Big Mac's Journey to Nightmare City

In the farmhouse kitchen at Bad Apple Acres, Pinkie Pie’s counterpart was cooking delicious-smelling baked goods. Big Mac’s mouth watered. He hoped that at some point he would be able to sneak in and steal a morsel or two.

Big Mac ducked around the back wall of the farmhouse when he saw the evil-looking duplicate of his grandmother approaching. Her eyes blazed with a malevolent red light, and he could swear that she had fangs. She was wearing a spiked leather saddle with what appeared to be a mace strapped to it.

“Well, Stinky Pie,” Big Mac heard his grandmother’s counterpart say as the door slammed. “You’ve really outdone yourself this morning. I can’t wait to taste these concoctions of yours. Your little cooking hobby is certainly a pleasant one.”

“Thanks, Granny Grim, I’m glad you approve,” Stinky Pie chuckled wickedly. “Of course you never know who I may bake into one of my pies!”

“I know that they deserve it!” Granny Grim laughed. “Have you decided which of the six sub-monarchies you’d like to rule over?”

“I don’t care, so long as there’s stuff I can cook,” Stinky Pie said. “Of course Rainbow Slash will want to rule the sky realm. I imagine that Flutterdeath will take the forest. Scarity will want someplace with plenty of gems, so I imagine she’ll wish to rule the underworld with its imines. Say, Granny Grim, do you remember that time the blackbirds decided to start an uprising?”

“You sure taught them a lesson,” Granny Grim laughed.

“That’s right. I baked four and twenty of them in a pie. The blackbirds have behaved themselves ever since.”

A malevolent-looking version of Fluttershy flitted through the door. Big Mac was horrified to see that she was wearing a necklace made of dead birds.

“I’ll rule over the forests, Ladies,” Flutterdeath hissed in a voice like a snake. “You know how those woodland creatures fear me.”

“There’s certainly none better for the job,” said someone with a deep voice.

Big Mac saw his counterpart entering the kitchen.

“Good to see ya, Bad Mac,” said General Apple Doom. “Join me for a slice of this egg and eyeball pie that Stinky Pie made for breakfast. Where are the Meanie Mark Crusaders?”

“Well, them wicked little fillies had a couple of dissenters to make an example of,” Bad Mac snickered.

“Goodie! More filling for my pies!” Stinky Pie cheered.

Out of the corner of his eye, Big Mac saw two small figures sneaking away from the group of slaves being forced to plow the fields and tend to the apple trees. He decided to see what they were up to.

“Maybe I can find some hay to eat before I starve to death!” he thought to himself.