A few moments after that, the front door opened and Crystal Wishes stepped inside. “Velvet, you won’t believe what I just saw,” she said, shutting the door behind her and shrugging off her saddlebags. “There’s a stallion outside selling some kind of breakfast sandwich. It’s pancakes with the syrup mixed in instead of bread and then an omelette and cheese in the middle. Have you ever heard of anything that strange before?”
Keeping her expression carefully neutral so as not to panic her roommate about the changelings that had just been in their condo, she turned her face to look at Crystal and said, as evenly and calmly as she could:
Velvet Step had no hope. There was no hope for her. It was plain for anyone to see she had no hope. No hope! How could anyone not see that she had no hope?
It had already started; she could already feel the change coming on. If only she’d managed to get herself arrested but no, that was apparently impossible. No one wanted to arrest a responsible citizen. Now, it was too late; the moon was rising and it had started.
Velvet Step was cursed, ever since that night when things had gone horribly wrong and she’d been bitten on the street outside of Taps, a recently opened nightclub in Canterlot. Cursed to transform when the moon shined full and the beats were loud.
Her candy-pink tail curled itself almost impossibly. Her lips streaked themselves bright red as her eyes lined themselves in black, the lashes straightening out and darkening. Her mane pulled itself out into long spikes, and a tattoo of a frog on a lily pad magically flashed into existence just above her dock, and the change was complete.
Velvet Step was no ordinary mare, but had become something more. Something sinister and confusing. She was a close relative of a mehrwolf, for a very liberal definition of ‘relative.’
She was a mehrclubber.
“Woooooooooooooo!” she howled at the moon. Without even a moment of hesitation, she tore out of her front door and down the street, stopping only when she encountered another group of mares, and then joining them. She and others of her kind always traveled in packs, just as they were as they prowled down the streets towards Taps, where a shimmering sign greeted them:
LADIES’ NIGHT
Again, they moved, zeroing in on the bouncer standing guard by the door.
The hunt for free drinks and inappropriate dancing was on….
Omake Theatre with Velvet Step: The Flimsy Yet Heretofore Impenetrable Disguise
Sitting at the counter in a malt shop, Velvet Step stared at Socket Wrench.
Socket Wrench stared back at Velvet Step.
Slowly, Velvet’s eyes tracked down to the frosty mug of root beer that Socket Wrench’s very fake mustache was now stuck to.
The mug stared back at Velvet nonchalantly.
Slowly, Velvet’s eyes tracked back to Socket Wrench, his flimsy yet heretofore impenetrable disguise finally pierced.
“Ok,” said the changeling who was actually Socket Wrench. “Before you scream —”
“Changeling!”
The malt shop immediately flew into a panic.
“Darnit, Velvet!” Leaping out of his chair, Socket Wrench/Vril Drox raised one hoof/tarsus into the air and then threw it towards the floor. Immediately, a thick cloud of smoke appeared and obscured his escape, leaving Velvet to sit at the counter coughing.
An instant later, she was tackled to the ground, pinned under a good deal of steel and stallion. “Looks like changelings aren’t so good at hiding after all. You’re under arrest!” said the Royal Guard who was in the process of detaining her.
“You’ve got the wrong pony!” Velvet shouted as restraints were applied to her hooves. “I’m not a changeling!”
“Sir, I need you to step back!” another Guard loudly ordered the glass mug that the mustache was still stuck to. “You are interfering with official Royal Guard work!”
Velvet stared at the exchange blankly. “On second thought, maybe you should arrest me.”
Omake Theatre with Velvet Step: The Secret Changeling Ability to Defy Logic
Velvet Step was in a pickle, although luckily not literally because she wasn’t too keen on the smell of vinegar. After being mistaken for a changeling at the malt shop and subsequently arrested, she paced back and forth in her not-quite-cozy cell in the Canterlot dungeon, newly possessed of a very keen understanding how the changelings had managed to catch the Royal Guard by surprise.
Even worse, answering that particular question was only causing her to think of several new ones that she was pretty sure she’d be a lot happy not having answers to.
But salvation arrived! He heard the door at the far end of the corridor open and close, and the sound of approaching (if odd-sounding) hoofsteps. She rushed up the the bars of her cell, eager to give her visitor — most likely the Guard coming to let her know that Crystal bailed her out — a piece of her mind.
“Finally! Do you have any idea how long I’ve —”
The sentence died in her throat when she saw that her visitor was not a Guard or even Crystal Wishes, but was in fact Vril Drox(?), with nothing at all to conceal his identity except for a sign hanging around his neck.
“Seriously,” she said more than asked.
“I admit it’s not my best disguise, but I had to make do.”
“It’s not a disguise at all!” Velvet shouted, stomping her hoof on the floor. “You literally just walked into the palace dungeon without any disguise at all except for a sign that says ‘not a changeling’ in… is that crayon?”
“Ok, one, it doesn’t say ‘not a changeling.’ It say says ‘NOT A CHANGELING.’ Two, it’s not crayon, it’s artist’s wax. And three, you’re making this jailbreak unnecessarily difficult,” Socket Wrench(?) replied with an irritated scowl. He reached a tarsus behind his sign and pulled out a bobbie pin, immediately setting to work on the lock.
“Give me one good reason why I should trust you. Don’t forget that you lied to me,” Velvet demanded, standing up as tall as she could (which still wasn’t that tall).
Socket Drox(?) leveled a flat glare at her. “Given how you reacted, can you blame me? If ponies screamed in your face every time you stepped outside, you’d wear a disguise too!” he responded.
They glared for several seconds, and finally Vril Wrench(?) sighed and resumed working on the lock. “Look, I’m sorry you found out this way. I’ll make it up to you,” he said. With a final crank of his bobbie pin, the lock clicked the the door swung open.
Velvet glared for a moment longer, and then sighed as well. “Fine,” she said. “You can start by getting me out of here.”
The changeling grinned. “I’ve got just the thing.”
A few minutes later, two ponies with enormous white beards who were plainly labeled ‘NOT SUSPICIOUS’ casually strolled onto the streets of Canterlot.
Prince Blueblood Becomes an Alicorn, or Princess Celestia: Fashion Fugitive
The doors to the thrown room slammed opened, rudely interrupting Queen Chrysalis (again) just as she was singing praises of her victory. “Perfect,” she said, turning around to see a white-furred, blonde-maned unicorn stallion without even the courtesy to dress up for the occasion frantically scanning the assembled changelings around him. Prince Blueblood had arrived, and he seemed completely disinterested in the fact that he was surrounded by (very confused) changelings.
Completely disregarding the situation around him, Blueblood immediately began to search through the crowd, looking next to changelings, pushing aside changelings, even lifting one changeling over his head to look under them, all the while calling for his—
“Auntie!”
Finally, he saw Celestia suspended from the ceiling in a changeling cocoon, and shortly thereafter, the changeling that looked like she must be in charge, and stomped over towards her. “You!” he shouted, “Release Princess Celestia at once! There is a dire emergency she needs to attend to!”
“Oh, yes,” Chrysalis hissed semi-seductively as she turned his gaze down at the unicorn. “I would imagine an invasion by a foreign power would seem to you ponies as an ‘emergency’.”
Blueblood’s eyes narrowed, and he drew himself up to his tallest height. “Listen, I’m quite sure you’re just making up all this ‘invasion’ business, because I haven’t heard anything about it, and I hear about everything worth hearing about,” he said haughtily, “Now release Princess Celestia this instant! As I said, this is an emergency!”
“You really think your emergency is more critical than the invasion and conquering of Equestria by a foreign power?”
“Yes!”
As soon as Blueblood said the word, they snapped up from his sides: A pair of the tiniest, most ineffectually small pegasus wings that anyone in Equestria could imagine. A collective gasp rose from the crowd in the grand room, from pony and changeling alike.
Queen Chrysalis snerked. A moment later, she stuffed her hoof into her mouth, failing to stop a laugh before it escaped. A moment later, she lost control, and fell over onto the ground cackling like a hyena. Both Rainbow Dash and Pinkie Pie joined in without hesitation, although everyone else seemed to have the courtesy to at least not draw attention to Blueblood’s predicament. So, he let them laugh. Perhaps for several seconds longer than he should have.
“Are you quite finished?” Blueblood demanded. “As I said, this is an emergency!” After a few moments, Chrysalis managed to get herself under control again (Rainbow Dash and Pinkie Pie continued to laugh) and nodded to some of her changelings. In a flash, they split open the cocoon, and Princess Celestia came spilling out in a pile of goo. Blueblood rushed up to her crying, “Auntie!” and she stood up and sputtered, spitting green ooze from her mouth. The instant he arrived at her side, she looked at him and recoiled in surprise.
“Nephew!” she exclaimed, “You’re an alicorn!”
“Yes! I am! Fix it!”
“I knew you, could… I’m sorry, what?”
“Fix it!” Blueblood insisted again. “I’m a prince, I’m not qualified to be an alicorn! There are thousands of ponies more qualified than me to be an alicorn!”
“Perhaps tens of thousands!” Rarity added.
“Maybe even millions!” added one of the changelings. Every creature in the grand room looked at it. It looked back, and then averted its gaze to the floor, shuffling its hooves. “I-I felt left out…” it offered weakly.
“Besides,” Chrysalis said, turning her attention back to Celestia after a moment. “It throws the balance off.”
“B-balance? What?” Celestia had never been so confused in her life. Even when Discord was roaming free, she’d never been so confused or dripping with green slime.
“Well, of course!” Chrysalis continued unabated, “All the best things come in threes! The Three Muskrateers, for example. The Three Hooges, the Three Falsettos, that delightful series of one act plays you ponies have. What’s that called?”
“‘Three’s Company’?” Blueblood suggested.
“Yes, that’s it!” Once more, Chrysalis continued unabated. “My point is, you have three alicorns already. Do you really need a fourth?”
After a few moments of careful thought which looked suspiciously like staring in abject confusion, Celestia said, “What?”
“I don’t mean to be rude, Princess,” said Twilight Sparkle, stepping away from the changelings keeping her and her friends in line. Curiously, none of them moved to stop her, “But she’s right. I mean, I don’t really see how having another alicorn really helps Equestria at all.” She would not realize the irony of that statement for several more months, and when she finally did, Rainbow Dash would… anyway.
“There, you see, Auntie? Miss Sparkle agrees completely. Now, stop stalling and change me back,” Blueblood said impatiently.
“I—” Celestia began, seeming to choke on her words. “I can’t! There’s no spell to simply remove an alicorn’s wings!”
“There’s, not?” Blueblood asked miserably.
“Well, that makes sense, at least,” Twilight replied to Celestia’s relief: Finally, somepony sensible would explain the situation. “I mean, what would they be then? Just wings sitting around doing nothing? Of course they can’t be ‘simply removed’. We’ll have to transfer them to another pony’s body!”
“Of course!” Blueblood said happily. An instant later, his smile fell to a frown. “But whose body?”
“Well, Auntie’s, obviously!” All present — save Celestia, who had not yet come to understand exactly how the situation had gotten worse —turned to look at Cadence who, with a final jerk of her hooves, freed herself from the resin holding her to the floor and trotted over to join everyone else, “Who else? She has the figure for it, and what could be more regal than two sets of wings?”
“But what would she do with them? I mean, they’re so tiny—“
“Headwings!”
As one entity, the room looked to Rarity, who was so giddy she may have been close to exploding. “Headwings?” asked Blueblood.
“Headwings!” Rarity exclaimed again, hurriedly rushing over to join the small group in front of Celestia. “Tiny wings on the head! I hear they’re all the rage right now in Neighpon. Of course, they make due with enchanted prosthetics, but to have actual headwings… oh, Princess, you simply cannot pass up such an opportunity. You’ll be the most fashionable creature alive!”
“They’d give you some more lift, too!” Rainbow Dash chimed in as she likewise joined up. “Faster, higher, better control. Rarity, you’re a genius!” In a flash, pegasus swept unicorn up in a hug. “Y’gotta help me get some! I’ll even try on dresses for you if you do, whatever it takes!”
“That settles it then,” Blueblood said, turning his attention back to Celestia. “Alright, Auntie, power up and hit me!” He closed his eyes and raised his head high, standing tall and proud and expectant.
“I can’t! There’s no spell in existence that can remove wings from an alicorn or transfer them! Not permanently. It can’t be done!” Somehow, Celestia’s ethereal mane looked at those it was beginning to fray.
“Oh….” Blueblood deflated.
“Chin up, fair prince,” said Chrysalis, “Where magic fails, medicine prevails! We’ll simply remove and then reattach the wings surgically. Oh, finally!” She rubbed her hooves together and grinned like a maniac on Hearth’s Warming. “Doctor Queen Chrysalis shall have her day in the sun!”
“Yes, Doctor Queen,” Chrysalis replied indignantly, “I most certainly did not spend fourteen years earning my doctorate in medicine and mastering the equine nervous system to never perform a surgery.”
“But, nopony’s ever performed a surgery like that before!” gaped Twilight, “You’ll be making history! And I’ll be there to document it!”
“Oh, and what if those techniques could be applied to veterinary medicine?” Fluttershy pondered meekly as she made her way over. “Oh, think of what it would mean for all the little birdies of the world.”
“I don’t really know what all the fuss is about,” Pinkie Pie said from her perch on Chrysalis’ back, “But if all this kooky Doctor Frankenstein god-playing means I get to throw the biggest, meanest, greenest ‘Hurray for your first ever surgery’ party I’ll do whatever you need me to!”
“Er, begin’ yer pardons,” Applejack said as she cautiously approached the increasingly fanatic group, “But the head ya’ll are plannin’ t’ play Operation with does belong t’ somepony already. Don’t th’ Princess get any say in this?”
“Oh, Applejack,” Pinkie said, her tone surprisingly patronizing, “Oh, you silly, simple country bumpkin, you.”
“’Scuse me?”
“There are no brakes on the mob train.”
“Choo choo, applebucker,” Rainbow Dash added with a smug grin. Applejack, recognizing that she was dangerously close to becoming a science project herself, decided to back off, and away.
“All this, and I get to marry Shining Armor!” Cadence said with a squeal of delight. “This really is the best day ever! Oh, and speaking of Shining Armor….”
“Hm?” said Chrysalis. “Oh! Oh, yes, of course.” Her jagged horn flashed with magic, and an instant later, the hypnotized Shining Armor came back to his senses.
“Wha—huh?” he said as the green haze cleared from his eyes. His understanding did not improve when he laid those eyes on the grouping front of him. “What’s, going on?”
“We’re planning out how we’re going to remove these freaky new wings from Blueblood and then surgically attach them to Princess Celestia’s head!” Pinkie said helpfully.
“We most certainly are not!” Celestia said unhelpfully.
There was no doubt which of them Shining Armor decided to listen to as he trotted over: “Well, count me in!”
“They’re all six bulls short of a stampede,” Applejack mumbled, eyeing the exit.
“So, Doctor Queen,” Twilight said with a smile, moving up to the changeling in question, “How long will her recovery be? There’s going to be a lot of new questions about biology, and we’ll need to interview her immediately.”
“Au contraire, darling,” said Rarity, likewise stepping over to Chrysalis and likewise wearing a smile, although she continued to regard Twilight directly. “Obviously, her measurements must come before anything else. Besides a dress, she’ll need a redesigned tiara, and perhaps some other accouterments for her beautiful new wings. Of course, she’ll need to model them as well, as only she will have her unique, ah, arrangement. One must struck while the iron is hot, as it were.”
“Oh, Rarity, you’re such a kidder,” Twilight responded, smile becoming strained, “After all, what we learn for science could greatly improve the quality of life for everypony. Improvement is so important.”
“Oh, but Twilight,” Rarity replied, smile equally strained, “What good is improvement is nopony is of the right mind to enjoy it. Happiness through modeling is perhaps more important.”
Twilight’s smile dropped into a frown. “Improvement through science.”
Rarity’s smile dropped into a frown. “Happiness through modeling.”
“Science.”
“Modeling.”
“Science!”
“Modeling!”
In an instant, the entire group fell into bickering, each voice competing with all the others for attention.
“Ladies, please!” Blueblood shouted, pushing his way into the center of the argument. “We have to keep our priorities straight! First, we get these wings off my back and onto her head. Then we figure out who does what with her first!”
At that, the group paused for a moment, and then gave a collective nod — “Right!” — before turning to look at Celestia. And then looking around for Celestia.
“She’s buggered off!” observed Chrysalis. “She must have slipped out during our planning.”
“Applejack, too!” snarled Rainbow Dash, “I knew nothing good came from always telling the truth.”
“Phooey!” said Twilight, “Now what’re we going to do?”
“Oh, don’t worry Miss Sparkle,” replied Blueblood, “Just by accident, I have an idea.”
In the corridors of Canterlot Castle, devoid of (most) ponies and changelings alike, Celestia took a moment to catch her breath. It really was fortunate that none of the others had noticed Applejack slipping her away during their argument. How the dozens of changelings had also missed them remained a mystery.
“Don’t you worry none, Princess,” said the orange mare, glancing around a corner to make sure the coast was clear. “I know it might look bad, but it ain’t. All we need’s a few seconds t’ figure out how t’ get to the train station, and then it’s off t’ Los Pegasus, and safety.”
“Oh, what’s the point, Applejack?” Celestia asked sadly, head hanging low, “They’ll just find me again. I’m doomed to have wings attached to my head.”
“Hey, now.”
Celestia felt her gaze tipped back upward, guided by a gentle hoof under her chin. The luminous, caring, emerald green of Applejack’s eyes banished her worries in an instant. “Chin up, sugar cube,” she said, voice as sweet, spicy, and warm as a baked apple slice dusted with cinnamon and sugar. “Ain’t nothin’ bad gonna happen t’ you. Not so long as I got somethin’ t’ say about it.”
“Applejack,” Celestia murmured, their lips dangerously close together. In the next instant, the jerked apart, for they each heard at that moment a sound that chilled their blood.
Dark mist drifted onto the landing, and with a flash of magic, coalesced into an alicorn who was decidedly not Princess Celestia. Coat as black as midnight; eyes with slitted, malevolent pupils; wings that looked less like those of a bird and more of a bat; and mane and tail made not of hard, but of shimmering, flowing starstuff. There could be only one alicorn to look like that.
“Nightmare Moon!” Blueblood exclaimed almost silently. “Of all the stories to actually be true.” Not wasting another moment, he carefully slid backwards through the audience towards the doors, and the three pegasi guards standing beside it.
“Oh, my beloved subjects”, she said, looking over the assembled ponies with a sneer. “It's been so long since I've seen your precious little sun-loving faces.
“What did you do with our Princess?” demanded Rainbow Dash as she separated herself from the audience.
“Forget asking!” Lightning Dust shouted as she came up beside the other pegasus. “We’ll make her tell us!”
“Yeah!”
Both of them shot into the air, zipping in wide arcs to tackle Nightmare Moon from both sides. Or they would have done that, had Dash’s and Dust’s tails not been almost immediately grabbed by Applejack and Gilda respectively. “You’re both nuts!” said the griffon.
Unfazed by the reaction, Nightmare Moon chuckled. “Why, am I not royal enough for you?” she asked. “Don’t you know who I am?”
“Ooh! Guessing games!” exclaimed Pinkie Pie from near the refreshments table. “Um… Hokey Smo—”
She was interrupted as an apple, sheathed in a pink aura, flew into her mouth. “Be quiet!” Trixie hissed at her, sliding away into the rest of the frightened ponies for concealment. “Do you want her to look over here?”
Nightmare Moon gave no sign of noticing the exchange on the floor below. “Does my crown no longer count, now that I’ve been imprisoned for a thousand years?” she asked, leering to one end of the landing at Rarity and Strongheart, the latter of which interposed herself between the former and the alicorn as they slowly backed down the stairs to the ground level; both of them were visibly afraid.
“Did you not recall the legend? Did you not see the signs?” she asked, leering to the other end of the landing at Fluttershy, the songbird choir, and Iron Will, the last of which leered right back as he guided the others down the stairs to the ground level.
“What do we do? What do we do?” Trixie whispered to herself in a panic, only feeling a bit calmer when Blueblood gingerly pressed against her side.
“Don't worry, Trix,” he said with a confident smile. “Unsurprisingly, I have a plan.” Without waiting for a reply, Blueblood stepped away from Trixie and cleared his throat be loudly saying, “Excuse me? Nightmare Moon?”
That elicited a round of terrified gasps from the audience as they all spun to face the voice that had identified one of their worst fears; every pony with even some Equestrian roots knew the legend of the Mare in the Moon, Nightmare Moon.
“Well, well, well,” Nightmare Moon said as she watched Blueblood make his way to the front of the crowd. “Somepony who remembers me. Then you also know why I’m here.”
“Actually, I was hoping to discuss exactly that with you!” Standing in front of his fellow ponies, Blueblood stood tall, held his head high, and adopted a serious expression. “I am Prince Blueblood. As a duly designated representative of the city, county, and tracts of land surrounding Canterlot, I hereby order you to cease and desist, immediately, any and all activities pertaining to the attempted overthrow of the current, legally recognized ruler of the Principality of Equestria, and to return forthwith to your place of origin, or to the nearest, most convenient allied nation.”
A very uncomfortable silence fell over every creature present.
“That’s your plan?” Trixie blurted out, immediately covering her mouth with both forehooves.
“Hold on, that was a plan?” Gilda demanded from her spot in the crowd, releasing her grip on Lightning Dust’s tail (who was, herself, too perplexed to continue her original plan of assaulting Nightmare Moon). The ponies around her murmured questions of a similar nature to each other.
“I admit it’s not one hundred percent thought out,” Blueblood replied nonchalantly.
Gilda agreed: “It’s not one percent thought out, doofus!”
Further discussion on the soundness of Blueblood’s plan was promptly suspended by laughter from Nightmare Moon, all eyes on her once again. “I am almost amused by this,” she almost purred. “Do you, a mere politician, presume to order me? Back to the moon, no less?”
“Well,” Blueblood began, “You are technically in violation of the law. Several of them, most likely. I mean, I did mention all that stuff about overthrowing the current, legally recognized ruler of Equestria, right?” He turned to look over at Iron Will. “I did mention that, didn’t I?”
Reacting immediately, Will scooped up Fluttershy in one arm, and jabbed a finger out towards Blueblood with the other. “We are not with him!” he said the minotaur in an effort to placate the Mare (Until Very Recently) in the Moon. It did not work.
“I will not be ordered around by a sniveling foal!” Nightmare Moon shouted, causing the crowd to shrink back. Even Will shrunk back, although to a lesser degree, trying to keep a brave face on for Fluttershy, who was shaking like a jackhammer. Only Blueblood stood his ground.
“Well, you kind of have to,” the Prince reiterated. “It’s the law. That means it’s the rules. And I think that we can all agree that it’s very, very, very important to always follow the —”
The crack of thunder, flash lightning and smell of ozone filled the room suddenly, and vanished just as suddenly.
“One job, guys!” Blueblood’s hoof contacted his face. A moment later, the three (now slightly twitching) pegasi guards that had been at the door collided with the ground, their ambush foiled. “One job.” After another moment of disbelief, his hoof returned to the floor. “Alright. New plan!” he said as his shined with sky blue magic.
From the back of the crowd — which had quite suddenly begun to part — came a chant of, “No, no, no, no!” that rapidly increased in volume as Trixie was dragged up next to the Prince.
Almost immediately, one of his forelegs went around her withers while the other came up to maneuver a hoof to her ear, which Blueblood began to whisper into. By the end of his missive, her eyes had widened considerably. “Brilliant, right?” Blueblood asked her.
In response, Trixie raised a hoof up and slapped him hard across the face, eliciting gasps from the crowd and surprise from Nightmare Moon. “Creep,” Trixie said, rearing up and throwing a smoke bomb onto the floor at her hooves. Immediately, the ponies (et al.) around her suffered a coughing fit while the smoke engulfed them, up until it cleared.
Trixie was nowhere to be seen, having vanished while she was out of sight. The front doors swinging shut was the only evidence of where she had gone.
Once the door loudly finished closing, Blueblood finally managed to collect his wits. “Alright. New plan again!” he declared. “Pinkie Pie!”
“Yuppers?” said Pinkie, suddenly bounding up next to him.
“Go forth to Sugar Cube Corner, and prepare the biggest party you’ve thrown this year!”
“Yes sir, Mister Prince, sir!” Pinkie replied with a salute, and then confusion. “But, what for? I mean, what’ll go on the banners? You can’t have a party with blank banners! That’d be a like a party without banners! We’d be bannerless! Like animals!”
“Well, it’ll either be to celebrate us not freezing to death under the relentless glower of nighttime everlasting, or to welcome our new dark overlord to probably at least a thousand years of uninterrupted tyranny,” Blueblood replied, turning his gaze towards the ceiling and rubbing his chin in thought. “It’s kind of up in the air at this point.” His gaze returned to Pinkie Pie. “Think you can handle it?”
Pinkie Pie was nowhere to be seen, having vanished while she was out of frame. The front doors did absolutely nothing.
“Alrighty then!” Blueblood concluded, wisely deciding not to question it and addressing the rest of the crowd. “Everypony else! Will, what are you doing?”
Focus moved from the Prince to the minotaur, who was busy piling two of the three incapacitated guardsponies over his shoulders, the third one going onto Fluttershy’s back, nervous about the prospect though she clearly was. “Iron Will intends to take these gentlestallions directly to Ponyville General Hospital, courtesy of assistance from Fluttershy, on account of they just got their asses kicked!” Taking a break from speaking, he turned to address a donkey that was part of the crowd, although not noticed by anyone previously. “No offense, brother.”
The donkey responded with a shrug and an uncommitted sound of indifference.
“Good thinking, Will. You get on that,” Blueblood said before turning back to address the rest of the crowd. “Everypony else, for real this time! Form two, single-file lines at the door, and proceed forward in a calm manner. The instant your hooves —“ he shot a glance to Gilda, who did not look in any way amused — “Or whatever, touch the street outside, immediately fly into a panic, run through the streets screaming your heads off, enter your homes, bar the door once all occupants are inside, hide under the bed, cower, and wait for further instructions. That’s the plan. Break!”
After a moment of further confusion, the rest of the occupants of City Hall formed two lines at the door and calmly proceeded outside until their hooves (or whatever) touched the street. As soon as they did, they each took off in a full run towards their places of residence, screaming at the top of their lungs the entire way. In record time, the streets of Ponyville were even emptier than City Hall.
“Huh,” said Blueblood as the doors finished closing. “Didn’t think that’d actually work.”
“’Twas a well-organized panic.”
“Oh, right,” Blueblood said with a scowl as he turned around, looking up at Nightmare Moon. “You’re —“
He looked up higher at Nightmare Moon. She looked down at him, smiling darkly. “Already down here with me,” he finished. After a moment, he cleared his throat. “Right. This is the part where you offer to let me join you, and I refuse and say I’ll stop you no matter what.”
Nightmare Moon’s smile darkened further. “Oh, this is simply too rich,” she said, adding in a mocking chuckle for effect. “Do you truly believe that you, a lazy and simple-minded politician, can best me?”
In response, Blueblood smirked cheekily. “I’ve already bested you, Slack Beauty,” he said triumphantly. “I’m not Prince Blueblood! I’m an illusion! Bleh!” Making a funny face, ‘Prince Blueblood’ promptly detonated in a cloud of sparkles and confetti.
Nightmare Moon’s smile vanished as shock washed over her face, and for several seconds she could only stare at the space that she had believed her adversary occupied, and then she screamed in inarticulate rage before taking to the air and bursting through the window overhead. “Petulant foal!” she shouted over the streets of Ponyville, looking around for the Prince and seeing not a creature in sight. “Enjoy the chill of everlasting night, whelp! ’Twill be your last!”
Not taking so much as a moment to consider how little sense that threat made, Nightmare Moon’s horn flashed, and she melted into a malevolent, purple mist before streaking across the sky towards Canterlot. After several seconds of complete silence passed, Prince Blueblood poked his head out from the bushes in front of City Hall, scanning the skyline to make absolutely sue that she had left. She had.
“And now for an abrupt change in tenses,” he says, turning to address the reader. “That’s all for now folks, but hey! I had a blast, myself, so if you want to see more, make sure you leave a comment below saying so. Maybe Phyco will actually write the whole story once he finishes that stupid crossover he’s working on. I sure hope so, at least.
“I’m kind of stuck here, in the bushes, until he does. Seriously, comment. Get me out of here. Please?”
Ponyville had fallen, most of the populace taken captive by the seemingly unstoppable changeling swarm save the lucky few who’d managed to hide. Inside of the bakery known to the residents of Ponyville as Sugar Cube Corner but known to us as Sugar Cube Corner also, that number of ‘the lucky few’ was about to decrease by one.
“Alright, that’s all I can stand!”
Carrot Cake stormed into the his store room, trailed by his wife, Cup. “And I can’t stand any more!” Without wasting another moment, he walked straight to the cupboards where the flour was kept and started pulling them out. It wasn’t the flour he was interested in, of course, but what was hidden behind them.
“Carrot, what are you doing?” Cup demanded before her eyes widened with realization. “You don’t still have that, do you?”
“I was only going to keep it for a week, just in case!” Carrot fired back. “And that turned into two weeks, and then a month, and then… well, then it was easier just to pretend I didn’t have it.” He pulled another sack of flour aside, and then popped out the panel making the false back that only he knew about, and there it was, waiting for him just like it had always been. Solemnly, he grabbed it with a hoof and turned around to face Cup, not at all surprised by the disappointment he saw etched across her face.
“I thought you wanted to leave that life behind,” Cup stated.
“I did! And I did leave it behind. But I have to do something, honey bun! I can’t just hide in here all day while these punks are wrecking our town! I know I promised you, and I’ve worked really hard to keep that promise, but I can’t anymore. I have to go out there,” Carrot replied a bit more harshly than he meant to. With a sighed, he removed his hat, stuffed the item he needed inside, and then replaced it on his head, turning back to face Cup. “We can’t wait for the Guard. I might be the only one left who can do anything.
“I’d say I’d give ‘em one for you, but it’d be in poor taste,” he added with a sad smile.
And then his beautiful wife, to whom he made the promise he was about to break so long ago, kissed him softly and looked at him with eyes full of understanding. “Make it a baker’s dozen,” she said.
With a chuckle, he stepped back from her and to the front door, took a deep breath, and then unlocked it and stepped outside to find anarchy. Some buildings were on fire, doubtlessly set accidentally by ponies fleeing in panic. Most of the town, it seemed, was outside under the watchful eyes of hundreds of changelings, all of them with their legs, wings, and horns bound up in green goo.
Even Princess Twilight Sparkle had been captured, her faced forced into the dirt while the changelings’ queen gloated.
With a sigh of resignation, Carrot walked forwards like a stallion on his way to the gallows, and it wasn’t long before three changelings noticed and descended on him. They landed roughly on the ground and made a big show of flashing their fangs, although their expressions changed to uncomprehending confusion when he came to a halt but did not fly into a panic like almost all the other ponies had, looking at them impassively.
The changelings stared in uncomprehending confusion as he, rather than surrendering, withdrew a small cylindrical object from underneath his hat.
The changelings watched in uncomprehending confusion and he smashed it between his hooves to neatly pop the top of it opened.
The changelings stared in uncomprehending confusion as Carrot Cake, baker extraordinare, retired Leftenant of the Equestrian Navy, and amateur sailor emptied an entire can of spinach into his mouth.
‘HAPPY BIRTHDAY SWEETIE BELLE’ the banner strung above the dining room happily declared. Foals ran every which way, engaging in the sorts of foalish games that the grown-ups never engage in because they’re foalish but that they secretly wish they could join.
As the colts and fillies wrapped up their games and started gathering around the table with the giant cake at one end, two grown-ups known very well to us were already sitting there, getting paper plates and cutlery ready.
“Put together a mighty fine party here, Rarity,” Applejack remarked.
“Thank you, darling. I do apologize that we’ve only cake and ice cream, though, I do sincerely hope you ate before you arrived,” Rarity replied.
“Eeyup. Had one of them new Hungry Mare XL Instant Dinners. Couple veggie patties, mashed taters, buttered corn, broccoli, corn bread and baked apples for dessert,” Applejack said with a smile. “You?”
“Oh, glass of mineral water and a piece of quiche,” Rarity replied, looking back across the table as her little sister sat down opposite of her. Sweetie Belle drew in a deep breath and blew out the candles on her cake, and Rarity screamed as she and several plates and napkins went flying across the room and crashed into the shelves along the wall.
Applejack watched the space where Rarity had just been sitting, lips pursed and head shaking. “Quiche,” she said.
Bigger taste! Bigger portions!
Hungry Mare XL!
Because a mare’s gotta eat!
“There it is again!” Rainbow Dash exclaimed, looking every which way in a panic.
How Sombra Got His New Country Phase 1: Come Back to Life
Far to the north, in the wintery and mostly frozen tundra lands around the Crystal Empire where few ponies dared not tread unless they had lost their marbles (and for some inexplicable reason, thought they’d find them again out there), foul deeds were afoot.
Ahoof?
Afoot. Foul deeds were afoot.
Sequestered in a cave, a curved spike of crimson lay on the ground, not doing much of anything that could be considered very evil. The cave was not especially evil, either. Nothing about the scene in particular would have been considered evil, or indeed, anything other than unremarkable.
At least, it was unremarkable until the spike suddenly levitated into the air.
Angry, red energy washed over the spike — the horn — and the very air appeared to bubble and roil as reality began to unravel. Then, with a quick flash of light and a very, very rude noise, the space directly under the horn became occupied by a pony — whom the horn had previously and once more belonged to — and the ground directly in front of the pony became occupied by an opened folio.
King Sombra, in all his royal regalia, royally blinked once, then royally blinked twice, and then royally quirked his royal brow before royally speaking four royal words just as this gag was abandoned: “That was surprisingly easy.”
He looked down at the folio lying at his hooves as if it might explain exactly why something as supposedly final as death turned out to not even be much of an inconvenience. It was titled, appropriately, ‘How to Come Back to Life.’ It also wasn’t terribly helpful as an explanation.
“Well, no matter!” Somber declared. The folio was wrapped up in black magic* and vanished from sight. “First, I leave this cave. And then, revenge! Or possibly vengeance? Ah ha! Revengeance!”
It was at that moment that he happened to glance behind him. “Oh, hello! I’m not disturbing you, amI?”
An instant later, Sombra galloped out of the cave and into the snowy wilderness as fast as he could — and maybe even a little bit faster — screaming his head off.
Another instant later, a hungry bear came charging out after him.
*: “Black” meaning the magic’s color (I.e. “#000000,” even though it was probably closer to “#222222”), not an implication of its morality or taste in heavy metal. Given what we know, however, it was probably pretty black magic, and maybe also just a bit more metal than Sombra deserved.
How Sombra Got His New Country Phase 2: Try to Get the Old Country Back
After his daring escape from the hungry bear (which primarily involved a lot of running and screaming), he’d managed to make his way back to the Crystal Empire, and became lost only twice while doing so. Unfortunately, his plan to march past the border and then simply take it back encountered some degree of difficulty when he discovered that doing so would require him to pass through ‘Customs and Immigration’, which was clearly some invention of that nag, Celestia (but probably not Luna, who was alright in his book).
Admittedly, making demands was not endearing him to the armored Crystal Guard that was standing… guard at the checkpoint. “I mean what I said,” the Guard replied. “No passport, no entry.” He wasn’t a crystal pony. In fact, he was a griffon; surely, that explained it.
Sombra drew himself up to his full height. “Do you know who I am?” he asked menacingly.
The Guard was not the least bit menaced. “Do you know who I am?”
Sombra quirked his brow. “Why would I care who you are?”
“Well, sounds like you answered your own question, Mister Sombrero —”
“Sombra.”
“Mister Sombra. Now please, present your passport, or step aside. You’re holding up the line.”
Somber looked behind him to see that, yes, there was a line of very impatient ponies waiting very impatiently. He grit his teeth and bared his fangs, turning back to the Guard. “Listen, peon —”
“Leon.”
“Peon! I am Sombra. King Sombra, the Lord of Shadows. I could kill you with a thought.”
Leon the Crystal Griffon Guard narrowed his eyes. “Could you, now?” he asked.
Sombra nodded, grinning darkly. “I could,” he said.
“With just a thought, huh?” Leon asked.
“With just a thought,” Sombra replied.
“Hold it.”
“Hold what?”
“Hold that thought.”
“Why?”
With the sudden, crackling pop! of a magical discharge, Sombra dropped to the ground in a heap. Leon the Crystal Griffon Guard calmly replaced his dazer in its holster and resumed standing guard. “Next!”
How Sombra Got His New Country Phase ?: Deal with Bureaucracy
“But Princess —” an unnamed noble began to object.
“Next petitioner.”
“But —” he tried again, taking a step towards the throne.
His advanced was barred when one of the otherwise forgotten guardsponies in the room suddenly got in his face. “She said, ‘Next petitioner’.”
Shaking more than a bit, the unnamed background noble quickly made his way out of the throne room, passing by the earth pony at the door whose only purpose was to herald the next pony to petition the Princess.
“Presenting, um…” The herald struggled to make sense of the card held in his hoof. “It’s blank.” He was suddenly pushed aside as a cloaked pony, identity concealed, made his way into the throne room and stalked towards Celestia.
“Oh, lovely,” said the Princess, not sounding or looking at all amused. “What is it today? Prophecy of ill-tidings? Threat of war? Poorly structured poem about my beauty written in a salt-induced haze?”
The cloaked pony came to a stop just before the dais, and the cloak was suddenly flung away, and Celestia’s eyes widened when they fell upon the form of —
“Sombra!” Celestia exclaimed in a manner that was most assuredly not a shriek of terror, because Princesses do not shriek. Her guards sprung into action, although they were quick to retreat when a variety of crystalline and especially lethal looking weapons suddenly materialized around Sombra, including swords, axes, spears, and a pair of electric hair clippers that had no business being there, likely the result of an editing mistake.
“Stand down,” Celestia ordered, and although her guards were clearly reluctant to do so, they did all the same. “There. I have extended my hoof in peace. Now speak, and then begone.”
With a smug smile, the weapons hovering around the coal black unicorn vanished, and he stated his business. The words that escaped his throat sounded like they could have been Equestrian, if he had said them while gargling with rock salt and broken glass. Consequently, he was impossible to understand.
“Do, you need a glass of water?” Celestia asked. The reply from Sombra was a hacking, choking cough that sounded vaguely like it could have been ‘yes’, or less likely but still possibly ‘cats’. Either way, a large glass of water appeared before Sombra with a flash from Celestia’s horn, and Sombra quickly gulped it down.
And then hocked enough mucus into it to fill it again while Celestia (and most of her guards) struggled to keep from throwing up. “That’s better,” he said, before clearing his throat and straightening up.
“Hear my words, nag! I have endeavored to move through legitimate and proper channels, and have been blocked every step of the way! I now address you directly, and offer my ultimatum! Resolve my permit issue, or be destroyed!”
Seconds passed in silence. Moments before one of the guardsponies produced a pin, Celestia spoke: “I’m sorry, your permit issue?”
“I did not stutter, nor misspeak,” Sombra replied acidly. Literally black magic washed over his horn, and from extra dimensional space, a map flashed into existence, hovering in front of Celestia. “I have recently acquired property within the city of Canterlot, and wish to add a swimming pool to the premises. As I wish to avoid a fine, I seek a permit for a rather large construction project, which has thus far been unjustly denied to me for failing to produce a permit to alter the property, which has in turn been unjustly denied to me because no such permit exists, has never existed previously, and if your apparent allergy to paperwork is any indication, will never exist in the future. As you can see from the map presently obscuring your vision —” which, incidentally, also prevented her from seeing that he was reading from notecards — “said property is well within your jurisdiction as Princess, that being both the city of Canterlot and country of Equestria, and I demand that you approve my permit application, or at the least acquiesce to my request for one.”
“Well, I really don’t think I’ll be doing that,” Celestia replied as she scrutinized the map, “As this property you apparently own is clearly not a part of Canterlot.” She scrutinized the map a bit more closely. “It doesn’t really even look like it’s part of Equestria. Imagine that.”
“How can it not be part of Equestria?” Sombra demanded, his map and notecards vanishing back into extra dimensional space, “It’s practically in the middle of the sun-maddened city you call home! What could possibly be more Equestrian?”
“Well, rest assured, Sombra, you’ll have plenty of time to think about what could be more Equestrian!” Celestia replied, slamming her hoof on a button by the base of her throne.
For several long, awkward seconds, absolutely nothing happened.
“Oh, right,” Celestia said with a sheepish smile. “Luna had me remove the Moon Cannon. Something about sending a negative message to the populace. I don’t suppose you’d stay around while I have a new one installed? I’ll make it worth your while.”
“I fail to see how being fired out of a cannon and at the moon could ever be worth my while, so no, I’ll not stay around,” Sombra replied sharply, “Not today, or any day, and definitely not unless you give me my blasted permit!”
Sombra’s expression turned to surprise as he was suddenly hefted into the air by a cloud of golden sparkles, very likely related to a similar-looking cloud surround Celestia’s horn. Celestia, who was presently moving down from her throne. “What are you doing?” he demanded. He had been demanding things with disturbing frequency.
“Oh, nothing much,” Celestia replied, trotting towards the the grand windows of the throne room and dragging Sombra with her. The closest of them, and the one she was on a course for, shined with golden light just as Sombra did, and happily swung opened to reveal the Canterlot skyline. “Just taking out the trash. Do tell me what the view on the way down is like, Sombra.” The two of the came to a halt and stood and/or hovered in front of the opened window, depending on their exact circumstances. “Or, if I’d prefer, don’t.”
“Oh, cram it, you literal starfu—“ Sombra was interrupted as he was suddenly defenestrated. He tried to finish his sentence, but all he managed was, “Aaaaaaaa!” in rapidly decreasing volume.
Closing the window after him, Celestia gave a very princess-y giggle. “Oh, I like doing that almost as much as I like bananas,” she said with a smile. A golden shimmer surrounded her horn again, and a bunch of bananas floated out from a convenient out-of-view location and lazily through the air to her, as if suspended in a soap bubble (but actually suspended in her aura).
A few scant hours before dawn, the residents of an unassuming, multi-family apartment building in Canterlot was jolted awake by a sudden burst of magic that swept through the structure, leaving all of their hooves tingling and their heads feeling a bit light, that was followed by the loudest and most horrible thud of an object against the building’s front door they had ever heard. The door held, but for how long was a different matter entirely; whole families, each one of them neighbors, raced into the halls and lobby outside their flats just in time to hear a second collision, the reinforcing enchantments on the door glowing a dangerous, angry red.
“Oh, for crying out loud!”
The neighbors looked down the hall as gasped: Stalking, or more likely stumbling towards them, was a changeling! And he looked very angry and at least a little bit nauseous.
A third collision sounded, and the door looked angrier than ever, itself.
“Yes, yes, good work, Royal Guard!” shouted the changeling as it (he?) trotted towards the door with an absolutely irritated if slightly off-kilter gait, “You found the big, bad changeling trying to get some shut eye. Now, beat it! Ponies are trying to sleep!”
The neighbors all shied away and pressed against the wall cowering when the changeling passed — even if it paid them no mind — and they all had the thought to look in the direction it came form to see the door at the end of the hall ajar, and one of their number missing; the fiend had replaced the kind-hearted if somewhat eccentric Kudzu! The earth pony deserved better than to be replaced by a giant bug!
But Kudzu had moved in only two weeks prior; hardly enough time to make a changeling want to replace him over someone that had lived there much longer. Then again, he’d always been very helpful; watching their apartments when they couldn’t, feeding their pets on a few occasions when they had to work late, even helping some of the foals with their homework once. Maybe he’d always been a changeling. Who would’ve guessed that changelings could be so neighborly, and also good at math?
Besides, with the tone and topic of his shouting, he seemed much, much more interested in getting back to bed than in draining them of their love.
“Your tricks won’t work, changeling!” hollered a pony from the other side of the door, likely the patrol commander. Thankfully, they had stopped trying to break down the door, and it was beginning to return to a more normal color. “Surrender peacefully, and you will not be harmed.”
“Sirs, I am very sorry to hear that you are on fire.”
That stretched out a long moment of silence from not just the neighbors, but from the ponies outside as well. “We’re not, we’re not on fire,” the patrol commander, “Why would you even think that?”
“Yes, you are,” the changeling — or Kudzu, really — replied, “When I open this door, all of you will be on fire. All of you are on fire, and the good folks in this building are the only ones in all of Equestria who can douse the flames and save you, because that is the only conceivable reason that you would be hammering on the front door, with a battering ram, AT THREE O’CLOCK IN THE MORNING!”
There was silence from the other side of the door, mimicked by silence inside the building. But unlike the ponies outside, who were somewhat perplexed and unsure of how to proceed, the neighbors inside began to huff and don expressions of irritation, annoyance, and anger. Kudzu was absolutely right, darnit. They were loyal, taxpaying, Equestrian citizens. They didn’t have to take this!
“Open the door, changeling. You have twenty seconds to comply.”
“Just find out what they want and send them away!” shouted one of the neighbors; it didn’t really matter who, “I’ve got work in three hours!”
“Don’t rush me! You’re always rushing me!” Kudzu shouted back before returning his attention to the door, “You hear that, you clods? Ponies got work in a few hours! Foals got school! I hope you’re proud of yourselves!” Horn shimmering with acid green magic, Kudzu disengaged the latch on the door. “Now, I’m going to open this door, and we’re going to put out the flames, and then you’re all going to apologize to the nice ponies in here for being such a nuisance at this sun- and moon-forsaken hour.”
The door opened, and on the other side stood not less than six ponies, although it was a bit difficult to tell since it seemed like there should have been more, adorned in golden armor. Four of them had, as Kudzu had predicted, a battering ram affixed to their backs. Two more stood to either side of the door, one of them wearing the stripes of a sergeant.
“I see you’ve decided to give up,” the patrol commander said with disdain.
“I notice that none of you are on fire,” Kudzu said with eerie calm.
“No more games, changeling. Step outside and come quietly.”
Kudzu, naturally, did not do that. Instead, he shut the door and reengaged the lock. “Back to bed, everypony,” he said as he turned towards his door, “I’ll file a harassment complaint in the morning.”
“And that, Your Majesty,” said a bandaged Kudzu, standing in the Royal Court with one leg in a cast and one eye nearly swelled shut, to a baffled Princess Luna, “Is when your brute squad broke down the door, socked me in the eye, fractured my leg, split the chitin on my head and scared the stuffing right out of the foals they rudely woke up for no good reason, before dragging me off and throwing me in a kennel. A kennel! So, in addition to that harassment complaint, you can expect to hear from my lawyer regarding my unlawful arrest, the excessive force used during my unlawful arrest, and the inhumane conditions of my unlawful imprisonment.” He regarded the sharply dressed stallion to his right — another of the neighbors — with a smile. That smile was happily returned, and since that stallion had tested negative for changeling influence, there was nothing anyone could do about it.
Luna sighed wearily. Once Celestia returned from wherever she’d absconded to with Applejack, the revenge pranking would begin in earnest.
Quietly and discreetly, the changeling poked his head just past the doors to the saloon, taking a quick look around at the collection of ponies and one griffon. All in all, it seemed safe enough to ask for directions.
“Big words from a filthy mud pony like yourself,” said the griffon, and just like that the illusion of safety vanished. He almost wondered why nonponies all have to be so rude and violent, before he thought of a particular prissy purple pony princess who actually got into a slugging match with the boss and even managed to get some good hits in. Maybe it was the ponies who were all rude and violent?
Not sparing time to ponder the issue, the changeling quietly and discreetly backed away from the entrance and then circled around to the back of the saloon to rejoin a group of twenty three other changelings — including one that towereed at least a full head above all the others — and one alicorn princess.
“Well?” asked Princess Twilight Sparkle.
“My father used to say there was always a right time and place to ask for help,” the changeling replied. He was answered with silence.
“And?” asked the enormous Commander Wrecker after a few moments.
“This is neither of them.”
A collection of groans and one complaint of, “Seriously?” rose from the crowd: More walking.
“I guess we’ll just go back to following the railroad,” Twilight said.
“Don’t be down, Purple Menace,” Wrecker said, earning a glare from Twilight. “We only need to get as far as Cowbuquerque. I have a good feeling about that town.”
Three days later, Princess Twilight Sparkle issued a royal decree forbidding Wrecker from ever navigating anywhere again, and event which quickly devolved into another slugging match. One thing led to another, and during an interview shortly after the birth of the world’s second pony-changeling hybrid, Twilight advised young fillies everywhere to “Lead with your left, and keep hammering him until he kisses you.”
She received thousands of complaints following the interview due to her apparent endorsement of violence.
She received thousands more “Thank you” cards because her advice actually worked, and worked so well that Princess Celestia took up boxing. Then, she began to tape photographs of the Griffon Emperor on all her heavy and speed bags. The Emperor responded by taking up boxing himself and tape contraband photographs of Celestia’s posterior on all of his heavy and speed bags.
Needless to say, things got weird.
Rarity's Number One Assistant: My Very Own Live-In Changeling
Rarity’s attention was pulled away from her project when she heard the bell above the front door chime, and left her workroom to see who had come to improve their image.
“Welcome to Carousel Boutique, where everything is chic, unique, and magnif-EEK!” Rarity said as she came to greet her customer and saw it.
“Hi!” said the happy changeling standing in the middle of the floor. “Are you Rareetee?”
What.
“I —” Rarity began, before very nervously clearing her throat — “I am Rarity, yes.”
“Awesome! I’m here to kidnap you,” the changeling said happily, raising up and holding opened a large, burlap sack. “Get in the bag.”
“Excuse me?” Rarity half-said, half-growled, suddenly less afraid and more irritated. “Do you really believe you can just waltz in here, take me hostage, and hold me for ransom without a fight?”
“I don’t know what kind of food that is,” the changeling said with a confused quirk of its brow that lasted for only a second before it changed to apparent excitement. “Is it tasty?”
“‘Ransom’ is not food, you — what do you intend to do with me?!” Rarity was losing her temper almost as fast as she was losing her patience.
“Well, duh!” said the changeling. “You’re gonna take me to the Helements of Armony.”
Rarity stared at the changeling. “I’m sorry, the what?” she asked.
“You know. The rainbow friendship cannon that you use to hug things into other things, or to death. The Helements of Armony,” the changeling explained.
“That is not what they’re called,” Rarity replied.
“A pony worth following, for sure, but still not what they’re called.” Rarity replied.
The changeling was quiet for a moment. “The Elephants of Armory,” it said.
“That’s still not —” Rarity paused a moment to compose herself. “I’m not taking you to the Elements of Harmony, even if you foalnap me.”
“Aww, come on!” pleaded the changeling, much less happily and without the smile it had earlier. “It would really help me out! If I can get the Filaments of Raunchery, the Queen’ll be so proud of me, and she might give me a piece of chocolate!”
Rarity stared at the changeling with a befuddled frown.
The changeling looked at Rarity with an expectant smile.
Rarity stared at the changeling with a befuddled frown.
The changeling looked at Rarity with an expectant smile.
“Get in the bag!”
“Let me see if I understand this,” Rarity said in response to the demand. “And I want to make absolutely certain that I understand the situation. You infiltrated hostile territory, presumably against the orders of your Queen, with the intention of stuffing me into a large sack in order to obtain the Elements of Harmony, which I won’t lead you to in any case, just because it would make the Queen proud of you?”
“And she might give me a piece of chocolate!” the changeling confirmed with a happy nod. “Get in the bag!”
Rarity was silent for a moment, and then a sly grin spread across her face. “I’ll tell you what, dear,” she said smugly, “If you promise to not foalnap me, and to not try to steal the Elements, I’ll give you two pieces of chocolate.”
The changeling stared at Rarity, shock written across its face even if it had featureless eyes. “For, realsies?” it asked trepidatiously.
“For… realsies. And if you promise to do what I tell you and not cause trouble,” she added with a smirk, “I’ll give you three pieces of chocolate.”
“All hail Queen Marshmallow!” the changeling exclaimed.
“Don’t call me that.”
“It shall be as Queen Marshmallow commands!”
Rarity stared at the changeling with a befuddled frown.
The changeling looked at Rarity with an expectant smile.
“Get in the bag —”
“Put that in the store room this instant!”
“Yes, Queen Marshmallow!”
The changeling trotted off happily, leaving Rarity to realize that she’d just acquired a boarder. And an assistant. An assistant boarder that would, as near as she could tell, do whatever she asked for nothing more than the promise that there might be a reward of chocolate.
“I-dea!”
Rarity's Number One Assistant: Know Your Assistant's Limitations
“I’m here, Queen Marshmallow!” said a changeling as he ambled through the door.
“Don’t call me that,” Rarity said admonishingly.
“Sorry, Queen Marshmallow. I forgot.”
Rarity huffed and rubbed a hoof against her head, an dull ache already starting. “Listen, I have a very, very important job for you, so pay very close attention to what I’m about to say. Do you understand?” she said.
“I am listening, Queen Marshmallow!” her assistant replied.
“Good!” Rarity said, just a tiny bit happier. “Blah blah blah blah important client, blah blah fabric blah blah blah, blah blah blah blah blah Prince of All Saiyans, blah blah blah blah. Do not screw this up. Now, did you get all that?”
“Yup!”
Rarity observed the changeling — who she really should have assigned a name to — closely for a moment. “Could you repeat back everything that I just said to you?”
“There’s a chance!”
“Of course there is.” Really, she only had herself to blame for getting her hopes up. “Go to the big castle made of crystal just up the street from here, and tell Spike the Dragon that Rarity needs his help.”
“At once, Queen Marshmallow!” said the changeling with a happy salute. An instant later, he turned and walked out the door, leaving a frustrated Rarity alone with her own disappointment.
Outside of the boutique, the changeling walked merrily up the street.
“Changeling!” shouted an excitable pony. An instant later, Rarity’s head popped out one of the front windows.
“Put a disguise on while you’re in public, you idiot!” she shouted.
“As you command, Queen Marshmallow!”
Rarity ground a hoof into her face, considering her life. “Maybe developing new fashion really isn’t for me,” she mused, ducking back inside and shutting her window. “I think I’ll try to develop a drinking problem, instead.”
The Grand Galloping Gala was in full swing when the guests were suddenly seized by fear and welling panic as the ground began to shake frightfully.
The doors leading to the Royal Gardens burst opened, and there stood something red, bipedal, and about the height of a pony, wearing sneakers, white gloves, and very, very agitated.
“I’m confused!” shouted Knuckles the Echidna before he punched the nearest stallion in the face.
It was only the first of several dozen assaults to take place in an orgy of nonlethal and largely inconvenient violence that Princess Celestia would later describe as being, “Like my birthday and Hearth’s Warming all rolled into one amazing gift.”
Princess Celestia is a bitch.
And also, a stone column fell over and almost turned Rainbow Dash into Rainbow Smashed because it apparently wasn’t actually anchored to anything and had no anti-sway mechanisms. Seriously, what’s up with that? It’s almost like the ponies that live in a city perched precariously on the side of a mountain have no concept of building codes or safety regulations.
Queen Chrysalis got no further than that in the song of her people before she was interrupted by the windows of the throne room in Canterlot suddenly exploding inward, allowing another twenty three changelings to come pouring in like locusts. But these weren’t her changelings. They were armed with spears and wearing armor that had all clearly seen better days; crutches that ponies used, but that her (obviously superior) changelings had no need for.
That was her thinking, at least, until one of those new changelings — the biggest and broadest-shouldered that Chrysalis had ever seen that wasn’t also a queen — cracked one of hers in the skull and swept them aside, with the rest rapidly following suit. In practically no time at all, they had beaten, clobbered and assaulted their way through every unarmored changeling that stood between them and the six prisoners who had tried to collect the Elements of Harmony with a furious efficiency that the Royal Guard could only dream of having a fraction of. Every other changeling that was in their way quickly got out of their way, and then gave them wide berth.
Although appearing outwardly calm — if irritated — Chrysalis was internally in a full panic, wondering exactly what she had done to draw the apparent ire of an opposing swarm that didn't have any warriors. Because these armored changelings weren’t warriors at all; they were very obviously COMMANDOS, with COMMANDO WEAPONRY, wearing COMMANDO ARMOR, and trained in COMMANDO TACTICS. And if there was one thing that Chrysalis and all of her changelings were completely, utterly, and unmistakably terrified of, it was COMMANDOS.
The twenty three changeling COMMANDOS rapidly formed a defensive perimeter around the Element Bearers, even if it was totally unnecessary because no pony or changeling in the room was lacking enough common sense to actually try to stop them, least of all the Bearers themselves, who only looked at them with varying degrees of fear, revulsion, confused gratitude, and — in the case of Twilight Sparkle and Rainbow Dash — very obvious arousal.
“Sorry we took so long,” said the big one as he turned to look at Twilight, He then looked at Twilight more closely, and turned to one of the COMMANDOS standing next to him before saying, in a manner that sounded quite nettled, “This isn’t her.”
“Well, yeah, obviously,” replied the smaller one. He pointed across the throne room with his spear. “She’s over there.”
Across the room, Twilight Sparkle and another COMMANDO entered. Except this Twilight Sparkle had wings, and was also a little bit pregnant. “Thanks for clearing a path to the bathroom, Hammerhead,” she said.
The COMMANDO offered a shrug in return. “When a mare’s gotta go, a mare’s gotta go,” she replied.
The big one, who was clearly in charge, was super nettled. “You said she was in the throne room!” he exclaimed.
“I said she was on the throne.”
“That’s the same —” The commander stopped himself and mashed his tarsus against his face, then let that tarsus fall back to the ground before he started for the doors. “Let’s just go.”
Seemingly perplexed by their commander’s sudden mood shift, the COMMANDOS shared a few looks, and then followed both him and the winged, pregnant Twilight out, shutting the door behind them. Silence, rather than Celestia, reigned over the room for several moments.
“Forget the Wonderbolts!” Rainbow Dash shouted suddenly. “I'm going to COMMANDO SCHOOL!”
In the blink of an eye, the changelings that had been in the room mysteriously vanished and the wedding continued as if nothing remotely silly had happened at all.
The Tale of Sir Leon, Griffon Guard of the Crystal Empire, Chapter 1: The Outset, Unabridged
Today, we shall recount the tale of Sir Leon, a griffon of exceedingly common birth that all of you know quite well already.
With the sudden, crackling pop! of a magical discharge, Sombra dropped to the ground in a heap. Leon the Griffon Guard calmly replaced his dazer in its holster and resumed standing guard. “Next in line!”
Yeah. That guy. But this is not the tale of how he prevented the former King Sombra from entering the Crystal Empire, for that came later. Rather, this is the tale of what drove Sir Leon to leave his native Griffonstone for the shimmering jewel that is the Crystal Empire. Bring drink and make yourselves comfortable, for this is a tale as long as the day itself.
In the crumbling town of Griffonstone, a griffon named Leon — who was unnoteworthy aside from having a name that did not start with ‘G’ — stood on the street examining the wall of a building. The wall, too, was unnoteworthy save for a colorful poster on it advertising the vacationing and sightseeing opportunities the Crystal Empire had to offer the world.
“Neat,” said Leon.
And… that’s it, apparently, so I suppose it’s not long so much as it’s just uninteresting.
Well! Looks like that’s all we have for right now, so until the next bit of Leon’s story starts, why not listen to some soothing music? You may even just want to check back tomorrow, or perhaps at an even later date. After Doomsday, perhaps.
Listen, you little snots, I don’t care what you do, but you can’t do it in Story Corner! Now scram, or I’ll tell your parents very unflattering things about you, do you hear me?
With a ‘plop,’ Applejack dropped her brush into the bucket of red paint she’d set aside for the occasion, and turned to look at her work. It was a bright, sunny, not at all windy but also not hot day out at Sweet Apple Acres. Yes indeed, it was the perfect sort of day for painting, and it showed, for standing right before her was a new barn, perfectly painted a perfect red. Unable to help herself, Applejack smiled happily at it.
Exactly three seconds later, without any fanfare, warning, or good or even sort of plausible reason, the entire thing collapsed into a pile of rubble and broken wood.
Applejack nodded to the rubble, giving it a pleased smile for a job well done. And then, she grimaced with rage and threw her hat onto the ground.
It was an absolutely perfect, sunny day in Ponyville. Perfect for selling apples, that is, and selling apples is exactly what Applejack aimed to do. With practiced precision, she finished making a neat stack of shiny, red delicious apples on the counter of her stand in the Ponyville market.
From above, a bird pooped on the topmost one.
With a huff of irritation, Applejack removed the sullied apple from the stack — she’d wash it later — and replaced it with a fresh one, and gave her stack of apples a happy nod.
From above, a bird pooped on the topmost one.
With an annoyed growl, Applejack removed the sullied apple from the stack — she checked above; no more birds — and replaced it — she checked above again; still no birds — replaced it with a fresh one, and gave — she checked above one more time; still no birds — and gave her stack of apples a happy nod.
From above, her sign fell and beaned her right on the head.
Spike glared at two slices of bread as they sat happily in the warm toaster on the kitchen counter.
The bread was, by this point, lightly toasted.
Spike glared at two slices of bread as they sat happily in the warm toaster on the kitchen counter.
The bread was, by this point, lightly toasted.
Spike glared at two slices of bread as they sat happily in the warm toaster on the kitchen counter.
The bread was, by this point, lightly toasted.
Spike turned his attention away for scarcely two seconds, grabbed the butter tray, and pulled it closer before glaring at two slices of bread as they sat happily in the warm toaster on the kitchen counter.
The bread was, by this point, reduced to charcoal.
“Oh, come on!” Spike screamed to the sky in rage. “Why do we even have this thing?!” Without another thought, he grabbed the still warm toaster from the counter and pitched it out the open window.
The resulting crash was considerably softer than it should have been.
Climbing up to peek over the window sill, Spike saw Applejack laid out on the ground, her hat smashed and herself very much concussed. The toaster, now dented and crushed beyond any use, lay next to her.
Wordlessly and wide-eyed, Spike calmly closed the window.
Groaning after a day of hard work, Applejack stretched out her legs and stepped into the bathroom where, just as she was expecting, was drawn a steaming hot bath, all for her. Hanging her hat from a peg on the wall, she tested the water’s temperature with her hoof. Finding it to be just shy of scalding — exactly the way she liked it — she climbed in and slipped down up to her shoulders, head resting on the edge of the tub and cares melting away.
Without announcement, the floor collapsed and the tub fell down, down, down into a cavern, smashing to pieces on the hard ground and leaving Applejack groaning with injury. All around her, several diamond dogs armed with pickaxes stared at her, and then looked to the tallest among them.
The tallest wordlessly looked at the map held in his paws, and then turned it over. He hit himself in the forehead with his palm, and then left down the tunnel they’d dug, taking the pack with him.
Near the Castle of the Two Sisters was a resplendent garden of carefully cut and maintained grasses, trimmed hedges and groomed trees, and a large fountain enchanted to babble like a brook. It was Princess Luna’s favorite place in the castle, and the one where she was found most often, lounging on the grass beneath the boughs of a great oak tree, shaded from the midday sun and reading a book. It was in this garden that her imagination had brought to life countless adventures recorded for her (and ostensibly for others, if they could ever figure out where she’d hidden all the texts).
It was in the midst of so grand an adventure when she could not help but wonder aloud, “Canst thou not take a hint?”
Of course, he was there when she glanced up from her book: King Sombra, smiling widely and wearing his shiniest armor and most luxuriant cape. “Luna, my sweetness, must you play these games?” he asked. “Admit to me truthfully that there is a stallion more suited to be your husband than I, and I swear that I shall never speak to you again! But only if you admit truthfully.”
Luna opened her mouth to answer, and then closed it and took a closer look at Sombra. She observed his immaculately brushed coat, perfectly styled mane that surely must have taken hours, and hooves polished so sharply they glittered in the midday sun like fire. “Mm, thou art certainly a specimen like no other,” she purred with a coy smile as she stood up from the grass. “Pucker thy lips and close thine eyes, and thou shalt receiveth a grand surprise.”
Face lighting up, Sombra did as he was told, puckering his lips and shutting his eyes and in mere moments, a hoof forcefully connected with his face. Knocked silly, he went flying across the gardens, splashing down in the fountain and bobbing to the surface like a misshapen apple.
Back under the boughs of the tree, Luna lowered her outstretched leg back to the ground. “Surprise,” she said.
Speculations that this incident is the true reason Sombra became the tyrant he is remembered for being, although unfounded in fact and unsupported by evidence, are not untrue in nature.
Once upon a time in the magical land of Equestria, two earth pony peasants were tending to their apple orchard when one of them accidentally knocked a jug of apple juice, some honey and yeast into a bucket. They watched in fascination as the mixture began to ferment, when two unicorn knights trotted up to them and magicked their heads away, as was the custom in those days.
“Forsooth,” said one unicorn to the other, “’Tis hot, hard work, this knighting. I find myself in need of a cool, crisp beverage.”
“Begorra,” said the other unicorn to the one, “Let us away to the charming, rustic village betwixt the Canterhorn and Everfree, where cider was recently invented.”
They then galloped off, leaving the headless earth pony peasants to finish tending to their apple orchard.
Patiently, Princess Celestia closed the book held in her magic and levitated it back to its place on the shelf. “My apologies Twilight,” she said to the filly standing next to her, not for a moment taking her attention away from the book she had just read. “As it turns out, your citation was correct after all.
“Unfortunately, I now have several new questions.”
Discord was in a bind, and he couldn’t make up his mind.
He looked left. He looked right.
He looked left.
He looked right.
Left.
Right.
Left.
Right.
At the end of the aisle of shelves, where there was a gap in between the groceries, Rainbow Dash pushed a cart past. A moment later, she backed up and looked down the aisle at Discord, who was still looking left, and then right.
Left.
Right.
With a quirked brow, Dash pushed her cart down the aisle and stopped alongside Discord. “What’re you doing?” she asked.
Discord looked at her sharply. “Quiet!” he hissed. “Can’t you see that I am wracked with indecision?”
“What’s there to decide?” Dash fires back. “Just choose —“
She looked left. She looked right.
She looked left.
She looked right.
Left.
Right.
“You see my dilemma?” Discord asked.
Dash looked at him sharply. “Shhh!” she hissed. “I have to concentrate.”
Discord was is a bind, and now Rainbow Dash was too.
It was a beautiful day at Sweet Apple Acres when, to the shock of absolutely no one, things had gone horrifically wrong in a way that, while not entirely unexpected, was still kind of outlandish. The fact that it happened right next to Ponyville, and yet could still be considered ‘outlandish,’ should provide all the context that is needed.
Hundreds of apples sat on the ground, locked in place with handcuffs. Hoofcuffs? Applecuffs? Shoot, um… applecuffs. Locked in place with applecuffs. Hundreds more were packed in the back of a caged wagon clearly marked as belonging to the local Sheriff, who would be both upset and confused when she realized that it was missing. Still hundreds more were on the ground and in the trees, just waiting to be cuffed while Applejack — who by that point in the day felt more than a few apples short of a bushel — tried to have a discussion with Pinkie Pie — who at that point was busy trying to cuff another apple.
“Bucking, Pinkie Pie,” Applejack said very carefully. “Applebucking!”
“Yup!” With nary a care, Pinkie arrested the apple. “That’s what you said, but this is way more fun!”
Applejack clenched her teeth, and then took off galloping over a nearby hill and disappeared from sight.
It wasn’t clear exactly what she was yelling, but it probably wasn’t anything she wanted Apple Bloom to hear.