Luxury problem

by Severine

You always eat the one you love

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The mare looked at herself in the mirror as the television played in the background, a old conflicted looking colt was addressing the citizens of Equestria.

“So, I read that the former city of Canterlot is so desperate for materials, they have allegedly sent the Lunar Republic, crates full of wheat and apples, a gesture, of goodwill,” he said.
The mare was fixing her makeup and dress cautiously, she had a very important date that night.

The TV rambled on. “You want to know what I think?” the colt said. “Well, you’re listening to my show, so I assume you do. I think it’s high time we let the colonies know what we really think of them, I think it’s payback time for a little trip to the moon they gave to us a few thousand years ago. I say we go down to the docks and dump that offering of crap into the bay where it belongs! Who’s with me! Who’s bloody with me!!!” he yelled, automated clapping could be heard in the distance of the show.

Virtue is rewarded in this world, remember. Natural law makes no false judgments. Its decisions are true and just, even when dreadful. The victor gets the gold and the land every time.

He continued, “Did you like that idea? Hah, Canterlot, the vile outcast of our land. I mean, what else can you say? Here is a city that had everything! Absolutely everything! And twenty years later it’s what? Equestia’s biggest imbecile news colony! And why? Godlessness, let me say that again, godlessness. It wasn’t the Celestial war they started, it wasn’t the pony pox plague they created, it was judgement. Nopony escapes their past! Nopony escapes judgement! You think she’s not up there? That Nightmare Moon isn’t watching over her land? How else can you explain it? She tested us, and we came through, we did what we had to do, Celestia has fallen. Ponyville, Hoovesdale, I saw it all. Earth ponies, Pegasi, Dragons, disease ridden foul creatures. They had to go! Strength through unity! Unity through faith! I’m a Nightmare god fearing unicorn and I’m damn well proud of it!”

“That’s quite enough of that, thank you very much,” the mare said, turning off the TV. The walls bore beige down on her. Succulent thighs, taught calves. Born into perpetual conflict. It is our inheritance, even as it was the heritage of previous generations.

She was ready to go. As she left her small flat, she walked quickly knowing it was wall past the curfew set by Nightmare Moon.

“A yellow code curfew is now in session” the speakers around her blared, “any unauthorized ponies will be subject to arrest! This is for your protection” it repeated. In her mind, the faint worm. Coiled out of focus in ash. Death to the weakling, wealth to the strong.

As she continued down the path she noticed she was being followed. She trotted faster, turning around tight corners into dark and seemingly deserted alleys. She made a sharp left and ran into a large blue colt.

“Excuse me miss” he said, blocking her path as she tried to pass. “In quite a hurry are we?” he said “It’s past curfew you know.”

The mare pushed him away from her, “My uncle makes me very sick!” she lied, wanting to leave as fast as possible.

“Oh sick uncle, right, what do you think of that Willy?” the colt said, as another green colt emerged from the shadows.
“Load of bullocks” he said smiling. No two germs, planets, suns, or stars, are alike. Among the higher vertebrates this is especially so.

The mare coward in fear, “I made a mistake, I shouldn’t be out after curfew I know that!” she said.

The colts grabbed her, “Well maybe you can take care of me and my friend here, he’s real sick, aren’t you Willy?”

“Oh real sick, got a case of the blues, you can feel em,” he said, grabbing the mare from behind.

“Let go of me” she yelled, she took out a can of pepper spray and pointed it at them.

“You just threatened an authority” the blue colt said smiling.

The mare looked frantic, “Oh god, you work for Nightmare Moon!”

Willy grabbed her again, “This means we get to exercise our own judicial privileges...and you get to swallow it.”

The mare tuned, “I’m sorry!” she repeated crying.

“Oh not yet, but you will be”, more colts emerged around her as they laughed and grabbed at her, as she screaming for help.

But, as all hope for the mare was lost, a silky white masked figure came around the corner.

“You have only to look at some men, to know that they belong to an inferior breed. Take the zebra for example.” The figure said, with a quaint and lady-like voice. Rimmed in the excesses of chastity.

The figure raised its head to reveal a long rigid horn, it glowed brightly and shot beams of light at the colts, knocking them away from the young mare in distress. She bucked and slashed at them, flinging them around easily. Without breaking a sweat she rendered them all unconscious.

The alicorn smiled as she walked towards the mare, “Every organism, every human being, must conquer or serve. This is an Ultimatum."

“Wh- Who are you?” she said.

“Who is but a function of what, and what I am, is a mare in a mask” she said, “But permit me to announce the character of this auspicious persona.”

Her abdomen bears the twinge of awe for the women shed tears; Men shed blood. Cowards serve masters. Bold men make themselves Masters. “Alright,” said the mare.

"Cheers! In conceiving, a cheery, chivalrous citizen, cast carefully as both creator and caretaker by the council of Fate. This charade, no mere chat of cacotopia, is a component of the chanced classic, now corrupted, canceled. The minds of average workmen and workwomen, are either total vacuums or stuffed to the brim with every conceivable species of lies, iniquity, superstition, and sham. The only conclusion is cleansing; a cleaning, held as a chance, not in calcine, for the cute and calumet of such shall one day claim the court and the caple. (she giggles) If our modern Sodoms were all razed to the ground, how Nature in all her perennial purity would rejoice exultantly? Compared, this cakewalk of caniflex caterers most cataphysical, so let me simply add that the poor can never be placed upon an equality and you may call me Citty."

The mare blinked at the white alicorn, confused, “Are you a righteous pony?"

I am quite sure they will say so.