As Discord's statue sits in Canterlot's sculpture garden, his age of chaos forgotten, he cannot do anything but think. But what does he think about? Love? Friendship? The meaning of life? Definitely not. He was lord of chaos, not some optimistic philosopher pony. What is he to think of except mayhem?

[EDIT] This is the second attempt at fanfiction I ever wrote, and I'm honestly humbled and surprised at how you've all received this. I cannot thank each and every one of you enough, for giving my story a chance, but thank you.

Oh yeah, the guys over at The Living Library Player Society did a reading of my fic! I'd never expected anything like that. Ever. Here's the link, check it out! http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UI0OPAmrJ8Q