Long Story Short, Stuff Happened.

Twilight whipped her mouth with a napkin once her plate was cleared. The screams persisted outside; Spike would occasionally cast a worried glance to the window or a scathing look to Twilight.

“You know,” Twilight said at last, causing Spike to look up hopefully. “I bet I could write my own newspaper.”

Spike slumped, giving Twilight a deadpan look.

“Seriously? That’s what you’re worrying about right now?”

“Well ponies need to hear the news, and everypony loves me,” Twilight pointed out as if it were obvious. Spike simply stared at her, his face expressionless. “I’ll need a name, something catchy, like… Sparkle in the Twilight!”

“Wow,” Spike uttered, turning back to the sink. “Just wow.”

“And what’s your problem mister?!” Twilight demanded.

“That sounds really gay,” Spike informed her.

“Coming from you?!” Twilight snapped back.

“Wha…” Spike began, looking hurt.

“Well forget you Spike,” Twilight interrupted, leaping to her hooves. “It’s my newspaper I’ll call it whatever I want.”

With that she stormed from the kitchen, leaving Spike to return to the dishes, a sullen expression on his face. Less than a minute later, Twilight’s head poked around the kitchen door.

“Also I’ve decided that I won’t be calling it Sparkle in the Twilight,” she informed him, before quickly adding, “That is my own opinion which has absolutely nothing to do with what you said!”

With that her head whipped away once more, just in time to avoid a ceramic mug flying for her face.

“Now, if I’m going to make a newspaper,” Twilight began aloud to herself, ignoring the smashing noise. “I’m going to need…”

Notepad.

Pen.

Camera.

Cliché reporter hat.

“Pinkie really has stashes for just about everything,” Twilight remarked, pulling the headgear from behind the adult section of the library. “Now, I just need a story…”

Twilight began muttering to herself as she walked back towards the kitchen; she stood in the doorway, chewing on the tip of her pen.

“Maybe something to do with…” Twilight began.

However what she was considering would forever go unknown, as at that very moment the wall of her kitchen was smashed apart and a herd of what looked like cows began stampeding through her house, swiftly smashing out the opposite wall.

Twilight stared blankly at her now levelled kitchen, the sound of screaming once again annoyingly prevalent.

“Spike!” Twilight yelled, forgetting he had left to go to Rarity’s. “There’s a mess in the kitchen! I’m not sure yet, but I’m pretty sure it’s your fault. If it’s not cleaned by the time I get back I’m docking your allowance!”

With that said, Twilight turned and walked over to the front door of her library, finally succumbing to the screaming demands of her neighbours.

“I cannot catch a break,” Twilight moaned as she stepped outside in time to see the same herd of cow like creatures smash through another house. “Still, this might make for an interesting story. Two birds and all that…”

Feeling a little better about facing whatever new horrors the day was offering, Twilight began trotting towards the town centre, just in time to see a hysterically screaming Mayor Mare galloping towards her.

“Oh Twilight, It’s awful! Simply awful!” the mayor wailed once she was officially in Twilight’s face. “You must do something!”

“Remind what exactly you do around here mayor,” Twilight asked in a bored tone. “Or better yet, how many ponies actually ran against you in the last election?”

The mayor sobered up immediately, giving Twilight a withering look.

“Really, the town’s in danger and you’re going to be snarky?” she asked rhetorically.

“The town’s always in danger,” Twilight reminded her, deadpanning.

“And that’s your area of expertise,” the mayor stated, darting behind Twilight and pushing her along the road. “Not mine.”

“Oh mayor,” Twilight said laughing, allowing herself to be taxied along. “That implies you actually have expertise.”

The mayor began grumbling to herself, her grip on Twilight tightening.

Twilight snapped a quick picture of the cow creatures as they ran by once more, a worryingly still pony being dragged along by the rear member.