Inkblot's Creative Genius

by TS9644

Rating: mature
Tags: Comedy, Random, Adventure
Length: 1478

A faggot writes a screenplay

Inkblot writes a screenplay.
Now it has to be published.
Heil Hoofler.

Also big thanks to http://www.fimfiction.net/user/Dr_Strangelust for editing my shitty story.

Published 1970-01-01 00:00:00 UTC
Last updated 2014-01-14 20:40:05 UTC

Story

Inkblot gave a satisfied sigh as he signed his manuscript with a flourish. The gray unicorn had spent months pushing his limits of creativity and endurance, but finally his sweat and tears had resulted in this; his magnum opus, his crowning achievement.

He had single-hoofedly (or rather, hornedly) written the greatest screenplay of all time. In fact, it was so good that it had to be shared with the world. Watch out, Hollymare; everything was coming up Inkblot!

Inkblot stormed through the front door, throwing himself to his couch in despair. "Why couldn't they see my vision?" he sobbed pitifully.

Wallowing in self-pity, he trotted to the freezer and pulled out a tub of ice cream. After walking back to the couch, ice cream and spoon held firmly in the grip of his magic, he turned on the tv. He sat on the couch dejectedly, drowning his sorrows in the ever faithful tv and ice cream combo, when a commercial for Here Comes Pony Boo Boo: The Movie came on (of course it was about 50 volume points higher than the feature show).

"Damnit!" Inkblot raged, his eardrums thoroughly molested. "That should be my movie, not this drivel! My genius has been stifled long enough!"

Then he got an idea.

An awful idea.

Inkblot got a wonderful, awful idea.

'Maybe,' he thought to himself, 'maybe if the talent agents can't appreciate my genius, I could take it to a screenplay writer. Maybe even Mare E. Wither herself. I love her work on the Mare Do Well movie.' At this thought he couldn't help but squee internally a little bit.

Inkblot stepped onto the train bound for the Crystal Empire, singing under his breath as he took his seat. He pulled out his ticket in anticipation as he watched the conductor meander down the train towards him.

"Damn tourists," The conductor grumbled at the ticket after reading the destination.

"Oh, I'm not a tourist," Inkblot replied, "I'm on a journey to meet Mare E. Withers and tell her my great idea so she can make it into a movie!" he babbled excitedly.

The conductor chuckled. "Isn't she that mare who writes all those shitty screenplays? I'm sure you'd fit right in there."

"Hey!" Inkblot protested. "My screenplay is just too avant-garde for you to understand!"

"Whatever you say, crazy mare." said the conductor as he walked away.

"You just don't understand talent, you plebeian! And for your information, I'm a stallion!" huffed Inkblot, sounding significantly more feminine than the average mare. After such an embarrassing altercation with the conductor, he decided he could definitely do with a strong drink. Unfortunately he soon found out that alcohol wasn't served on this particular train because it was owned by Mormonys. Jerks.

Following an utterly ex-haust-ing journey (as Inkblot would describe it), the train arrived at the Crystal Empire. Upon exiting, a gust of wind picked up, blowing his immaculate blue mane in a beautifully effeminate way. He put a hoof up to his mouth, stifling a girlish giggle as the breeze tickled his cheeks.

He made his way down the main avenue, hooves clopping lightly as he walked. He had made it, but had no real idea what to do once he arrived.

He decided to ask around to see where Mare E. Withers could be found. Spying a sapphire crystal pony, he shouted excitedly, using all the natural charm a shut in egotistical writer could muster to get the stranger's attention.

"Yoo hoo!" he warbled in a passable imitation of a encephalitic diver bird. "Could a hunky stallion like you give little 'ol me a hoof?"

The stallion looked on in bemusement at the pathetic attempt to seem discrete as he trotted over to help. "Sure miss, whaddya need?" he asked in a thick Caneighdian accent.

Inkblot knew he had an in; the legendary crystal pony code of hospitality would prevent this stallion from leaving until he had the information he needed. "Excellent" he muttered under his breath.

"U w0t?" The stallion replied.

"Oh, nothing," responded Inkblot. "Would you know where Mare E. Withers would be?"

The stallion had an answer immediately. "Oh, she's over at DJX studios! Right over that-a-way," he said, gesturing towards a large archway down the road.

"Thank you d-darling" said Inkblot, desperately trying to hide his spaghetti as his knees shook at the sound of the regal Caneighdian accent.

"No trouble at all ma'am, anytime." The stallion said, trotting off on his merry way. Inkblot set off on his own route, singing a jaunty tune under his breath.

A short ways later, Inkblot arrived at his destination, belting out the last lines of "Hot Like Me", as his singing had gotten progressively louder throughout his walk. His singing drew the ire of the studio workers as they went about their jobs, but he paid no heed to their angry responses. Looking down the rows of doors on the nearest studio building, he spied a door simply labeled "Writers."

Upon entry, Inkblot squeed with joy as he laid eyes on his idol, Mare E. Withers herself, as she glared angrily at the door he just entered through.

"Whaddya want?" she grumbled, a little disconcerted at the face-splitting grin adorning the little stallions face.

"Oh Celestia, I've waited so long to meet you!" cried Inkblot as he galloped to his hero and began vigorously shaking her hoof.

Then, speaking at a much faster rate, he continued. "I'mahugefanofyourworkwithmaredowellmaybeyoucanreadmy" was all he could get out before he was rudely interrupted.

"Sheeeeyyt bitch, what the fuck you want? I don't got all day." she replied angrily.

"Well, I had this idea for a story where Inkdrop (see it's a clever self insert protagonist!) fights monsters and zombies and shit! It'll be really expensive because of all the CGI but it'll make it all up by being so great that everypony in Equestria will line up to see it!" said Inkblot excitedly.

At the mention of money, her ears perked up; he suddenly had Mare E.'s full attention.

'Hmmm. This might be good for business. I could always use more shekels, after all,' she thought deviously.

"Tell ya what. I'll buy that story from you and make sure you're the protagonist, if you just sign here," she said as she pulled out a contract.

Inkblot, being the poor schmuck he is, signed without looking at the terms of the agreement. Little did he know that hidden within the maze of legalese that sprawled like very tiny moss across the page was a hidden clause that promised him 1 shekel for every 6 million earned.

Oy Vey, poor stupid pone.

As Inkblot skipped away singing (fittingly) Walking on Sunshine, Mare E cackled to herself while vigorously rubbing her forehooves together. "heheheheheh, stupid goy!" she muttered ominously.

A year later, Inkblot found himself seated in the theater after the end of his movie, mouth agape, eyes as wide as dinner plates.

"Th-that wasn't what I wanted at all!" he sniveled. Mare E. had done it all wrong. He was supposed to be just a normal colt who fell in a vat of rainbows and became a super pony, killed monsters, got the bad guy, found a prince charming and settled down into a castle.

Instead, he was a stupid, bumbling, incompetent MARE! Worse yet, the love interest was another mare!

"Lesbians..." Inkblot hissed as he felt felt rage fill his soul like too much Chickun Lickun. He stormed out of the theater in a huff, past the long line of adoring fans of the movie.

Slamming the door of the theater as hard as he could with his dainty little hoovsies, he was about to storm home when his adorable little eyes beheld a grand sight.

"Open your eyes sheeple! Der Judenpone are controlling what you think! This movie makes 6 gorrilion shekels for them every day!" The ponazis, led by their charismatic leader, Adolf Hoofler, were marching in front of the theater.

Inkblot didn't care what was behind their anger, he just knew they were mad at Mare E. Withers, and that was alright with him. He trotted over to Adolf and said, "I would like to apply to be a ponazi today."

Hoofler glared back and then broke into an uncharacteristic smile. "A little mare like you would be great for morale! Welcome to the Ponazi party!"

"Yeah!" cried Inkblot, ecstatic with his newfound calling in life. "Oh, just so you're not confused, I'm actually a stallion, not a mare." he said sweetly.

"WHAT!?" screamed Hoofler, eyes bugging out. "Fucking degeneracy everywhere!" he yelled as he galloped away, his followers obediently trailing behind him.

"Was it something I said?" asked Inkblot, bewildered at the turn of events. "Oh well." he shrugged as he trotted off towards his house, hips swaying while humming "Hip to be Square".