Don't Eat The Parasprites!

by Theobservantpilgrim

Rating: teen
Tags: Other, Tragedy, Gore, Original Character, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Dark
Length: 3673

During the events of Swarm Of The Century, one foolish pony happens upon a single parasprite and eats it! What entails is a story of terror and life.

The parasprites, a heinous pest and terror to many small towns in Equestria, however many of the ponies have been smart enough to not eat any of them. But what happens when a hermit happens upon one and devours it like Pinkie Pie obliterates pastries? A tale of the essence of life, death, and parasprites.

Published 2013-07-01 20:00:02 UTC
Last updated 2013-07-01 20:00:02 UTC

Chapter 1: Life, the Beginning

As I was spewed forth from the great maw of my parent, my amorphous and rugged form began to take shape, my consciousness formed quickly as I grew wings and four legs. I opened my eyes and beheld the glorious light, and I quickly embraced the vision of this new world around me. I am born. My sibling came forth moments later, blue in color while I was a pronounced orange.

It was an immediate understanding that we must continue on from here. My dear sibling would approach the outskirts of town from a distance, and view the denizens to approach them more tactfully, so a peaceful cooperation may be reached. I will venture into the town itself, and establish myself as a benefactor to the residents of this community before us, in the hopes that our species may not be treated with the contempt we currently are regarded with. And so I venture forth, riding the gentle breeze into town.

Love guides me, my travel unencumbered as I came closer to viewing the architecture that appears quite fragile, though clearly inedible. Of course, even should it have been edible I would not wish to intrude, and I am certain my sibling would equally not wish to cause damage to the dwellings of these creatures either. These are not of the group minded species we are, they are instead individuals and yet they all are engaging in their activities, determined for some reason or another. It was as though they anticipated the arrival of some higher being. This is good; these people surely deserve a visit from what I understand.

My parent was greatly kind, to bestow upon me and my sibling the knowledge of our past generations, and I believe my first act in this town would be to aid these ponies. But I must not make my presence aware, although my sibling would think otherwise. I see a patch of long stems, ground disturbed that seemed suitable for the growth of these. Onions I believe they are called, a delectable food that shouldn’t be eaten raw if only for the sake of the odor that displeases the ponies. These are clearly attended to, though their caretaker is not in sight and a shame for they are under attack by some pests. The ponies call them aphids, a common pest who consumes without permission, and is righteously struck down by the mighty quadrupeds. I shall make myself useful and rid the garden of this infestation. They are edible, although the ponies do not apparently consume them for a number of reasons, and as my size is not conducive to pulverizing these insects I shall make a meal of them, and then allow my spawn to grow and aid the other residents unseen.

One after one, I snipped them up and quickly reduced them to matter which I may more effectively process. They are not filling, miniscule in size but I am sure after ridding the garden of these I shall be able to at the very least spawn once. I may not see the coexistence of my species and the species I am helping in my generation, however my children shall and in that time they shall understand that we must remain unseen observers and an aid to the ponies.
Hopefully they will understand how to allow us to feed without allowing us to overpopulate. I foresee they may simply crush us like they mash these aphids into the dust, but it saddens me that they shall be disappointed as to the effectiveness of this for we shall simply reform. I hope they may understand that our breeding methods must be controlled, for sometimes our ravenous hunger is beyond our intentions and we may simply consume without asking like the primitive species that I am ridding. We only wish for peace, and company, and to allow us to overpopulate would only harm these people. These creatures eat more than once every few rises of the light, and yet they do not breed as quickly as we do, so I do not expect them to immediately empathize with our concerns. This lack of knowledge may cause them harm, however I will emphasize to my children restraint so that this will be of less danger. I only hope that my sibling is coming to a similar conclusion at this moment.

These aphids are now almost reduced to none, at least in the immediate vicinity. I shall let the rest flee, for their generations must know that we shall not allow them to harm the great quadrupeds any longer. I shall rest among the stems, observing their flight ensuring that they make it out correctly. I hope the caretaker will observe this phenomena and be thankful of whatever decreased the number of aphids, however I shall understand if it is not, as it is evidentially difficult to thank the invisible.

The caretaker approaches, I shall close my eyes, allow myself to be seen as a mere fruit, he may step on me or toss me away but I must not be discovered and I shall endure. I can feel his presence now, his breath looming over me, he is clearly observing the plants in detail. He speaks words, those of which I do not understand but the tone is obviously quizzical in nature. His tone changes, more audible and ecstatic, he is pleased with something, hopefully my work. His breath is greater, I feel warm, he is breathing on me. I feel pressure on me, I open my eyes a mite and all I see is darkness. My eyes are adapting to this feeling that was familiar only a short time ago, however then I feel mashed. My sight is gone, my wings are broken and my legs twisted and separated from my body. At the very least, I have accomplished my goal. May my sibling do more than I.

Author's Note

Life is glorious, however we are often subject to our own folly.

Chapter 2: Life, in the Moment

Chewy, crunchy, ain’t got no clue just what this could be. Might be an orange that just isn’t ready yet, though hopefully this’ll teach the fool who thought to throw his produce into my garden. I work hard to keep these here fresh white onions as good as I can, and some blasted youngster or inconsiderate jerk tosses a perfectly good fruit into my garden, especially on the day before the princess arrives. What in the hay is wrong with some ponies when they think that just because I have onions they’ll taste all the same? I can imagine it now. “Oh, it’ll just compost and be good for the soil.” Fools! It takes a precise study to measure the proper levels of looseness, composition, and decomposed materials to effectively grow onions, or else they simply won’t develop as effectively or taste as well. You can’t just plant a few seeds or sprouts in the ground and expect them to grow all willy nilly, and who knows what the juices from the orange would’ve done to the onion!

Great, now I’m getting all worked up again. I suppose I aughta figure on the best of the situation, might help. I don’t see any more aphids, that’s something to be glad about. Those little critters been raising all sorts of havoc on the onions, and I’d be a whole lot less miffed if they’d at least pay for the ones they bite into. But, them little critters just be too dang dumb to figure it out, and I’d sure be impressed to see one carry around even one bit on themselves. Them little bugs ain’t nothing but grief in disguise, and I’ve already lost enough of my plants on them. Might’ve been the orange that scared them away, aint’ ever heard of that before though. Suppose the garden’s looking presentable enough for the princess’ arrival though, so I guess my work is done, no thanks to that litterbug.

Welp, I suppose it wouldn’t do me any good to go shopping today, on account of everybody getting all bothered with the princess’s arrival, folks will be too busy to serve the common pony. My garden may not be as all dollied up or pretty as everyone else’s, but it ain’t got no need for that fancy paper and paint, it’s beautiful as it is. It ain’t just a bunch of veggies, it’s an entire statement that represents that goodness that life has to offer despite those disrespectful jerks and selfish punks who’d just trot through it to save a few seconds while walking or toss their garbage with not a concern about disrupting the ground or bruising the vegetables under the soil, not a care at all.

The hay am I doing? Getting all worked up just because some miserable dirt bag tosses his junk in my garden? Better snap out of it. Suppose if I got done with my work, I may as well find something or other to do. Welp, off I go, into town. May as well get a good look at everything, not much use to it though since I ain’t got no appreciation for all the banners and paint and the like.

Though it’d be just my luck that the moment I go into town, not much reason but to get an eyeful of the decorations, my stomach starts acting up. Guess I got myself some butterflies in my stomach; don’t know why quite frankly since all I had today was an onion and cucumber sandwich today, which never upset me before. Must be that orange from earlier. I guess I may as well head back home and sleep it off.

I’m in my house, or rather my tiny one bedroom shack with most of the property space dedicated to my most spectacular garden. Ain’t much but it’s enough for me. In the bed I go, ugh, this dang indigestion is only getting worse by the moment. Suppose it’ll have to get worse before it gets better though, so after this bout of whatever the hay this is I’ll feel just dandy.

Chapter 3: Living, the Latter End

I can’t move, the pain is greater than I can bear, and worst of all is I feel bloated beyond anything I knew before. The indigestion must be from flu, and luck have it strike me on the same day the princess is due to visit. Suppose this serves me right, I should’ve just thrown that orange out, especially since it was on the ground and all. The fluttering in my gullet is only getting worse, and I’m trying to cough it up but there isn’t any point, nothing’s coming out. Besides, I’m getting more tired; I can hardly make a noise now.

It’s only getting worse, and I can’t even complain any more. I figure that my stomach should’ve melted whatever the hay was in it, but that just doesn’t seem to be the case. I could’ve sworn I wasn’t this rotund earlier either, so I suppose the bloated feeling is more real than I’d like to think. I can just feel my stomach expanding, stretching, slowly but surely. It’s like a stabbing pain, like a stomach cramp you’d get if you ate too much and then did too much work. I can feel my stomach pushing against my skin, like it’s bursting to get out, and I can’t say I’d blame it on account of me treating it so poor. And I’d maybe walk around to help myself settle but it seems my body would rather have me lay prone on this bed of mine.

Normally I could do everything without a problem, whether in the worst heat wave, the wettest and most powerful storm, or even in the winter time when all the ground is covered in snow, even if I were all sore and tired I could still get myself out of bed and tend to the onion crop outside my home. And yet all my strength is gone, I can’t even step out of bed, pull my covers back over me, or even holler for help. It seems like all my body’s focused on is keeping me awake, a sorry effort on account of this horrible pain that is only growing worse as time goes on. I wish I could just go to sleep, not have to put up with this awful soreness but I suppose I ain’t going to get that comfort any time soon.

My hoof, I can move it, hardly though. I feel my side, and I don’t know whether it’s the pain, my own bloated state, or something from this terrible flu, but something’s gotta be a matter when my stomach when I can feel something wriggling, pushing against it. Well to be honest “something” seems to be a rather bad description of this, since it seems there’s more than one “thing” in my belly. I can feel it, them, pushing against my stomach practically bursting to get out. Oh please don’t burst, please! I swear, I’m trying to get whatever you are out, but please don’t burst, or else I’m sure to die!

Now I can hear it, the buzzing, the horrible buzzing. My whole body is shaking, they, whatever the hay they are, they have the power to force me to move against my will in this very small way. And it’s always accompanied by the stretching, the pulling, the bloated feeling, the pain that would cause me to convulse if I could move a hair on my own body. I could fix this, or at least make it not as big a problem if I could just cough up these things, if I could just force myself to get them out of me then I might be safe, no more pain, no more stretching, no more quivering, but I can’t and my own body refuses to do what I tell it to.

I never hurt a soul, I never harmed anyone. Sure I wasn’t as enthusiastic as everyone else, but I was at the very least a good pony. And I wasn’t particularly dim either, I made sure to clean my foods often enough, I never did anything that seemed dangerous, sure I ate that orange on the ground but do I deserve this sort of punishment for all that? It’s not fair, and I know this world is often unfair but I don’t deserve to die, especially in such a horrible way as this. I wouldn’t wish this on anypony. This might not be so bad, maybe this’ll be just like that time when that one farmer helped out the baker when they made treats for most the town. Those others survived, so maybe I will too. At least I hope so; the buzzing is growing louder, and getting worse.

Worse, so much worse, I think my stomach is full and they’re all stretching it worse. Please, whatever sort of creature you are, please stop. I don’t want to suffer, I don’t want to die. You’re actions; can’t you see that I am suffering because of them? You have the power, please stop!

And the constant stabbing grew sharply worse, precise though, in the side of my stomach before it began to gradually settle down. Then there was an itchy feeling, then stinging, and then burning. I can’t continue like this! But the swelling seems to go down; however the buzzing seems only more aggravated. I can feel myself being poisoned, dying.

It’s only a matter of time; I suppose I best spend what few moments remaining remembering better times of the past and trying to get used to the pain. Would be a lot easier, but it seems that the whole land of Equestria is trying it’s hardest to keep me from peace. Screaming, broken property, and all around chaos seems to be going on outside. I can’t even open my eyes to peer outside the window to get a look at what is making everybody so panicky. But considering all the events lately, I suppose I wouldn’t be surprised if it was another bunch of rabbits eating up all the plants in sight again, and this time I won’t be able shoo them away from my garden.

Here I am, prone and poisoned, with all of Ponyville hollerin’ and wrecking everything up. I suppose at least I’m able to drift away finally, and accept what’s going to happen. Sure, it ain’t even close to peaceful, but at least I can finally just lay down, and find myself in my final moments. An end that although I would have much rather avoided, it seems I would not be allowed the kindness of this because of what manner of creature continues my suffering.

The mayhem ensued, the parasprites consumed, and one pony lay in his bed on the brink of a terrific death. However, a wave of magic spread forth from near the center of Ponyville, and the mayhem stopped abruptly but briefly. The insectoid creatures were befuddled momentarily unsure of their abilities, dumbstruck by the spell. It seemed that peace had finally been reached and now the rebuilding may commence. But alas, this short period of momentary comfort was shattered as the insects went on to consume, disregarding the common food of the ponies and instead focusing on what was normally inedible. Metal, glass, wood, nothing appeared to be distasteful to the maw of these insects; all was eaten, except for the very flesh of these ponies. For those outside of the onion shack were the spawn of one parasprite who had lacked the knowledge of hardship that its sibling learned.

The onion shack dweller was not so lucky. The parasprites chewed their way to freedom, aided by the corrosive acids of his gut which both damaged them and their surroundings, making it suitable for them to burrow their way out. A number of them chewed straight threw his gut and found their way into the area inside the shack, while a few continued to feast upon the corpse, bone, blood, marrow, and meat all giving them more and more sustenance. The buffet before them was yet to be discovered.

Chapter 4: A Reciprocation of Life

We have finally escaped from what should have been our tomb, our home of peril to which our ancestors have not been accustomed to. We shall consume this world, for nothing is inedible. Finally, we may eat so much more than the usual tastes which have already been had by those before us, finally we may savor the taste of wood and iron, of bone and meat. Our restricted diet is unchained; we may embrace the world and revel in the act of consumption. Glory be to our race, for we have extended beyond our primitive need to serve and cooperate, we may feed ourselves and those who we have attempted peace with will now be forced to be subservient.

Our elder, though he had succumbed to the acids of the belly of the beast, we must cherish his gift of life to us and that we are born in the providence of cramped and hazardous space, forced to feed upon the scraps of food still rotting and dissolving in his belly. We have certainly earned our feast, and we shall ensure that no more of our species shall be made to suffer under the trotter of these quadrupeds. We must also pay tribute to whatever sorcery or science had permitted our new ability, and our now unlimited capacity to eat. This world is ours.

The body is finished, not a spot left to be found except for the stains left on the sleeping arrangements, this we shall leave for later. For now, we shall consume this building. The glass, so crunchy, it cuts us and hurts us but the pain is so worth the minerals that composes the glass. The wood of the building is particularly delectable, especially the insects that reside in it already feasting before us, they are quite impeccable. We can now hear the many more of our species outside, already getting a start on the rest of this community. We must share with them the knowledge that the very flesh of the creatures of this community is particularly delicious, with its fluids, gooey organs, stringy noodles, tough bones, tangy marrow, and the tough meat for an organic creature.

Yes, this would be quite appealing. As we fly out into the basking glow of the sun we shall let the others know their capabilities. And what other subject would be better than this purple unicorn shouting in the road, clearly crazed and hectic. She shall be our first meal, and she shall be an example to our fellows.

But as we approached, there came the glorious music. Our ancestors had knowledge of such beautiful sounds, and now so do us. Not only shall we cease our assault, but also every one of our species who may hear such follow suit. We follow the sound in an organized line, dancing as we do by bounding along the road in order. Our hunger is subsided, for now we are overwhelmed by the joyous melodies provided by one of the ponies.

This place, this familiar place. It goes by a number of names, the Everfree Forest being the most common. We proceed deeper into this forest, where the sky is turned black by the tops of the trees, where all manner of flora and fauna roam uncontrolled. After quite some travel, it seems that the music has immediately and abruptly ceased. Now, we are left to float aimlessly, observing our surroundings. Hungry, we attempt to eat one of the trees but to no avail, we are returned to the state we once were, our weak forms. The leader of our dance is nowhere in sight. We are alone, in this unfamiliar land.