Rarity examined the webcam sitting on top of her computer. She'd originally bought it as a way to show off fashion designs to long-distance customers, but that had gone bust after it turned out the camera was grainy and didn't display the true glitter of her outfits very well. Since then it had just been gathering dust, and Rarity hadn't been sure what to do with it.
That had been the case, that was, until Pinkie bumped into her the other day and was positively alight with excitement over her new web show entitled “Ask Pinkamena”. All she had to do was straighten her hair and act like a complete nut, a task far too easy for the already mad Pinkie Pie, and it produced countless viewers.
Rarity watched it and found herself appalled by some of the things Pinkie did in her shows. She even pretended to hurt poor, demure Fluttershy, and it was shocking what good actresses both girls had been. Rarity had nearly fainted, half convinced their friend had truly been suffocated to death! Then there was some lewdness involved too, and that had been no easier for Rarity to stomach.
“Have you utterly lost it?” a livid Rarity had asked her bubbly pink friend after reviewing the entirety of the sickening content.
“Yup!” Pinkie replied in a haze of incoherent joy. “All you got to do is just act as crazy as a snapping turtle in roller skates, and every pony shows up to tell you how glad they are not to be you! It's like a super big hug for everyone, except it's super-duper sad!” She explained, somehow oblivious to how socially wrong the whole thing was.
“Like a snapping turtle in roller skates?” Rarity had asked, incredulous.
“It's funny because turtles don't wear roller skates, and it's sad because the snapping turtle will bite anything it accidentally rolls into because it's angry!” Pinkie evaluated. “But ponies like the funny more because it's so sad, so really it's not sad at all! Get it?”
Rarity didn't get it. She didn't get it at first, anyway, but that was not unique when it came to Pinkie's logical processing. Then she looked at all the viewers Pinkie had, and she noticed all the positive comments and all the attention. It was amazing. It was in terrible, terrible, poor taste, but then again, it wasn't much different than a horror movie, was it? A horror movie could be art in the hands of the right pony, and Rarity began to see a kind of scary art in Pinkie's little show.
There were emotions there. Very strong, guttural, almost primordial emotions that most ponies aren't allowed to display. It was like a release, seeing Pinkie behave in such a brash, egotistical, and above all deplorable manner. Like a fight, where at once Rarity felt concern for the well-being of the ponies involved, but at the same time she secretly picked a side and held out hope that her favorite might win. Then, of course, she just couldn't argue with the popularity of it. Was it wrong if so many ponies seemed attracted to it?
So Rarity had pulled her old webcam out of its box and dusted it off, giving it a good shine. She set it on top of her computer, then stared it down, regarding it as she would a naughty thing from her dresser. It looked very dull up there, oppressing her like a grumpy, old nun dressed in disapproving, drab colors, capable of nothing but chastisement for what Rarity was now contemplating.
She scowled at the device for a while longer, then fetched her sewing kit. She withdrew a collection of colorful rhinestones and glued several of them to the camera. Now it looked like a disapproving nun with colorful rhinestones glued to it. That was better, but the thing was still judging her.
“Well you're covered in rhinestones,” Rarity mumbled to the nun-cam. “And you're naked,” she added severely, trying to embarrass it more than it embarrassed her.
She laid it flat with her hoof so the nun-cam couldn't watch her, then logged online. She went to her website, which was labeled simply, “Ask a Sadist”. Her heart was pounding. She had set it up two days ago, and she wasn't sure if “Ask a Sadist” was the best idea. For one, she worried it might attract the wrong sort of traffic. For another, Rarity wasn't sure if “Ask a Sadist” was legitimately going to produce any more interest than “Ask a Fashion Genius”.
Surely Rarity was a wonderful mare full of wonderful advice about the fashion world, and any pony would value her for that, but it wasn't what Pinkie had done. Of course, Rarity was going to bring her own sense of style to her web show. That was obvious. She could make a show twice – no three times as well as Pinkie could, and she'd do it with her characterful flair and charm. Frankly, it was tooting her own horn to ask a “Fashion Genius”. Rarity would prove that she was a genius, subtly, through this instead, and that would look so much better.
The preened, white mare held her breath and clicked on her inbox. She had several questions already. There weren't many of them, but they were there, at least, and that was a start! She opened the first one.
“Yech,” Rarity wretched, reading it.
Wat ur horn size?? It asked, in butchered Equestrian. Mines 16” from base. hot single stallion ride all night!!
Rarity felt a pulling desire to send a heated response to this - this scoundrel voyeur! However, she knew she might get these kinds of questions, and if things took off like she hoped, she'd soon be writing angry letters every night if she made a habit of it. Instead, she deleted it as angrily as possible, huffing aloud. She hoped that stallion could feel her frustration with him on the other side of the internet! She didn't care how big his horn was!
She selected another.
a/s/l? It asked.
She scrolled up and down, looking for more text, but that was all. Rarity deleted it, then selected another.
Grow your horn four inches today! Use this silly little secret discovered by a mom! It began. It was followed by a detailed, rambling explanation, a few pictures of a growing horn, and a link.
Rarity sighed, deleted it, then opened the next one.
Wat ur horn size?? It started.
Rarity stopped. This letter had the same e-mail address as the first one. Apparently this stallion was not very good with computers and had sent his question twice. Rarity groaned aloud, deleting it like the other, rapidly clicking the delete button several times in a frustrated fit.
The next one was a picture of a colt's horn, followed by the message, this is my horn. i show u mine plz u show me urs.
From the size of it, Rarity suspected having this picture on her computer probably wasn't even legal.
“Why is every pony so obsessed with my horn?” Rarity demanded through gritted teeth.
She deleted this letter too, then disconnected the internet to delete her temporary internet files and her browsing history. Rarity didn't get magical electronics, so she wasn't sure how removing information from her computer actually worked, but by no means was she going to be sent to jail because of some stupid, horny boy in another city somewhere. At least the record would show that she tried to delete the dirty picture from her hard drive.
She loaded her web page again. Then, praying not to get another question about her horn, she opened the next letter.
It said: WHERE WOULD YOU MOST LIKE TO VISIT ON YOUR PLANET? This was followed by: I WILL TAKE YOU THERE ANYWHERE OF YOUR DREAMS. WE'LL TOUCH BONE RODS.
Rarity screamed as she slammed her head on the keyboard.
“What is wrong with these ponies?” she whined, face down from her desk, throwing her hooves out towards the ground in exasperation.
She hoisted herself upright, accidentally jabbing the seven key off of her keyboard with her slender, feminine bone rod. Rarity scrambled for it as it took to the sky. She tried desperately to catch it before it fell, but swatted it in a second of poor hoof-eye coordination. Helpless, she watched it vanish into the grimy space behind her desk.
Slowly, Rarity set her head between her hooves and took deep breaths. Would it have killed the internet to have a little bit of class? Honestly, this was just absurd. She calmed herself, fighting the urge to hurl her computer out the window. How did ponies find the nerve to send her questions like this? It was simply beyond believable!
Rarity perked her head up. She grabbed the mouse. She highlighted the second half of the question and hit the delete key.
It now read: WHERE WOULD YOU MOST LIKE TO VISIT ON YOUR PLANET?
“Much better!” Rarity declared aloud.
True, it sounded like an alien creature was asking her, but if Rarity thought about it the right way, it implied her ownership of the planet. She was the sadist, after all. She owned the planet!
“This will work,” she decided to herself.
Rarity scampered to the bathroom where she had prepared a bit of Halloween make-up. It was expensive stuff, intended for only the most serious of holiday participants, but that was just what Rarity was looking for. She put in a reusable, colored contact lens that made her eye look shriveled and bloodshot, like it had been left out in the sun for too long. She blinked and squinted into the mirror. It looked rather ghoulish, really. Very dark, Rarity hoped, and certainly a bit off-putting to the average pony. Pinkie Pie certainly hadn't thought of going through so much trouble!
She applied a dribbling of fake blood beneath her tear duct. It looked like she'd been crying blood, and the stuff quickly dried to her face. Rarity appraised this impression critically, then shook her head.
“No, no,” she muttered. “This simply will not do.”
She made another application, this time laying down a thick vein of gel rather than an unassuming trickle. She waited patiently, expectantly, for the make-up to dry. The minutes dragged on; she wasn't supposed to clump this much of the fake blood together, but that was a design fault of the blood, Rarity decided. It was very important that she outdo Pinkie if she was to steal the show.
Eventually she dabbed at the stuff. It was still a little soft, but good enough. Excited, she trotted back to her computer and placed her bedazzled nun-cam upright. She sat down in front of the desk, brushing her hair away and bouncing it a bit, making certain she looked presentable. She had to look presentable to her public, after all. All those little out of place hairs and what-have-you were simply sloppy in Pinkie's web show. It would be quite hard for ponies to fall in love with a performer who didn't look her best – everyone knew that.
Rarity inhaled and exhaled, prepping herself for the performance. This was it, the moment of truth. She thought about the question. Where would she like to go if she could go anywhere? Well, there were a number of nice vacation spots she'd love to visit. Oh, and of course, she could always recommend one of the local areas around Ponyville. That might attract some business to the area, and with it, some business to her boutique as well! It was a wonderful idea! Her web page would be great for tourism.
Then Rarity remembered, this horror show was about being dark and terrifying. Inviting viewers to enjoy a lovely day at the spa was not going to tug the emotions of any pony. That's not how Pinkie did it. No, if Rarity wanted to be popular, she needed to stick to the plan. Edgy now. Then she could promote the local businesses in ads later on.
Rarity exhaled. She frowned, but not too hard. She heard frowning caused wrinkles. She tried to think of something very sad, like a pony who didn't know better than to wear polka dots and stripes together. She focused on that thought until she nearly began to cry. She imagined all the ridicule behind the pony's back. All the stallions who didn't take an interest in her because of her poor fashion choices. She thought about the pony not even being able to get a job at the local fast food restaurant because her garish clothing made her just that non-fabulous.
Now properly unhappy, Rarity had to think of something mean to say. Mean and sad was the bread and butter of Pinkie's awful little nega-Pinkie web show, and that's what Rarity had to do. Rarity thought herself a fantastic actress, so all she had to do was put herself there. She imagined being that poor mare with no fashion sense, and someone had the gall to... to... to walk past her, knowing that poor Rarity was hideously dressed, and that horrible pony hadn't said a thing. Why, it just made Rarity want to pull someone aside and give them a stern lecture! The very nerve!
She was ready now. Rarity flipped on her nun-cam and stared at the floor, turning very carefully to make sure her artificial river of blood was completely visible.
“A place where ponies know what fashion means,” she cried out, dramatically.
She flipped the camera off, then posted her video with the caption, Anonymous asked: WHERE WOULD YOU MOST LIKE TO VISIT ON YOUR PLANET?
That was it! It was simple. Rarity couldn't believe it. She watched the video once on her website. Her very first post.
“A place where ponies know what fashion means,” the mare on the screen mourned fabulously.
Rarity could feel it. She could hear the passion in her voice! She felt the pain of that poor lost pony in those terrible stripes and spots! She got chills looking at the chunk of blood sculpted carefully onto her face. It was so unnerving. Imagine her having a condition that made her eye bleed like that! It was so dark! She shivered, looking at that shrunken eye of hers. Of course her hair looked great, too. She simply could not imagine why Pinkie chose not to care for her own image in her videos.
Rarity watched it again and again. It was short, but so moving! So poignant! Oh, the cruelty of her statement, suggesting that no other pony knew true fashion! The – the isolation it implied! Of course, she hoped it wasn't too mean. Everyone had different tastes, and she didn't want any other ponies to feel badly, necessarily. She knew not everyone was fortunate enough to have the same access to precious minerals that Rarity did. Still, this was likely to stun a lot of ponies. Imagine Rarity in such a scene, saying such a thing!
Rarity trotted to the sink and washed up. The fake blood stained the clean white porcelain a faint rose color, and she took the time to scrub it out before it became permanent. She brushed her teeth, applied her nightly regiment of exfoliating products and hair-care, then crawled into bed, careful not to disturb the covers.
She laid there thinking about all the comments she was going to get – not just online, but from the other ponies around town who would swiftly learn of her new project.
“Rarity!” They'd ask, panicked, “What happened? Have you turned evil?”
They'd fall to the ground with hooves held to their foreheads, distraught and dismayed! Who could cope with Ponyville's foremost expert on fabulous clothing turning so roguish?
“Oh, I suppose we all have a dark side,” Rarity would reply, giving them half a smile and a near wink. They'd never know if she was serious or not, and that would be part of the allure.
She thought, too about all the ad revenue she was bound to produce. The publicity, as well. She could release whole new fashion lines based on her videos. She could be the leader in a new trend of dark but tasteful styles! The more she thought about it, the more prizes she saw dangling in front of her. It was no wonder Pinkie had started doing her little shows! Had she even seen all the potential? Did she have the business sense to know what she could do with enough growing notoriety?
Rarity was too excited to sleep. Less than an hour had passed, but she had to check the comments. What if she had already been noticed? What if she awoke the next morning and found her inbox flooded? Rarity wanted to treasure the first responses.
She rolled out of bed, went to her desk, and turned her computer back on. She waited for it to boot up again. It felt like ages. She finally opened her web page and scrolled down to her first post. Zero comments. Rarity blinked. She hit the refresh button. Still zero comments.
Her heart sank. How could she have zero comments? Pinkie usually got a few within minutes of her posts. Sure, Pinkie had subscribers already, but Rarity thought she could have expected at least one pony to leave a thought. Certainly her video post was thought-provoking. She had wanted to be in a place where ponies knew what fashion meant! That had to have stirred up at least one pony's inner... their inner... their inner desire to leave comments for Rarity!
Rarity tried to put it out of mind. Maybe it was too early still. She had to give it more time. Wistfully, she turned off the computer and went back to bed. Then she stared at the ceiling for ten or fifteen minutes, not feeling the least bit tired. Sleep not working, she got up again and turned the computer back on. She loaded up her web page. Still zero comments.
Apparently, the internet did not know what fashion meant.
