A ripoff of the "Gashlycrumb Tinies" by Edmund Gorey and some other poems and a song
I didn't make up any names in Ghastlycrunch Ponies, but reeeeally I had to reach on a few of the letters. I hope people get a ghoulish chuckle out of all this. I took a rather long break but it seems my muse has returned, for better or worse, and I want to get back to writing, so I'm going to try to finish several unfinished works. This one was sitting unpublished because it wasn't long enough, so I threw together a couple of more items I hope you all find enjoyable!
A is for Angel, turned into a stew B is for Braeburn, with skewers run through C is for Cheerilee, killed by her class D is for Derpy, who ate some ground glass E's for Electric Sky, hung by a rope F is for Fluttershy, OD'd on dope G is for Gilda, thrown into a chasm H is for Hoity, who died of a spasm I's Island Rainbow, who's death was obscure J is for Junebug, for whom 'twas no cure K's is for Kiwi Tart, eaten by cats L's Lemon Heart, who the mob thought a rat M's Mayor Mare, who while speaking was shot N is Nurse Redheart, contracted hoof rot O is Octavia, fell to her doom P's Pinkie Pie, left alone in her room Q is for Discord, who randomly died R is for Rarity, choked on her pride S is for Sunset, who died who knows where T is for Twist, who was killed for her hair U is Up Up and Away who caught fire V's Valenshy, of frustrated desire W's Waterfire, beat with a lash X was a mystery pone, found in the trash Y for young Scootaloo, killed for upvotes Z's for Zecora who was turned into coats
When contemplating eldritch things, my thoughts to ponies run, Where confluence unholy bids me write of gothic fun, How Twilight Sparkle, Great C'thulhu's loyal priestess is, And Pinkie Pie does Hastur serve, and also Byatis. Sweet Fluttershy brings Tsathoggua a pony she seduced, On seeing Yig was Rainbow Dash to gibbering reduced. Now Rarity with fabulous Nyarlathotep dines, And Applejack fights Serpent Folk while slaving in the mines.
I sit at computer, attempting to bard typed paeans to suffering, but its so hard, to put photons to flatscreen; when plainly I see that all that I'm writing's too grimdark for me!
Writing first of love starcrossed, a honey haired mare, and her stallion, for romance great challenges dare, but by this story's end, they're both slain as they flee. Good heavens, this story's too grimdark for me!
I'll try a spy novel next; that won't be bad, for the main part I'll cast a slick unicorn cad, but the mare he seduced winds up dead by his foes! My heart sinks as he fuels my grimdarkish woes.
I'll start a new story, plain slice of life fare, about fillies in daycare, no grimdark to scare, but when mad Pinkamena comes into the tale, she opens a butchershop; coltcuts for sale!
Maybe Sci Fi will save me, I desperately hope, but by chapter three I do not think I can cope because half the crew's dead or bear alien eggs. Oh please, no more grimdark, my sanity begs.
I will fool my grim impulse with eldritchy gore, and then turn it to grimbright around chapter four, but it's too late; Equestria's certainly doomed, by the foals who have open Sc'thutaloo's tomb.
I'll just write a Mane Six story, that will be nice, about Twilight's new teleportation device. "What could possibly go wrong?" my mind asks of me, while my grimdark subconscious just chuckles with glee.
Maybe clop will be safe from my deviant mind, surely grimdark porn’s something uncommon to find, but when hookers post-lovemaking beds they do strip, they find zombie pones leave a significant tip!
So I sit at the con, and I stare at a wall, then I shamble and stumble 'round the dealer's hall, buying plushies to mutilate, up in my room, Blood and Souls for Lord Arioch, and Apple Bloom!
So they took me away to a nice padded dorm. I've this white buckled jacket that keeps me so warm, Just stay outta my shed as I gladly decree that nothing, no nothing's too grimdark for me!
You ever have an OC that you just can't write anything decent about? We've all had that problem. Pinkamena has the solution.
To the tune of "Fifty Ways to Leave Your Lover" by Paul Simon
"The problem's in your head" Pinkamena said to me "The answer is easy if you Think maniacally I'd like to help you in your struggle To be free There must be fifty ways To kill your OC"
She said, "It's really not my habit to connive Furthermore, you'll entertain me if you're planning to survive But you'll listen if you want to make it through this song alive There must be fifty ways To kill your OC Fifty ways to kill your OC"
Just stab him in the back, Jack Hit him with a pan, Stan You don't need to be coy, Roy Just get yourself free Throw him under the bus, Gus You won't have to clean up much An arrow to the knee, Lee And write about me.
Just leave him in a ditch, Rich Burn him with some flames, James Spit him on a pike, Mike Just listen to me Hole him with a drill, Bill If you like a slow kill Sell him as a slave, Dave And write about me.
She said, "Although it thrills me so To see you in such pain I wish there was something I could do To make you write again" I said, "I appreciate that And would you please explain About the fifty ways?"
She said, "Why don't we both Just sleep on it tonight And if you live until the morning You'll begin to see the light" And then she kissed me And I realized she probably was right There must be fifty ways To kill your OC Fifty ways to kill your OC
Just haul him on the keel, Neil Slice him with a blade, Slade Throw him in the gorge, George Just get yourself free Make him take a pill Phil, Or if you like a clean kill, Snipe him in the head, Jed And write about me.
Kill him with a bomb, Tom Turn him into glue, Stu Make him suicide, Clyde Just listen to me Shoot him with a Sten, Ken Or if you have a cruel pen, Tie him to the bed, Ted And leave him to me.
