Clever Title Reflecting Punchline of the Story
Twilight awoke to the sound of violent explosions and gunfire, rolling out of bed and screaming for Spike to do the same as she turned to find him lying underneath her, twitching in pain. She slowly and uncaringly removed herself from him ,more fixated on the bombshells being dropped right outside her front door, and the sound of FBI hooves storming her front yard. Had they uncovered Twilight's old plot to destroy Ponyville bank with a makeshift bomb from when she was a suicidal little filly? But that was YEARS AGO! Back before Celestia, magic, and friendship! Back when she wrote fanfictions about being raped in a dirty basement by her brother and father; She needed help! She had gotten help! Why, CELSTIA? She panicked, then was brought back to reality by a sharp smack from her purple assistant aside her.
"TWILIGHT!" Spike screamed, trying to get her attention, "We need to move!"
Twilight, dazed and pained from the smack, nodded and rushed alongside her accomplice to the downstairs foyer, crystallized shards of magic which made up her ceiling falling from the ceiling and statues of her friends crumbling into rubble from the tremors created by the bombs. What was going on?
"Spike," Twilight said, magically unlocking and opening a chest behind what once was her throne but was now a pile of rubble, "Magic and friendship be damned, these ponies mean business! I don't know what's happening, but we might be in for the most ruthless tortures of your natural and my unnatural life..."
Twilight retrieved, from within the chest, two small, semi-automatic handguns. Dropping one into the small dragon's hands, Twilight saw tears welling in his eyes.
"Spike!" she screamed, the little dragon closing his eyes but still listening, "you know you could have left with those other dragons, and you stuck by me through better and worse. I thank you for that, but I need you now more than ever. So stop being such a damn pussy, grow a draconian set and lock... and...fucking... load."
Spike nodded, wiping his tears and picturing rarity as he walked alongside Twilight, the two loading clips into their guns. He would never get to be with Rarity, his heart felt like glass shards were stuck inside it as he walked closer to the front doors.
The two burst through, screaming and firing as civilians ducked and weaved. Twilight and Spike went down in a blaze of glory, firing and screaming their loved ones names. It was like something out of one of Twilight's old fanficitons, which she was still secretly writing in her spare time, she was up to Chapter twenty two.
Spike, who had been secretly reading/masturbating to these stories, only yelled Rarity and Twilight's names as the pair held hooves, finishing their clips and awaiting their fates. they closed their eyes in preparation for the rain of bullet fire from the hidden swat teams. Both envisioned pony-heaven, and feared pony hell. Which fate would they meet? Would they meet it together? Who knew, all Twilight and Spike could do now was wait for painful, fiery and led death. However, nothing came.
"What the...?" Twilight said, her eyes opening and the pairs hands disconnecting. In the distance there were Swat members cowering behind things, and actors in makeup chairs, wincing and curled up in the arms of the makeup artists. They wore half-applied guard and swat uniforms. These weren't real swat members, they were just other actors!
"What in Sam hell are yall doin'?" cried applejack, running over, accompanied by four other colorful equines with similar inquiries.
Twilight and Spike looked on, confused. These were the rest of the mane six, unharmed, and they began ruthlessly questioning their two friend's actions.
"Wait," Twilight said, cutting her loud and demanding co-workers off, "what the fuck is going on?"
Applejack-dropping the equestrian accent and speaking in her native English-no longer able to hold character, called for the cameramen to return to their stations from their hiding places behind trees and painted backdrops and cut the cameras.
"It's all right, everypony," She said calmingly, soothing them all with her divine, English vocals. Even Spike seemed soothed.
"What were you lot thinking?" demanded Rainbow, now breaking character as well, and speaking with her casual Australian voice and sounding a bit angrier than before.
"You could have hurt somepony!" Fluttershy screamed, flipping her hair and motioning for a bottle of water.
Twilight looked around, ignoring her friends and studying the devastation: Bombshells and bullet shells littered the streets, and beyond the set and in the filming hanger were the fake remains of pony casualties and other sickening models. Not all of the bullet shells were fro Twilight and Spike's prior outburst, and these bloody models-though obviously fake-seemed to be designed to look as if they were civilian causalities in some third world war war.
Twilight, after gazing over about a dozen or so more corpses holding loaded weapons, she turned red with anger.
"What the fuck are those?" Twilight asked, boiling as she continued to inspect the horrendous scene before her, "why are we filming at my house today? Was there a script re-write by a serial killer? Where's the director? And why is everything exploding?"
"Hello, Twilight." A calm, and yet nail-on-a-chalkboard-like voice said from behind. It was like hell itself was present in the voice, not in tone or deepness, but in the familiarity. Oh, Celestia, the familiarity. It was a voice one couldn't have easily distinguished were it not for owning a dozen hater sites and writing several fanfictions where he was castrated by gardening sheers.
Twilight and Spike turned to face a pony in the previous director's jacket and hat. He smiled, and Twilight and spike both felt sick upon greeting his devious expression. The horror only got worse when Rainbowdash explained.
"This is our new director, Michael Bay. He's got a vision..."
