Alcohol's Effect On Friendship

Chapters

Dearest Rarity
Dearest Applejack
Dearest Pink Menace
Dearest Flutter...Dash
Dearest Rainbow 'Let's Get Smashed Every Tuesday' Dash
Dear Princess Celestia
Dearest Sister-In-Law
Dearest Spoiled Nuck Fugget
Dearest Sweetie Bot
Dearest Great And Powerful Trixie
Dearest Sombrero
Not A Chapter

Dearest Rarity

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Rarity unrolled the letter with a bit of surprise, rubbing the sleep from her eyes. It wasn't often that she received letters from Twilight, and if it was important enough for her to convince Spike to send it in the middle of the night, it must have been important.

Clambering with a yawn out of bed, Rarity shook her bedhead mane from her eyes as she picked up the hastily rolled scroll. Twilight must have had a good reason for waking her up in the middle of the night.
At least, she first thought so. However, as Rarity read the letter that had been magically carried by a whisk of green flame through her bedroom window, her mouth slowly drooped open wider and wider.

For almost an entire minute, Rarity simply stared at the letter in shock and horror, her heartbeat pounding in her throat. A final thorough read of the letter revealed that, unfortunately, she had not misread it.

Dearest Rarity,
Go fuck yourself.

Seriously, you stupid bitch. I, along with everypony else in this plot-backwards hick town, are all sick of your shit.
I cannot stand being around you. You are always just SO fucking prissy, and quite frankly, it’s just a little pathetic. We are all sick of listening to you whine and moan about how you’re always victimized, and that is some straight up minotaur shit. You get cheap, oftentimes FREE labor; hell, sometimes from my own fucking assistant.

Just so you know, it’s not that Spike helps you because you’re smart enough to be successfully manipulative, even though you’re manipulative enough as it is. He just has this raging dragon boner for your flank. We (as in Spike and I, not you, you lazy fucking bitch) can both agree that you are an enormous cock tease.

I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I don’t mean that. Don’t… don’t write that, Spike.
Start with… dearest Rarity. You try to be a really good friend, even though you are absolutely shit at it.

Goddammit, don’t write that either, Spike.
Dearest Rarity,
I’m getting wet just thinking about you. You make my horn hard.
Seriously, I cannot stand to be around you for longer than five minutes, but oh my Celestia do I want to fuck you.

Every time I think about you, I just want to tackle you to the floor make you squeal while I spank your pearly white flank. You would moan in pleasure while I wrapped my tongue around your horn, and then we’d rut on the rug in front of the fireplace like a couple of wild animals.

Shit, Spike? Don’t write that, start over. Yes, again.

Dearest Rarity,
You are so goddamned annoying.
And I thought the ‘pink menace’ was hard to be around. I literally cannot stand to be around you, because you just never stop bitching, you fucking drama queen. Anypony that can fucking gripe and whinge all the time is just disgusting, and you make even more money than I do.

And I’m the motherfucking student of the PRINCESS.

All you ever do is strut around like you are fucking royalty, and believe me; I KNOW royalty. You are definitely not it. Always prancing around like you’re lighter than air, watching those porcelain hips sashaying back and forth like a perfectly sculpted albino peach. God, now I want to rail you again.
Shit. Spike, don’t write that.

Oh, Tartarus. I am so pissed off right now.
Let’s try, ‘Dearest Rarity,’

All you ever do is waste your fucking time. You are scamming absolutely everypony in the community, and they’re all fucking gullible enough to buy shit they don’t even need. Seriously, do you know how many fucking ponies wear clothes? Not a lot, bitch. Not. A. Lot.
You can’t even claim that anypony would need clothes for winter, because that shit lasts, like, what – one motherfucking day?

You’re frivolous, you are way too stuck up, and you think you’re better than Celestia. I cannot stand you, you arrogant, sniveling obsessive compulsive bitch. God, you make me so angry that I just want to punch your ugly fucking sister in the face.
Don’t give me that look, Spike. We know who does Sweetie Belle’s hair, and she looks like a fucking tramp.

I cannot believe that you would demolish your own sister’s mane like that; probably to make yourself look better in comparison, you jealous cunt wipe. Is that your plan? Is it? Make yourself look better in comparison to everypony else?
That is a putrid thing to do, waving around your perfect, sparkling violet mane. Making ponies horny as fuck when you get it wet, and then tottering about on those dainty little hooficured hooves of yours. That absolutely perfectionist way you walk, with your gorgeous tail tucked teasingly between your plot so temptingly calling out to me to swat your flank that it makes me drool.

The way I could make your slutty sparkling mane go frizzy when I plow into you from behind, taking you right on top of my writing desk. I would make you slaver and drip with as much desire as I burn with, making you beg for it before rutting you so hard you would think my mother was a jackhammer. I would bend you over in my hooves as I gripped your horn, and make you feel what it's like to REALLY be made into a little bitch. I forgot what I was angry about.

Shit, Spike? Don’t write that.

I’m sorry, I’m sorry. Wow, this shit is STRONG. This is the last time I get anything from Granny Smith.
That reminds me, Spike? Get another letter ready.

-Note From Spike-
Oh, cripes. Rarity, I am so, so sorry about this. Twilight’s a little pushy when she’s drunk, and WOW is she wasted.
Anyways, I think she wants me to send letters to just about everypony else, so it’s probably only going to get worse from here on out. If you guys would send somepony over that can… I don’t know, pump her stomach, maybe? That moonshine really hit her hard.

Rarity dropped the letter on the floor and fainted rather dramatically on the spot.

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Dearest Applejack

0-0-0-0-0

The thumping on the door woke Applejack first.

She blearily stuck her head out from beneath her pillow, groaning. The sun wasn’t even up yet.
“Whud’zit?” Applejack inquired tiredly, rubbing the sleep from her eyes. Applebloom wasted no time in shoving the door open, only to reveal that the filly held a small, unrolled letter.

“Darlin’, do you know what time it is?” Applejack groaned, sitting up in bed.
“I, uh…” Applebloom said tentatively, looking back and forth between her sister and the letter. “I… I think somepony sent me this by mistake.”
“Huh? This time o’ night?”
“It-it has your name.” Had Applejack been paying attention, she’d have noticed that her sister seemed to have a rather unpleasant pallor about her. Hooves trembling slightly, Applebloom dropped the letter onto Applejack’s lap and darted out the door.

Confused, she picked up the already opened letter and began to read.
She sincerely wished she hadn’t.

Dearest Applejack,
I fucked your grandmother.

Applejack dropped the letter.

Lighting up a candle and dragging herself down the stairs, she stumbled to the kitchen and washed her face in the sink, making absolutely certain that she was fully awake. Then, sitting down carefully at the kitchen table, Applejack continued to read.

I know, you’ve probably got that stupid fucking look on your face right now. You probably have no idea what I’m talking about, because you look like you’ve never heard of a mirror. I wish I could show you just how stupid you look.
Here, let me help you.
… Shit, she can’t see my face. Don’t write that, Spike.

Yes, we’re still doing this! I don’t CARE if your arms are tired, keep writing!
… NO, not THAT part!

Dearest Applejack,
You filthy fucking heathen.

All the time, I have to put up with your shit. And I do mean that literally, by the way. God, you always stink like manure. Seriously, do you ever even bathe? If you do, try it some more. The last time you walked into the library, I almost fucking gagged.
But right now, it’s… a quarter after one, I’m a little drunk, and I need you. Now.

Spike, I swear to god, if you don’t stop humming that, I’m going to hit you.

Where was I?
Right, right. Fucking your grandmother for free booze.

Hang on. Shit.
Don’t write that, Spike.

Dearest Applejack,
Don’t treat me like I’m stupid. If you’re going to behave condescendingly, have the decency to grow a motherfucking brainstem first.
You know what I’m talking about.

You actually expect me, let alone anypony else in this hick-town, to believe that Applebloom is your ‘sister’?

Bullshit! Like your parents JUST SO HAPPENED to be conveniently out of the picture. I know what you and your fucking beast of a brother have been up to. Been REAL busy sewing Apple seeds, huh?
Don’t lie to me! We all know Applebloom is the ‘slow’ Crusader for a reason!

… Shit, that sounds bad. Don’t write that, Spike.

Dearest Shitface.
Goddammit. Applejack. Yeah, whatever, Spike.

Stop hogging your brother all to yourself.
I have done absolutely everything in my power to wrangle that hunk of pony flesh, and I can’t catch his eye because your fat fucking plot is in the way!

I even tried to go through his GRANDMOTHER to get to him, and he still won’t fucking pay attention!
You think that ‘love potion’ shit was an accident?
Oh-ho-ho, yeah, Spike. I know about that, don’t tell me that fucktard Applebloom doesn’t have a big mouth, and I don’t have… have… big… ears.

Shit, I’m drunk.
Spike? Start over.

YES, again!

Dearest Applebloom.
Jack. Applejack.
Dearest Applejack.

… Jack. Jack. Jack jackity jack. Gotta get back, back to the past, watchout Jack.
Sweet Celestia, I’m so fucking funny right now.
Shut up, Spike.

Dearest Applejack,
Just stop fucking talking.

Seriously, that’s all I want from you (at this point in time.) Just shut the fuck up.
I cannot stand your accent any more than your smell, and you don’t even have the appeal of a sweet, tender flank to balance it out. With those curved, masculine muscles you’ve spent so many years toning. That rosy complexion spreading from flank to flank, I could even block out that god awful drawl when I watch those apples bounce.

Hang on.
Don’t write that either, Spike.
… YES, start over from the beginning! I don’t care, just do it.

Dearest Applejack,
Choke on a watermelon.

Seriously, so long as it’s fucking anything but apples. It’s always ‘apples, apples, apples’. You’re a fucking nuisance. Not as much as the Pink Menace, I’ll give you that. And your VOICE.
Fucking TARTARUS, your voice! I am not even listening to you right NOW, and it STILL makes me grind my teeth in frustration!
You sound like the horrid inbred culmination of Pony Fife and Larry the Cable Pony!

And on top of that, you and Rainbow Dash are always at each other’s throats. As in, every single goddamned day. All day.
Every. Day.

Just fuck and get it over with already. We both know you’ve got lots of experience with it, so it should be no problem for you.
Besides, I swear, sometimes you and Rainbow ‘Let’s get smashed every Tuesday’ Dash sound exactly the fucking same. It’s creepy.
In hindsight, she could secretly be a changeling. You should kill her.

Shut the hell up, Spike.
Seriously, go slaughter that bitch. Get her out of my mane for a few minutes. And while you’re doing that, I’ll go rut your hunk of a brother for you. Right there on the kitchen table, too. Your grandmother and I already put it to good use, though. I’m surprised the perverted bitch didn’t have a heart attack, there and then. I damned near gave her one, though.

-Note From Spike-

Applejack, I am so, so sorry about this. You would not believe how much of a mean drunk Twilight is. She’s really gone off the deep end, and I think she wants more letters sent. Seriously, get somepony over here and get her some coffee and a cold shower, or… something.
Also, I’m sorry to hear about your grandmother. You have my deepest condolences.

Applejack ever-so-slowly began inching away from the kitchen table.

Dearest Pink Menace

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Pinkie Pie darted out of bed.

For a moment, she felt a bit silly. Standing in the middle of a dark bedroom, waiting. At first, she considered simply going back to sleep; until it happened again.
Ear flop, double eye jerk, knee tingle, tail twitch left, ear flop.
“Wheeee!” Pinkie began bouncing around excitedly. “Mail time!”

Darting noisily through Sugarcube Corner and waking several inhabitants, Pinkie Pie stood patiently by the mailbox.
Only for a wisp of green flame to flicker overhead, dropping a rolled scroll into her outstretched hooves.

Barely able to contain her excitement, Pinkie ran back inside for light to read her letter. Grabbing a slice of fudge cake from the refrigerator and unrolling the letter cheerfully with one hoof, Pinkie took a bite and started to read.

Dearest – actually, no. Pink Menace.
JUST Pink Menace.
I fucking despise you. Eat a bag of dicks and die.

Slowly – very, very slowly, Pinkie Pie stopped chewing, sat down and began to read the letter again.

You revolting, putrid sack of insanity. You make me want to vomit.
Actually, that could just be the booze talking.
… Yes, I’m serious, Spike! Keep that bucket close by, I don’t feel so good.

Where was I? Oh, right.
Dearest Pink Menace,
I regret ever letting you have your mouth back, you dumb bitch. And even if you didn’t talk all the time, you’d still be completely fucking unbearable. You want to know why?

Because you’re boring.
Yeah. Yeah, bitch. I said it.

You. Are fucking. BORING.
I cannot stand your company – if I can even call it that – because your constant droning about bullshit like cotton candy and parties is just that. Constant, motherfucking droning. No, Spike. You shut the fuck up, I’m talking to Pinkie. I mean, I’m talking to a letter. I mean, I’m talking to you, who’s writing the letter, who’s talking to Pinkie.

What I mean is, I’m talking to you, who is Spike, and in turn, you are writing a letter dictated by me, to Pinkie – I mean, the Pink Menace, who… fuck me, am I wasted.
Hey. Hey, Spike. You… you know what goes great with peanuts?
Hammers.

Get it? Because… because peanuts often come with alcohol, because they’re really salty. And… and I’m hammered. Get… get it?
… Shut the fuck up, Spike.

Start over.

Dearest Pinkie Pie,
Shit. Start over.

Dearest Pink Menace,
You disgusting, vile piece of shit.

Does Mrs. Cake have any idea what’s been going on? Because everypony else in town sure as hell does. Even if you deny it, we all still know that you’ve been railing that ugly fuck Carrot for room and board. Or is his wife in on it, too?
You filthy whore. Yeah, you 'know' everypony, all right.

I can’t BELIEVE you – you, of all ponies! The outrageous, horrifying GALL it takes, to not even bother inviting me!
No, Spike, you’re not allowed at the orgies anyway. Shut the fuck up.

Hang on, Spike? Start over.
No, no, not the writing… thing. I mean, read it for me from the top. I can’t remember what I was talking about.
… Shit, what? No, you weren’t supposed to write that! What are you, retarded?
Do we need you delivering our MAIL now, Spike-tard?

… Oh, stop the goddamn blubbering!
You know what? Fuck it. Gimme that, I’ll write it myself!

Pinkie quietly tilted her head to the side, desperately trying to read the remainder of the letter. From the looks of it, somepony had desperately attempted to scribble on it while using their hooves.

Never mind, just take the goddamn thing back.

Start over.
YES, again! How many times do we have to go over this?

Dearest Pink Menace,
Really. Will you PLEASE try to remember to take your fucking Ritalin? I am not afraid to hold you down and INJECT you with it, if I have to. I’ve gone and made special room in my basement, just for you.
Well, that too, but that doesn’t have to go in the letter, Spike.
YES, I’m sure! God, just stop sniveling!

Where was I?
Oh, right.

Pinkie Pie – I mean, Pink Menace!
Fuck!
You see? Do you see what you do to me? Even when you’re not here! Shut the fuck up!
At the very least, pull the stick out of your plot long enough to realize that nopony fucking likes you!

I mean it, Pinkie!
I mean, Pink Menace!

Nopony likes you. Maybe we would, if you could lay off the cocaine for, like, ten minutes. Coupling debilitating drugs with your attention deficit disorder isn’t helping. As in, at all. And it makes your voice even more annoying.
God, every time you talk, I just want to jam forks in my eardrums!

It was funny for about thirty minutes, but now I just want to mangle you!

Shit, I’m doing it again.
Spike? Start over.

Dearest… Pinkie Pie.
Get in my basement.

Bring some whisky, some Tramadol, and some latex gloves. Oh, and some Band-Aids.
Seriously, bitch. We gon’ get freaky.
Like… like Vikings.

Vikings are plenty freaky, I didn’t ask for your opinion, Spike!

And that's another thing! Nopony cares about your bullshit opinions, Pinkie! That thing with the parasprites was a fluke, plain and simple.
And for fuck's sake, just stop with the 'cupcakes' thing. If I hear you say one - more - word. One! One word about cupcakes, and I swear to god, I will SHIV you.

If anyone else had noticed, Pinkie seemed to have undergone a drastic transformation.
Her eyes had narrowed to dangerous slits, and as she carefully weighed the cleaver in one hoof, Pinkie’s mane slowly began to deflate into a plain, flat state…

And then Pinkie Pie dropped her fudge.

Author's Note

Cupcakes, so sweet and tasty...

Dearest Flutter...Dash

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“Hey, Rainbow Dash! Are you in there?”

The multi-hued head of Rainbow Dash could be seen for a brief moment as she craned her neck up, groaning as she rubbed her eyes. The grey mail-mare, flapping excitedly just outside her floating home and banging on the door, obviously wouldn’t stop until Dash took care of the situation.

“Hey! Hey, Rainbow Dash! Rainbow Dash! Hey! Are you in th-?”
“Of course I’m in here!” the pegasus snapped grumpily as she jerked open her front door, now desperately wishing she’d relocated from Cloudsdale to somewhere quieter. “I live here! It’s three in the morning, Derpy!”
“You’ve got mail!” the grey mare said happily, completely ignorant of the fact that Dash was silently fuming. She dug around in her mailbag for a moment before yanking out a slightly damp-looking scroll of paper, dropping it into her hooves and flying off.

The scroll then let out a tiny puff of green flame before rolling over in her hooves, slightly opened.
“… What.”

And that was all her brain could really come up with at three in the morning.

Staring at it, befuddled, she continued unrolling the letter.

Dearest Fluttershy,
I want you to rut me. Right in the plot, even harder than last week.

“… What.”

Hang on, Spike. Start over.
Yesh, already.
… Yesh. Yes. Yesh yes yes yesh sheesh shesh shyesh sheys yes yushie yush yes.
Ohhhh, god. I am so drunk.
Shut up, Shpike. Just keep writing. With… with your little… hand… claw… things.

Dearest Fluttershy,
Last week was fucking amazing.
I’ve never been into mares (shut the fuck up, Spike) but I am not even kidding right now. Just… now. Right now. Aaaaand… now.
That word sounds funny too, now that I think about it. Nah-ow.
Right, right.

Dearest Fluttershy,
I’ll try to keep this short like the other letters (shut the hell UP, Spike!) but I just wanted to tell you that you left your bondage gear at the library again. Seriously, fucking pick up after yourself. I don’t want to have to hose down the basement again.

Do you have any goddamned idea how humiliating it is to try to hide that shit whenever Rainbow ‘Let’s-Get-Smashed’ comes blasting in through my window like a bad burrito through my bowels?
Wow. That was so… poetic. I’m a poet when I’m drunk.
It’s like… like honey-words are… are honeying over my… my face-hole.
Shut the hell up, Spike.
Where was I…?

Fuck it. Start over.
Dearest Fluttershy,
Stop leaving your shit lying around my library, or the Rotator’s going up YOUR ass next time!
Forcibly!
See how YOU like it!

Besides, you can’t just leave that stuff sitting around; the last time I walked in on Spike, he was tottering about the library with one of your dildos strapped to his forehead! Do you have any idea how freaky it is to walk in on somepony prancing around, going ‘I’m a purdy unicorn’ and not say anything?
Yeah, Spike! I fucking SAW that shit!

… Stop sniveling!

Ugh… I think I’m going to be sick again…
Speaking of getting sick, when’s the last time you got yourself checked?

I mean it, bitch. My teats are burning like fuck. And not just because of the wax, either; ever since you got that goddamned rubber hoof, my crotch won’t stop itching! What, did you buy that fucker second-hoof?
Did… Did Lyra sell you that?
Fluttershy, are you… sneaking around with Lyra?

You’re sneaking around with Lyra!
You fucking whore, I’ll maul you with a strap-on!

Shut up, Spike! I’m being PERFECTLY reasonable!

Wait, shit. That sounds like I could be implicated.
Imp… impy. Imply. Implicated. That sounds funny.

… Start over, Spike.

Dearest Fluttershy,
I forgot what I was yelling at you about.
Not you, Spike. Fluttershy. Fucking pay attention.
Not you, Fluttershy.

Fluff. Flufter. Fluttershhhh. Flushter flush fluff Fluttershy. It.. it shounds… It sounds funny.
Fuck, I’m so drunk. Fluttershy!
My pastry-colored succulent dominatrix! I need you over here. Nopony else satisfies me the way you do, and right now, I really, really need to be satisfied. Stop humping that rabbit of yours, get over here and plow me like Big Mac’s field in springtime.
Now.

Shit, what was I talking about?
Start over, Spike.

Dearest Fluttershy,
Get your hot yellow flank over here.
Right now.
And bring the hose.

-Note From Spike-
Sweet Celestia, Fluttershy. I swear, I had no idea that was yours.
I don’t even care if you’re a sadomasochistic, bestiality-loving dominatrix from Tartarus; please, send somepony over here! Twilight’s going out of her mind, and I really don’t know how much longer I can hold up on this end. Her blood-alcohol level must be through the ROOF at this point.
Get somepony over here and help, already. I would’ve tried sending for help elsewhere, but when I tried contacting any kind of police force, Twilight really threw the book at me.
… Seriously. She literally threw a book at me. It almost broke my nose.

Twilight is a mean drunk.
Also, this vomit on the letter isn’t mine.

“… What.”

Dearest Rainbow 'Let's Get Smashed Every Tuesday' Dash

0-0-0-0-0

“Oh, now you’re just being cruel.”
“You heard me the first time, Discord,” Fluttershy stated quietly, pouring her draconequus housemate a soothing cup of chamomile tea. “Princess Celestia is perfectly fine with your staying here for now, but this is your last chance.”
“Didn’t you say that the last four times?” Discord chortled, reclining upside down in his chair. Fluttershy seated herself across from him, stifling a yawn.

She couldn’t sleep, anyway; besides, she felt better if she could keep an eye on Discord.
“Maybe. But that doesn’t mean you can just go around causing random chaos all willy-nilly,” she insisted tiredly, pouring herself a cup of tea and taking a sip of the steaming liquid.
“Oh, you have no sense of fun. It’s even more boring than a jaunt to the public library,” Discord grumbled, righting himself and crossing his arms.
“Just for one day?” the pegasus batted her eyelashes in what she hoped was a ‘cute’ manner. “Just one day of normalcy? For me?”

Discord didn’t even get the chance to respond before a flitter of green flame came bursting through the front door, knocking over the hat-rack and sofa, flying about the room and finally settling on the table with a fwump.

The emerald burst of flame popped out a little scroll, slightly disheveled.
Discord waited a full beat.
“That was totally not me,” he said defensively.

The draconequus snatched it up swiftly, balancing it between his talons.
“What’s it say?” Fluttershy inquired, tilting her head slightly.
“Well, I don’t know,” he deadpanned. “I haven’t opened it yet.”

Unrolling it gleefully, Discord began spiraling up into the air from his tail.
He then stopped midway, freezing in mid-air.

“Well?” Fluttershy asked, waiting. “What does it say?”
“… Maybe we should send it back.”
“Nonsense!” she stamped one hoof against the table. “Will you just read it, already?” Fluttershy resumed attempting to drink her tea, holding it carefully between her hooves.

Discord took in a breath sharply, then ran one paw down his face.
“O~kay. Just remember; you asked for this.”
Clearing his throat cautiously, Discord slowly started to read aloud.

The letter went as follows.

Dearest Rainbow “Let’s Get Smashed Every Tuesday” Dash,
Suck my cunt knuckle.

Very, very slowly, and with trembling hooves, Fluttershy sat down her cup of tea.
Not awaiting a response, Discord continued.

You might not have noticed it previously, because I’m a mastermind at hiding my personal intentions.
Shut the hell up, Spike.
Anyway, I just thought I’d give you a friendly heads up before enacting the final phase in which I stand idly by and watch you suffer your terrible demise.
Shit, don’t write that, Spike. She’ll get suspicious.
Start over.

Dearest Rainbow Crash,
I am going to rape you in the ear with a power drill.

I fucking hate your guts.
I sincerely hope you choke on a box of tampons.

Seriously, Dash. I am just so fucking sick of your shit that I spend several hours out of my personal schedule devising nefarious schemes to kill you with.
Actually, don’t write that either, Spike. Start over.

Dearest Rainbow Dash,
How are you? I hope you are well. Lovely weather we’re having.
Oh, wait. No, it’s not. Because a certain STUPID FUCKING BITCH doesn’t know how to do her job properly! Really, haven’t any of you goddamned backwoods savages ever heard of irrigation? There are more efficient manners of transporting water than motherfucking rainclouds!

What are you, dense?
… No, that’s NOT a trick question, Spike!
Shit, start over!

Dearest Rainbow Dash,
You repulsive shitfaced showoff. I am so sick of your bullshit. What with your… your fucking flying, and shit. All… flapping. Fucking Rainbow Dash, and her… and her stupid wings.
Shut the hell up, Spike. I am not jealous.

As a matter of fact, those wings don’t just make you look STUPID; wings MAKE you stupid. Yeah, I said it!
Pegasi are fucking retards!
All of them!

Fluttershy, to all the world, had appeared to have stopped breathing.

You all think you’re just SO fucking great, what with your flappy bird shit. Well, you know what? Nobody gives a flying fuck, just because your dad humped a dodo, or something. As a matter of fact, I’ve been doing recent studies that indicate even HAVING wings seriously degrades the mental condition!
… Shut up, Spike! I am not being specieist! Pegasi just aren’t as good as unicorns, is all.

… Oh, shit. That does sound bad. Start over, Spike.

Dearest Rainbow Cr-Dash,
I have to admit, the sex has been better with you since I started cheating on Fluttershy.

Discord stopped reading momentarily to look up at her. Fluttershy’s face had lost all color, and she resembled an equine piece of very still, very emotionless chalk.
The draconequus continued.

Don’t tell Fluttershy.
Fuck it, start over.

Dearest Rainbow Dash,
Meet me like usual next Tuesday. I’ll bring the Rotator.

-Note From Spike-
You know what?
I have been literally BEGGING for help all night, and not a single freaking one of you showed up to help.
Not. A single. One.
Seriously, you jackasses DESERVE to have a friend like Twilight.
I hate you all.

Discord steadily rolled the letter back up, calmly gazing over at his female companion.
Fluttershy, however, seemed to be on the verge of having a mental breakdown and/or breaking someone’s neck.
“So…” Discord tapped his talons together cheerfully as he tried to hide a grin. “A jaunt to the public library it is, then?”

Dear Princess Celestia

0-0-0-0-0

Something was causing a disturbance in Equestria.

This much was evident to the stalwart princess of the night, as evidenced by the clearly panicked guard fleeing in terror down the yawning hallway.

“Do be careful!” Luna narrowed her eyes and grumbled testily, but the guard was long gone. She’d nearly spilled her cup of hot tea in the commotion. Carefully rearranging her tiara so that it was slightly less askew, Princess Luna peered after the guard in the dark and curiously followed him.

It took her a matter of moments to realize that he wasn’t running toward danger.
He was running away from it.

“TWILIGHT-MOTHER-FUCKING-SPARKLE!”

Luna’s poor cup of tea shattered instantly in her telekinetic grip, splattering across the wall. Even her usually billowing mane had been blasted backwards with so much force that it retained that shape.
She was left standing rather befuddled, holding only the teacup’s broken handle as her elder sister stormed past her in a fiery blaze of rage and irradiating sunlight, tearing down yet another door very loudly as she took off through the castle.

“… What the crap just happened?”
And to be fair, that was a very good question.

With a heavy sigh, Luna motioned for a couple more guards to tend to the wreckage that Celestia had just caused, and began traipsing in the direction her sister had come from in order to discover just what Twilight ‘motherfucking’ Sparkle had done this time.

After about five minutes of searching aimlessly in Celestia’s study, and to no avail, Luna spotted an unrolled scroll in her seat by the fireplace.
She facehoofed, shaking her head slowly.

After she started reading, her head wasn’t the only thing shaking.

Dearest Princess Celestia,
You and your sister both are goddamned inbred retards.

“… Oh, hell no.”

Do you even have any fucking idea how to properly run a country?
Okay, okay. A-okay. Okay, shmo-kay.
… Okie dokie lok- shut the hell up, Spike.

Right, first of all, how come all of our weather is maintained by Pegasi? Do you have any idea how stupid that is?
Those motards are freaking unreliable. I don’t think you even bothered to find out how high that death toll was from the last typhoon they brought to Ponyville.
Yeah.

Fluttershy has a body count.
Just let that shit sink in for a second.
You massive ass hat.

Speaking massive asses, just how much cake have you been eating lately? I didn’t know Equestria needed a second sun; or at the rate you’re going, you could just block it out.

… Shit, don’t write that.
Start over, Spike.

Dearest Princess Celestia,
I hope one of your cheap, stupid Griffonian prostitutes gives you a few STDs.
Yeah, I heard about that, bitch.

What, is my horn not big enough for you now?
No, of course not.
You’ve got to go whoring it up at every other chance you get. You’re probably… a-DICK-ted.
… get-get it?

… Shut the hell up, Spike.

Actually, just start over.
YES, again! Just fucking start over!

Dearest Princess Celestia,
I don’t think we should see each other anymore.
You’re getting kind of fat.

You know what these Cutie Marks are for?
‘Cause I sure fucking don’t.
Yeah, I think I just cracked a big ol’ fucking hole in your government conspiracy and shit!
Pass the peanuts, Spike.

So, it goes like this.
Step One: Ponies get Cutie Marks at indeterminate ages, usually in youth when career opportunities and intellectual insight is almost never guaranteed, thus resulting in a clusterfuck of a social ordeal.
Step Two: …?
Step Three: Profit!

You see how this works?
What? Oh, no. Not you, Spike.
You can shut the fuck up.

Wait, where was I?
SHIT!
Start over, Spike!

Dearest Princess Celestia,
Is your sister, like, a dominatrix or something?
Seriously, that bitch goes around in all black, all the time. I don’t THINK she’s trying to pull off the emo thing, but she looks like she cuts herself.
She cuts herself, doesn’t she?

Fucking hell, she cuts herself.
Princess Luna is an emo dominatrix with split personality disorder.
Seriously, do you have any idea how much work I had to do because of that ‘Nightmare Moon’ bullshit? All because of our nation's only negro-corn that ISN'T named Mary or Sue?
Oh, by the way. GREAT method of dealing with familial issues.

Your sister gets lonely, so you SEND HER FLANK TO THE MOON.
“Bye bye, bitch!”
Is that how you solve all of your problems? With domestic violence?
You sick fuck.
That is HILARIOUS.

Shit, don’t write that, Spike.
Start over.

Dearest Princess Celestia,
Something just occurred to me.
You’ve got wings!
Like… like, WING wings.

I was RIGHT about that retard thing!
Wait, shit, I don’t think I sent that report yet.
Where did I put it, Spike?

Fuckin’ fuckity fuckity fuck! Never mind the report.
When I was all ‘not alcohol-y’, I got my report finished on how Pegasi aren’t as smart as proper unicorns! You’ve got a horn and shit, but you’ve also got wings, and that shit ain’t gonna fly.
See? See what I did there?
… Shut the hell up, Spike.

That explains a whole lot about your leadership skills, actually. I’m a little proud of myself for noticing.
By the way, tell your dominatrix sister that if she wants to get freaky, she’s going to have to wait until Nightmare Night. Just like everypony else.
Kinky bitch.

-Note From Spike-

I’m at my wit’s end.
Absolutely nobody else has responded, and AAAAAAAAAGH Twilight just threw up again.
I thought ponies couldn’t vomit? I went to school, you know!

Yeah! Nobody ever asks about that! I’ve got a bitchin’ college degree from Cloudsdale University!
Does anybody ever ASK about it, even though it’s hanging right in the middle of the fucking library?
No!

I need help, Princess! Twilight’s gone off the deep end, and she won’t stop spouting racial slurs out the window at passersby. Have you HEARD some of the things she says about Pegasi?
Not YET, you haven’t.

Actually, you know what?
Get down here.
Get off your royal plot, and get down here.
Oh, don’t worry. I’m not asking you to take care of this by yourself.

I learned three or four letters ago not to FUCKING DEPEND on somebody.
But I just had a great idea.
Somebody needs to teach this bitch a lesson.

You know what would be great?
You should use your magic to give her some FUCKING WINGS.
Yeah. That’s right. Give her wings.

That would freak her the hell out to no end! Can you imagine?
And you could probably get away with it, too. Just tell her she’s, like, becoming a princess, or some such bull. She’ll eat that shit right up.

… Hang on, Twilight is trying something really nasty with one of the Elements of Harmony again, moaning something about “putting some real craters on Luna’s moon”.

“TWILIGHT-MOTHER-FUCKING-SPARKLE!”

Author's Note

I hope you had as much fun reading this story as I did writing it.

Dearest Sister-In-Law

0-0-0-0-0

“Shiny.”
Shining Armor only snorted, rolling over quietly.
“Shining,” Cadence nudged him gently, eyeing the large, glowing emerald scroll floating in through the window. “Shining, wake up.”

“Whuzzat?” Shining Armor blinked blearily, using magic to light a couple of candles. “What, what is it?”
“I-I didn’t even know we could get mail like this…” Princess Cadence started, the scroll dropping limply into her lap.
Shining, recognizing the flicker of green dragon magic, grinned.

“Probably from Twily,” he said, a little bit more awake. She unrolled the poorly rolled scroll, her eyes growing a little wider with each passing moment. “I can’t for the life of me guess why she would be – honey, are you okay?”
Cadence’s mouth opened and closed a couple of times, but she couldn’t bring herself to speak. Her eyes were nearly as wide as saucers by this point, and she struggled to clear her throat and began to read aloud.

Dearest Princess Candy Ass,

Shining Armor snorted into the blankets, desperately struggling not to show just how hard he was laughing. A bit sourly, Cadence cleared her throat again and continued.

Guess who’s fucking wasted?
No, go ahead, guess. I’ll wait.
Tick, tock, tick – yes, Spike, I know there’s no clock in here. I’m being fucking sarcastic.
Actually, just start over.

Dearest Princess Caber Cadence,
You fucking dong- addicted hump- whore. Tell my dumbass brother to stop playing ass jockey for a couple of minutes and actually do his goddamned job every now and then.
Do you realize that all the paperwork from the Crystal Empire actually has to fucking GO somewhere? You know, like important documents – dock. Dock, doc, docks, docksh, shhhhdockcockdockshumentsh.
Shut the fuck up, you know what I meant, Spike.

Y’know all those fucking documents on Crystal Empire citizens immigrating? Yeah, that shit is kind of important. If I find one more fucking ‘present’ from Shiny Ass, I am going to give him a few papercuts IN HIS ANUS. I know you’ve already claimed that area as royal property, but frankly, I don’t give two shits. I didn’t care when Celestia was riding that plot, I didn’t care when Luna was riding his plot, I almost kind of cared when Sombrero was riding his plot but couldn’t be assed to give another two shits about it because we blew that fucker to bits.
But I DO care when you’re too busy fucking like rabbits to do your own goddamned mother – cunting paperwork!
Give me a minute Spike, I’m a little worked up, and I’m on a roll.

Roll. Roll roll roll row row roll your bloat, gentry dowl th’ stre~eam.
Shit, don’t write that, Spike.

… Fuck, I don’t remember what I was angry about.
Have I ever mentioned that Granny Smith’s moonshine is good shit?
Seriously, Candy Ass, you ought to get some of that. I hear she uses these, like, fuckin’ Zappy-fruit-vegetable things. There’s this one –

YEAH, Spike, I fucking know! Shit, now I remember why I was pissed off!
Actually, just start from scratch.
… YES, Spike, start over!

Dearest Princess Candy Cadence,
Remember that one time you were supposed to be foalsitting me and wound up fucking my brother on the sofa instead?
Surprise, bitch. The Twi-hammer takes no naps.

Still, you’re nowhere near the level of sexual deviancy that Princess Cake-Butt is. Speaking of sexual deviancy, did you know that Shining paid a couple of griffons to fuck him in the ass after you left?

Princess Cadence stopped reading for a moment, her throat dry as she looked over at her gawking husband, his eyes nearly bugging out of his head as he spluttered.

Ha, can’t wait to find out his reaction to THAT. Fuck, stop giving me that look, Spike. Just write.
I can just imagine the look ol’ pale-face has, because I just know that you disgusting fuckers do everything together.
Ruling a kingdom together, sleeping together, reading together.
I remember when it used to be ME and MY brother taking baths together!
… Not like that, Spike, shut the fuck up!

… I am NOT jealous of that pink bitch!
Oh, shit, that’s right. I almost forgot.
I swear to god, Spike, if you say ‘to pull the stick out of my ass’ again, I’m going to backhoof you.

These fuckers, right here.
Yes, I KNOW she can’t see! I’m not stupid, Spike!
Stupid. Shoe, shush, stue shtoe shtoop. Stupid.

Uh, right.
These motherfucking wings are itchy, and they are really pissing me off.
How come nopony told me that being a princess came WITH wings? Is this some kind of cruel joke?
I swear, I think Rainbow Dash almost jizzed herself when she saw me walking around with these feathery embarrassments. She keeps going on and on about some ‘preening’ shit.
How many times do I have to tell you that we’re DONE, you dumb fucking cunt?

What? No, I’m talking to myself, Spike. I mean, like-like this imaginary Rainbow Dash, but she’s not here. I mean, like, I KNOW she’s not here, ‘cause she is imaginary, unlike myself. Unless I AM imaginary, and I just don’t know it. I mean, can imaginations imagine that they’re imaginary?
Oh, shit! What if I really am imaginary, and I’m only just now imagining what not being imaginary is like? What if imaginations don’t imagine reality, but they imagine imaginary imagination reality that isn’t really real?

-Note From Spike-
Yeah, she’s at it again.
Going to keep this short, I have to go pull Twilight out of the closet. I’m starting to wonder if Granny Smith might have made a different batch or something, because she’s acting weirder than normal – aaaaand Twilight is now having an existential crisis, and she just threw up. Guess what I get to clean up. Whee.
Heh heh. Twilight’s coming out of the closet. I made a jok- FUCK she threw up on the carpet again!

Princess Cadence was silent for a long moment, before turning to the dumbstruck Shining Armor.
“So, about those griffons…”

Dearest Spoiled Nuck Fugget

0-0-0-0-0

Prince Blueblood considered himself a rather dashing unicorn.
He gazed up at the magnificently sculpted (of course it was, it was a model of himself) hedge, the moonlight pouring over it dazzlingly. He allowed himself a little smile, fondly looking over the growing artwork.

At least, until he noticed that his leafy horn was off center.
Snarling in disgust, he turned away from it to go hunt down the caretaker of his aunt’s garden. Surely the stubborn old mule was responsible for such a crime. It vaguely occurred to Blueblood that he probably should have been sleeping, but he just wasn’t able to catch a single wink without his herbal remedies and warm milk first.

He was in mid-stomp through the garden when he was abruptly halted by a rather violently whizzing blur of green light, which soared through the night sky and slapped him directly in the face.
Spluttering furiously at whomever had dared to throw the scroll at royalty such as himself, he glared around; however, the fading green flame from the scroll lead him to guess that it was of the same fashion of letter that Celestia received.
Odd.

Curious, he magically levitated the thing and quickly peeked at it, wondering if he had accidentally just intercepted his aunt’s mail. Much to his surprise, it was not intercepted at all; the letter was obviously written directly to him.
It read as follows.

Dearest Prince Narcissistic Cunt Waffle,
I hate you, you putrid nuck fugget. I am going to violate your corpse with a pineapple.

Blueblood stopped reading for an entire two minutes after that.

Shit, don’t write that, Spike.
Start over.

Yo!
What’s up, Blue Balls?

Have I ever mentioned that I fucking hate your guts?
Seriously, you revolting, pasty stallion – bitch. I’m surprised you even manage to walk yourself anywhere for fear of damaging your precious hooficured self. Then again, you’re so fucking stupid that I wouldn’t be surprised if walking were considered a dangerous activity for you, you dumb cock sucking tit chewing hag faced ball licking ass monkey –
Dammit. Spike, start from scratch. Yeah, I’ve gotta take a minute, I’m kind of pissed.

Dearest…
Oh, fuck. Are we, like, cousins now, or something? Does me turning alicorn make me related to fat ass, or what? Am I just some extra princess, or some such shit? Seriously, I get the feeling that Celestia made up that whole ‘You’re a princess, Harry Twilight’ just so that the bitch could get me out of her mane for a few minutes.
It also could have been from the fact that the bitch told me that she wanted me out of her mane for a few minutes.
Seriously, can you believe the fucking nerve of some ponies? No goddamned respect, no respect at all.

Shit, I have got the hiccups. It’s so hard to SAY shit now.
… What the hell was I talking about?
Oh, right. Thanks, Spike.
FUCK, no, don’t write that, dumbass! Start over!

Dearest auto fellatio enthusiast,
I hope you choke to death on your own dick, you revolting, putrid fucking semen gobbler. I cannot possibly imagine how anypony could love themselves more than you do, and it disgusts me, along with everypony else that has to put up with your bullshit on a day to day basis.
I’ll bet that you love YOU so much that you fuck yourself in the ass!
Fucking hell, except for that one time you asked ME to get nasty.
…
Why are you staring at me like that, Spike?

Oh, yeah. Sounds like a great time.
Why the hell not. I’ll fuck you.
Bend over, Blue Balls. I’ll fuck you, all right.
I’ll fuck you right up the poop chute with a motherfucking pineapple wrapped in rusty barbed wire.

Have I ever mentioned - MOTHER CUNTING HICCUPS! – have I ever mentioned that the way you walk- well, you can tell by the way I use my walk, doo loo doo lee doo loo doo.
STAYIN’ ALIVE, STAYIN’ ALIVE!

-Note From Spike-
You know, I probably would have attached some kind of apologetic note on to the end of this, telling you about how Twilight is drunk off her ass (again) right now, and that you aren’t the only one suffering her booze-y wrath. Hell, she even tried to talk me into worshiping a toaster as a god, she is seriously that wasted.
You know, the mare who raised me, the one I’ve known literally my entire goddamned life. The mare who acted as my mom / sister / caretaker / thing, and is once again in the process of completely losing her shit.
I’d go on, but you don’t fucking DESERVE to know, because I only just now discovered that you’ve been trying to put it in Twilight, you spooge colored fucktarded piece of shit.

If you lay a single hoof on Twilight again, I’ll make sure you choke to death on dragon tackle.
And then they’ll never find the body.

Prince Blueblood would have read further on, but he found that he no longer needed any warm milk to keep him from the sweet embrace of unconsciousness.

Author's Note

Because it's about time Blue Balls got a 'friendship' letter.

Dearest Sweetie Bot

0-0-0-0-0

Sweetie Belle rubbed her eyes tiredly, a rapping at her bedroom window slowly drawing her awake. It took her nearly a full minute to fully wake up completely, and she eventually jolted out of bed with wide eyes full of confusion.
For one, her bedroom was on the second floor.
Upon closer inspection, Sweetie saw by the light of the moon that there was a rather pudgy brown owl slapping against her window with his head, a large scroll clamped tightly in his beak.

No sooner had Sweetie yanked open the windows that the owl spat out a scrolled letter, which fell unceremoniously to the floor before he flapped mightily and sped away.
Curiosity and confusion growing, Sweetie Belle carefully picked up the letter. After a swift glance at it, she did a double take, as she was obviously misreading it in the dim moonlight. However, the letter did not change, even when she turned on the lights.
She seriously contemplated turning the lights back off, but she simply couldn’t UNread it.

Dearest Sweetie Belle,
Shut the flying fuck up.

If I had to choose between listening to you say one more sentence, or being repeatedly anally violated via demonic giraffes with seven foot long pine cone dicks, I would seriously have to contemplate it.
Cont-contem-cuntemplunt. Contamaninmamanmamilate. Contemplipliplenippleate.
Shit, that sounds funny. On – on my tongue.
Fuck it. Spike? Start over.

Dearest Sweetie Belle,
I want to fuck your sister.

Seriously, I would fuck the SHIT out of her. I don’t care if it’s metaphorically or literally, that bitch is FINE.

“Oh, ew.”

Hey. Hey. Hey. Haaaaaaaaaaaaaaay.
Tell – shit, fucking hiccups – tell Rarity that the Twihammer is ready for some nailing. SHE’LL KNOW WHAT IT MEANS.
Rarity, Rarity, Rarity. There’s a sweet ass unicorn that makes me moist just thinking about her.
Fuck poetry, I could write whole sonnets about her bouncy white plot.
… Shut the fuck up, Spike.
Yeah, asshole! I heard that!

Dammit, start over!

Dearest Sweetie Belle,
In stark contrast to your sister, you make me drier than the mothercunting Saddle Arabian desert. Just thinking about your obnoxious, reedy voice makes me want to jam icepicks in my eardrums. Seriously, just get your fucking testicles to drop already.
Which is sad, because if it weren’t for that, you could totally take the place of your sister.
Hey. Hey. Hey, Sweetie Belle. Wanna be my Rarity?
Shit, you just need a muzzle so that I don’t have to hear your annoying fucking voice. I think I actually have one of those, somewhere…

Actually, read that back to me, Spike.
… Yes, NOW.
Well, fuck. If that doesn’t make me sound creepy as shit. Start over, Spike. We don’t need to get Bits Hanson in on this if we can avoid it.
But, seriously, though. There was this one time, I confused Sweetie Belle for Rarity. I totally had no idea.
I swear.
Shut the fuck up, Spike. Just start over!

Dearest Sweetie Belle,
Are you a robot, or something?
I keep hearing this bullshit from little bastards running through my library, spouting some bullshit about Sweetie Bot, or something. I definitely remember that, because the little shits were digging through my books entailing household appliances, and then one of the little fuckers tried to steal my toaster.
My TOASTER! Can you believe it?

I mean, I can’t really picture how you’re part toaster, but I wouldn’t be too surprised. Obviously, one of your parents was very, very lonely. Or a cyborg.
Are your parents lonely cyborgs?
No, shh, shh shhhhhh! Shut – shut up, Spike! I’m tryin’ t’ask questions!
I gotta know this! What if Rarity is just a chunk of metal underneath all that sweet, juicy ass?
You can’t fuck a toaster, Spike!
… What do you mean, ‘tried’?

Actually, fuck it. Start over.
Dearest Sweetie Belle,
I swear to worship you along with our new robot overlords if you let me keep your sister. Seriously, just jam that bitch in a box and ship her flat rate. You don’t even have to send all of her!
Hell, just send the box! Put a few holes in it, I’ll put on some of Rarity’s perfume and fuck the holes!
I’m drunk! Drunk and horny, goddammit!

Shit, what does Granny Smith mix this moonshine with? Poniagra?
Hey. Hey, Spike. Ask – ask – fuckin’ HICCUPS! – ask Sweetie Belle if Poniagra makes her horn grow.
Wait, shit. I forgot, I’m a unicorn, too.
Do we have Poniagra? Seriously, if we do, I am gonna chug a whole bottle of that –
Shut up, Spike, I don’t need your advice!

I forgot what I was talking about.
I’m pretty sure it was something to do with Rarity’s flank, though.
That delicious, perfectly carved alabaster hind end bouncing hypnotically in front of me. Those sparkling jewels on her flank slithering up and down, her flawlessly colored tail grinding th-
Spike, are you drooling?
Cut that the fuck out, Spike! You’re getting it on the carpet.
Shit, where was I.

Never mind, start over.
Dearest Rarity Sweetie Belle,
Leave your doors unlocked.

I’m climbing in your windows, snatchin’ up yo’ sister.

For the longest time, Sweetie Belle only stared with a slightly open mouth at the letter. After a while, she tugged open her bedroom door and began tramping downstairs.
“Hey, Rarity? What are ‘testicles’?”

Author's Note

PRAISE BE TO THE ALMIGHTY TOASTER MASTER RACE.

Dearest Great And Powerful Trixie

0-0-0-0-0

Trixie Lulamoon was rather comfortable in the bed of her traveling wagon, snuggled warmly beneath the covers. Unbeknownst to her, she snored slightly, and it shook the windows.
It shook the windows a lot.

Trixie’s poor windows could withstand no more cruel punishment, however, as one of them violently exploded inward as a billowing green tube ricocheted around the entire cabin. Trixie shrieked in terror, desperately covering her eyes from the destructive rampage that the tube was going on; bouncing like a bullet from wall to wall, burning everything in sight and shattering every last shard of glass to be found.
It finally stopped and dropped rather harmlessly in Trixie’s (admittedly stunned) hooves.
Flabbergasted, she stared at the letter for a moment before at last unrolling it.

Dearest jizz guzzling attention whore,

“What.”

Shit, Spike, that doesn’t sound like I’m trying to woo her. Woo – woo her. Woooooer. Weeooweeooweeoo her.
Fuck it.

Dearest Trixie Lumaloon-
Fuck! Stop laughing, Spike! Start over!

Dearest Trixie,
Please, please, please, please, please, please, please come back to Ponyville. If I have to hunt you down, I’m only going to spank you that much harder.
Oh, yeah. That’s right.
Actually, never mind. I’m going to spank that tight little flank of yours one way or another, so you might as well make it easier on yourself. I am going to fuck your brains out and then jam them back in any other hole I can get to.

Shit, Spike, that sounds a little too rape-y. Start over.

Dearest Trixie,
If I don’t wind up fucking you senseless in the next twelve minutes, I’m going to kill your family. I – yes, Spike, shut up – I swear to whatever hellish deity you believe in, I am either going to ram you in the plot with both hooves up to my elbows, or I’m going to light your entire family on fire.
… Am I coming on too strong? Yeah, probably. Spike, start over.

To the mare of my dreams,
… shit, I don’t want Crater Face getting in on the action. Seriously, Luna is fucked up in the head. Just leave any mention of dreams out of it, Spike. Besides, Rarity is the mare of my dreams. Well, I guess Trixie is a close second, and since that stuck up bitch is apparently too good to let me buttfuck her with a bowling pin –
Fuck it! Spike, start over!

Dearest… dearie dear dearie der der dear.
Fuck, I am so wasted.
You-you know, Spike, you’d think I’d have learned. You would think that the mother cunting student would learn, but, no~o. I think I’m gonna hurl.
No – nope, I’m good.
… No, dumbass! Don’t write – just fucking start over!

Dearest Trixie,
I would sacrifice my own number one assistant to the patron deity of blowjobs for five minutes with your ass. The rest of you need not necessarily be there, but it would make a fucking awesome bonus.
What? Oh, no. I’m not going to sacrifice you, Spike, wherever did – what? No, I was talking about Owlowicious. Seriously, fuck that bird. I was expecting that the little bastard would carry my mail for me, like that one story with Hairy Trotter. I think I got the retarded owl, because he does jack shit.
Urgh, dammit. I can’t even remember what I was talking about.

Yeah, thanks, Spike.

Dearest Trixie,
If you could open your fat mouth any wider it would fall off. Seriously, just get a fucking muzzle so the rest of us don’t have to listen to your constant shit. Actually, I think that’s going to be one of my new princess-y proclamation things. Anypony that pisses me off has to wear a muzzle.
Made of FIRE.

Oh, shit! That’s right, Spike! I did kind of forget. Start over.

Dearest Trixie,
Ever wanted to fuck royalty?

If not, too bad. I’m sending an entire battalion – bat-battalalaatalatalatallion – somepony is coming to bring you to me. Because I’m a princess now. I can do that.
WHO’S GREAT AND POWERFUL NOW, BITCH?

0-0-0-0-0

Dearest Sombrero

0-0-0-0-0

Under the light of the moon, dark magic was afoot.

Ahoof. Dark magic was ahoof.

With a rumble and a growl, a pair of glowing eyes emerged from the shadows themselves, congealing in the darkness and molding itself together. The corrupted red horn of King Sombra burst out from the shade, followed by maniacal laughter. Those fools thought that it would be a simple task to dispose of the might King Sombra, did they? Nopony could dispose of him!

“At long last...” the unicorn cackled wickedly. “Vengeance shall be mine! I live! All shall fear the eternal reign of King So-”

Sombra was rather rudely interrupted by a burst of green light, swiftly followed by a whistling projectile. Suddenly finding it very difficult to continue monologuing, as he had spent years practicing, he angrily yanked the rolled up parchment out of his mouth. Nopony seemed to be around in the clearing he had awoken in. It was a mystery as to how the roll of parchment had even found him at all.

Even more surprising, it was directly addressed to him, specifically.

His curiosity getting the best of him, he discovered that it read as follows.

Dearest Sombrero,

This should find you if you ever decide to show your ugly ass mug again. No, Spike, I know what his name is. I jus' refuse to show that fucker any respect. No, don't write that.

Listen up, you one dimensional ball gargling ass bag; if you ever pop up in Equestria again, I will personally wreck your ass harder than Cadance does my brother's on a weekly basis, except I won't use lube or record it!

Uh, actually, Spike, don't write that. Start over.

Dearest Sombino – Somben- Somberererero,

Er, er er er er ero. Sombrero. Sombrrrrrrero. Holy fuck, I'm drunk. Start over, Spike.

Dearest Sombrero,

I actually have a few questions. So, what are you, like, some kind of meth addict? That's what all the bullshit about 'crystals' was, right? Because I know what you're talking about, I know where to get some good shit-

Actually, don't write that, Spike. Just erase it.

Yes, I know quills don't have erasers! Just start over!

Dearest Sombrero,

'the fuck is up with your head? I mean, seriously, that is the worst looking horn I've ever seen! For fuck's sake, go see a doctor and get that shit checked out! And make sure to tell your past partners to get themselves checked as well. Have you ever even heard of protection?

Don't get the wrong idea, I wouldn't bang your wrinkly old ass even if you did. I'm not that drunk yet. Shut up, Spike! I do too have standards! Y'know what? Just-just start over! Yes, again!

Sombrero Dearest,

Go ahead, come on back if you ever wanna try taking over again. My little friend 'the Rotator' here is just begging to get some use. Tell you what, come on and bring some of that fine crystal shit back to my place, we'll get fucked up and bring it to Fluttershy's place, have us a party with some bears – actually, never mind, forget I ever said that, Spike. No, you don't need to know. What? No, I haven't been stealing your gems and snorting them, where would you even get that idea? You know what? Just start over!

Yes, again!

Dearest Sombra,

If you ever come back I will personally fuck you to death.

Sincerely,

Everypony That Whipped Your Flank Without Even Trying, Bitch

“... Aw, hell no.”

And with that, King Sombra clenched his teeth and started off toward Ponyville.

0-0-0-0-0

Not A Chapter

It's in the title, folks.

I've been heavily debating whether or not to continue AEOF, and the results are finally in.

So, this might either be some really good news, or really bad news. Depends on your point of view.

Alcohol will no longer be continued.
No more chapters.
It's the end of the line, the last of the story.
Twilight has no more letters to write.

HOWEVER.

Since this story has gotten such a massive liking in such a short amount of time, I felt that it simply wouldn't be fair to leave you all hanging.

Eeyup.
That's right.

There's a sequel.

It can be found here!

Author's Note

The first chapters for the next story are only going to be released to a select few before they're published.
No idea how I'm picking those people to preview it, though.