At first, I think they're Earth ponies. Pretty quickly, though, I realise that that's just what they've become. What I'm really looking at is a pile of Pegasi with their fucking wings cut off.
The pile's massive, and so is the amount of puke that comes out of my mouth. As I cough, some gets on me, but I don't fully notice - that's how much more disgusted I am with the thing that made me throw up in the first place. This is horrible. This is fucking awful, and I don't know how much more awful it could get. It doesn't help that as I smell all that blood, I imagine that it's turned into air, and that bloody air is going into my nose and down my throat and...
Shut up. Fucking shut up, you cunt. You disgusting filth-cunt. Shut up, shut up, shut up, you should never think or talk ever again. Don't touch me. Don't fucking touch me with those thoughts. The feelings are even less clean. You cunt. You cunt. Shut up, you cunt. Oh, it's unbearable. I can't, I can't, I can't, I can't, I can't. Leave me the fuck alone. What is this? What am I looking at? It's a pile of Pegasi that aren't even Pegasi anymore. Oh, please, please... Never again, I can't. Oh...
They're not all the same either. They're young and old, and lots of them are girls. I need to stop trying to get a full picture, but that's just not how my mind works. I need it all. All, all, all, all, all. Oh, Celestia, I'm getting closer. The smell, the smell... I reach out with my shaking hoof and put it right where one of the wings used to be. I'm killing myself. Why am I killing myself? Stop...
I've had this dream before, so it didn't take long for me to figure out that I'm dreaming. Nightmare, it's a nightmare. Why can't I wake up? I do it all the time, when it's any other dream - I realise that I'm dreaming, and then I force myself to wake the fuck up. Why do I never try to escape from this one nightmare? Why do I do this to myself? Why am I putting my hoof in my mouth? The blood's in the cunt in my face now, and I have nothing left to vomit. All I can do is gag as I slowly crawl to the top of the deathpile, making sure that I'm making as much contact as possible with the wingless Pegasi - the blood gets into my mane and onto my chest and everywhere else. I don't want to lie at the top, but that's exactly where I'm heading and what I'll be doing as soon as I get there. I'm not looking forward to it, and I'm not looking forward to waking up either - I'll scream and cry, and after that, there won't even be anything better than what I'm dreaming right now.
Rarity had no patience, none whatsoever, for such things. While, yes, It Is All Hell often found himself on the receiving end of affection from her, this... she... could... not... tolerant! But what was this crime that Hell committed against Rarity? Well, he had decided to write fan fiction about her - but refused to include dialogue.
Rarity, who was trained in the art of overreacting to things that would not even be remembered in however many hours, saw the couch and knew what was required of her. Purposefully advancing toward the piece of furniture, she violently thrust it aside, then violently kicked the pile of pillows behind the couch aside, then violently flipped the table behind the pillows, then collapsed onto the bed that was now accessible. Having done all this, Rarity initiated the next phase of her meltdown, which was to use sigh language to convey the level of her disappointment to It Is All Hell.
Truly a Master of sigh language, Rarity informed Hell that he was garbage for being an Australian, that she was going to confiscate his eyeliner, and that ROBCakeran53 wrote My Little Dashie. Hell, however, was unmoved - he was sitting at his dusty desk, and once Rarity realised that she should probably breathe, the author of this very story seized the opportunity to respond. Also skilled in sigh language, Hell expressed to Rarity that she expected too much of him. After all, he had no interest in participating in Fimfiction contests, let alone ones restricted to dialogue - and besides, Hell was too busy with trying to figure out whether he was now bisexual, having heard PaulAsaran's adorable voice on the Barcast.
As her answer to this, Rarity motioned for her stunt double, the underground music legend that was Jonathan Canady, to destroy It Is All Hell's laptop. Instead, he used the laptop to announce that his music hiatus was over, gave Hell a look that was clearly supposed to communicate that he considered the word "brony" to be disgusting, then teleported himself into a superior fan fiction. This was quite upsetting to It Is All Hell - not the "superior fan fiction" part, but that there had not been time to agree that he had always wished the word "brony" would be replaced with something less grimy-sounding.
Rarity, at this point, understood that her back was up against a Walmart, so she reluctantly took matters into her own hooves. Leaving the bed (which merely exacerbated its preexisting abandonment issues), the pony shrieked in a defiant and I-drink-tea-for-a-living manner, then charged at It Is All Hell. Hell, however, was unmoved - he was still sitting at his dusty desk, so Rarity missed him by rather a large margin and wound up falling off the cliff behind the desk. This was quite upsetting to It Is All Hell - not the part where Rarity died, but that her failure had reminded him of one of his own. Hell once had a verbal exchange related to sex and geometry, but it was long after it was over that he came up with "erectangle dysfunction." God, I'm so not over that...
