Well, Well, Welly, Welly, Welling, Wellington Boots... What's All This Then?
"I'm not saying the bucking lines!" Hoity Toity screamed, slapping his hooves against the music stand. He glared at the microphone right besides him. He leaned backwards, reaching out with a hoof to the end table. Finding no latte in place-- despite his carefully and meticulously planned contract with over one-hundred-eighty-five clauses, ten of them 'beverage access rights' related-- he grew even angrier.
"Oh, Hoity-babe," Hannibal Handsome said, waving his claws in the air as he entered the studio box. "It's just one line. One minute."
"It's the... the..." Hoity stammered. He wondered if he could go into full on 'put-upon star' mode, but he realized that she should probably save his indignation for the right moment. He could only meltdown a couple times a week. Otherwise, his agent would gripe at him again. "And I hate that plothole."
"Wait, what?" replied the tall, skinny dragon.
"Oh, nothing." Hoity eyed Hannibal, eyes going up the dragon's flashy golden suits and thick silver pants. He had so many chains on that Hoity felt surprised he could even walk. "But, look--" He put a hoof onto the dragon's shoulder. "That first line, as a matter of principle, is the apotheosis of everything that I don't like about non-method acting." He leaned back, waving his glorious mane over his face.
"It's not about the method, babe," Hannibal replied, putting his claws over the stallion's hoof. "It's about the money."
Hoity seemed engrossed in his hair for a moment. "I'm such a sexy beast, aren't I?" He whispered.
"What?"
"Oh, well," Hoity muttered, "I guess I just feel like I need some motivation. That's all."
Hannibal opened up another door, poking his head out into the hallway. "Scraper!"
"Whaaaaaaaaaaaat!" A feminine voice screamed out from several offices away.
"It's a 36-1a!"
"Coming!"
After some loud pounding, a young dragoness stamped into the recording booth. Scraper folded her claws along her bright red tube top as he wiggled her tail, sticking out from her tight black spandex shorts. She looked over at Hannibal. The dragon simply waved aimlessly in the air. Scraper shrugged, making a duckface.
"No, it's him. He needs something." Hannibal commented, making a sigh afterwards.
"Motivation. What's my motivation for this scene?" Hoity asked, tapping his side against the music stand.
"Oh, okay," Scraper said. She smirked, putting her claws into a back pocket. "Motivation?" She held out her arm, wiggling the item at the tips of her claws.
Hoity said nothing. He just gazed upon the tiny plastic packet with the large 'Durex' label on it. He ran his shoulders back.
"Remember our previous agreement?" she asked.
He nodded.
"Would it be motivation enough if we were to take things even further, and then we can go ahead and--" She reached with her claws, and she ripped down along the package.
Hoity shivered in place, body rippling with each tear of Scraper's sharp claws. Finally, nothing but a little pile of rubber and plastic shreds on the floor remained. He took a deep breath. He then nodded frantically.
"Excellent," she replied, heading back outside. She muttered "clean" back and forth with Hannibal. Just a moment's later, the equipment was all turned back up and ready to go.
Hoity held up the music stand a bit higher. He looked right into the microphone. He cleared his throat, and he began to recite the nonsensical garbage for Gooby Floopy Pancakes. In front of him, the pesky little cartoon characters of the best known foal's television show that parents loved to hate did their stupid little antics.
"Well, well, welly, welly, welling, wellington boots... what's all this then?" asked Vermillious Scrooge, jumping up from behind a concrete ledge just slightly off screen. The skinny, black and yellow striped raccoon waved its tentacle-like arms in the air, brushing up against the tree besides him.
*laugh track*
"Gee whilickers, Vermillious," replied Sponge Juice in his high-picked voice, sounding like a mare dosed with fatal levels of sugar. "I'd never thought that you'd show up, sorry." The small rabbit leaned backwards into the bushes.
"Sorry, hah!" Vermillious retorted. He pointed his gigantic footpaws over at Sponge, looking like daggers lined up right for the rabbit's chest. "Ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha!"
"Does it have to be such horrible, cliched 'villain laughing'?" Hoity had written on the script. Hannibal had simply written back in that flamboyant bright pink ink pen of his-- even complete with sparkly white glitter-- the response "It's for foals. They're brains are walnut-sized. How else will they know he's the bad guy?"
"You're not going to, oh no," squealed Sponge. The rainbow colored rabbit, colors flopping from his red footpaws to his violet ears and everything in between, eyed the smashed-up racing automobile behind him.
"That's right, you silly little thing!" Vermillious called out, waving his tentacle arms in the air once more. They brushed through the massive Apple tree-- with such silly colors of dark purple leaves and solid white apples. "They'll be no more gooby floopy pancakes for you!"
"Oh, noooooooooooooooooooooooooo!"
An extreme close up occurred with the viewer basically looking right up Sponge's mouth, uvula wiggling. Hoity cringed at the sight. He knew, though, that he had to get ready right for his next cue.
"That's right!" Vermillious wiggled his front paws too much, stirring the leaves and apples above him.
*Bonk!*
The raccoon keeled over, a huge lump sticking out of his head. The offending apple rolled around the ground over to Sponge. The bunny leaned over, front paws just inches from it.
Suddenly, the apple snapped in two. A long, coiled snake burst out from the remains, wrapping around Sponge's body in an instant. The bunny squealed and hobbled backwards.
"E-e-e-easy now, b-b-b-big guy," Sponge sputtered, eyes bulging with fear.
"Come with me if you want to live," said the snake in a deep bass voice.
"But how, I can--"
The snake bit down upon Sponge's arm as its tail wiggled.
"Oh, noes!" Sponge threw his head back.
The viewer got another gratuitously close view of Sponge's face. A dentist would probably see less-- or so Hoity had thought before. He basically stopped caring after the first several seconds, although his soul screamed at him to at least maintain some sense of dignity in his acting work.
"Fear not, my fluffy friend," commented the snake. "For, look, my venom has given you magical powers! I'm friendly and easily pet-able like all wild animals!"
Sure enough, the rabbit's body became covered in a solid white aura. He blinked, and his pupils seemed to shine. He threw his head back, and he looked right up at the sky. The snake coiled around his body tighter. Sponge reached out with a paw thrust right into the air.
"Let us fly!" Sponge yelled.
"Let us penetrate the welcoming jelly of freedom!" called out the snake.
*Boom!*
A bright rainbow explosion burst out underneath the bunny. He flew into the air, a trail of magical sparks flowing from his body. They sailed into a patch of clouds.
*Fart!*
"Sorry, I had some of Princess Cadence's brownies," Sponge commented.
*Laugh track*
"Oh, poor Cadence. Will she ever live down that Canterlot baking contest mishap? It's not just an old joke, but it's something making fun of a mare that was working in charity feeding lost ponies-- for goodness' sake" Hoity had written somewhere in his notes. He hadn't have shown Hannibal, though. Hoity stared at the screen, waiting for Vermillious' next line.
"What, what happened?" Vermillious muttered, standing back up and rubbing his head. He looked around, seeing nothing given that the snake-filled apple had disintegrated into minute bits. He stopped, and he sighed.
The raccoon walked over to the trashed racing automobile. He ran his paws along the bent hoof over to the broken headlight and then to the empty hole where the bumper had been. He leaned over, face against the scraped and torn red paint, and he sobbed.
"Oh, Drivey, I can't believe it," he muttered. He rubbed over to the side, his whole body curved over upon the car. "I can't bear to live without you."
"End of the line, sugarcube," the car replied, coughing.
Vermillious leaned over to the front vents, listening to the pained voice seeping under the grates. "Drivey, I don't get it."
"Neither do I, but that's life."
"Noone will ever understand our love!" Vermillious' tears poured across the hood.
*Laugh track*
Drivey coughed a little bit more, and a burst of steam seeped through the insides. Vermillious stepped away, barely able to stand. "I'm going to drown my sorrows in gooby floopy pancakes," he moaned. "I'll use... extra tartar sauce too... and get extra milk."
Hoity leaned backwards from the microphone. "Oh, dear sweet Celestia, it's over," he whispered, a look of sheer relief flowing over his face. He glanced over to the table-- still lacking in latte content-- and he sighed. "And, of course, there goes the same horrible theme song again." He dismissively threw his hooves in the air towards the screen.
"And now! K-Tel Television Studios presents, in a collaboration with McDougal's Restaurants and Industrial Waste Mangement," called out the announcer, voiced by Prince Blueblood, "Gooby! Floopy! Pancakes!"
The music began, a bouncing and bubbly synth-pop mix, and singing started, "Sometimes watch you walk the street at midnight!" The characters appeared, all of them bouncing around with gigantic toys from enormous stuffed animals to wiggling robot arms to life-sized letters. "Sometimes I can feel you in the air!" The chorus all sang, villains and heroes alike dancing as rainbows and bubbles flew through the air. "Looking good knew you would! All the time I understood!"
"Hey, Hoity-babe, that was fantastic!" Hannibal hollered, popping into the room. A meek pegasus with a pale brown coat hovered behind, wings carrying a tray of lattes.
Hoity nodded for a split-second before reaching forwards, clutching the sweet caffeinated nectar. He gulped down his first glass in about five seconds, tossing the empty container against the wall. The awful theme music kept on playing in the background. The lyrics felt rather nice, but the endless repeation sounded like the kind of torture that Celestia would have given to the changeling queen.
"Hey you're such a pretty boy!"
"Hey you're such a pretty boy!"
"Hey you're such a pretty boy!"
"You're so pretty!"
"P-R-E, double-T-Y!"
*Boing!*
"Get me out of his bucking place," Hoity growled, tossing the last latte.
{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}
"But I want to watch it nooooooooooooow!" Applebloom hollered, posing herself over the couch.
"I'm telling you, sugarcube," Applejack replied, "you won't like it. It's one of the worst shows ever made, if not the worst."
"But all of my friends watch it!"
"Of all the things that you should trust me over, ya'll just have to trust me on this," Applejack said, stepping over and locking eyes with the filly. "Seriously."
Applebloom still frowned, ready to throw a full tantrum. She tried a different tack and hopped onto the couch. Applejack tried not to look as the filly took off her bow and held it in her mouth, eyes swelling up.
"I guess," Applejack said, running a hoof through her mane, "ya'll just need to see it to believe it."
*Click!*
"Oh, please, please, Miss Robot Arm," Sponge called out, jumping on top of a massive letter A, "make some more gooby floopy pancakes!"
"Sure thing, hun," said an elderly mare's voice from a set of felt lips at the base of the robot arm, "but you need to say the magical word."
"What word is that?" Sponge said, hopping over to a massive letter B and scratching his head.
"Please, of course," said Tophat Thomas, the fat penguin riding down another robot arm into the stack of gigantic rubber letters.
"This is not what I was expecting at all," Applebloom muttered, stepping over towards the television screen.
"That ain't nothing yet. Jes' keep watchin'..."
Fifteen minutes later, Applebloom keeled over on the floor. Her hooves twitched as her mouth hung open, eyes feeling molested. "That has to be the worst dreck anypony has even thought of."
"To be honest, it was more of a middling episode. You should have seen the 'Holiday Special'-- the one with Jefferson Starship playing 'Set the Sky on Fire' while the teddy-bear creatures watched an instructional video. Now that was bad." Applejack sighed.
"We have to do something!"
"Come again?"
Applebloom leaned over and put her hooves against Applejack's neck. "This ain't 'jes badly done. It's misleading foals. It's just... didn't they say it was sponsored?" The silly slanted her head to the side. "Do they wan't to do anything except sell toys."
"When you grow up, you get better television," Applejack muttered. She stood up and walked over to a plate of apple fritters.
"No."
Applejack looked back over at Applebloom.
"Where's Twilight?"
{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}
Dear Princess Celestia,
Today, I watched a television show for foals that I had never seen before. It's called Gooby]Floopy Pancakes!, and Twilight has told me that the royal family has played a small role in setting it up. My friends have watched it for a while.
The show is simply terrible. The dialogue is weak. The characters are poorly done. The scenes are disconnected and any semblance of a normal plot is never even considered.
Yet that's far from the whole story. This show teaches poor values. Characters behave in ways that have nothing to do with real life as a foal. They spend part of the time acting like pure animals, part of the time acting like grown-up ponies, and part of the time doing pointless nonsense. For just one example, this last episode had the implication that a foal can pet and cuddle with wild creatures without anything bad happening.
Twilight has told me that the creators don't care about anything that I've just written. It's all just about the money. Those ponies think that foals can't think and can't tell good quality programs from bad quality programs at their age.
I'm sending this letter to make a statement to all of Equestria that they're wrong. We, the younger ponies of Equestria, are the next generation. We're the future. And we're so much smarter than ponies give us credit for.
I believe that you, my Princess, can do something about this. You have the ability to take a stand. I'm not asking for you to put a stop to this show. The creators have every right to free speech and to do what they want.
My hope is that you can create something new, something beautiful. A show that's exciting, funny, happy, dramatic, and provides something for both parents and their foals to enjoy will do more than make for great television. It will mean setting an example of love and tolerance as well as teaching scientific progress.
I know that you can help. Thank you.
Your faithful student,
Twilight Sparkle
&
Writing on behalf of foals everywhere,
Applebloom
"Teaching scientific progress, I see," Celestia said to herself after reading the letter. She stood up from the kitchen table, smiling from cheek to cheek. She magically lifted up the scroll and walked over to the door, poking her head out.
"Oh, Celly, there you are," Luna said, trotting over to the door. She paused, not sure how to interpret the while alicorn's enormous grin. "We're you still talking to the staff about the Appreciation Day banquet?"
"Take a look at this, please," Celestia replied, magically lifting over the scroll.
Luna picked it up with a front hoof and devoured the message. After she finished, she locked eyes with Celestia. She opened her mouth, but she didn't know what to say.
Celestia made a low whistle, and she simply commented, "My Little Human."
"No, Celly, it's not-- it's a silly idea-- I know you liked it. I know that the staff liked it," Luna muttered, blushing slightly and taking a step backwards. "That's not the same thing. It's just a little-- it's like an egg of an idea. It's not ready to show."
"My Little Human: Progress Is Scientific," Celestia responded, stepping over closer to her sister, "You should stop selling yourself short, Lulu. Bipedial peach-colored creatures teaching foals science while they manage a rock n roll band? A show with characters that mother and daughter as well as father and son can watch together? Your scripts sounded brilliant."
"Oh, Celly, I can't..."
"Not to mention the thousands of views on writing.com, as well."
Luna paused. She blushed completely, cheeks turning the cutest shade of bluish-pink. Without really thinking, she nodded.
"Well, then, I need to get a bunch more scrolls," Celestia said, leading Luna over to a small office at the end of the hallway. She magically flung open the door and hunted around the stacks of bins. "Our scroll will have to have no offical royal markings on them, of course, since they're going to the nastiest and seediest underbellies in all of Canterlot."
"Why are we going there?" Luna piped up, hardly knowing how to take all this.
"I, my dear, am getting you an agent!"
Luna fainted.
The End
