Author's Note
This is what happens when I am bored at work.
Tale of the Spork God
Sporkle
Twilight Sparkle woke up one fine summer morning to find that her magic did not work.
“Huh,” she said. She didn’t scream; she didn’t panic. This wasn’t the first time something strange had happened to her horn, and it certainly wouldn’t be the last.
As such, Twilight had become rather adept at living without magic. She simply tapped her alarm clock lightly with her hoof and got out of bed.
A trip to the bathroom mirror and the answer revealed itself: Twilight had a spork sprouting out of her forehead. To be more precise, where her horn rightfully should be, was a spork, tines facing outward—thank Celestia—the same shade of lavender, and, if what she felt as she ran a hoof over the surface was correct, made of the same material as her vanished magical appendage.
“Huh,” she said again, and made her way downstairs, prepared a bowl of cereal and sat down for breakfast.
“One of those days then?” Spike commented, glancing up from his own cereal.
“I would say so.”
“Hmm… should I make the Twilight Sporkle joke now or later?”
“I’d say store it away, Spike. It’s rather hackneyed, don’t you think?”
Spike thought for second then nodded. “Probably. You’re going out then?” She nodded. “Well pick us up a bottle of milk on the way back, please. We’re almost out.”
Later that afternoon found Twilight knocking on the door to Fluttershy’s cottage. She had a fair suspicion concerning who was responsible for her spork situation.
Speaking of said culinary accessory, nopony had commented on her new purple poker. This made sense as Twilight had thrown a sock over it.
Said sock was the same shade of lavender as her coat. The silk-cashmere blend was quite comfortable and the pink and purple argyle pattern matched her mane to a tee… or at least that’s what Rarity insisted. Twilight had pointed out that fifty bits was a lot to spend on a single sock, especially when a ten-pack of plain cotton socks cost half as much and were, in her opinon, just as good.
Twilight Sparkle was no longer welcome inside Carousel Boutique. At least until such time as Rarity had calmed down, or the alicorn showed a proper appreciation for fine legwear. Whichever came first.
Anywho, as Twilight had made her way to Fluttershy’s house, ponies did not so much bat an eye at her sporky protuberance—again, due to the aforementioned very expensive sock—but tongues did wag and jaws did fall to the ground. Mostly from the unicorn segment of the populous.
Now, there was certainly nothing wrong with putting a sock over one’s horn. Every unicorn did it. It just… Well… There was an understanding. Socktime was meant to be enjoyed in the privacy of one’s own room, usually curled up reading literature of a very specific genre.
But there was Equestria’s newest princess flaunting society's norms like some sort of deviant! Somepony think of the foals! Shame! Shame!
“Hello, Your Highness!” Discord greeted, the door drawing up like window blinds.
And by drawn up, that means became so utterly tangled that Discord pulled them down in a huff, balling the whole mess and kicking it for a field goal. Shorter version: window blinds are terrible. Don’t buy them.
“Ah, I see you’re wearing a sock over your horn. Is that the new ‘in’ thing with you kids today? I must admit I just can’t keep up with all these new trends you youngsters are into,” Discord admitted, now dressed in a plaid sweatervest at the same time leaning on a cane. “What with your new fangled techno music and fancy lights. Just untz untz untz all night long while some of us are trying to catch our beauty rest!”
“Discord.”
“In my day, we had only two instruments, the flew-flewber and the tah-tinker, and dagnabit we liked it.”
“Discord!” Twilight shouted, freezing him just as he was getting into a rant about the reclassification of white chocolate as chocolate. It has no cocoa solids. As far as he was concerned, it wasn’t chocolate. Really, where did the government get off reclassifying chocolate without consulting him, Discord, the creator of all things chocolate?!
Twilight cast off her sock, and Discord stared at it with a rather perplexed expression.
“Twilight,” he said. “You have a spork on your head.”
Twilight rolled her eyes. “Noo. Really? I hadn’t noticed. Thanks for telling me.”
“Then I am glad I could help,” he replied, clapping his hands. “Good to see you as always, Twilight. Ta-ta!”
“Hold it right there, Discord! You’re not going anywhere until you undo whatever spell you cast on my horn.”
He gasped, arms flailing, recoiling in shock. “Why, Twilight Sparkle! I. Am. Shocked! Shocked and appalled! Appalled and shocked! To think you would cast baseless aspersions on my character without a shred of evidence. Why-why I just don’t know how to react! You should be ashamed of yourself!”
She raised an eyebrow. “Are you done?”
“I don’t know. Maybe. I’d like to flail for a few more moments.”
Releasing a deep sigh, she motioned for him to get on with it.
“Ahem…” He threw his arms back into the air. “Whhhhhhyyyyyy?! Okay, now I’m done.”
“Great,” said Twilight, now massaging her temple. Her hooves moved in small circular motions. “Now just snap your paw and I’ll be on my way.”
Discord folded his arms and sat down in a newly arrived armchair. "As I stated earlier, your silly spork situation isn’t my doing."
If her left eyebrow got any higher it would fly off into the stratosphere. It seemed to ask, “Really?”
“I swear on Celestia’s grand tush. It wasn’t me. I would never interfere with the work of The Spork God.”
...And the eyebrow was lost. Into the sky it went. “The Spork God?” Twilight repeated back. “And, I know I’m going to regret asking this, but who or what is The Spork God?”
“I’m glad you asked, Twilight.” A snap of his tail and Discord sat dressed in a velvet robe and slippers. A crimson fez adorned his head while bubble birds blew out his pipe. Twilight found herself now outfitted in teddybear print pajamas, sitting on the floor as Discord flipped through a comically oversized book.
“Once upon a time in the magical land of Equestria, there lived a pony. This pony loved to invent things. It was their special talent. Now. nopony remembers where this pony lived or whether they were a mare or a stallion, pegasus, unicorn or earth pony. They were only known as The Inventor.
“As I’ve said, The Inventor loved to created new gadgets and devices to help ponies. Ponies came from all around to buy The Inventor’s wares and the pony became quite rich. After some time ponies arrived with their own requests, but The Inventor discovered an insidious problem. All the items the ponies requested were usually only good for one task.
“This lack of utility seemed wasteful to The Inventor. Why make unitaskers? Everything should be able to accomplish at least two tasks. A grand idea, yet fate was not kind.
“The Inventor spent less and less time on ponies’ requests and lost business to competitors. Still, The Inventor persisted in pursuit of the perfect dualuse thingamabob.
“One dark and stormy night, after the particularly spectacular failure with a self-immolating fire extinguisher. The Inventor despaired, but when he went to bed, he had a dream. A dream of the perfect dining implement. Some say dark forces, having taken an interest in the pony, sent down the idea as a sign of their favor. Others says, ‘Meh’. Either way, in a few short days the spork was born.
“At first, it was a rousing success, with many wondering why nopony had thought of it before. Then, one fateful day, a princess sat down for her royal meal, and, as the royal chef served the royal soup and the royal salad, she discovered somepony had left her a gift, a sterling silver spork, thus dubbed the royal spork.
“At the meal’s conclusion, the Princess made a proclamation. The spork, while a gallant attempt, did not perform nearly as well as the cutlery it deemed to replace. Thus its utility was negated.
“Hearing her words, ponies threw away all their sporks, melting them down into base materials. Materials used to birth new forks and spoons.
“The Inventor, enraged at the Princess’s judgement, left the country never to be seen again. Yet that is not end of the story. For some say The Inventor called upon the previously mentioned demons, begging for the power to gain revenge. They heeded The Inventor’s call and transformed the pony into The God of Sporks, cursed to wander the world, pushing The Inventor’s view of utility, changing objects which are very good at one task into objects which are sorta ‘eh’ at two or more tasks. The end.”
Twilight’s eyebrow hadn’t returned. In fact she’d lost the other one to the sky some time into the tale. There was only one thing to say. “You just made all that up, didn’t you?”
Discord closed the book shut, looking mildly offended. “Why, Twilight. That’s simply ridiculous. I promise you, I spork the truth.”
