Twilight vs. The Narrator
Author's Note
Trigger Warning: I don't care if you're triggered. But if you're the type who can get their panties in a twist over a story about cartoon ponies, then I suggest you clear out now.
The Only Chapter
Once upon a time, in magical land of Equestria, in the backwoods hick town of Ponyville, in some weird crystal… tree… library… palace… thingie, there lived a chubby little OCD nerdicorn by the name of Twilight-
“Hey! I’m not chubby!”
As I was saying: there lived a grotesquely bloated little OCD nerdicorn by the name of Twilight Sparkle.
“I’m not “grotesquely bloated” either! Nor do I have OCD!” said the little purple one as she looked up from triple-checking her yearly schedule for the next five years. “And who are you? Where’s that voice coming from?” She looked around, but all she saw was the crystalline interior of her ridiculously tacky home, with some surreptitious teeth marks in places where her pet lizard knew she would be too stupid to look. “Hey! Cut it with the insults! And… where did those bite marks come from?! They weren’t here thirty seconds ago. Did you do this?”
Unfazed by the nerd’s obviously false accusations, the incredibly handsome and manly narrator proceeded to ignore her very rude inquiries and continue the tale.
“Where is your voice coming from?” demanded the tiny lavender alicorn who had never gotten any from anypony and never would.
“That’s… Wha… HEY!” cried the furiously blushing one, confirming the obvious truth of the narrator’s objective statement. “That’s private you… you…”
Unable to come up with any insults of sufficient cleverness to not immediately be dismissed for the lies and slander they would be by the delightful audience’s very intelligent and perceptive minds, the now scarlet alicorn fell into a sullen silence with a very amusing expression of impotent rage on her creepy-looking face.
“Will you shut it with the gratuitous insults so I can think on how to get rid of you?!”
Her fragile pride stung by the biting truth of the honest and helpful narrator’s comments, the alicorn furiously turned to the only things that would ever love her: the crushed, flattened pulp of her old library’s unjustly murdered woody kin, sealed by adhesive made from the hooves of her own species into a cover of fabric harvested by slave laborers in distant Neighjing and beyond.
“There’s got to be something about dealing with this sort of thing in one of my books,” she declared, though in her heart she knew her quest to be futile from the start.
“Will you stop spreading trash and lies for ten seconds so I can read about how to stop this in peace?!” she unreasonably demanded of the humble and ever-impartial narrator.
Unfortunately for the bloated one, the next book she opened happened to contain a truly vicious hive of killer bees.
“AAAAAHHHHH! NO! NOT THE BEES! AAAAAAAHHHHHH!” screamed the alicorn as she ran about her crystal (and also plastic) castle, flailing her hooves in terror. The vicious insect rapscallions remorselessly pursued our protagonist, who on an unrelated note was totally original and would never lazily rip off internet memes from another dimension. As she hurriedly fled the painful stings of the vicious Apis mellifera, she failed to note the closed door directly in front of her malformed cartoon face.
“AAAAAAHHHHHH!” she screamed as she bounced right off the door and into the heart of the swarm, which proceeded to sting her repeatedly in varied but all highly sensitive areas of her physiology.
“THERE ARE BEES IN MY VAGINA YOU MOTHERFUCKER!” she shrieked in an unnecessarily shrill tone at the calm and civil narrator, strangely displeased about the only creatures that would ever willingly get in there. She danced about the floor in what looks to have been either blissful rapture or utter agony.
“GET THEM OUT!!!” screamed the harpy in-
“NOW!!!”
The benevolent and caring narrator, seeing another in pain, kindly requested that the killer bees go back to where they came from. The arthropods, taking pity on the poor purple horse, did as requested, returning to their book home posthaste, which vanished in a flash of magic.
“Oooooowwwwww…” moaned our whiny little Twily, as she lay on the floor. Eventually, it occurred to her spastic brain that she had learned a healing spell for bee stings after the humiliating debacle of last year’s Winter Wrap Up. Her horn glowed a shade of purple – not her purple, but another kind of purple – and her painful sores vanished in a trice.
“That’s more like it,” she breathed in relief. “And as for you,” she addressed the humble and helpful narrator, “You’re dead. I’m going to send a letter to Princess Celestia, and she’ll know what to do about you.” The fat purple one grinned with a confidence she did not truly feel, her-
“Shut up already! SPIKE!” she called for her purple pet lizard slave to attend upon her.
“He’s not my slave, he’s my assistant!” she fibbed shamelessly to the noble onlookers.
The aforementioned dragon swiftly came running to meet his mistress, fearful of the terrible cruelties she might inflict upon him were he to-
“Lies!” shrieked the harpy alicorn. “If anypony really is watching this, don’t believe him! I love Spike, I would never do anything to hurt him!” she declared, totally forgetting about all the times her obsessive personality and careless neglect had hurt the dragon she had hatched.
“Grrrr…” the bloated one gritted her teeth, enraged by the heaping helping of harsh honesty (with added alliterative appeal) dished out by the noble narrator.
“Twilight, I’m here!” panted the chubby (but less chubby than his slave-mistress) dragon hatchling as he entered the room. “What is it? What’s the emergency?”
“Spike, I need you to take a letter to Celestia. There’s some bizarre voice with strange powers calling himself the narrator on the loose! There’s no time to lose!”
“You got it!” said Spike as he pulled a quill and parchment from who knows where (I certainly don’t).
Twily quickly dictated a rough letter to the smokin’ hot princess of the sun and her slightly shorter, but no less hot, sister Luna, informing them of alleged “crimes” committed by yours truly and asking for advice and assistance. Libel and distortion, all of it.
“You know, Twilight,” suggested the tiny purple lizard as he blew that green fire to send the letter. “Maybe we should try playing along with this narrator guy. See where the story takes us instead of trying to fight.” Having so declared, the very perceptive and wise dragon grew a couple of feet and gained considerable muscle.
“Whoa! Cool!” he exclaimed, looking over his new and improved physique. He flexed his muscles appreciatively. “Thanks Mr. Narrator Guy!”
“Spiiiiike!” whined Ms. Bitchy ComplainerPants. “Stop indulging the weird voice with untold mystical power over our lives! And get back to your normal size! You’re not scheduled to be that big until decades from now!”
“Decades?!” moaned the dragon. “But Rarity will be all old and crinkly by then! I can’t just go back now!”
“Spike, you listen to your mommy and- Ooof!”
Twilight’s would-be rant was cut off as her dragon-slave belched up a new scroll directly into her unsightly lavender face, this one bearing the wax seal of the solar god-princess. While she eagerly tore it open, Spike took the opportunity to slip out the back door.
“Oh thank goodness! Princess Celestia must know something about dealing with this kind of issue. Why else would she…” Having been dumb enough to tempt Fate (who is a total jerk who cheats at poker) as well as antagonizing the defenseless narrator, Twilight’s eyes widened as she read the response from her mentor:
Lol. L2P noob!
-‘Lestia
“But… I… What?!” The chubby alicorn screamed with rage and flipped the scroll around, desperate to find some sort of other advice she could use against me. But there was nothing, because some alicorns are just smarter and/or trolly-er than that. Twilight tore the paper up with a frustrated huff.
“What did you do to her?” she brusquely demanded of poor innocent little me.
“I’m serious!” she roared, but failed to get an answer because narrators don’t have to answer fat, sexless nerds living in crystal treehouses.
“Grrr…” she growled in that shrill way of hers. “Fine! Let’s see how you like tasting the rainbow, motherfucker!” She smirked wickedly as she ran down the stairs of her palace and out the front doors. “My friends and I will beat you, just like we beat everypony else who tries this sort of bullshit!”
Her arrogant plotting was cut short as, behind her, her crystal palace spontaneously and inexplicably grew a long bushy mustache, a monocle, a top hat, and a stuffy British accent. It then stood up on newly-acquired legs and went off to… I don’t know, have a fox hunt or drink tea or whatever it is you British folks like doing.
“MY HOUSE!!!” howled the chunky one, pounding her hoof into the dirt road (they can afford hydroelectric dams but not paved roads?). “YOU”RE MINCEMEAT! YOU KNOW WHAT I DID TO THE LAST MOTHERFUCKER WHO DESTROYED MY HOUSE?! YOU’LL BEG FOR TARTARUS WHEN I’M THROUGH!!!”
Her empty threats echoed in the wind as the purple alicorn took to the air and headed towards Sugarcube Corner and her nearest friend.
Twilight swooped down to the popular bakery and kicked open the door, to be confronted by…
“PINKIE!”
“Hi Twilight!” waved the cheerful pink horse as she appeared from nowehere.
“What are you doing?!” nagged the whiny purple one.
“Oh, I’m just throwing a “welcome to Ponyville” party for Mr. Narrator here!” said the lovely and adorable Pinkie Pie with a smile.
Twilight’s eye twitched, visible evidence of the mental instability underneath.
Pinkie giggled in that cute way she does. She wrapped a hoof around her alicorn and continued, “Oh Twilight, there’s no need to get mad! He’s only here for this one story, and then he’ll be gone again! I promise you won’t even remember this next time our author writes us up, so just sit back and have fun while it lasts!”
The idiotic and spastic alicorn predictably chose to ignore her friend’s wise council, opting instead-
“Hey! That’s enough!” Pinkie pointed a blunt hoof at yours truly. “Don’t be such a meany-meanpants! Twilight’s my friend, and you’re my friend, so play nice!”
…
“Pleeeeeeease?” Pinkie stared at me with those big blue eyes of hers.
Oh, alright Pinkie. If it’s for you.
“Yay!” the fun and wonderful mare bounced up and down. Chocolate milk started to rain down on her.
“Hey!”
And also whipped cream.
“Yay!”
She didn’t see me crossing my fingers.
Anyway, Twilight ran back out the door in a huff.
“Ok,” Twilight muttered to herself in a manner disturbingly reminiscent of a lunatic in an asylum. “Pinkie’s weird and she likes crazy. She even liked Discord’s antics! But I know somepony who’s uptight and proper and would hate this sort of thing: Rarity! She’ll help me!”
So it was that, in her pointless and spiteful quest for vengeance on an innocent who only ever tried to be helpful, the obese purple alicorn ran to Carousel Boutique, home of one of the only ponies almost as whiny as her.
“Rarity!” Twilight again kicked in the door, the flabby stumps she calls legs wiggling grotesquely with the effort required to do so. “I need your help to-”
The oversized dinner plates that ponies have in place of eyes have a difficult time getting any larger without exploding out of their horsy heads in a shower of gore, but Twilight’s managed to all the same.
“S-S-S…” she stuttered, her barely-concealed autism unable to formulate a proper response as her face went utterly crimson. “SPIKE?!”
Spike and Rarity were sprawled out on the latter’s fainting couch, the pony laying down and curled up in the dragon’s arms. They were (somehow, despite being a horse and a reptile) covered in glistening sweat, and their breathing was heavy. A scent Twilight had never smelt before but her instinctive hindbrain easily recognized filled the room.
“Oh Spikey-Wikey,” Rarity cooed appreciatively, running a finely-trimmed hoof across the purple dragon’s chest. “I never knew you could be so… ravishing. Why you were-”
The alabaster unicorn cut herself off as her hormone-addled brain caught up with the events around her.
“TWILIGHT?!” she screeched in horror. “What in all the hells are you DOING here?! Aren’t YOU the fucking bookworm?! Don’t you know what a “closed” sign MEANS?!”
“DAMN IT TWILIGHT!” the now larger and far more sexually fulfilled purple dragon joined in. “Do you HAVE to burst in right as I’m FINALLY getting what I’ve wanted for years?! GEEZE!” He collapsed back against the fainting couch and stared sourly at his long-time slave owner, finally beginning to see the truth of what she had-
“I am not a slave owner!” Twilight furiously denied the obvious at me.
“Well…” Rarity managed to hop off of the couch, her usual perfume replaced with the smells of sex and sweat. “You must admit, darling, that your relationship with Spikey-Wikey is a bit… one-sided on occasion.”
Struck dumb by the superior wisdom of her very intelligent and beautiful snow white unicorn friend, Twilight could only blink in shock at the sight of her own nearest and dearest agreeing with their genius narrator instead of her flabby-ass self.
“I am not fat!” Twilight shouted. “Right, guys?” the sexless and very jealous alicorn looked to the other two for support.
Spike looked nervous, but said nothing, obviously from lingering fear of the dark tortures he had been subjected to in the name of discipline. Rarity winced and hesitated before answering, her natural kindness and empathy warring with the need to be objective. “Um…”
Twilight gritted her yellow, un-brushed teeth once more. “Yes?”
“Well, darling, you perhaps could do with losing a few inches here and there…”
“WHAT?!” Twilight’s banshee wail was enough to rattle the building, crack glass, and make ears bleed. She slammed her two front hooves into her forehead, unable to form a coherent response to the truth she had heard. “This isn’t happening. This isn’t happening. This isn’t happening.”
Twilight bashed her head against the floor, perhaps a long-repressed noble aspect of herself attempting to end her pathetic existence, before returning her gaze to the dragon and pony before her.
“Anyway,” she continued with a crazed grin reminiscent of an axe murderer’s. “Since you two can hear Mr. Narrator here… You can hear him, can’t you?”
“Yeah,” answered Spike, still grateful for the assistance the benevolent storyteller had rendered him.
“Indeed, darling,” came Rarity’s response, a puzzled look on her pretty face.
The bloated alicorn continued her vile proposition. “Well, I need to get rid of him, and you need to help me! We need all six of us to use the Rainbow Power to blast this motherfucker to kingdom-”
“NO!” shouted Spike, throwing off years of slave conditioning in an instant. “He’s great! He helped us both! Why would you want him gone?”
Rarity, brilliant as she was beautiful, nodded her head in agreement. “He seems an alright sort to me, darling. Decent even.” She looked over at the purple dragon, blinking her eyes and smiling seductively. “Especially if he’s the one responsible for my Spikey-Wikey’s… performance today.”
“Decent? DECENT?!” Twilight’s hate-filled face stared at her twin “friends”. “He put BEES in my VAGINA!”
Did not.
“Did so!”
Did not.
“DID SO!”
Prove it.
“Fine, I-” Twilight hesitated in the face of her obvious lie. If she had been attacked by bees, as she alleged, where then were the marks invariably left behind by the vicious venom?
“I got rid of them! With magic!”
Once again, her lies faltered in the face of objectivity, for if she knew such a spell would she not have used it during the Winter Wrap Up, when she had a beehive dropped onto her many-chinned head?
“I learned the spell after that!” the purple and red one argued, but once again Spike, Rarity, and the audience saw through the evident deceit.
“Twilight, dear,” interjected the alabaster lady of incomparable elegance. “Perhaps you are being too hard on Mr. Narrator. Yes, his language is… crude, but he seems to have been nothing but helpful, insofar as I can see.” The wisdom of her words ran deeper than the sparkling blue oceans.
“He stole our house!” the bloated one retorted, willing yet again to lie to her own friends rather than permit the innocent and helpless narrator to continue.
“Let’s just see about that.” Spike, ever wise to his mistress’s slippery ways, looked out a window and pointed. “It’s right there,” he said, his face full of scorn at Twilight’s foolish falsehoods.
Rarity and the sexless purple one also looked out the window.
“Darling, it would seem that your house is right where it always was,” observed the wise white mare.
“But-But-But he made it grow legs! It got up and walked away!”
I did no such thing.
“GAAAAAHHHHHH!”
The now completely insane fat alicorn raced back out the boutique door, leaving the two puzzled lovebirds to continue their passionate sex together.
“Stay calm, Twilight. Stay calm. You can do this. Just gotta get to Applejack. She’ll believe me.”
As Twilight ran from Rarity’s place of business, she headed next for the dwelling of the Element of Honesty, though even in her madness what she hoped to achieve is beyond the scope of this humble narrator’s intellectual capabilities.
As she ran, Twilight could not suppress the realization that the baby dragon she’d personally hatched had gotten some before her, and her thoughts turned to her own secret fantasy crush. She masturbated nightly to erotic imaginings of a pegasus stallion by the name of Flash Sentry, whom she would never get any from because he was too busy having a threesome with Celestia and Luna (both of whom are much hotter than Twilight) in Canterlot. Such was the sad, miserable life of this lonely-
“Would you SHUT UP already?!” screamed the nerdicorn at the narrator.
Unfortunately for her, Applejack is a boring (and probably inbred) redneck and therefore no fun to tell a story about. So therefore she had… I don’t know, let’s say she guzzled cider to deal with her repressed depression and passed out of an alcohol overdose.
“Will you quit talking smack about me and my friends, you fucker?!”
Nope.
Twilight stumbled upon Applejack’s unconscious form in a ditch outside Sweet Apple Acres. “Applejack!” she cried, shedding crocodile tears in an attempt to fool the audience into believing her less vile than she really was. But they were too enlightened and knowledgeable to be fooled with such cheap tricks. She shook her friend, desperate for a partner to her wicked schemes. But it was no good – Applejack was drunker than Captain Jack Sparrow on Free Rum Day.
“Who the hell is that?”
Oh, no one you know.
“I hate you so much,” said the cruel alicorn to the gentle, weeping narrator, who had only wanted to be friends.
Careless of the safety of her “friend”, Twilight turned to-
“That’s a lie! I’m taking Applejack to the hospital!”
Oh, fine. The fat purple creature dragged the drunken orange horse to a hospital and left her in the hooves of the doctors and nurses there.
Twilight soared through the air towards Cloudsdale with all the grace and majesty of a flying burrito, her stubby little wings struggling to-
“Shut up!”
Then she was hit in the face with… I dunno, a brick wall, I guess.
“What?! Why would there be a-” Her clumsy retort was cut off as she ran face-first into an enormous brick wall hundreds of feet high.
“Ooooooooo” she rubbed her tender head, though her layers of blubber had protected her from the worst of the impact. “What?! How did this get here?! It should have been visible for miles around! And who would build a brick wall this high anyway!”
“Hey there Twilight!” came the cheerful voice of Flaming Lesbi- I mean, Rainbow Dash.
“Rainbow? What’s this wall doing here?”
“Oh, that’s because-”
That day was Ponyville’s annual Building of the Random Brick Wall day.
“Yeah, what he said.”
The purple one’s face contorted with shock and rage, her puny mind unable to grasp the point in front of her. “That makes even less sense than before!”
“Hey, lay off Twilight, narrator guy!” Rainbow Dash demanded of her humble storyteller.
“Thank you!” Twilight breathed a sigh of relief. “I’ve been looking for somepony to help me with him all day!”
“No problem, Twi! I’ll always be here for you!”
And that was when Derpy Hooves arrived with a letter to Rainbow Dash, informing her of the Wonderbolts’ decision to make her captain if she showed up in Canterlot five minutes from then.
“SorryTwigottagobye!” yelled the distant and retreating form of Rainbow Dash.
Twilight’s noble side once again attempted to end her vile existence upon that brick wall, but alas, had not the strength to do so.
“Just one more. Just one more,” Twilight repeated over and over, sounding more and more like a serial killer with each passing minute. Why, I wouldn’t be surprised to learn-
“SHUT YOUR FUCKING MOUTH!”
Temper temper.
“FUCK YOU!”
Our most preeminent and porcine protagonist pranced promptly along the perilous path to Fluttershy’s… um…
“Cat got your tongue?”
Shut up.
“Fuck that.”
Well, I sure ain’t. But I suppose I can understand your urges, considering your sex life.
“GAAAAAHHHHH!”
Twilight pounded roughly on Fluttershy’s door, caring not at all for the disturbance it might cause the poor sensitive dear.
“STOP LYING!”
Like I said: not caring for the disturbance it might cause the poor dear.
“Hate you. Hate you. Hate you. Hate you. Hate you.”
You really must learn to control that nasty temper of yours. Have you considered taking classes?
Fluttershy, being a poor, delicate soul is not suited to appear in a story such as this one, not with the likes of Ms. Flabby McHate around, at any rate. Therefore, she was safely on vacation with her animal friends on a beach on the opposite side of Equestria.
“I saw her just this morning! She was here!”
But she did have to leave one animal friend behind.
“You’re lying again, motherfucker!”
You see, Mr. Bear was hibernating.
“That makes no sense! It’s the middle of goddamn July!”
But Twilight’s very rude knocking and loud screaming at the narrator had woken him early from his nap.
“Quit making up random bullshit!”
So he broke down the door and attacked.
“AAAAAAAHHHHHHH! BEAR ATTACK! BEAR ATTACK!”
He grabbed the lavender alicorn, her grotesque rolls of fat preventing her from taking to the air in time to get away. His vicelike talons squeezed her so tightly that she was unable to cast any magic. Then he shook her up and down roughly, like she was some kind of can of bug spray or somesuch.
“FFFFFUUUUUCCCCKKKK YYYYOOOOUUUU!!!”
Then he crammed the meaty morsel down his enormous gullet in one swallow.
“MMMMMMPPPPPPHHHHH!!! MPH! MPH!”
Twilight squirmed and struggled, but it was no good. She was pushed unstoppably down the bear’s esophagus, its mighty muscles easily overcoming her puny nerd wizard build.
Who wants STR for a dump stat now, motherfuckers?
When Twilight’s hooves began to feel the burning agony that was her imminent demise in stomach acid, her puny brain at last kicked into gear, and she remembered that she was in fact capable of teleporting. So, casting a spell, she reappeared, dripping wet with bear saliva and thoroughly traumatized, in the depths of her crystal palace tree thing.
“That… was awful.”
Tell me about it.
“That made no sense.”
Right on the money, fatso.
“None of this made any sense.”
You’d better believe it.
“Wait… all of this made no sense…” Twilight put her hoof under her chin in a parody of the classic pose of great thinkers, but such was ultimately a meaningless-
“DIIIIIISSSSCOOOOORD!!!”
Oh poo.
So, with our protagonist having definitely not figured out the name of this lowly narrator, I feel that it is just about time to wrap up this little-
“YOUR ASS IS STONE WHEN I GET AHOLD OF YOU!!! I KNOW WHERE YOU LIVE!!!”
Ohshittimetogobye!
