> Late Night Luna
>  by MadMaxtheBlack
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

> Anything for the Ratings
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

	The stage was set, the packed audience was anxiously awaiting, nothing would stop Late Night Luna’s premiere from becoming nothing short of a rollicking success, as per Luna’s prediction, of course. Why wouldn’t it, though—it was her show, after all. Her subjects deserved to see more of their nightly princess, and that’s exactly what Luna was going to give them. Celestia might have her informative daily news show—which admittedly was a bit preachy at times—but Luna had two things that her sister lacked a thousand years ago spanning all the way to the present. Two things that would ensure her new show to beat Celestia’s in terms of ratings: a charming personality and a sense of humor. 

And to Luna, those were all the advantages she needed. 

Moments later, the already darkened room shut off its dim lights. There was a brief pause before multiple spotlights sprang to life, their beams of light sprawling across the stage’s closed curtains. As the lights danced to and fro, a very loud, orotund, modulated male voice could be heard over the sound system. 

“Mares and gentlecolts! Coming to you live from Canterlot, it’s the premiere for Equestria’s newest, first, and only late night talk show! Iiit’s Late Night Luna! Featuring your favorite host and altogether pony… Prrrincess Luuuna!” A spunky jazz solo began to play as the crowd cheered (though the noise felt slightly off).

Just then, all the beams from the spotlights converged on a single spot on the curtain, then moved off the stage and down the audience aisle. Soon, the light pillar rested on a stage door, where Princess Luna herself immediately burst forth from. 

“Greetings, my lovely ponies!” she cheered joyously, the audience cheering along with her in raucous whistling and applause. The alicorn was wearing a pair of glasses, as well as a dark suit with matching red tie. Her astral mane was tied back and styled into that of a ponytail.

With the song still playing, Luna ran down the aisle, heading towards the stage as the cone of light tracked her. As she did so, several of the audience hooves reached for her, the princess hoofpatting them as she ran past. Once she neared the stage, the curtained pulled back for her, revealing an elaborate set with city backdrop, a desk of fine oak wood, and two comfy looking chairs situated next to it. 

After passing the camera manned by some of her batpony staff members, Luna, with a light beat of her wings, hopped up onto the stage. She took a moment to wave to her still-cheering audience, before turning and walking to her desk, her hips swaying slightly. Pulling back the chair with her magic, Luna plopped onto it, then scooted forward. A moment of silence followed as she raised a waiting cup of coffee to her lips, took a sip from it, then smiled and took a breath. 

“Ah, welcome mares and gentle stallions,” she said happily, glancing around at the audience. “As my lovely announcer so needlessly put it, I’m your host: your princess of the night, Luna. But, you already knew that, of course.”

There was an awkward silence as the princess paused for a spell, before the audience began to laugh. 

“Oh heavens, you spoil me so,” she jeered with a dismissive wave of her hoof as the audience fell silent. She folded her front hooves atop the desk, before smiling and staring into the camera. “My, when my sister scoffed at the idea of a talk show run by yours truly, she failed to take into account that the best things always happen at night, especially on…” Luna rolled her hooves, then placed one behind her ear, gesturing for the audience to finish with:

“Late Night Luna!” came the scattered reply. 

“Yes, exactly, my ponies!” she exclaimed, pointing towards the audience. “We have a lovely evening prepared for you. We’ve got guests, acts, and news galore that’s sure to entertain you night owls.” She then reclined in her seat, kicking her rear hooves atop her desk.

“We’ll start the night off with a story that is sure to shock and amaze you all,” she said, smirking  towards the ceiling while lightly clopping her front hooves together. 

“Earlier this evening, while I was out getting doughn—I mean, patrolling the streets, I found, to my horror, that it appears that my old nemesis, Nightmare Moon, has returned!” A startled gasp echoed throughout the crowd. Bolting forward, Luna slammed her forehooves on top of the desk. “I don’t know how this… this… creature managed to escape my purification, or how it found a body of its own, but I spied it walking down the back alleyways near one of those, er… what are they called again?” Biting her bottom lip, she glanced off to the side at one of her batpony staff members, who quickly mouthed the words. 

“Ah, yes!” Luna said, perking up. “We spied it in the back alleyways near a local Night Club. Night club; you know, we didn’t have those a thousand years ago, that’s for sure. Nice to see that the night is finally getting a little well-deserved recognition these days. Tried to start one a few years before my banishment, seeing as my dear sister had a ‘day’ club and all. She kept insisting that it was a daycare, though—but I knew better! You didn’t fool me, Sister! I could hoofpaint just as well as any of those loathsome toddlers!” She paused, staring off into the distance for a moment before shaking her head.

“Anyways,” she continued, “upon spying the vile creature, I immediately swooped down to apprehend her. Oddly enough, she didn’t put up much of a fight, and I was able to capture her without any collateral damage.” 

As she spoke, the camera panned to the side slight and a picture suddenly popped up in the upper right hand corner of the screen. It showed a scared mare, her mouth, wings and limbs bound by duct tape. It was easy to tell that her normally pink coat was dyed black, as patches of the original color were peeking through. A fake horn, now broken, poked through the bangs of her mane. Below her red, teary eyes, the area around her cheeks were stained with ruined mascara. One of her eyes was blackened, the teal, slit-iris contact lense missing.

“We attempt to extract from it the knowledge of how it managed to escape, but it would not reveal its tricks,” Luna said, sneering. “Its cunning though, even taking on a fake alias… although Nightmare Poon was too much of a dead giveaway. Although, I have no idea what a stripper is, which it claims to be,” she muttered under her breath. 

“Anyways,” she said, returning to normal volume. “Since the Nightmare refused to cooperate, I brought it back here. It now waits in the dungeons for my sister to interrogate it in the morning. Fear not, good citizens—” Luna flashed the camera a winning smile “—for once again, the night is safe, thanks to your favorite Princess, me!”

Luna sat proudly, her chest puffed up as she waited for her praise. It came alright, although a few seconds later than she anticipated. She was sure that they must have been momentarily stunned by the magnitude of the good deed she did for them. 

“Thank you, thank you. Again, you are all much too kind.” As the cheering began to die down, she raised her mug to her lips and took another quick sip. Setting the mug back down, she sat up straight and refolded her fore legs atop the desk before facing her audience. “Well, it’s that time, my ponies; time for Late Night Luna’s first guest appearance. Quite a conundrum, is it not?” she asked, her brow furrowing. “After all, who out there is deserving of such honor and privilege? To be the first to grace this stage alongside myself?”

“Well, after much debating and some difficulty, I found the perfect candidate. Let me give you a few hints. He’s accomplished many grand feats, practically wrote the Book of Magic, was known to be quite the bachelor in his day, and has grandiose facial hair.” 

“Know who it is yet?” Luna then asked, raising a playful, knowing brow as she leaned over her desk. As if unable to contain her excitement any longer, she then suddenly gestured for the guest seat, blurting out: “It’s the Starswirl the Bearded, everypony! Give him a round of applause!” 

As the crowd cheered, a spotlight, following Luna’s visual queue, turned on and its beam illuminated the guest seat. There, seated in the chair, rested a centuries-old, decayed, archaic wizard’s hat, a pile of dust, and what appeared to be an impressive length of beard. 

“Huh,” Luna said, giving the pile of dust and bones a bemused look. Regardless of how surprised she was, she knew that the show must go on. She opened her mouth, then went with the first thing that came to mind. “I... heard you were retired, but I thought for sure you’d dust up your appearance a bit before coming on the show.”
What followed was silence so awkward that even a cricket would abstain from chirping. Thankfully, though, right before Luna began to panic, a comedic rimshot rang out, causing the audience to laugh. 

Producing a sigh of relief under her breath, she then continued with: “Don’t worry, citizens. He might be a little under the weather, but I’m sure he’ll dust himself off just fine!”

In response, the crowd laughed even harder. 

“Heh...yes, I’m funny,” she said with a smirk. “Well, I guess if Star Swirl is going to be a stiff, we might as well move on to the next portion of our show! Fictitious, if you would?” She motioned to a batpony standing just off stage, who perked up. He held a phone in his mouth, the cord dangling about his hooves. At Luna’s nod, he walked out on stage and placed the phone upon the desk. However, just as he turned to leave, one of his hooves got caught in the phone’s cord. With a startled yelp, he toppled head first into the guest chair, kicking up the dusty remains of Star Swirl.

The batpony staggered to his hooves, now covered head-to-hoof in dust. He glanced down at himself in mild-confusion before he froze, his muzzle scrunching up. A look of horror flitted across his face and he raced from the stage, his hoof covering his nostrils the entire time. A few seconds later, a sneeze came from backstage, followed by two quick bursts of green light.

“Allergies acting up, eh, Fictitious?” called Luna. “Such a nice, attentive stallion... Now,” she faced the audience. “We’re going to be trying something that’s never been done before on television—prank calls! However, this is no ordinary phone, my ponies.” Using her magic, she picked the phone off the receiver, then suspended it in the air. “I’ve had my tech crew modify this contraption. It’s set to call a random number with the single push of any of these buttons. Observe.”

Placing the speaker against her ear, Luna mashed her hoof onto the numberpad. As she did so, the sounds from the phone line were patched though the studio’s sound system. Short ringing could be heard before the sound of somepony picking up came. 

“Hello?” answered what sounded to be an elderly mare. 

In an attempt to disguise her voice, Luna placed her hoof against her nose and pinched her muzzle.

“Yes, is your unit of refrigeration currently on the run?” 

“Uh...hold on, dearly, let me check. Oh these tired old bones of mine creak something fierce when going down the stairs... “ The mare must have placed the phone down, as the sound of slow, distancing hoofsteps could be heard. A minute later, time Luna spent stifling her laughter, the mare picked up the phone and relied with, “Eh, yes. It’s running. Why do you ask?”

“Pfft—then perhaps you should consider capturing it then!” And like that, Luna, cackling, slammed the phone onto its receiver.

“Another!” she cried happily once her laughing fit was over. Lifting the receiver again, she hit another button and again, the phone began to ring. After the third ring, somepony on the other end picked up.

“H-hello?” came a tired voice.

“Yes, hello,” Luna said, deepening her voice slightly. “Is Mr. Wall there?” There was a brief pause, as if the pony on the other end was trying to process the question.

“No…”

“Well, is Mrs. Wall there instead?”

“Um, no,” came the confused reply. “I… I think you have the wrong number.”

“So,” Luna said, trying desperately to hold back her giggles. “Y-you’re say that there are not Walls there at the moment?”

“Look, lady. There are no Walls here.”

"THEN HOW DOES YOUR ROOF STAY UP?!” Luna boomed out in the Canterlot Voice before slamming the receiver down, ending the call.

“One more, one more!” she laughed, picking the phone up once more. “ Oh this is much too fun!” 

She pushed the button, then waited through the ringing. With a click, a gruff voice answered. “Lowest circle of Tartarus, Tirek speaking. Who is this?” 

Instantly, Luna slammed the phone back down, her eyes widened in a panic as she stared forward. 

“We…. I think that’s enough pranking for tonight,” she said nervously. “Now, let’s move on to—” Just then the phone started to ring. Luna stared at it in bewilderment before cautiously picking up the receiver in her magic. “H-hello?”

“Did you just call me?” the gruff voice on the other end asked.

“Eep!” Luna quickly slammed the receiver down, three times for good measure. After a few seconds of silence, the phone began to ring again.

With her hooves over her mouth, she eyed the camera, the ringing phone, then back again before speaking. “I-I think this would be a good time for a commercial break!” Lighting up her horn, she tossed the still-ringing phone across the stage. A cry of pain came a few seconds later.

As the camera began to pan back, the jazz music from earlier played, and the screen faded to black.


~ ~ ~ ~ > > < < ~ ~ ~ ~


A unicorn mare stood before her bathroom mirror, her magic struggling to run a brush through her tangled mess of a mane.

“Tired of having such an unkempt and messy mane?” the disembodied voice of a stallion suddenly asked. “Do you find it a chore to spend countless hours teasing out all those pesky knots and getting your mane into place?”

Pulling the brush free from her mane with a wince, the mare tossed it into the sink, then gave herself a longing look in the mirror before sighing out, “Yeah…”

“Jealous of all the mares who get all the attention?” the bodiless stallion asked.

Giving her reflection a half smile, the mare shrugged. “I guess.” 

“Want a mane that’s easier to maintain and helps you stand out in a crowd? A mane that gives you the majestic aura and beauty of say… Princess Celestia herself?”

The mare’s eyes widened. “Would I ever!”

“Well worry no more! Introducing new Borealis!” 

With one twinkle screen-wipe, the mare’s mane went from disheveled and disorderly to long, colorful, and flowing in a non-existent wind. 

“Wow! It’s just like the Princess’s!” the mare exclaimed excitedly at the sight of her reflection, running her hooves through the wafting strands. 

“That’s right,” chirped the stallion. “With a low, low payment of just sixty bits, you too can have a mane just as vibrant as our rulers’!” 

“Wow,” the mare gasped, her eyes lighting up. “Only sixty bits? That’s practically a steal!” 

“Uh huh, and if you order two now within the next five minutes, you’ll get a third one for the price of one!” 

“Now the stallions are sure to call!” the mare proclaimed as she turned and smiled for the camera. Seconds later, her eye twitched. “Uh… is this supposed to burn a bit?”

As the camera panned back, text began to roll upwards on the screen as the stallion read from it speedily and in a loud whisper. 

“Warning, consult your doctor before trying Borealis. If you are pregnant or wish to become pregnant, then Borealis is not for you. Do not use if you are allergic to shellfish, any kind of nuts, or dairy products. Prolonged exposure to Borealis may cause hives, indigestion, blindness, insanity, or loss of mane and or fur. Before you use Borealis, tell your healthcare provider if you: have or have had heart problems such as a heart attack, irregular heartbeat, angina, heartbreak, chest pains, narrowing of the aortic, the feeling as if your heart is in your throat, butterflies in your chest, or heart failure, or if you’ve had any problems with your magic, such as rustmana, uncontrollable arcane movements, premature castings, or the inability to cast spells. Borealis consists of ammonium chloride, ammonium lauryl sulfate, glycol, sodium laureth sulfate, sodium lauryl sulfate, polysorbate 20, polysorbate 80, red food coloring 24, quaternium-15, plutonium, methylisothiazolinone, water, cooking oil, foal oil, filtered sewer water, dragon semen, minotaur snot, changeling venom, and the tears of small orphans. When applied, make sure your mane isn’t exposed to sunlight, as it may ignite. Lastly, do not ingest Borealis, because reasons. The creators of Borealis are not responsible for any injuries or adverse side effects you may experience. Warning, may cause mange and will NOT make your hair like Celestia’s.”

Slowly, the camera began to fade, but not before catching a quick glimpse of the mare, with patches of her fur beginning to fall out.


~ ~ ~ ~ > > < < ~ ~ ~ ~


With the jazz intro playing once again, the camera within the studio panned sideways, down the stage of Late Night Luna, soon coming to a rest on Luna herself sitting behind her desk. Her suit was slightly disheveled, but her smile was genuine once more.

“And welcome back, my ponies. We’ve solved the issue with our last segment.” She leaned to the side, showing to the audience the other end of a disconnected phone cord resting atop her hoof. 

“Anyway, I believe it’s high time for our next guest. Ahem.” Standing a bit straighter, she coughed into her hoof and cleared her throat. “The next stallion comes highly recommended by the Element of Laughter herself. Please give a warm welcome to the party pony extraordinaire, Cheese Sandwich! Round of hooves, everypony!” With that, she motioned off to the side of the stage with a hoof.

The crowd began to cheer as a gamboge, lanky earth pony with a short curly mane walked out onto the stage. He was wearing a yellow shirt, and had several band instruments strapped to his person (all of which he was somehow playing to produce a polka tune) as he approached a stand mic at the front of the stage. Once he reached the microphone, he shed the instruments from himself with a shake of his body, the mess clattering noisily to the floor.

The crowd slowly stopped cheering. 

“Well hi, everypony!” he said into the mic, his energetic voice reverberating throughout the studio. “Who’s ready to laugh?” He was met with silence. “Hah, I knew you were!”

“So,” he cleared his throat, “did ya hear about this great new restaurant on the moon?” Pursing his lips to contain a chortle, he paused for a second before finishing with, “The food’s excellent, but there’s no atmosphere!”

A rimshot rang out, but no one laughed. Not even a snicker or a cough.

Unfazed, Cheese continued. “Yeah, I was gonna tell you another joke about the moon, but then I realized that it was a little too cheesy for me.” 

Again, a rimshot with no reaction from the audience.

“Huh...tough crowd. Oh, I’ve got one that’s sure to get a giggle from you! What do you call it when your sister refuses to lower the moon?”

This garnered a response from Luna, who had been sitting idly by the entire time, playing with a loose thread on her sleeve. She stiffened, and her mane stopped wafting in its non-existent wind. Her eyes narrowed dangerously.

“Lunacy,” Cheese Sandwich said with a chortle. 

Offended, Luna pulled her head back. She looked across the stage to where some of her staff were stationed, signalling to them with a few neck-slitting gestures with her hoof. Moments later, a comically long cane extended from offstage, reaching towards the oblivious earth pony. 

“That didn’t tickle your funny bone, either, huh? Alright,” determined to get a laugh, he rolled up his imaginary sleeves, “what do you call Princess Luna during a changeling invasion? Aslee—ack!” Suddenly, the handle caught his neck and yanked him offstage. “G-geez, fellas, easy there, I—a-are those cuffs? What do you need those for? H-hey!”

As Cheese, kicking and struggling with the cane the entire time, finally disappeared behind the curtain, the camera then turned and focused on Luna. Her eyes were narrowed indignantly in the direction of the opposite stage. Seconds later, they eased up before looking directly into the camera. 

“Yes, well...that was Cheese Sandwich, everypony,” she said before tsking softly and shaking her head. “Such a shame he had to leave prematurely, though. Fortunately, we happen to have another guest lined up. In fact, this guest could happen to be any of you, loyal viewers. We’ll now take you outside to the streets of Canterlot where one of our camera crew will ask a random citizen our question of the night. Tonight’s question is: Who is best princess?” 

“We’ll now take you live to where our crew has already found a citizen to question. Fictitious?”

Right as the feed on Luna cut out, an outside feed took it’s place. On screen, Fictitious, the staff pony from earlier, stood outside with a microphone in his hoof. Standing next to him was a unicorn stallion, who looked the worse for wear. His shaggy dark green coat was matted with dirt in various places, his short orange beard was caked in some kind of unknown crust, and, most strange of all, he had a rubber boot atop his head and a spoon stuck in one of his ears. His eyes seemed to point in different directions, and one of them was milky. Fictitious looked uncomfortable just standing next to the stallion, and it was clear he was trying to hold his breath.

“Uh,” Fictitious started. “So… who do you think is best princess, s-sir? Princess Luna, of course...right?” He hesitantly neared the mic to the gruff-looking stallion’s muzzle, then waited for his reply.

The camera zoomed in on the stallion, and as he leaned forward, licked his lips—which was audibly picked up by the microphone—and then opened his mouth to answer with, “Eh...that depends. Do I still get mah free sammich if I say no?”

“Most certainly not!” whispered Fictitious, though the camera still picked it up.

“Mmm...then yes,” the stallion nodded. “Luna is best princess.”

“Well there you have it,” Fictitious said as he pulled the mic back towards himself, a large, uncomfortable grin on his face. ”Luna is best princess, so says the citizenry.” The old bum started to inch into the camera again, and Fictitious moved to try and block him. The stallion leaned forward and whispered loudly in the batpony’s ear. “Where’s mah sammich?”

“Let’s go back to the studio, everypony!” Fictitious said shrilly before the camera’s feed was suddenly cut.

The feed returned to that of the studio’s. There, Luna sat, her chair reclined, her rear legs kicked atop her desk, and a smile on her face as she slowly clopped her front hooves. 

“Marvelous, simply marvelous! I always knew I was best princess. Anywho,” she sat upright, “it’s time for the last segment of Late Night Luna, the Late Night Skit!” With a flourish of her hoof, she then gestured towards center stage.

There, a backdrop depicting the image a snow-topped mountain range was set up. Several snowdrifts had been formed out of piles of pillows with white blankets tossed over them. Standing in front of said backdrop were two batpony stallions. One was wearing a gray hooded robe and had what looked like Starswirl’s beard glued to his chin, and the other was garbed in fur and armor crafted from cardboard, as well as a helmet with fake ram horns protruding from both sides. Off camera, a batpony mare had set up a large fan, and was tossing clumps of fake snow into it, causing a blizzard-like effect to wash across the set.

The warrior was Fictitious, who was very out of breath after having had quickly ran back to the studio from his original position out on the town. Taking in great lungfuls of air through his nose, he tried to not make too much noise. Luckily, the fan muffled most of his gasps. The bearded stallion eyed him worriedly, but said nothing.

With the scene now set, a subtle drumbeat began to play, queuing the hooded figure to speak.

“Dragonsworn,” the bearded stallion cried out in a deep voice (yet was unable to hid the small squeak that all batponies have), “at long last, the time has come for you to fulfil the prophecy! You must defeat Celestier, the Cake-eater before all hope is lost!”

Fictitious the Dragonsworn nodded. He took in one last breath, then held his head up high, ready to deliver his line. Right as he opened his mouth, however, his nose twitched. A small bit of the powder had flown straight into his nostril, irritating his sinuses. Unbeknownst to him, the fan mare had dropped the snow on the stage earlier when they were setting up… right where Starswirl’s ashes had yet to have been swept from the floor. Instead of clean, white powder, she had been throwing ash-mixed powder into the fan for the past few gusts.

And he had just gotten a snootful.

Fictitious’s face contorted, his nostrils flaring wide as an unpleasant tickling sensation began in the back of his nose. 

Troubled by the delay, the other stallion raised a brow. 

“Eh...Dragonsworn. You’re going to defeat her, right? You’ll agree by shouting your dragoncall, correct?”

Fictitious nodded unsteadily, then opened his mouth once more.

“F-FOS-RO-DAAAAAA—CHOOO!”

Suddenly, his entire body went up in a green flame, a black carapace made briefly visible. However, just as quickly as it came, the flame disappeared, leaving Fictitious to stand there, a hoof on his muzzle as he sniffled. He blinked dazedly for a few seconds before smiling. “Boy, I really needed that. Hey, uh...is it feeling kind of warm?”

“Uhhh,” uttered the robed stallion dumbfoundedly. His eyes wide, he raised a hoof, then patted his own shoulder, signalling to Fictitious. Fictitious looked at him in confusion before glancing at his shoulder. Green fire licked at the cardboard armor, the flames slowly spreading to the rest of his outfit as well. Eyes widening in alarm, he quickly began to bat at the fire with a hoof, trying to extinguish them.

The action only fanned the flames. Soon his entire outfit was alit, and with a shrill scream, he began to run frantically around the set. He ran past the curtains, the wooden props, the spare costume, all catching ablaze in the process. Nopony tried to put out the newly sprouting fires, as they were either too busy trying to help Fictitious or running in terror of him.

One of the fleeing batponies dropped a soundboard onto the floor in his haste to escape the growing fire. Moments later, the flames began to eat away at the plastic, activating the soundboard in the process. Over the loudspeakers, the sound of an audience cheering could be heard, though now with stops and stutters. The cheering soon gave way to the sound of laughter, and then clapping, and then demonic sounding ‘daaw’s could be heard over the loudspeaker as the sound system began to malfunction.

The curtains were fully engulfed, then part of the burning set gave off a loud groan before toppling over into the audience. None of the silhouettes tried to move or flee though, as the illumination from the fire revealed them all to be just cardboard cut outs placed in the seats to simulate a live audience. The drawn-on smiling faces warped and darkened as the green flames greedily consumed the cardboard.

Above the sounds of crackling flames, malfunctioning sound systems, and screaming batponies, a loud thumping noise started echoing in from the ceiling. With it came the muffled—yet clearly irritated—shoutings of one Solar Princess. “Luna! What have I told you about making so much noise in the middle of the night?! Ponies are trying to sleep! Keep! It! Down!”

As the fire continued to spread around her, Luna remained seated behind her desk, a look of complete serenity on her face. She lifted her coffee mug via her magic, then brought it to her lips for a sip. After setting the mug back down, she closed her eyes and took a deep breath of the smog-filled air.

“Mmm, it’s fine. Everything’s fine.”

“Luna!” the muffled voice suddenly shouted once more. “Luna, keep it down! If I have to go down there, so help me you’re getting another thousand years without parole! I swear on Mother’s name!”

With the jazzy outro now playing, albeit a bit warped, Luna smiled and looked to the camera. 

“Well, that’s about it for us, folks. This has been Late Night Luna, and I was your host: Princess Luna. Goodmorning everypony!”

Luna then waved as the camera panned back before, in a burst of static, fading to black.