Sweetie Belle sat at the small writing desk in her room, quill levitating silently before her as she scribbled and scratched out her thoughts. She had written long into the night, and the end result, while a little sloppy and covered with many ink splotches, was still readable. Mostly.
Regardless, it would suffice to give it to Spike, who in turn would send it to Princess Celestia as a favor. She had thought very carefully about the method by which Celestia would get her mail. Sweetie had thought about that one for at least three and a half hours.
Sweetie Belle thought that her letter looked pretty good as she snuggled into bed at last, making herself comfortable beneath the sheets. And she would continue to believe that her letter looked just fine, up until the point when she was proven otherwise.
As a matter of fact, when the letter drifted inside Princess Celestia’s window the next morning courtesy of magical dragon flames, she thought that it was another letter from Twilight. Obviously, this was not the case. She unrolled it warily, noting the multiple ink blotches.
The letter itself read as follows.
Princess Celestia had to stop reading for a moment.
Seriously, lady. What the actual fuck is your problem?
Actually, let me go back to that first part. ‘Lady’. You know, I cannot for the life of me figure out why it is so goddamned hard for everybody around here to say ‘lady’ or ‘guy’ or anything that isn’t in some way pony related. And you know why?
I went to the library to find out, and as it turns out, there’s a whole fucking law dedicated to ensuring that ponies use ‘proper’ terminology when referring to each other! Again, what the actual fuck?
Punishable by death? Really?
Holy shit, your own sister tried to KILL you, and all you did was send her bubbly blue ass to the moon!
I mean, seriously, are you some kind of basket case? This is nuts! Those are the conditions of a fucking psychopath!
I don’t even know where to begin, Ti-Ti.
Totes calling you that now.
And another thing; why the hell did you have all of our railway tracks built upside down? I thought that was just a fuckup of the construction ponies, but, no! it’s in the legal document from Canterlot, specifically requested!
Do you have any idea how many innocent ponies DIE because of derailing trains?
A fuck ton more than anybody is allowed to print in the local newspaper, that’s for sure!
And that’s another thing.
Why the hell doesn’t Ponyville have a graveyard?
I KNOW that ponies aren’t immortal. Everybody with a brain stem knows that. It’s easy as fuck to tell, and it confuses me to no end trying to figure out why we have no goddamned graveyard. I even checked the library on that shit, and you know what I found?
Nada.
Zip, zilch, zero, nothing!
We have documents on public executions for failure to speak with proper terminology and instruction manuals for making moonshine, but absolutely nothing on causes of natural death?
Are you shitting me?
What the hell kind of country are you running, lady?
Seriously, bitch; this is the kind of shit that gets somebody impeached.
Oh, but I didn’t find anything on FUCKING IMPEACHMENT in the library! I had to get that shit from Baltimare. Shipped express, by the way.
Speaking of which, why is it that you only answer to letters you get via dragon mail? Do you realize that we have a perfectly good – actually I’ll get to that in a minute – functioning postal system? Are you fucking incompetent, or do you just that you’re better than the rest of us? Because I sure as fuck don’t have access to mail carrying dragon magic!
On that note, completely disregard that I accessed mail carrying dragon magic to send you this. Also, Spike says hi.
On the topic of our completely dysfunctional postal system, why in the blazing blue hell do we have somebody like Derpy lugging around our highly fragile/flammable packages?
It sure ain’t because she’s accident prone.
You realize that her eyes look like that for a fucking reason, right?
And that’s another thing!
Since when is the Ponyville hospital also doubling as a motherfucking mental ward? Was the first one so packed to the brim with lunatics that we had to move them all into a hospital with sick and injured ponies, or did we never have one to begin with?
And more importantly, where in the flying fuck is the hospital security keeping all the loons INSIDE?!
I swear to god, Celestia, this whole fucking place is batshit insane! Do you even have any idea what our economy is like? Oh, wait, our economy is the TOILET, because we have people trying to make a living selling vegetables and sewing clothes. There is no such thing as an assured paycheck, because everybody uses bits.
Mother fucking BITS!
Do you even know how much a ‘bit’ is worth?
Because I sure fucking don’t!
Oh my god, this is driving me almost as nuts as everybody else!
And on the note of god, will you just fucking stop with the letting everybody worship you like you’re the motherfucking messiah? Bitch, you might have a sun on your ass, but that don’t make you holy.
And that’s another thing!
Will you stop fucking telling everyone that you can move the sun?
These inbred blithering morons will believe just about anything you fucking tell them, and now I hear rumors of them starting a goddamned cult in your name! Some kind of wacked out building that the Apple family is working on. A ‘cha urch’, or something.
Seriously, bitch. I read a science book.
You’re not moving the fucking sun. Telling everybody that you are actually some kind of immortal sun goddess is not funny, cut that shit out.
Or I’ll have you impeached.
Princess Celestia gaped at the open letter she held in one hoof, the fireplace crackling quietly behind her.
