Punctuation Ponies Save The World
Punctuation Ponies Save The World
The Canterlot Bank had been doing business as usual when a red-and-black alicorn trotted in. His name was Raven Metalclaw Bloodscar, and he was obviously a villain. Ignoring the stares from the bystander ponies, he made his way up to the first open teller.
The bystanders wasted no time in clearing out of the bank. They could see quite clearly what was happening, and they were quite sure that they wanted no part of it.
This ultimately proved to be a very wise decision.
On the counter, the alicorn dropped a forty-four page document, hastily scribbled in black crayon. In his hoof, he held a gun, which was pointed quite menacingly at the teller.
“Madam” he said softly. “This is a holdup you are going to read this story I wrote or else I will blow your brains out”.
The teller’s heart sank as she stared at the story on her counter. She was not altogether sure that it qualified as a story, but whatever it was, it did not look like an enjoyable read. She sighed as she realized that the bank did not pay her nearly enough to deal with this sort of situation.
Or, in fact, enough to work at the bank in the first place.
She was just about to tell Raven Metalclaw Bloodscar to blow her brains out when the wall exploded.
As shrapnel rained down upon the banking floor, a team of ponies, mares and stallions alike, crossed through the brink. Unfazed by the devastation, the squad pushed their way through the rubble and into the heart of the bank.
One of the shrouded stallions stood before the others. “It’s over, Raven! Give it up!”
Raven Metalclaw Bloodscar had heard the voice before; no colt had ever been so damning to his ideas—so pompously “righteous”. Raven backed away from the encroaching gang of heroes.
“This ends here, Raven! You’re done!” The nameless colt raged. As the cinder cleared from the room, Raven caught glimpse of his enemies. Seven colorfully-dressed ponies stood before him, each wearing their own symbol of justice: punctuation. Exclamation Mark stood at the lead, with his cohorts trailing behind with unquestionable faith. Comma, Period, Dashes, Parenthesis, Question Mark, and Quotations—all ponies of the greatest willpower—joined their leader on the crusade against the great evils of literature.
“I dont think so Exclamation Mark” said Raven. “This new story is my greatest work ever and none of you can stop me with your stupid hate”.
“I’ll be the judge of that!” Exclamation Mark declared, grabbing the packet of papers off the counter. “Punctuation Ponies! Critique!”
“Hey give that back” whined Raven, who was swiftly being pushed out of the way by the other Punctuation Ponies.
“Dreadful,” said Period, holding up the first page. “First line and there are already four misspellings. You could really use a proofreader.”
“Did you mean to write ‘panting’?” Question Mark asked politely. “Because you wrote ‘painting’ and I wasn’t sure...”
As the opposition became increasingly distracted, Raven leapt for his narrative. The packet of papers, which had only been partially torn by the explosion, darted across the room before coming to rest above the villain’s horn.
The remarkably cheesy alicorn gawked. “Perhaps you would like to enjoy the rest of the story, perhaps you would like to see how it all ended”. Light flashed from his body, and his horn glowed a menacing crimson red.
The grammatical guardians simply stared into the sociopath’s eyes, dazed by his horrifying display of power. As the last bloody word seeped from the alicorn’s mouth, a pony fell to the floor. Comma began seizing violently, flinging her hooves wildly about.
“Dear Celestia!” Exclamation Mark shouted. “You’ve spliced Comma!”
Indeed, the silent mare had begun to contort into strange, inequestrian shapes. Her once feathered wings had melted together in a sort of chitinous paste, while her eyes turned to deeper shades of grey.
No pony could bear to watch any more of the transformation; the ponies had seen a lot of things in their time: from the beaches of writers’ unions, to the inner sanctums of the publishing companies. Exclamation Mark could recall days when no pony had thought survival (in the literary sense) possible, but in the end they had always pulled through.
And now Comma was an insect.
“That was actually unexpected”.
The colorfully-dressed insect proceeded to fly around the room aimlessly—not quite as aimless as the average “War in Equestria” plotline, mind you, but aimlessly enough.
“You shall pay for this, villain!” Exclamation Mark screamed. “Punctuation Ponies! Redouble your efforts!”
With breakneck speed, Parenthesis dove for the scattering pages. “I can fix this (hopefully). We can probably save her (if she isn’t already bucked).”
“She isn’t already bucked! She isn’t already bucked!” Quotations repeated mindlessly. “Fix this!”
Everypony stared at the mentally frail pony. He continued babbling until the declarative specialist stopped him with a sharp kick to the flank.
Period shrugged as his teammates turned their gaze on him. “Here to serve.”
“This fic is horse manure!” said Exclamation Mark, peering over Parenthesis’ shoulder. “I could throw up and it would be better than this!”
“I doubt it” The villain joked. “My writing style is just too advanced for you” He paused, then added, “Also that was totally gross”.
With nopony left to interrupt him, Dashes had found his big break. “But—”
“Shut up Dashes” said Raven. “No pony likes you”.
The stallion frowned. “I think—”
“No you really dont”.
There was a pause in the action. Comma continued to flutter around the room, frequently colliding with the immobile quotation pony.
“Um,” said Question Mark, breaking the silence. “Don’t mean to be a bother, but don’t you think ‘throbbing’ might be a poor choice of words?” The mare still carried a ripped page between her hooves.
“Thats it” screamed Raven Metalclaw Bloodscar. “Im tired of you stupid punctuation ponies dumping on all of my stories”.
He picked up his gun, which had gone unnoticed since the explosion, and trotted huffily out the door.
The bank teller, who had played witness to everything, let her mouth swing open in shock. “What—What in Equestria just happened?” she asked.
“Justice, ma’am!” answered Exclamation Mark. “Justice!”
The Punctuation Ponies all gave a mighty cheer (except Comma, who had apparently left the building at some point), and congratulations were swapped. It was a battle hard-fought for the likes of justice, but they had pulled through. With the proper amount of mindless yelling and rage, any war could be (perceivably) won. With the bank all but decimated and their foe temporarily annoyed, the Punctuation Ponies reaffirmed that oath, and promised forever to rage at any future trespasses.
While his comrades were busy celebrating their victory, Period quietly slipped out through the hole in the wall. On a nearby street corner stood the eighth Punctuation Pony: the mysterious Tilde.
Period stuck a cigarette in his mouth and approached the young mare.
“Okay, Til,” Period said as he passed her by. “Go in there and do what you do best.”
And Tilde just stood there...
...without a thought...
...without a mind...
...because Tildes are useless.
The End.
