Dear Princess Twilight,
My coltfriend of six months and I finally have our own little place together. There's one problem, though. He keeps leaving expired food in the refrigerator without cleaning it out. I don't want to be harsh with him, but at the same time, he doesn't really respond well to subtle hints or anything of that nature. How can I tell him to clean out the fridge without making him feel on the defensive?
Signed,
Conflicted in Canterlot.
***
Dear Cuntflicted,
Okay, I reeeaaallly want to apologize if I mess this up but I think Pinkie slipped me something while I was on the shitter, so bear with me. Now, first off, a coltfriend? Lame. Go get yourself a mare. As much as I love having a giant, fleshy, baby-spitting worm shoved up to my tits, a girl knows how to munch the rug, and at the end of a long day, when you're tired and sore, what would you rather have: Flesh-Pillar the Destroyer OR Silky the Snuggle Worm up in your vag?
Oh right, the fridge. Who cares? Toss it in a stew or something, I don't know how to cook. If it's really bugging you, don't wash for a couple weeks and ask him if he wants to eat you up. Maybe that'll do it. If not, throw stuff. I don't know, the bitches I date clean up after themselves because they aren't slobs.
Sincerely yours,
Twilight Sparkle
Dear Princess Twilight,
My son is getting at that precocious age where he's asking a lot of questions about [you know what]. Now, I don't consider myself a prude, or anything, but I'll admit, it does leave me skittish to think I have to do it, even though it is a stallion's job. How can I build the confidence to tell my son the whole truth so he doesn't get the wrong idea on the schoolyard?
Sincerely,
Anxious in Appleloosa
***
Dear Ankle-shits,
Look, we were all foals once, and we all grew out of it the exact same way: we get dragged to a party once, we drink a bit too much of the spiked punch, and next thing you know, penis-spells are a thing and half the mares in Canterlot are suddenly making moon-eyes at you. You remember the baby-boom of Canterlot High?
That wasn't me.
But if you want to be all tell don't show and make it boring for the kid, throw him a book. Kids love books. I loved books, at least. It's how I learned about paternity tests and alimonies. And if you're some huge prude and use words like "bajingo", for the love of Celestia, get off your high-horse - I apologize in advance if you are a horse - and learn the proper Equestrian language.
Sincerely yours,
Twilight Sparkle.
Deer Princis Twahlaght,
Mah brother is so clearly gay, but he don' wanna admit it none, 'cuz he thinks we're homophobic'er some shit. It's horseshit, but still, we talk lahk a buncha hicks, so Ah guess Ah can't blame'im. So anyway, how can Ah get his faggety-ass to come out of the clawset without actually confrontin' him, like a cunt?
Sinsurly,
Proddin' in Ponayville
***
Dear You,
I am so mad at you right now. So, SO mad. I had to take this to a Canterlot incryption expert on the off chance this was a painstakingly crafted cry for help, and he thought I was getting mail from Tartarus.
They don't have mail in Tartarus! Old Scratch himself took one look and sneered like I spit in his taco. Eventually, I broke down and took it to one of my friend's little sisters and she apparently knows the language! Friggin' Luna on a moon bounce, of all people it's that useless twat who keeps tearing up my flower garden looking for treasure/gardening/catching worms/whatever the heck she thinks will get her tramp stamp.
Anyways, translated from whatthebuck to Equestrian - which we offer free classes for at the Elementary school, by the way - I'll just say this: let him do it on his own. One day you'll find him balls deep up the ass of another colt, or if you're real lucky, you'll get to walk in on your brother simpering like a bitch as his coltfriend pounds his flanks red. You can have a long, awkward talk over alcohol later and tell him about how you always knew then.
Sincerely yours,
Twilight Sparkle.
PS: Seriously, the classes are free, and judging by your spelling, you're at least in the right age group mentally to join. I'll let Cheerilee know you're coming.
Dear Princess Twilight,
My wife and I usually agree on pretty much all important decisions, but this one really has us in a doozy. My wife thinks we should take in her elderly parents and look after them, while I feel like we have neither the time, space, or resources to take on the responsibility. I know she means well and wants what's best for her parents, but I feel like she's not thinking practically. How do I get her to see things from where I'm sitting?
Sincerely,
Fighting in Fillydelphia
***
Dear Alliterative Name,
I don't know, have you tried giving her your chair?
HAHAHAHAHA oh Celestia I'm so witty. I need to write that one down. Wait, I just did, but elsewhere. Where would you write it down to remember it for later? I don't keep journals and all my stuff ends up at Celestia's sooner or later. I'll look into it for later. Maybe some kind of idea-keeper-reminder you keep on a fridge, or a spell that makes it always show up in the right context.
That last one sounds like a better idea, then I wouldn't even have to say it. Think about it, all that effort saved by pouring mountains of effort to instantaneously say the right thing in the proper moment. Man, I could stop wasting my jaw strength on saying hi to everypony in the morning!
Okay okay, I've pat my back on this enough already, but seriously, I think it's an awesome idea.
Now, we all know parents are the lamest. My mom and dad were supportive, but they're old fuddy-duddies now too, but something to keep in mind is that we're all going to get to that age too. Well, maybe not me, Princesshood might come with immortality, Celestia's been avoiding that question, especially when it comes to my friends, she just kept admiring these five weird statues she put in the garden with years set like, fifty years later printed on them. That's neither here nor there. What you should do is take them in, but only for a little while. Give them some hope. Then start asking them to do chores, little by little, while you're gone. BOOM, instant maids, instant chefs, all in one. You can save all that energy doing housework by dumping it on the elderly. It'll give you the energy you need to put up with their nagging about grandkids and their cankles later.
Sincerely Yours,
Twilight Sparkle.
Dear Princess Twilight,
What the fuck is this shit? Are you dipping in the bath salts again? Christ, Twi, Intervention does not usually do repeat subjects, they have many other addicts whose ruined lives they have to exploit for cheap entertainment. The world does not revolve around you, in in that sense.
Seriously though, stop with the crazy-ass letters. You're a bitch, and you're probably fucking crazy (though, admittedly, that makes you fucking great in the sack. Wanna hang out, tonight?)
Sincerely,
Dashing in... uh... it's Dash, k?
***
Dear Dash,
How are you getting my letters you nosey bitch? These are private, Friendship Princess matters. This is a violation of my duties as a Princess.
I've already sent the guards, but this letter should arrive first: you are being held tomorrow, in my castle's court, as a spy and an instigator of high treason. Should you be found guilty, you will need to be held and guarded 24/7. Since you are a dangerous pony, I have elected myself to be your guard.
This means we will share the same room where you will be systematically interrogated for information with my tools of choice. You will follow me in clothing showing that you have been properly submitted to my rule.
Fail to comply, and I may have the other girls join in.
This sentence shall last forever.
Sincerely yours,
Twilight Dominatrix.
Dear Princess Twilight,
I run a respectable, noteworthy newspaper, but many readers are being turned away by an offensive column. Ordinarily, I would just fire the writer and cancel the column, but the writer in question is a magically-endowed psycho bitch. She frequently threatens ponies, and I'll almost confident she has a rape dungeon. How do I get my readers back while also making sure my testicles remain intact?
Sincerely,
Petrified in Ponyville.
***
Dear Boss,
Look, I get the hint. You've been on my case about it for WEEKS now, and seriously, I'm starting to get annoyed. If Peanut Pop can't handle the stress of writing a proper newspaper article, then that's his own fault.
Here's what we do. You lure him to the edge of the Everfree Forest, I'll have a small... gathering there to meet you both. Follow the one with the blue mane but not too closely, she's shy and will evaporate in terror if she feels your breath. When you hear the Timberwolves howl, take a left. It doesn't matter where you are, GO LEFT, I'm serious, I have seen so many ponies get themselves killed by avoiding going left! When you feel the frigid silence enter your bones, stop and chant a prayer to Celestia, this will summon a nameless being I sometimes associate with. Call him Chad using the back of your throat, otherwise he may be insulted.
After that, wish Peanut Pop was dead and Chad will take care of things from there.
If all this fails because I'm lying and you're a fucking moron, try to find a cliff and fall down it headfirst, the both of you.
Your beloved Princess for life,
Twilight Sparkle.
PS: I'm taking over your newspaper.
Ask Princess Twilight Sparkle is syndicated in 250 newspapers throughout Equestria. More importantly, however, it's published in Twilight's Attack on Titan fanzine which she writes, edits, and collates, all by herself. Go her.
Twilight lives in Ponyville with a filthy mongrel of a pet who is incapable of communicating or connecting with anypony on a meaningful level. Also, she has an owl.
