Bollocks of Steal

Deadward woke up to his Winter Rap-up alarm clock early in the morning, shitting himself with excitement for his soon to be amazing day. Grabbing a new diaper on the way out, he grabbed the supplies he had prepared yesterday and headed out. He raced down stairs and went out the door, and began his journey. He loaded his supplies onto his Segway and started down the sidewalk, dragging friction sparks behind him. The Segway was clearly straining from the combined weight of Deadward and his 200 pounds of MLP merchandise, and spare diapers. After merely 5 minutes of operation, the Segway broke down, sending Deadward and his merch and diapers sprawling.

“Gee Willikers! My diapers!” shouted Deadward.

Deadward Shuffled to the floor and quickly grabbed what he could to save it from the dirty ground. He reached for his most prized possession, his limited edition blindbag Twilight Sparkle figurine, but a sandal covered sock had stomped the toy to pieces before he could get ahold of it.

“TWILY!” Cried Deadward as tears fell down his pimply face, running down his neckbeard and onto his jiggling man boobs. Johnny Cash started to sing “hurt” in his head.

“Look what we’ve got here, boys” chuckled the notorious leader of the Trixie Lulamoon posse, Ernest Bollox, a.k.a Shadow Bolt. “A Twifag!” The other gangsters chortled along with him, but the fattest one broke down into a coughing fit.

Deadward arose from the ground with a big fat frown on his big fat ugly red face.

“Listen here Ernest-” he said before being interrupted.

“It’s Shadow Bolt you stupid foal!” He sneered.

“Just because you and your little friends here are blind and do not know the true power of Twilight Sparkle, doesn’t mean you have to give me trouble. Whatever happened to love and tolerance?” Deadward snorted.

“Love and tolerance is for the dumb and foalish” he laughed as his buttbuddies joined in simultanously.

“I certainly hope you are not thinking about going to BronyCon Deadward, Or else we are going to have even more problems.” He farted. “Come on ponypals,” He ordered as he lead the group away.

Deadward looked at the remains of his favorite figurine that sat in his chubby hands. He cried and remembered all the times he came on it. Tears flooded his eyes and face as anger, sadness and indigestion filled his broken cholesterol clogged heart. He gathered what he could and trotted on towards the convention hall, not even stopping to change his soiled diaper.