Death and Taxes

by Samey90

Rating: teen
Tags: Twilight Sparkle, Trixie, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Dark, Comedy, Starlight Glimmer, Sex
Length: 1632

Starlight and Trixie come up with a new way of avoiding paying taxes.

Starlight and Trixie come up with a new way of avoiding paying taxes.

Prereading by SockPuppet
Cover by Horses are Fuckin Weird
Reading by Skijarama

Published 2023-11-02 21:30:00 UTC
Last updated 2023-11-02 21:30:00 UTC

Get in the Forever Box

Ever since Trixie officially moved into her castle, Twilight learned to ignore her noisy presence. Most of the time, ignoring the magician’s antics was the only way to maintain sanity. This time, however, Twilight couldn’t keep pretending that everything was fine.

As she passed a half-closed door, she saw Starlight and Trixie carrying some rather large object. She stopped, turned back, and took another look, which only confirmed her worst fears.

"What in Tartarus are you two doing this time?" Twilight asked, bursting into the room.

"Trixie did nothing wrong," Trixie replied, trying in vain to hide behind a purple coffin adorned with Twilight's cutie mark. "Trixie is legally unable to do anything, right or wrong."

Twilight furrowed her eyebrows and turned to Starlight. "What's going on? Did you dig this coffin up or are you going to dispose of a mistake?"

"Twilight, calm down. Why would we dig up a coffin?" Starlight asked.

"I'd be calmer if just last month you two hadn't tried to buy a vial of a hanged pony's, uhh… genetic material on the black market just to see if Cnezt'xuxz the Incubus was really as handsome as old grimoires said," Twilight replied.

"It was for science," Trixie said. "You like science, don't you, Twilight?"

"Yes, but I still don't know what part of 'while Cnezt'xuxz the Incubus usually bears appearance of a handsome stallion, his true form exists in eleven dimensions and any attempt at comprehending it ends in a spontaneous cranial conflagration' needed clarification." Twilight rolled her eyes. "This seems like a brand new coffin, so at least you didn't desecrate a grave. This time. Did you kill somepony?"

Trixie shook her head. "Nah, then we wouldn't bother with a coffin."

“Trixie, you’re not helping,” Starlight muttered.

“Okay,” Twilight said. “Is this some new fetish thing? Because if you’re gonna have sex in it, I’m leaving. But Sunburst would probably be into it…” Twilight tapped her chin, frowning in thought.

Starlight and Trixie looked at each other and chuckled. “It’s a legitimate business,” Starlight said. “We have about a hundred coffins stacked in the palace right now.”

Twilight frowned. “I appreciate that you decided to do something useful for once, but can you not do it in my palace? Also, why does this Celestia-damn coffin have my cutie mark on it?”

“It’s official merchandise,” Trixie replied. “Trixie can’t be your fan now?”

“I have merchandise?” Twilight rolled her eyes. “I’ll need to talk to my lawyer.”

“Speaking of lawyers,” Trixie said. “Do you remember Count Vinde Gogoși?”

“You mean that Roamanian lawyer who proved that since he’s a vampony, he’s technically dead and doesn’t have to pay taxes?” Twilight asked.

“Exactly.” Trixie patted the lid of the coffin. “So now The Great and Formerly Biological Trixie is officially dead and so she doesn’t have to pay taxes anymore.”

Twilight’s jaw dropped. “The what now? Did you turn yourself into a vampony just to avoid paying taxes?”

“Nah, The Great and Alternatively Living Trixie is smarter than that. She identifies as an alternatively alive being.” Trixie smirked.

“More specifically, a strzyga,” Starlight said.

Trixie smiled sheepishly. “Yeah, Trixie can never pronounce that right.”

Twilight hit her forehead with her hoof. “The tax office left you alone because you told them you’re an undead demon whose name you can’t even pronounce right?”

Trixie clicked her tongue. “We don’t say the u-word. It was coined by our biological oppressors. Trixie prefers the term ‘formerly biological’. Also, Trixie may actually be a stsheega.”

“Strzyga,” Starlight muttered.

“That’s what Trixie said.” Trixie lifted her hoof. “See? Trixie has no armpit hair.”

“Yes, but they also have two hearts, two souls, and two sets of teeth,” Twilight said.

“You can’t prove Trixie doesn’t have them.” Trixie smiled. “The second set of teeth is barely visible.”

“Any semi-competent dentist can,” Twilight replied.

“It doesn’t matter, Trixie already feels dead inside,” Trixie said. “Why are you so mean to Trixie? Are you necrophobic?”

Twilight groaned. “Starlight, tell me that at least you didn’t start to say that you’re a werepony or something just to avoid paying taxes.”

“Oh, of course not,” Starlight replied. “I registered my old cult and it turns out that as a religious leader I’m exempt from taxes, even if the current number of my followers is zero.”

Twilight blinked. “But you don’t believe in it anymore, right?”

Starlight shrugged. “Which religious leader does?”

“Right…” Twilight sighed. “I just remembered, I have to write a letter to Princess Celestia. A very long letter.” She turned back and left the room quickly.

Starlight looked at Trixie and smiled. “Wanna do it in a coffin?”

Trixie stretched her hooves in a hot tub and levitated a martini. It was an early morning, but she decided she’d deserved it; sleeping in the coffin was more uncomfortable than she previously thought and she needed a hot tub and a massage to get into shape for the morning.

Suddenly, she heard the sound of breaking glass. She turned towards the source of the sound just in time to almost get knocked out with a mailpony’s bag which bounced off of her head and landed right next to her coffin.

The mailpony in question was either less or more lucky, depending on perspective. She landed right in Trixie’s hot tub, splashing water around.

“What in Tartarus?” Trixie muttered.

“I’d like to ask the same question,” the mailpony said, emerging from the water. “When will you all learn to leave the windows open?”

“Sorry, Derpy,” Trixie muttered. “Any new coffin orders?”

“Only three,” Derpy replied, shaking the water off of her coat and grabbing her bag. “I have the newspapers, though. The Voice of Ponyville, Canterlot Times, Magician’s Own, Playclown, and Al Hayzira.”

“Good,” Trixie said. “The Great and Powerful Trixie needs her Saddle Arabia stock exchange updates.”

“I earned a lot of money on frozen concentrated orange juice,” Derpy said, squeezing the water out of her mane. “Don’t tell Applejack.”

“Trixie heard tulip bulbs are all the rage,” Trixie said.

“Roseluck says it’s gonna crash.”

"Really? Why?" Trixie asked.

"Tulips are tasty, but toxic." Derpy picked up her bag and took off. “Gotta go.”

Trixie watched Derpy fly through the smashed window and picked up The Voice of Ponyville. Suddenly, she frowned and levitated the newspaper closer, reading the article.

The door opened and Starlight walked in. “Good news, Trix,” she said. “Applejack bought a coffin for Granny Smith.”

“Oh, she finally died?” Trixie asked absent-mindedly, still focused on the newspaper.

“Nah, she started to identify as a zombie,” Starlight replied. “She claims Sweet Apple Acres were always buggered by the tax office, so now it’s her time to do the buggering. Not to mention that she needs cash because someone screwed her over on frozen–”

“She may want to reconsider.” Trixie levitated the newspaper to Starlight.

Starlight looked at the article. “So, according to this new bill, since the undead ponies technically died, they can’t own anything?”

“Yup,” Trixie replied. “I sense Twilight’s hoof in this.”

Starlight smirked. “So technically, I now inherited your wagon and a box of explosives.”

Trixie frowned. “You’ll have to pry Trixie’s wagon out of her cold, dead hooves.”

“I mean, according to the law, you’re a wannabe vampire with two hearts, two souls, two sets of teeth, no armpit hair, and no vowels in the name,” Starlight said. “You’re legally dead. Also, I think Luster Dawn inherited your tulip bulbs.”

Trixie raised her eyebrows. “Who the hell is Luster Dawn?”

“I mean, just because the lawyer said that if we admit who her parents are, we’ll all be sent to Tartarus with no parole doesn’t mean you have to pretend you don’t know her,” Starlight said. “She screams when she’s hungry and she smells funny. Sounds familiar.”

“Shut up!” Trixie exclaimed. “Trixie now has to come back to life.”

“And admit fraud?” Starlight asked. “To think about it, you could be reborn as a demigod, but I think they pay extra taxes. On the other hoof, getting citizenship of the Hayman Islands would require being alive.”

Before Trixie could reply, Twilight galloped into the room.

“You!” Trixie exclaimed, grabbing her. “You got Trixie in this clusterfuck!”

“I know!” Twilight exclaimed. “But I’ll help you out, just stop trying to strangle me!”

“What?” Trxie asked.

“Turns out, the reform of the inheritance law has its opponents,” Twilight said. “Very powerful opponents.”

“The actual undead?” Starlight asked.

Trixie shuddered. “Lawyers?”

“Both.” Twilight pointed at the vapour of smoke rising in front of them, which slowy solidified into a pale vampony wearing a black robe with holes for his bat wings. He pulled a cart with a black, silver-adorned coffin. When he finished materialising, the coffin opened, revealing some horrible, pony-like creature with grey, bare skin, ruffled red mane, and rather large teeth. When the creature saw Starlight, Twilight, and Trixie, it roared, revealing a second, much smaller set of teeth behind its enormous fangs.

“Velcome, Princess. My name is Count Vinde Gogoși,” the vampony said, bowing. “Lavyer, aristocrat, and the activist campaigning for the rights of the alternatively alive creatures.” He pointed at the unholy being in the coffin. “This is my client, Horpyna. She’s a strzyga. Ve believe you’re responsible for this vhole balagan.”

“Hey, it’s your compatriot,” Twilight whispered to Trixie. “Maybe you can tell her not to eat us?”

“It wouldn’t come to this if you didn’t try to make Trixie pay taxes,” Trixie muttered. “Deal with it.”

“Again vith the stereotypes.” Vinde Gogoși rolled his eyes. “My client hasn't eaten anypony in centuries. She’s a vealthy landovner vho vill nov be forced to give her ancient castle to her heirs.” He opened a file. “Some particularly vile mortal called… Spoiled Rich.”