Twilight Hasn't Yet Digested Peach
"Are you okay, Twilight?"
"Do I look okay, Spike?"
Twilight lay sprawled out on her couch, bought on her last trip to Quills and Sofas. It came with a bulk deal of quills she bought. In Twilight's opinion, it was worth the money. Nopony had the heart to tell her how superfluous owning ten trillion quills was.
Twilight moaned and rubbed her aching belly. She picked up a book with her magic and began flipping through it furiously.
"There has to be a spell in here somewhere."
Twilight had recently ingested a large number of peaches. Twilight was now sick.
A bucket was at rest next to the couch. Spike sincerely hoped that she wouldn't have to use it. Unbeknownst to Spike, the bucket concurred. The bucket was happily minding its own business, blithely unobserving and not reacting to any external stimulus, as a bucket should not, unless it wants to disturb the laws of the universe. The bucket ignored its nonexistent conscience and moral code to inwardly not express disgust.
When Twilight had heard about the bizzare fruit, she knew that she had to try it. For science. ~~Fruits shouldn't have fur. Peaches are an abomination.~~
Peaches are a relative of the almond.
"Owlicious, if Twilight happens to barf, you get to clean it up." Spike deadpanned.
"Who?"
"Twilight. She ate too many peaches."
"Who?"
"Twilight! Over there!"
"Who?"
Spike sighed, somewhere in there, he knew this was futile, yet the dragon continued.
"Do you ever know who I'm talking about?"
"Who?"
"You!"
"Who?"
"UGH!"
Spike through up his forelimbs in submission and stormed off. Grumbling to himself.
"Sorry."
"What?"
"Who?"
A towering bowl of peaches sat on a table. Twilight eyed them suspiciously. What have you to gain from my agony? Do you take a perverse pleasure in watching me squirm? What do you want from me? What?
The peaches did not reply to Twilight's thoughts, as they were peaches, and peaches can not talk. Even if peaches could talk, they wouldn't say much. The life of a peach is a boring one, I know from experience. Trees. Peaches can't read minds anyways.
The peaches continued to sit. Twilight glared at them, as if willing them to explode. Does Twilight know a spell that could cause fruit to spontaneously combust? The fruit didn't hope not, as fruit are fruit, and peaches are fruit, and everypony knows that peaches which are fruit which are fruit are unable to hope. Or feel love. Peaches, they cannot feel love. Or hope.
Twilight stared at each,
The fruits she knew as peach.
Try as she might,
It just wasn't right,
For her life, she just could not reach.
Many things were certain to Twilight. Twilight knew that her name was Twilight Sparkle. She knew Celestia and Luna ruled for millennia. She knew that Spike loved to eat gems. She knew that it was impossible to understand Pinkie Pie. All these things could be proven with formulas. Twilight did not understand peaches. Twilight did not understand why the juicy sirens had compelled her to taste their intoxicating flesh, why she could not stop, not why they stared at her so. They were staring. The peaches had a stare that bore into Twilight's very soul. Wheather or not Twilight believed in the concept of a soul.
Peaches can't stare they have no eyes. Fruit doesn't have eyes. Corn has ears, potatoes have eyes. Pineapple has eyes. Pineapple is a fruit. Peaches are fruit. Fruit is fruit. Peaches are pineapples. Peaches aren't pineapples.
Twilight didn't understand.
No, in not understanding, Twilight understood perfectly. Everything was as clear as transparent brick. The world was made of glass. Except the world was mostly opaque, except for air and water and-
Twilight didn't understand. Twilight couldn't understand. Twilight understood perfectly why she could never understand. Why nopony could understand.
Peaches were the answer, the answer was always peaches. The answer to what though?
What do you get if you multiply six by nine? Peaches.
Always peaches.
Twilight stared at the peaches as the peaches did not stare back at her. Peaches are inanimate objects, painted in still life. It's still life.
"Uh, Twilight? Are you okay?"
"Do I look okay, Spike?"
"We already had this conversation."
"Look, Spike, I'm sorry."
Spike looked over to the pile of particularly gregarious peaches. Peaches couldn't normally talk, and this was no exception, but the peaches seemed gregarious nonetheless.
"I'm going to put these away."
Twilight snored in response.
Spike lifted the bowl, and immediately, the peaches tumbled out and scattered themselves all over the floor. Spike groaned and bent over, he began picking up the peaches that fell onto the floor. He gathered as many peaches in his arms as he could and placed them back into the bowl. Spike turned around to gather the rest of the peaches. Spike came back to the cowl with another armful. The bowl was empty, and the area around it was covered entirely with peaches. Spike tilted his head in bewilderment. He had just put those peaches in the bowl, had he not? In the scheme of things, does what we do matter? Does it ever?
Spike dropped the peaches he was currently holding into the bowl, and began to pick up the peaches surrounding the bowl. Spike stood up, and to his horror, a towering tower of peaches wobbled before him. It was an imposing cylinder of peaches five peaches wide and eleven feet tall. They all came crashing to the floor, splattering against the ground with a ghastly cacophony of squelching and and squishing sounds.
Spike heard exactly what he didn't want to hear coming from Twilight's direction.
Mario's arms shook as the plumber smashed his cartoonishly over-sized mallet downwards in unison as Luigi mirrored his actions.
"Are you-a sure this-a is a-gonna work?" Luigi asked with a twinge of trepidation.
"Its-a not a-gonna be pleasant, but its-a gonna work." Mario responded. "This-a is the only way to a-save a-the princess!"
A deep rumbling shook Twilight's internal labyrinth, and the two Italian plumbers knew that their ride had arrived, they could smell Peach from their equivalent of a mile away.
Author's Note
I'm dearly sorry.