Ron Burgundy Interviews Twilight Sparkle

by RainbowBob

Rating: teen
Tags: Crossover, Human, Comedy
Length: 2503

Ron Burgundy has an oh so typical interview with none other than Princess Twilight Sparkle herself. Just another ordinary day for this anchorman.

Ron Burgundy has an oh so typical interview with none other than Princess Twilight Sparkle herself. Just another ordinary day for this anchorman.

Thanks to my prereaders Mr101 and Skeeter The Lurker for all their help!

Published 1970-01-01 00:00:00 UTC
Last updated 2014-01-28 03:50:06 UTC

Chapter 1: Stay Classy, Fimfiction

“Twilight, are you nervous at all?” Princess Celestia asked her student.

Twilight shook her head, quickly wiping off a small trace of sweat appearing on her forehead. “Of course not, Princess. This is merely an interview, nothing to worry about.”

“With your first interaction with a human newsteam,” Celestia reminded her. When she noticed Twilight’s eyes bulge out a bit, Celestia chuckled and rested a comforting wing on Twilight’s back. “Don’t grow so anxious, Twilight, you’ll do fine. From what I’ve heard, Mr. Burgundy is a complete professional and one of the most qualified anchormare—I mean, anchorman out there.” Celestia blushed as she looked back to the lit studio. “I already did my piece in New York City at the ambassador press conference, but the humans still wanted to know more about us. Which is why I thought coming to a smaller population center such as San Diego might be easier for you. Plus, this local news station is well known in the area.”

“But what if I screw up? What if I make Equestria look bad? What if I accidentally cause a pony and human war that leaves both sides devastated and millions dead?” Twilight inhaled deeply. “Or what if I say something unintentionally racist? That’d be awful!”

“Twilight, calm down. Do you want me to get the paperbag again?” Celestia asked. Twilight shook her head and resorted to furtively biting the ends of her hooves. Sighing under her breath, Celestia pushed Twilight forward and called out, “Just relax and remain calm and I’m sure you’ll do excellent! Or at least above mediocre!”

Twilight scuttled forward before slowly down to a slow trot, she composed herself the best she could and reached her seat at the large desk that centered in the middle of the room. Taking a seat and adjusting her mane and dress the best she could, she waited for the anchorman to arrive.

Ron Burgundy entered the studio with a shining radiance of spectacular light conveniently illuminating his face, making his properly maintained two-hundred and fifty dollar salon styled hair and expertly trimmed mustache shimmer in the light. His suit was especially stylish and made from only the finest hands a child labor factory in Indonesia can produce. He slowly walked to the desk as wind swept through his magnificent hair, taking Twilight’s breath away, before he turned off the fan responsible for the hair sweeping.

“Now John, I told you I like my hair wind styled, not fan styled,” Ron said to the camera crewman, throwing him a sly wink while chucking fondly.

“Come on, Ron, we don’t have all day for your slow, dramatic entrances!” the station director Ed called from his position high on the backstage.

Ron waved to Ed and nodded his head. “Don’t worry, Ed, you can’t rush perfection. Unless you want a premature perfection, which may have the off chance of dying or being horrifically disfigured upon death.”

Turning back around to Twilight, he got to his desk and spun around a few times in his chair before reaching out for a hand to stop himself as he leaned down breathing in and out in short repetitions. “Okay… chair swiveling time should not come after extra large breakfast omelet at the senior center for an early bird discount time.”

“Um, excuse me, are you Mr. Burgundy?” Twilight asked, leaning out of her chair to get a look at the nauseas anchorman.

“Ron Burgundy, that is. The Ron is very important. R-O-N,” Burgundy explained, spelling each syllable out slowly. “Do you know how to spell Ron now, horse-creature… thingy?”

“Uh, yes, I know how to spell Ron.” Twilight reached out with a hoof and present Burgundy with a cheerful grin. “My name is Twilight Sparkle, and I do believe you are interviewing me today?”

“I do believe you believe I am interviewing you today,” Ron answered as he reached out with his own hand. Stopping before he touched her hoof, he asked, “Wait, why do you have no thumbs?”

“Because I’m a pony?” Twilight answered uneasily.

“Does that mean you walk on that all day long?” Ron asked.

“I suppose so…”

“Well, here in America, the greatest country on Earth I might add, we don’t walk on our hands,” Ron said to her, shuffling his papers around as he adjusted his tie.

“But I just said I have hooves,” Twilight said, frowning slightly.

“Well, even if we did have hooves, we certainly wouldn’t walk on them.”

“But—”

“Shut your muzzle,” Ron said, snapping his hand closed like a jaw multiple times as he pointed to the man behind the teleprompter.

“Ten seconds until airtime!” the man called out, counting down the time with his fingers.

Ron cleared his throat, sounding like he was coughing out a hairball and then his spleen as his racking hacks grew louder and louder. “The human torch was denied a bank loan. Frank Sinatra is a great pianist. Mickey Mouse licks postal stamps. Mother Teresa is a college graduate.” Burgundy began to lick his lips rapidly, screaming in a high pitched tone only dogs and certain species of bats could perceive.

“Just what are you doing?” Twilight asked as she covered her ears to protect herself from Ron’s screeching.

“Santa Claus doesn’t have a toaster! Dracula goes to therapy every Tuesday!” Ron gurgled at the back of his throat until the very last digit went down on the man’s hand. Suddenly retaining himself in his cool and confident smile and mustache induced bravo.

“You’re watching Channel 4 News with five-time Emmy award-winning anchor Ron Burgundy,” the announcer proclaimed.

“Hello, I’m Ron Burgundy,” Burgundy said to the cameras, “here with a special guest, Prince Twinkle Sparklight from the magical pony lands of Equelateral.”

“Uh, Mr. Burgundy, it’s actually Princess Twilight Sparkle. And I’m from Equestria,” Twilight corrected Ron.

“Sorry, but I do not speak Spanish, so please excuse any mistranslations.” Clearing his throat, Ron turned to Twilight and asked, “So, you’re a princess I presume? What does a useless title like that allow you to do?”

“Well, I wouldn’t really call it useless,” Twilight said, rubbing the back of her neck awkwardly. “I mean, I have the responsibility of ruling the nation and making sure the ponies of Equestria are taken care of.”

“Wait, so you’re actually ruling over a country?” Burgundy asked, his expression teetering on perplexed. “Is that like the Queen of England where you just sit around and wave at people?”

“Well, that’s part of it, but more important aspects include protecting Equestria from harm’s way. Why, I’ve done it about three times now,” Twilight said with a wide grin.

“Huh. So, do you get your own parking space? Deluxe size condo? Slightly used car?” Ron asked sporadically.

“No, no, just a place to live in the library at Ponyville,” Twilight answered slowly.

Smiling and shaking his head slightly, Ron turned to the camera and said, “Well, looks like a professional anchorman’s benefits beat out those of a magical pony princess. Interesting fact to digest, I’m sure. Now, Twimple—”

“Twilight!”

“Yes, you really must see that during your stay here in San Diego. Anyway, back to what the teleprompter is telling me I want to know right now, how exactly are you enjoying your stay on Earth?”

“Well, you humans are certainly a kind and compassionate species,” Twilight began, staring at the camera as her confidence bolstered. “Negotiations between our two species are still going strong, and the ponies back home are just delighted to get to know more about your species.”

“I sure they would. We humans are magnificent creatures. We wrestle with bears on weekends and hunt down wolves to feed to our young,” Burgundy said while nodding.

“Um, I’m pretty sure humans don’t normally do that,” Twilight argued hesitantly.

“No, no, I’m pretty sure we do. Saw it on a nature documentary on espeen. Can’t beat those facts.”

“Don’t you mean ESPN?” Twilight asked. “And isn’t that a sport channel? I remember seeing it on your broadcasting station before.”

“Hey now, I don’t tell you have to live your life after getting drunk off scotch while silently sobbing into your pillow as you browse through the channels while ignoring the vast, empty hole in your life that only tears and alcohol can fill in.” Stacking his papers in proper order as the newsroom fell into a deep bout of awkward silence. Flashing the camera that outstanding Ron Burgundy masculine stache and grin combo, Ron said, “And now to Brick for the weather.”

The camera panned out to Brick, the weather correspondent, who was nowhere to be seen. Instead, he was directly behind Twilight, reaching out with a hand to tousle her mane.

“Brick! What did I say about touching the pony?” Ron warned, getting out of his seat. Grabbing Brick’s hand to remove it from Twilight’s mane, Ron said, “No, Brick, this isn’t like the petting zoo! And you nearly got your fingers bitten off last time for touching the goat in it’s anus!”

“But she’s so fluffy I just want to die!” Brick exclaimed, desperately trying to grab ahold of Twilight.

“Just what is going on?” Twilight asked, ducking under from Brick’s hands.

“Brick, Brick, just get! Geeeeeet!” Ron rolled off from the desk and tumbled along with Brick on the floor. Helping Brick back to his feet, Ron adjusted Brick’s suit and returned his glasses back to his always seemingly oblivious face. Digging into his pants pocket, Ron removed a quarter and tucked it into Brick’s hand. “Now, run along to the soda machine and we’ll talk later.”

“But Ron, the chicken unicorn,” Brick said, pointing back to Twilight.

“I know, Brick. You can pet her after we’re done airing.”

“Say what now?” Twilight called out.

“I’ll give you one dollar if you let Brick pet you!”

“No!” Twilight replied firmly.

“Two?” Ron asked.

Twilight groaned and pushed her head onto the desk. “No one is petting me for any amount of money!”

“Well, looks like someone isn’t a team player,” Ron said, patting Brick on the back and whispering, “Don’t worry, I’ll get to her yet.”

Returning to his chair and smirking to the camera as he stacked up his papers one last time, Ron said, “Well, I do believe we all learned a lot about one another in this short interview we had with the foreign national of a purple yet most likely lavender color decent. For all of us here at News Center Four, I'm Ron Burgundy. You stay classy, San Diego.”

“And that’s a wrap!” the man by the teleprompter said.

“Well, I think that went over good, don’t you?” Ron asked, smoothing over his hair as he went through his papers as if the mindless scrawl doodled on them actually meant anything.

“Wait, why are we still talking?” Twilight asked, looking around the station in confusion.

“Oh, they always record the after part of the report on mute while the credits roll by so it looks like we’re talking about something interesting,” Ron explained, showing her a page and laughing out loud from it. “I usually just draw penises and then show it off to the guys to get a couple of chuckles.”

Twilight lifted up the paper with her magic and looked utterly appalled by the badly drawn male genitalia depicted on the page. “Mr. Burgundy, that is utterly disgusting!”

“By Stonewall Jackson’s right nut, it’s voodoo!” Ron screamed, falling back in his chair at the sight of the paper being lifted up by Twilight’s magic. “The only thing that I fear!”

“Uh, Mr Burgundy, this isn’t voodoo, it’s—” Twilight was interrupted at the chair being chucked at her head, which she hastily avoided by ducking. “Did you just throw a chair at me?” Twilight asked, her answer quickly being followed by another chair.

“Die you devil sorcerer! Take your voodoo and black magic back to your evil lands of evil!” Ron cried out as he quickly ran to the other end of the stage to grab more things to throw at Twilight.

“Mr. Burgundy, I think this is quite enough,” Twilight said, backing away as Ron removed a fire extinguisher from the backwall.

Ron hit the fire alarm, aiming at Twilight and spraying her from the fire extinguishers nozzle as sprinklers rained water down from the sky. “I shall not be possessed like that one night in Tataguanda with those natives! My heart belongs to no witch doctor, and my scrotum to no children to be used as a soccer ball!”

Celestia rushed to Twilight’s side and covered her wet head with a wing. “Twilight, I think it’s best if we depart. Ron Burgundy was a bad idea to get an interview from.”

“Pretty princess chicken!” Brick called out, jumping on Celestia’s back and grabbing her wings. Celestia kicked back in shock, accidentally knocking over Twilight as she bucked back and forth to eject Brick from her back. “Look, Ron, I’m riding a pony! I’m flying!”

“Hold her still so that I may smite the beast!” Ron called out, rushing at Celestia with a microphone as if to stab her. Just as he heroically jumped in the air to bring down the microphone’s end at Celestia’s neck, the tv screen cut to black and was quickly replaced with text saying ‘WE ARE EXPERIENCING TECHNICAL DIFFICULTIES’ while a worried looking cat hung underneath a sparking electrical outlet beneath this.

“I gotta say, that escalated quickly. Much more quickly than I thought it would,” Ron said, wincing as he eased an icepack on his forehead.

“Ron, I just can’t have you assault political ambassadors on the show anymore,” Ed explained, the two now situated in Ron’s office approximately thirty minutes after the fight in the newsroom broke out. “This isn’t the first time, but I want it to be the last.”

“Oh, believe me, I learned my lesson. Don’t mess with voodoo, cause it’s a big doo doo,” Ron replied, sipping from his ice cold beer.

“Great, now try to stick by it when we have our next guest over. Princess Luna or whatever it is.” Ed threw his hands up in the air. “Do you think you can control yourself for the next interview, Ron?”

“Is it just me, or are these ponies Spanish or what?” Ron asked.

“Forget it,” Ed answered, leaving Ron alone in his office.

Ron grunted as he altered his seating position, grabbing an ice pack to put over his right ass cheek which had been previously injured during the grand battle scene in the newsroom not even an hour before . “I’ll just tell everyone I got that scar while in prison. In Mexico. Yeah, definitely Mexico. Not from a unicorn’s horn, just that messy drug dealer in prison I met at Mexico. I believe his name was Jesus. Yep, Jesus gave me a scar on my ass, not a pony. I am going to stick by that story and deny all other accusations."