Author's Note
If you're going to tell people the truth, you better make them laugh; otherwise they'll kill you.
- George Bernard Shaw
This is my first fanfic involving a certain ~~defunct~~ tumblr so I've decided to use canon characters as anthropomorphic beings instead of their normal forms; however, this is a Mature-rated fanfic so unless you're in eighteen plus panel, stop right now and hit the back button.
As for continuity, this would be set after Magical Mystery Cure.
Anyways, I just want to state for the record that My Little Pony, or rather Friendship Is Magic and its setting and characters belongs to Lauren Faust and Hasbro; also, considering that the fanfic itself has ties to the tumblr group in question, the name Dainn belongs to non_creepy_nickname alone.
Enjoy it or don't; I'll understand either way.
Conflagration
Date: [REDACTED]
The following here is an investigative report concerning the firebombing of Sugar Cube Corner, all of which has about no less than a week ago back in Ponyville following the conquest of Equestria much earlier. The massive explosion has just behind extensive damage beyond repair, all of which has totaled about roughly 7777 bits; in addition, there had been some casualties in its very wake: a total of 23 people had been killed instantly by the blast impact including at least nineteen caribou under Dainn’s Home Guard and five other stallions within the vicinity of the bakery. The scores of mares that had been injured in the crossfire had reported seeing a Missus Cup Cake charging at the premises armed with appeared to be a set of improvised incendiaries composed only of household cleaners and solvents, all of which were corroborated by their outnumbered handlers. Any other additional details concerning the attack so far are still sketchy as of now but it is believe that the contents retrieved from the wreckage are still being salvaged despite extreme fire damage sustained by the subject who had used the last of them on herself. As of yet, plans to demolish the remaining structures of the firebombed bakery are still pending finalization for the current investigation at hand has yet to reach a proper ceasing of all functionalities whatsoever. So far, the surrounded wreckage has been officially closed off to the entire public for the time being; trespassers found to be even standing about within the very premises will be charged with obstruction and subjected to the penalty of public flagellation.
The small committee has just begun to inspect the miniscule contents despite speculations of being destroyed or rigged with traps: a poster of a darkened sun and a reddened moon edges seared off, a photograph of the attacker’s family in a fireproof frame (she herself her husband and a pair of foals below them), and a black cassette reel wrapping in a large plant’s leaves. Activating the cassette triggered a round of harsh static lasting about two minutes before subsiding into a visage of a rather young stallion: the subject introduces himself as a Carrot Cake, a yellow dirt pony presumably of an under average build and perhaps in his early to mid–twenties. On him are a small denim vest are what appears to be four orange potions in each pocket, a ring of grenades around his neck, and a large blade in his left hand; aside from his weaponry, he has himself wearing only a white tee shirt and a pair of brown shorts on camera, lower hooves out of sight. His green eyes appear to be deprived of slumber but otherwise showing absolutely no signs of any breakdown whatsoever; the one notable exception shaking up at the mentioning of the caribou’s invasion and the damage dealt to the entire community, specifically put the family household and the commercial establishment they have appeared to dwelled in before. Along with this, he has possessed many thick strands of ginger hair far out of place on his head and a small dark brown beard underneath the chin growing out of the otherwise yellow coat as well.
Here’s where the video finally begins as the picture on screen starts to stabilize, a dark room with only a bright light overhead flickering about and a small window with a few stars right behind him as he sits against the wood and metal surfaces in what was appearing to be a shed of some sort. However, the background in question here is far beneath of concern as the person in the very foreground is facing the screen already with much to say on the very subject matter in question. Nevertheless, the ambiguous appearance of the location has been reduced to a mere footnote in this part of the investigation as the inspection now goes underway the moment a rather timid voice escaped the lips; even so, this has proven to be very deceptive to say the least.
Hello, my name is Carrot Cake.
I’m twenty four years old.
I use to own a bakery, Sugar Cube Corner and worked there, hence the name.
I’m married and have two foals and I lived in Ponyville for an entire decade and yesterday my wife had killed herself and took nineteen caribous with them and tomorrow I’m going blow myself up and take as many as I can.
I know someponies are going to say that I’m crazy for doing what I am doing but I’m not, I not crazy, I’m just a stallion I never raised a weapon in my life, I mean Tartarus, I’m a baker. I’m not a soldier.
At this rate, I would have my neck snapped like a twig in a heartbeat or worse, turned into a mare and stripped of my clothing before being made into a slave.
But with these…
Carrot Cake points to the potions in his hands before fixing his eyebrows in a diagonal state in a border, wiping away whatever beads of sweat on his now vermillion face from forehead to muzzle.
With these I can make a statement: I can make them pause and think about what they do to us.
It’s not okay to storm our homes and take whatever they can get. It’s not okay to take our mares and make them into whores. It’s not okay to force our foals to grow up faster into everypony else just to be slaves.
Ponyville along with all of Equestria is our home and by tomorrow they will know soon enough.
As a matter of fact, I have come here already delivering a warning to anyone who is now listening at this point: whether or not you found my wife worth of expelling your lusts, you best be hearing this already. Whatever it is you bastards don’t even know, you all need to know since you are all responsible for everything that has gone wrong: that means enslavement, raping, torture – the constant defilement of everything which had stood for harmony; when all is said and done, you’ll all have a lot to answer for on that end.
I never imagine that one day of all days would be the time we have gotten invaded be if by parasprites or by the changelings but it seems bad enough that not even our dear Princess Celestia didn’t see this coming; of course, I, too have failed to see it. The one day we get to witness the defeat of Nightmare Moon is the same year everything goes rutting pear-shaped in a heartbeat; we were all blind to see what our once great kingdom has become: a hot bed of whoredom and brutality no less.
I only wish that I had been truly strong enough to join the platoon, truly brave enough to protect my wife, my own kids no less. Instead, I have failed them all; now, I, too am traitor without a home to call my own.
I hope that someday that all the ponies in Equestria, both mare and otherwise will be free once again; a nation such as this stained with the stench of injustice cannot stand any further and surely enough, even our posterity would turn to this nation with none other than hate and disgust. My only regret is that I shall not live to see it fall nor will I be able to see the look on their rutting faces when I see them in Tartarus with a smile on mines.
You understand what in this blue and green world I am talking about?! I am talking about the all the stallions like me who watched our protectors turn on the princesses like it was nothing, all the mares like my wife who have been used and abused in ways too rutting horrible to talk out our mouths, all the foals being forced to grow up and leave their youthfulness behind in a flash to be a part of this machine.
This isn’t just only about the very invaders who have taken our trust and used it against for their own conquests; I’m also talking about the traitors in the very platoons who conspired with the Caribou and made us feel weak and helpless. This also means you, Shining Armor; I don’t know what you or your twisted bride have had in mind on this very matter in question but I for one have this to say on the matter: I am angry as Tartarus, I will no longer stand for it any further.
I’ll admit… I may only be one man out of many who have managed to remained steadfast against all of this and that but like I said before, at least I can make a statement; after all, where have our foals gone, I cannot even find the strength to follow them, not on the path where they have trampled our peace. To simply say that all I want is peace, I say that’s impossible; to even say I want to go back home, no I can’t go back home at all not after what our hearts have become: a mocking insignia of how love and friendship have been destroyed, how the unity and fellowship between sisters have been shafted, how safety and security have been dying dreams all along.
Nevertheless, there is still hope that despite all the chaos, their reign will end soon enough but it seems that there’s no way in Tartarus that these bastard spawn will allow it to end in any way whatsoever; still, if my act happens to be inspiring others to do the same, then the least that they can do is thank my dear wife for doing so, may she rest in peace. This day might as well be the beginning of the end for the caribou as it is for me too, one in which she is responsible for; however, I cannot in good conscience linger to see my response unfold soon enough as the cold cruel world of ours turns.
As of now, it seem even visions of my twins’ passing are now haunting me even in my sleep: our dear Pound and Pumpkin have become the first out of the martyrs who now stand on the sands of time opposing the invaders, followed many others, young and old, as this sad sorry kingdom of ours descends, corroded away by own protectors no less. Perhaps, Equestria will rise again and be returned to its former and rightful glory, one of both peace and kindness but until then, I hope that there is a resistance that will continue to be a thorn in your side to the very end come Tartarus or tidal wave.
One thing is clear: whether you live a long life or not will only be determined by how much you are will to risk; if you happen to find yourself still ruled by your own pride and lust, then it’ll be at your own risk alone no less, not mines. You have been warned.
Rounds of static have now clogged up the video, a mishmash of various black and white dominating the very video; thankfully, it had subsided to a clear blue screen of uniformity in mere seconds before the cassette tape began to whirr and wind within mere seconds on the clock. For a short moment in time, it had seemed that this was the end of it all given the little time it had taken for him to finish his very message; of course, given the contents of his speech, it was only the beginning as the tape was now spat out quickly as the screen returned to the static mesh. The surviving staff has now come to an agreement on writing out a letter of recommendation suggesting that any security measures in this sector surrounding the wreckage of the former bakery are increased in hopes of stopping whatever scheme that had been declared onscreen.