Pinkie Pie and Fluttershy Have Words

Chapters

In which it is established that Pinkie Pie has done something to offend Fluttershy.
In which the altercation is interrupted by an unexpected complication.
In which the story ends and it becomes clear that the writer has gone insane.
In which Breezies are introduced and things really do start to get strange.

In which it is established that Pinkie Pie has done something to offend Fluttershy.

Fluttershy huddled behind one of her animal hutches, fed fresh slugs into her shotgun and, gripping it by the forearm, cocked it. There was a satisfying click.

“Alright, fucker, let’s do this!” she said, whirling around to take aim.

There was nothing there.

She squinted and pivoted side-to-side, quickly, checking.

Again, there was nothing.

“Clever girl,” she said, settling back behind the hutch to consider her next move.

A rhythmic pricking, as of walking pins, crawled up a hind leg, and something stung her. Instantly her eyes snapped down to the source.

A scorpion watched her, impassively. Its venom burned as it spread.

Fluttershy grabbed it by the tail, bit off its face, flung the carcass away, and chewed, thinking. Down to the last box of ammunition already, and she was sure she had not come anywhere near to hitting Pinkie Pie. Damn, damn, damn.

“Helloooooo!” sang a voice right above her.

She looked up. It was Pinkie Pie, perched atop the hutch, grinning down at her like a very unstable person. Her fur was matted and dripping with blood.

Fluttershy glared and brought the shotgun around. Soft as a kiss, the open end of the barrel touched Pinkie Pie’s forehead.

“You killed Angel,” she said.

“Yup!” said Pinkie Pie.

“You took out his eyes and flayed him and butchered him and braised him, in a deliciously tart tomato sauce, with a humble mirepoix and a fine blend of fresh herbs, and then you ate him.”

“Uh huh!”

“With, I might add, mashed potatoes, you bitch.”

“That’s right!”

“With gravy! From, in case you didn’t think I’d noticed, a box!” spat Fluttershy. The shotgun weaved a figure-eight pattern against Pinkie Pie’s forehead as she shook with rage.

“Sure did!” said Pinkie Pie, beaming.

“Something as easy to make as gravy, and you got it out of a box!” shouted Fluttershy. Her bloodshot eyes ran with tears. “I bet you even buy your mayonnaise, you horrible, repulsive, despicable creature!”

For the first time, Pinkie Pie’s smile vanished, to be replaced with puzzlement.

“But I don’t like mayonnaise,” she said.

Fluttershy screamed. It started quietly, deep within her, and rose through the octaves as the volume grew, and grew, and grew until her voice was strained. When she next spoke, her voice was very wobbly and, well, horse.

“See you in Mayonnaise Hell!” she said. She didn’t know what it meant at the time, and still does not, to this day, but it felt right. It had oomph.

She pulled the trigger.

The kick knocked into her shoulder so hard she fell onto her back and dropped the gun, where she lay, panting, crying in the relief of a difficult job finished.

“Wow, that was a good one,” said Pinkie Pie.

Fluttershy’s eyes snapped open.

Pinkie Pie was above her, poking the remains of a cardboard figure that hung limply over the animal hutch.

“I mean, that would’ve got me, for sure,” she said. “Sheesh, Fluttershy!”

Fluttershy scrambled onto her hooves and, gun forgotten, launched herself at Pinkie Pie.

Down the hill they rolled, punching, kicking, biting. A cloud of dirt formed around them, obscuring the fight from view, apart from the occasional flailing limb.

As you read, the voice narrating in your head becomes that of Benedict Cumberbatch. The man is effing hot, whatever an “eff” is, so I apologize if this is in any way distracting, but it can’t be helped.

They splashed into the river downhill from Fluttershy’s cottage. This did nothing to stop the fight, but Pinkie Pie did try to hold Fluttershy’s head underwater, which was unpleasant.

After a bit of struggle, Fluttershy managed to roll on top, unfurl her wings, and rise up and out of Pinkie Pie’s reach. She waggled her fetlocks, as one posing for fisticuffs might do.

“You look like a pooped-out pinwheel!” she said.

“I will destroy you!” said Pinkie Pie.

“You betray me! You no good! You, you, you,” said Fluttershy, groping for the perfect insult, “you just a chicken!”

Pinkie Pie narrowed her eyes.

“Nobody references bad movies at me. You will be more creative when you insult me, missy; is that understood?” she said, climbing up into the air in her hover boots to directly confront Fluttershy.

Fluttershy glared at the hover boots.

“Now you’re fucking with the continuity!” she snarled. "Why?”

“I’m Pinkie Pie, bitch,” said Pinkie Pie, relishing in the lameness of the line, hit Fluttershy very hard in the mouth, turned, and ran. It should not be possible to prance in mid-air, but Pinkie Pie was doing it, the horrible show-off.

Fluttershy reached into the Vortex Of Plot Contrivances and retrieved a lightsaber. She armed it. The beam was blue like the eyes of Death. She raised it in an impressive arc over her withers, and went after Pinkie Pie, slashing and hacking. She obviously did not know how to use the weapon, but that was the good bit: this way, it would be messy and inefficient. It would take time. There would be more blood. Yes, she should have started with the lightsaber in the first place. The gun was too easy. Too neat. Too quick. The paragraph ran on and on and on as she thought of all the cruel things she could do to Pinkie Pie with a light saber. She would chop her up into bits, bit-by-bit, one bit at a time. Starting with those teeth. The teeth that tore the flesh of her bunny; those would have to come out, one-at-a-time, then she would give her a Glasgow smile, smile, smile. Still the paragraph continued. Was there no end to her sadism? Just how big of a meany-pants was she? Does the writer really think this joke is funny? How can he? It’s stupid! And it’s still going! This is ridiculous!

Oh, man, I don’t know about you, but I’m leaving him behind, because Pinkie Pie’s just found herself a weapon. It’s somewhat unconventional, but we we wouldn’t have Pinkie Pie any other way.

“Pinkie, what are you--is that blood?!” said Twilight Sparkle, as Pinkie Pie scooped her up and grabbed her tail.

Fluttershy and Pinkie Pie stood before the Ponyville Town Hall.

They faced one another.

The camera zooms in on Pinkie Pie’s eyes. She glowers.

It spins and zooms in on Fluttershy’s eyes. She, too, glowers.

After an appropriately dramatic pause, the ground began to shake.

In which the altercation is interrupted by an unexpected complication.

The shaking stopped as abruptly as a cliché. And it had begun abruptly; there had been no slow, ominous buildup, no distant, approaching grumble of the underground shockwave. It was as if somebody had gone in and removed a few frames from a movie.

There was a long, awkward silence.

Mayor Mare trotted out of Town Hall for her cameo, which will be very brief.

“What was that?” she said.

“Possibly a cop-out,” said Twilight, rolling her eyes. She concentrated and magicked herself out of Pinkie Pie’s grasp. She glared from pink pony to yellow pony.

“And as for you two, just what--”

Suddenly the earthquake returned. The violence of it grew and grew and grew, but, oddly, it all seemed to be centered directly beneath Mayor Mare. She bounced up and down, flailing and screaming and probably getting very badly hurt. Fortunately, her sufferings did not last long, for shortly after they began, the top of Town Hall broke off, came down, and squished her. She popped like a zit, sending gore and blood flying everywhere. And there was a lot of it. Too much, really. A body only has so much room in it. If there is an afterlife, I hope she’s ashamed with herself for lying to you like that, trying to trick you into thinking there were gallons and gallons of blood flowing through her. Honestly, what a drama queen.

The gross, sticky body chunks did not get much of a chance to settle, though, and nor did the building, for the ground beneath the wreck site cracked, sagged, and then exploded. Earth, building materials, and the mortal remains of Mayor Mare went sailing through the air, delivering owies and expensive property damage to those citizens of Ponyville unfortunate enough to be within range of the blast.

The shockwave of the explosion passed. The earthquake ended.

Projectiles settled. Dust settled. Stuff stopped getting broken.

Twilight got to her hooves and made her way over to the site of the blast. Fluttershy and Pinkie Pie wandered over, as well.

They looked down.

Then they looked further down.

There wasn’t a crater, but a hole in the ground, perhaps thirty meters across, that dropped down into the earth. It was too deep to see to the bottom.

Because such things are required when a story has a deep hole in the ground, Pinkie Pie nudged a bit of rubble over the edge and waited to hear the click of it landing. She never did. That never happens. If it did, the gimmick would have no illustrative value.

Then there was a dramatic cutaway. The suspense had to be built up somehow, after all.

Applejack sat down to a quick lunch of apples and grass and apples and hay and alfalfa and apples and flowers and apples. She drank deeply from her mint julep and made bedroom eyes at the reader. Up and down bounced her eyebrows. She really did think the gesture was suggestive, that it invited the reader to contemplate all the sticky things that could be done to her, but really, she just looked like a twerp. She meant well. Don’t think too harshly of her.

She gazed down into the sanctum of madness to which Ponyville had been reduced.

It has to be said that the young whipper-snapper did not really deserve what was about to happen to her. She had her regrets, had made her mistakes, just like everybody else, but, on the whole, she had lead a mostly blameless life. It was not easy, being best pony.

Back at the Ominous Dangerous Perilous Treacherous And Generally Unsafe Hole-in-the-Ground, where Town Hall used to be, Twilight, Pinkie, and Fluttershy were getting annoyed at all the adjectives.

Fluttershy bitch-slapped Pinkie Pie to vent her frustration. Pinkie Pie didn’t like it. It’s no fun getting hit in the first place, unless you think it is, in which case, well, consenting adults, and all that, but it’s really got to hurt if it’s a hoof. I mean, ow. One of Pinkie Pie’s teeth went flying. It had to. There are conventions, after all.

“What the cyan-fuck is going on?” said Cyan Dash, appearing out of nowhere to hover above the hole. She peered into it.

“I wish I knew,” said Twilight. Behind her, Fluttershy and Pinkie Pie had started fighting again. Twilight and Rainbow Cyan ignored it. There was nothing to see, after all, as they were quickly obscured by a dust-cloud. Its perimeter was oddly specific, and it undulated, random punctuation marks flying out of it, along with the occasional flailing limb.

“I was just practicing my totally awesome cloud-punching until it was about twenty percent cooler,” said Raincyan Dash, “and then I see this--”

That was when the school of flying zombie sharks came pouring, bee-like, out of the hole. There were thousands of them. And then there were thousands more. Out they flew, with a horrible insect-like buzz, and they buzzed, buzzing, champing, chomping, chewing, biting, and other unpleasant verbs, as well. Sharks don’t roar, prehistoric giant or not, regardless of whatever hilarious b-movie you may have seen, but these were doing it anyway. And it was a long, deep growl, deep like an inspiring philosophical text. It went right for the spine and broke it up so that it fell apart like good barbecue.

“What the shit!” cried Applejack, far too startled to be a reasonable character and “said” her dialogue.

Cyancyan screamed and screamed and screamed as the flying zombie sharks boiled around her. She flew down, grabbed Fluttercanary, gave her a great big kiss, just in case, and zipped off to Cloudsdale to warn people and summon reinforcements.

Fluttershy swooned from the smooch. It had been the gross, face-mashing sort that is only hot if it’s you and them, but that was the thing. It had been her and them.

She recovered, sought Pinkie Pie in the chaos, found her, and glared. She raised her lightsaber and prepared to give chase.

Applejack stared in horror as the horrible horror-fishes flew around Ponyville. It was difficult to tell what, specifically, was happening. It was sort of like watching a pile of maggots do their thing, all wriggling and horrible. She abandoned her lunch and bolted into the estate of Sweet Apple Acres for help.

The chapter ended, abruptly.

In which the story ends and it becomes clear that the writer has gone insane.

the end of the sentence, which was late to the party, as usual. Most of the ice had melted, by now, and the punch was getting watery and gross. Worse than Kool-Aid.

“Oh, yeah!” said the Kool-Aid Man, bursting through a wall.

“Hey, asshole, the 1990s called, and they said that you suck,” said Rainbow Dash, kicking the anthropomorphic pitcher into shards. Mysteriously bland and watery fruit beverage flooded the stage and left everypony's hooves with an unpleasant stickiness. The Kool-Aid Man's Sharpie face fell to bits, except they weren’t the money sort of bit, which was too bad. At least he had not succumbed to science fiction cliché and fallen to credits.

“One must have pride,” said Jeremy Irons. He looked around to see if anybody got the joke, saw that they hadn’t, and slunk off to shoot a hilarious game movie.

“Writer” said Fluttershy, forgetting, in her agitation, to add punctuation, “You know that thing you’re writing? Where you wonder what would happen if I was given an animal in such poor shape that the only kind act available to me was to end its life?”

Yeah?

“Let’s just say that this story is that animal.”

Aw, you think so?

“Yes. Nobody’s going to like this.”

But I thought it was funny.

“It’s not, sugarcube,” said Applejack, as kindly as she could. "It's obvious that you're trying too hard."

But I'm not trying at all. See, the whole idea was--

"One might argue that that's even worse," said Twilight. "I know you don't mean it, but it comes across sounding kind of condescending to the reader."

“I’m afraid I have to agree,” said Rarity.

Come on. I like--

“Nobody else does,” said Twilight Sparkle. "You're really alienating anybody who looks at this. And you're moping, which I have to say does not suit you at all."

I'm not moping! I didn't write this because I wanted to be popular. I wrote it because I wanted to write it. I knew full well, going into this, that it was going to be weird, and not for everybody. It’s just how my sense of humor--

“I like it!” said Pinkie Pie. "And you still sound like you're moping."

Well, I knew you would like it. And I'm not moping!

“What, exactly, is happening, here?” said Rainbow Dash, chewing on a contrived joke.

I’m not sure, but it should probably end.

“Mmhm,” said the Mane Six.

“No offense,” said Fluttershy, “but I just think you’re running out of steam on this one and should probably move on to another project.”

Yeah, you’re probably right.

“So we’re going to let this one go, okay?”

Yeah.

The End

In which Breezies are introduced and things really do start to get strange.

The flying zombie sharks turned into Breezies. Everybody's vocabulary dropped as they forgot how to talk like real people. They spoke in exposition.

"This is a sentence," said Fluttershy. She was amazing and adorable.

"People are going to hate this, you know," said Pinkie Pie. She was mixing batter for a fresh batch of awesomecakes. "I mean, what are we doing?"

"I'm basking in all these warm fuzzies with these Breezies," said Fluttershy. She gave one of the strangely creepy-cute creatures a drink of sunshine and cheer, served in a thimble.

Princess Twilight flew in on her space ship and landed. She chomped on a gay burger, because those were a thing and the writer is not just ignoring a typo. Delicious, spicy freedom rainbow juice ran from her lips as she masticated.

"Don't I have things to do?" she said. “I am, after all, now an alicorn princess.”

"Probably, but here you are!" said Fluttercute. "I absolutely, adverbly love you, my friends."

"Aw! We love you, too!" said Mayor Mare, coming back from the dead. The horrible events of the last two chapters were retconned and everything was wonderful and candy.

"I'm in this, too!" said Applejack.

"Myself, as well, daaaarling!" said Rarity.

Everybody was there! It was awesome!

"How's it going, guys?" lisped Stephen Magnet.

"Awesome!” said Rainbow Dash. “I'm making out with Ditzy Doo.” She mashed her face against the gray pegasus, and it was kind of weird, but they were digging it, which was, of course, what mattered in the end. "Hey, don't you have to be in water?"

"I am!" said Stephen Magnet.

He was. In fact, he was in an aquarium. A large one, of course; it had to be. It traveled around on a crawler-transporter, the one that Princess Twilight used to move her spaceship around when it was not in use. The tank itself was populated exclusively by mantis shrimps, which, now-and-then, would trundle over for a quick punch. Stephen Magnet was too big to notice, though, so it was okay. Everything was okay and bubbles.

“Voonaskünasång,” said Sea Breeze. It was a strange accent. Imagine Wilford Brimley as an effeminate Welsh man trying to speak Dutch via Ewok.

“Do what, now?” said Applejack.

“Llanfairpwllgwyngyllgogerychwyrndrobwllllantysiliogogogoch!” snarled Sea Breeze.

“Oh! Okay,” said Applejack. She looked at