My Little Dissie

by Obselescence

Rating: everyone
Tags: My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Comedy, Tragedy, Random, Discord
Length: 2704

What would Discord do if Discord found an extraordinarily charming and refined baby Discord in a box? Discord Discord the Discord Discord.

When your life is as dull and cliché as the harmony that surrounds you, the mundanities can make it all seem meaningless. Sometimes all we need is a little color—or seventeen-and-a-half—to reintroduce us to what truly makes life worth living.

Published 2014-06-13 20:50:03 UTC
Last updated 2014-06-13 20:50:03 UTC

My Little Dissie

In the beginning, the universe was void and without fun. The early adopters were much unimpressed and those who had waited knowingly for Universe 2.0 were well-rewarded for their patience. Among the many new features added once the bugs had been worked out were the stars, the haunting sense of overall insignificance, and total physical perfection—later to be known as Discord.

This is not his story.

This is, however, the story of Discord, who was not altogether less important or charismatic, but was perhaps slightly less handsome than Discord. Perhaps. The details remain inconclusive.

At any rate, the story of Discord begins with a cardboard box floating in the vast reaches of space, eighty billion light years—or thereabouts—past the Discordhead nebula and somewhere to the far left of Andromediscord.

Nocord was quite sure what a cardboard box was doing in the vast reaches of space, considering that this was quite a long time before the invention of cardboard. The trees from which cardboard would eventually be invented had not yet gotten around to growing and the process had, in fact, been held up waiting for the still-boiling surface of a quaint little planet to cool off first. It was something of a bureaucratic nightmare for all involved, and more than a few Discords would be losing their badges for that one.

Regardless of whatever the cardboard box was doing there, though, everycord could agree that it was a distinctly illogical and chaotic occurrence for one to be floating in the vast reaches of space. So that was all right. It probably belonged to somecord anyhow.

As a matter of fact, however, it did not. And it was this unlikely coalition of coincidence, apathy, and cardboard boxes, that allowed Discord to stumble across it. He’d been out on one of his manifold haunts through the labyrinthine complex of time and space, floating here and there throughout infinity, and had just so happened to stumble across it.

In space, yes.

“How now, whatever is this?” asked Discord, speaking to nocord in particular. He picked the cardboard box up in his paw and shook it around a bit. To his delight, it made something of a yowling, growling, explodey noise—which was in itself, somewhat unusual and delightful, as sound travels rather poorly in the vacuum of space. Satisfied that nothing inside the box was too fragile to have fun with, he opened it up.

Inside the box was something resembling a tiny Discord, albeit one that looked like it had just been shaken up while inside a box. “Dada!” it cried happily, raising its paws up to Discord.

“Well, obviously not,” said Discord. He picked the little Discord up by the scruff of its goatee and rummaged through the rest of the box for anything of importance and/or comedic value.

Unfortunately, there was none, save for a little half-eaten note, upon which had been scribbled unceremoniously in purple crayon:

ℸℴ ωℎℴღşℴℯѵℯr ίℸ ღαϒ ςℴηςℯrη, ℸℎίş ℸίηϒ ∂ίşςℴr∂ ίş ίη ηℯℯ∂ ℴƒ α ςαrίηℊ ℎℴღℯ αη∂ ℊμί∂αηςℯ αş ℎℯ ℸrαѵℯrşℯş ℸℎℯ ℸrℯღμℓℴμş ℘αℸℎ ℸℴωαr∂ ღαℸμrίℸϒ αη∂ α∂μℓℸℎℴℴ∂. ωℎίℓℯ ί αღ μηαЪℓℯ, Ъϒ ѵαrίℴμş ςίrςμღşℸαηςℯş, ℸℴ rαίşℯ ℸℎίş ϒℴμηℊ ∂ίşςℴr∂ ωℎℴ ℴηℯ ∂αϒ ℯηℸℯrℯ∂ ίηℸℴ ღϒ ςμşℸℴ∂ϒ, ίℸ ίş ღϒ ℊrℯαℸℯşℸ ωίşℎ αη∂ ƒℴη∂ℯşℸ ℎℴ℘ℯ ℸℎαℸ ϒℴμ şℎℴμℓ∂ ςαrℯ ƒℴr ℎίღ ίη ღϒ şℸℯα∂. ℸℎαηķ ϒℴμ, αη∂ ∂ίşςℴr∂ Ъℓℯşş.

“I’m certainly not reading all of this,” Discord huffed, crumpling the letter and eating the rest of it. He scraped over the rest of the box, looking for anything else that may have been of interest, but no—it was in all other respects an ordinary and perfectly boring cardboard box. He ate that too.

The question remained, however, as to what to do with the little Discord he’d found inside the box. He regarded it carefully, still holding it by the goatee. “Why, it’s almost like somecord’s abandoned you here,” he said absently, poking it in its pudgy cheeks and checking its little mouth for its little snaggletooth.

It was probably not altogether safe to eat too.

“I suppose I can get some amusement out of you,” said Discord to the Discord. “Therefore, you belong now to me. You may refer to me as Lord Discord, supreme head nacho of all time.”

“Burp,” burped the Discord to Discord. It hugged him ‘round the neck with its stubby little limbs and weird little tail—or perhaps it was trying to strangle him adorably. Whichever it was, it was decently amusing, and Discord decided it would not be entirely boring to keep Discord around.

“I do hope you’re housebroken,” said Discord, pulling Discord off from around his neck. “I simply can’t stand an unbroken home.”

“Dada!” cheered the little Discord. The wretched thing pulled a bit on his own goatee, as if that were in any way appropriate to handle a Discord.

“And we’ll have to work on proper understanding of my every whim and desire, so that you can fulfill them,” said Discord, as the baby proceeded to chew on his goatee. “Obviously.”

He snapped his claws and the two of them winked back to Discord’s own temporal and spatial coordinates. It was a small and exceptionally boring piece of the galaxy, which was nonetheless somewhat unusual in that very few of the living beings in it were actually named Discord. They were instead called strange and ugly names like Applejack and Rarity, which nocord really understood. Names like those hardly even rhymed with Discord.

Still, such anomalies were completely possible in a fundamentally chaotic and statistically unorderly universe, so nocord save Discord paid it all that much mind.

“Home sweet home,” said Discord to Discord, popping up in an open grass field. He held Discord up and swiveled him around to show him the luxurious expanse into which he’d just now been adopted. “There’s the thinking tree, there’s the atmosphere, and there,” he said, pointing to nowhere in particular, “is everything else.” He set the little Discord on the grass and patted it on the head. “Have fun!”

It fell over into the dirt and began to cry maple syrup.

“Oh, come on!” said Discord, picking it back up. “I didn’t even hit you that hard!”

But this was small consolation to the baby Discord, who was now beginning to cry other things, like hot sauce and crude oil. And actual tears.

“Where is the off switch on this thing?” said Discord, picking up Discord and looking him over for a power button, or perhaps a mute function. Failing to find either of those more convenient options, he conjured a zipper on its mouth and zipped it shut.

The baby Discord, being Discord, unzipped it unshut and started crying even louder.

“Honestly,” said Discord, setting the tiny Discord back down in the dirt. “The things I do for boredom.” He rubbed his temples and sighed. “It wouldn’t have killed your last owner to include an operator’s manual.” A stifled burp—indigestion. “I don’t think I ate it.” He stroked his beard thoughtfully. “At least, I hope I didn’t.”

The sky was beginning to blacken now, and the cacophonous wail of a thousand flugelhorns filled the air as the baby Discord’s crying ushered in the End of All. The dead, having waited long to be called for the final battle, rose up and began to march. Shogloth the Terrible moaned in sympathy from the Underdeep as his infinite hibernation was disturbed by the piercing shrieks of a tiny baby Discord.

As per usual.

This was somewhat concerning to Discord, naturally, so he set his many brains about the question of how to stop a baby from making a racket. Despite his vast intelligence and incredible good looks, however, he simply had no clue how to manage that, so he decided on this next best thing: asking somecord who knew better.

In no time at all, a phone was conjured, and a call promptly placed upon it. Then Discord took the call off and actually set about dialing a number. He waited patiently as it rang on the other end, hoping that the recipient of the call would be so kind as to pick up sometime that century.

Ring. Ring. Ring.

As it so happened, they picked up reasonably soon within the century. To the tune of only two minutes, give or take. Discord considered that quite good in the grand scheme of things. His parents were very rarely that prompt.

“Hello?” said Discord, voice crackling through the phone line. “Who is this?”

“Oh, hello, dearest mother!” said Discord. “How are you on this fine day?”

“Discord?” asked Discord. “Oh, Discord! Is that you? Hold on a moment, let me get your father on the phone.”

Naught but a few minutes later, Discord was on the line as well.

“Good to hear from you, Discord!” said Discord. “How’ve you been?”

“Oh, same old, same old,” said Discord. “But listen: I’m currently in possession now of this baby I’ve found, and—”

“A baby!” exclaimed Discord. “Did you hear that, Discord? Grandiscords!”

“Oh ho!” snickered Discord. “Who’s the lucky Discord?”

“Not important,” Discord huffed. “Nor is it mine. The point is that it’s crying, and I want to make it stop.”

“Have you tried throwing a pie at it?”

“No, dear, he wants to make it stop crying.”

“Well, obviously,” said Discord. “But it would be hilarious.”

“It would be hilarious, wouldn’t it?”

“I don’t know why I call home anymore,” said Discord. And with that he hung up. Evidently his parents weren’t going to be of any use to him whatsoever. More concerned with pies and the throwing thereof than providing good parenting advice, or shutting up this little screeching animal.

Though, come to think of it, the pie thing rather did explain a lot.

Regardless, his call hadn’t been entirely fruitless, as it had given Discord an excellent idea as to how to proceed with his own child—he supposed it counted as his now, anyway.

“Hey, hey, there,” he said, kneeling down to it. He wiped a mustard tear from Discord’s eyes with his claw. “I know what will make you feel better.”

“Da...da?” said Discord, taking a brief rest from the insufferable bawling. “Feel... better?”

“Yes, of course,” said Discord. “I’ve only just remembered now what my parents used to do with me when I couldn’t stop crying.”

“Y-yeah?” said the baby Discord, sniffling.

“Yeah,” said Discord.

And he threw a pie at Discord.

“Works every time.”

The baby Discord merely sat there for a moment, unmoving. The sky turned a shade of neon pink and the chorus of flugelhorns was joined by a single accordion. The ground bubbled up with coconut cream filling, and the End of All had come at last.

Or, rather—no, it wasn’t quite time for that one yet. Instead, Discord ate the pie, tin and all, without any further fuss.

“Ah, see? There you go,” said Discord. “You were hungry, obviously. Knew it the whole time.”

“Yay, Dada!” cheered Discord, completely convinced that Discord had planned the whole thing.

Which was, of course, another important secret of parenting.

From that moment forth, Discord raised Discord as his own. They were completely inseparable, Discord and Discord, not the least because they were occasionally a bit too liberal with the superglue. They went to the amusement park together, they went to see the amusement shark together, they often did the amusement bark together. Never before had a Discord raised another Discord’s Discord with such tender love and care, as well as occasional pies to the face.

In due time, Discord even sent Discord off to Discord’s Academy for Gifted Young Discords, where he promptly made the Dishonor Roll, and never received less than straight D’s on his report cards. He made friends with plenty of young Discords his own age, many of whom would go on to vote him Most Likely to Become an Alicord Princess.

And all this in the space of about ten minutes.

“They just grow up so fast,” said Discord, wiping a tear from his eye as Discord took to the podium and Discord placed the disploma in his stubby paws.

As he’d graduated Valediscordian, Discord even got the opportunity to make a closing speech. It wasn’t all that long, due to poor scheduling and general impatience, but it was quite affecting nonetheless:

“Thank you, Dada,” said the baby Discord, and every Discord in the audience rose in applause.

* * *

“I’m so very proud of you, son,” said Discord, as they winked back home—back to the grassy plains on which Discord had spent so many minutes of his life growing up. “Now that you’ve graduated, we can go on to do so many fun things together. Like annoying Twilight Sparkle and dropping in unexpectedly on Twilight Sparkle, and interfering with Twilight Sp—”

“I’m afraid I’ll have to stop you right there, Discord,” said a voice, which bore the traditional chocolatey and handsome baritone of a Discord’s. But this time with the slightest hint of a royal accent. “That’s far enough with you.”

Discord set Discord down on the grass and turned, finding himself—quite suddenly—Discord to Discord with Princess Discord.

“Why, Princess Discord!” said Discord in alarm. “Whatever could you want with little old me?”

“Yes, precisely,” said Princess Discord, pointing to the baby Discord causing discord in the grass. “I’m here for little old you.”

Discord took Discord up in his arms and squeezed him. Partly for protection, and partly because there was a faint chance he’d make an adorable squeaky noise. “What do you want with Discord?”

“I require him,” said Princess Discord, adjusting the little discrown on his head. “For certain reasons of my own.”

“And what might those be?” said Discord, squeezing Discord just a little tighter. With no air in his lungs, he’d be far easier to protect. “I demand to know!”

Princess Discord looked disdainfully at Discord, spit on the ground, and said: “No reason at all.”

Discord’s jaw dropped. “Well...” he began. He tried to muster up an argument, but could not. “I... I suppose I can’t argue with that.” For without a reason against which to argue, there could be no argument made. “Your logic is flawless.”

“Obviously,” said Princess Discord, removing the baby Discord from Discord’s paws.

“Dada!” shrieked Discord, but Discord’s pleas fell on deaf ears, for there was nothing Discord could do to save Discord from Princess Discord.

“I’m sorry,” said Discord, choking back a sob—and the rubber chicken sandwich he’d eaten for lunch, which clearly hadn’t agreed with his stomach. “I’ll... never forget you, Discord.”

“Nor will I ever forget you, father,” said Discord. “You taught me so many valuable lessons in our brief time together, and I can only hope that our tragically-brief goodbye can fully convey the love which I bear for you in my heart. O! but if only I could detail to you the manifold feelings welling up now in my breast—”

But there was no time to detail any of those manifold feelings welling up in his breast, for Princess Discord winked out of existence at precisely that moment, taking baby Discord along with him.

“You too, son,” said Discord. “You too.”

He wiped a single tear away from his eye and got back to whatever else he’d been working on doing that day.

* * *

So ends the story of Discord—but not the story of Discord. Naught but a few moments after taking Discord from Discord, Princess Discord realized that he didn’t actually have anything worth doing with a tiny baby Discord he’d stolen on a whim. As tiny baby Discords are notoriously bratty—if charming—the decision was made to shove Discord into a tiny cardboard box and shunt him off to the beginning of time, at which point he’d probably never surface again.

Or, if he did, then certainly not in a temporal loop which could only ever end at the precise point from which it had begun, because that would be silly.

And what of Discord, you ask? Well, Discord had been briefly amused for a fairly short period of time, and, in the end, he supposed that to be all he could ever really ask for.

The End (of All)