I stand in front of the door, waiting for the fiends to break through. My M-1 carbine is loaded and my
crowbar is slung on my belt.
I brush a greasy strand of hair out of my eyes. It has been six weeks since I barricaded myself in this
abandoned house. I haven’t bathed at all since the water was shut off. All my food is gone; I ate the last
can of baked beans a few hours ago.
I push an earplug deeper into my ear canal. The sound the creatures make is unearthly; a constant, soul-draining moan.
It’s enough to drive even the staunchest man insane. If it hadn’t been for my earplugs, I would’ve lost my mind
weeks ago.
The creatures hurl themselves against the reinforced door, pounding on it with their pale, sickly hands.
Made of stout oak and reinforced with 2x4’s, it has withstood their assaults for a week. Even so, it will not
protect me much longer. The creature’s ceaseless attacks have weakened it considerably. It's only a matter of time
before it gives.
Let them come.
Who do I fight, you ask?
Zombies?
Demons?
No, it’s something far worse:
Bronies.
-
A year ago, most males couldn’t have cared less about My Little Pony. It was a show about primary-colored
ponies and their mindless adventures in Horseland or whatever they called their inane world. The only
people interested in it where little girls and 40 year-olds with developmental issues. That is, until Lauren
Faust.
The creator of the Powerpuff Girls and Foster’s Home for Imaginary Friends, Faust was quite the women.
She was sick of the way girls were portrayed in cartoons; vapid, shallow brats with no interests outside of
fashion. When she saw My Little Pony, she saw a chance to change that. And My Little Pony: Friendship is
Magic was born. It was a show about a purple unicorn, Twilight Sparkle, and her friends AppleJack,
Fluttershy, Rainbow dash, Pinkie Pie, and Rarity.
At first the show was virtually unknown outside its target audience. Then, somehow, the infamous image
board 4chan got wind of the show. To everyone’s surprise, they liked it. The show began to attract a new
audience: 20-30 year old males. They called themselves Bronies.
At first Bronies seemed harmless, even comical. They’d buy AppleJack and Fluttershy My Little
Pony figures and play with them. They’d wear Rainbow Dash T-shirts and hoodies, and at the end of the
day they’d sleep on Twilight Sparkle bed sheets while cuddling a plushie. Weird, but harmless.
Then things started getting creepy. People all over the world began swarming to the show in increasing
numbers. The ranks of the bronies swelled; within a year, roughly half the planet was watching the show.
Then there was that meteorite shower on the night of the show’s fourth season premiere. That strange,
sparkling meteorite shower…
-
Crack!
A large crack split’s the door in two.
I aim down the sights of my carbine. From what I’ve heard over the radio, the only way to kill a brony is to
destroy the brain; a task at which the M-1 excels.
One of the bronies manages to worm his way in through the damaged door. Like most of his kind, he wears
jeans and a Rainbow Dash T-shirt, both stained and torn. Pony figurines dangle from his body like tribal
fetishes. His skin is waxy and pale and his hair is a greasy, tangled mess. He smells like death itself.
“join us”
I raise an eyebrow. He spoke. I didn’t know they could speak.
The other bronies join in:
“join us.”
“JOIN US!”
“Join US!”
“Like Hell I will!” I draw a bead on the nearest Brony and fire. The M-1 bucks; the Brony’s head explodes
in a spray of meat and bone. I take aim at another brony. His head bursts like a rotten piñata. The headless
bodies slump to the ground like sacks of potatoes.
The door finally gives way. The bronies slowly shuffle into my house.
“JOIN US!”
“SHADDUP!” I yell, firing into the hoard. By now I am operating solely on instinct. Aim, fire. Aim, fire,
aim, fire, reload, fire. Bronies drop left and right, the survivors stumbling over their corpses. By now the
house is filled with the vile things. For every one I drop, two more take his place.
I fire my last shot. A brony lunges at me, trying to pin me down. I bash his skull in with the butt of my rifle,
then toss the useless weapon aside. I draw the crowbar from my belt, its pronged edge thirsting for blood.
I let out a primal yell, more animal than human, and charge the horde.
Bronies crowd in around me like fans in a mosh pit. I mow through them with my crowbar, smashing open
brony skulls like rotting eggs. I’ve gone completely feral now. The few scraps of civilization I’d managed
to retain over the past weeks, my morals, my skills, and other niceties, are replaced by a raw, animalistic
drive.
By now, the floor is covered in a carpet of corpses and coagulated blood. I stand on a pile of brony corpses,
bashing any that get too close. Liquid fire flows through my veins. I fell bronies left and right; an avenging
angel smiting the unclean. Still they keep coming.
A brony lunges at me; I block his blow with the crowbar, then ram the sharpened claw into his rotting eye.
Another brony tries to fling a Twilight Sparkle bed sheet over me. I swat the bed sheet aside and turn his
cranium into a cereal bowl.
“KEEP SENDING THEM IN!” I roar to the bronies unseen master, “I’ll KILL THEM ALL!”
After an eternity of fighting, the horde begins to wear me down. My swings become slower and clumsier.
The fire in my veins has cooled. My adrenalin reserves are all but drained. Still the bronies come, stumbling
over heaps of their own dead.
A brony carrying a Twilight Sparkle plushie lunges at me. I swing at him and miss. Another brony grabs my
arm and flings me face-first against a wall. My teeth snap with a chalk-like
crack.
Before I can move, a brony flips me over and pins me down. Another walks up carrying a Rainbow Dash
hoodie. He slips it over my head. Strange, alien thoughts fill my brain; Images of colorful ponies and
fantastic creatures. Bizarre sounds and sights.
The bronies release me. I writhe on the ground, clawing at my skull.
“GET OUT OF MY HEAD!”
The images began to worm their way into my conscious. Memories are warped beyond recognition.
Emotions disappear. My free will slowly dissolves.
Before my mind is completely overridden, I hear something; a cheerful, upbeat song..
“My Little Pony, My Little Pony. Ah, ah, ah, ah…..”
-
Princess Celestia turned off the monitor. A devious smile spread across her angelic face.
“Welcome to the Herd.”