Twilight Sparkle Gets a Pimple on Her Ass

The problem with having a talking ass, Twilight thought, is that not only was it strange in and of itself, but that it was also oddly a good listener. Despite her ass, you know… not having any ears. I mean, Twilight had given it eyes, a mouth, all that other stuff. Speaking of all that, you don’t really want to know what it was like trying to go to the bathroom.

But I’m going to tell you anyway. I mean, I warned you after all to stop reading this shitty fanfic.

“Come on!” Twilight yelled. “I haven’t pooped in days!”

Her ass shook its head. Which meant her ass was wiggling on the toilet seat. “Stop fucking doing that!” Twilight smacked her ass. “I… can’t believe I just did that,” she admitted. And let’s face it, I don’t think we can believe that either. I mean, I can’t even fucking believe I just typed that.

Well anyway, it isn’t as if her ass could be blamed. I mean, have you ever pooped out your mouth? That’s what it’s like to be an ass. They have quite a terrible lot in life. So to protest this gross negligence of ass rights, Twilight’s ass refused to poo. Its mouth remained shut.

Twilight groaned, still on the toilet. She rested her head on her hoof. Just then, she saw a white flash. She turned to see Spike with a cell phone. “This is going up on the Internet!” he chuckled.

“It already IS on the Internet, you shit-nosed little piss-faggot doodie-kissing mudfucker goddamn butt-weasel crotch-squeezer,” she yelled as Spike left. She thought over if she had left out anything offensive. Nah, this was getting a Mature rating anyway.

Twilight resumed her thought process. “OK,” she told her ass. “I know you think I’m mistreating you,” she said. “And I can’t say I blame you. But the thing is, if you don’t let me poop, we’ll both die, OK? My digestive tract can only take so much abuse. We’re gonna get sick, and we’ll both die.”

She could tell her ass was thinking this over, because she could feel its nose wiggling about.

“Well, yeah, I ‘kin see thyat, but—”

“GOTCHA!”

And with that, Twilight let it all out. It felt good, like being cleansed after wading around in pudding and being tossed into a black hole. Black holes, man. Fuck ‘em.

Twilight let out a sigh of relief as her ass began to yell at her.

“Oh what th’ fyuck, now then yet! Do you knyow what shit tastes like? It tastes like shyit, dontcha know. An’ I don’ think you digested some of it all th’ way! ‘Re you sure you’re chewing fifty times b’fore swallowing, young lady?”

“What are you, my mom?”

“No, I’m yer ass. ‘F yer gonna take a shyit it’s gonna go th’ru me, dontcha know!”

Twilight Sparkle reached for the toilet paper. The roll was empty. “Shit.”

“What, again?”

“NOOOOOO,” Twilight roared. “Spike didn’t change out the toilet paper when he was done using the toilet last time.” She raised her voice. “SPIKE! Get me some more toilet paper would ya?!”

But no matter how much Twilight hollered, Spike couldn’t hear her. He was in his bed listening to some Five-Finger Death Punch and reading a naughty magazine. It was the October issue, with “TRIXIE: Great and Powerful On and Off the Stage” written on it. “Oh, I doubt that position’s even possible for ponies,” he snickered.

“Goddammit, ” Twilight muttered. “He better not have gotten into my porn stash.”

“Why ya gotta read those anyway, Twilight? Yer better than that, dontcha know.”

Twilight pursed her lips. It was true she was quite lonely, and despite her great desire for stallion company, there were precious few of them. She knew Lauren Faust had tried to get more male characters on the show, but those fucking clowns at Hasbro said “No this is a girls show” not thinking boys might wanna watch cute little ponies fuck shit up.

The more she thought about it the more angry she got. Her ass tried to get her attention. “Twilight? Ya there, Twilight?”

“WHAT?! Can’t you tell I’m boiling with sexual frustration?! Every time I try to land it with a fucking stallion, it turns out they’re into some weird fetish I’ve never heard of!”

“I take it you don’t spend vyery much tyime on th’ Internet, now then yet.”

“Why the fuck would I?! It’s full of people who read fanfictions that have me sitting on a toilet, talking out my ass TO MY ASS, wishing I could get laid! And they’d fucking ENJOY READING IT!” In her defense, you probably are. Come on, admit it. You wouldn’t have gotten this far if you didn’t.

Twilight got even angrier. “And where the fuck is my TOILET PAPER?! SPIKE!!! THE FUCK ARE YOU DOIN’?!”

Upstairs, Spike was rummaging through Twilight’s other porn mags. They strangely enough seemed to all be of mares, not that Spike was complaining. He never questioned Twilight’s sexual preferences until now, but whatever they were, I’m not writing a fic about it. Sorry.

Spike heard Twilight calling for him. He set down the magazines and went downstairs. Knocking on the door, Spike asked, “Hey, Twi, everything OK in there?”

“NO! I need some toilet paper, goddammit!”

“Jeez, why are you so hostile?”

“Might have something to do with the fact that my ass is getting itchy from all the shit stuck to it!”

“Kinda like leavin' yer shaving cream on too long, dontcha know.”

Spike threw his hands in the air. “OK, OK! I’ll go find some.” He went into the linen closet and searched around a bit. He came across a pretty interesting-looking pink tube. “Oh my God,” he said, “You serious, Fife? GodDAMN you.” He threw it under a floorboard, where he hoped I’d never have him retrieve it for a later scene of tasteless humor.

Spike did not come across any toilet paper. “Twilight,” he called. “I’m sorry but there isn’t any toilet paper! I’m gonna have to run to the store and get some.”

Out of Twilight came a long, drawn-out groaaaaaaaaaannnnnnnnnnnn. Spike apologized and left. He didn’t take any money because he wasn’t going to buy any toilet paper. Instead he was going to go milk leo because I sure as hell wasn’t going to.

“Hey Twilight,” said her ass. “Wanna sing a song?”

Not the strangest thing to have happened all week. “Why the fuck not.”

And they joined together in song, face and ass, ass and face. Their dulcet tones caused the souls of all who listened to feel elated, as though these two voices combined invited one’s imagination onto a dance floor and lead them in a graceful tango. It was not unlike listening to the wind making love to a goddess.

“A hundred bottles of beer on the wall, a hundred bottles of beeeeer…”