The alarm bell rang loud enough to shatter concrete, standing Scootaloo’s ears on end as she shivered under her bedding. Even with the extra fortification of a pillow and blankets to block out the alarm’s rampant ringing, the tempting call of slumber had already been drowned out. All she could do was doze off, half-asleep yet half-awake, as she waited for the alarm to finally give in.
“Scootaloo! You’re going to be late for school if you don’t come downstairs soon!”
Or alternatively, for her mother to call for her.
“Coming, Mom!” Scootaloo shouted back, kicking off her sheets and slumping out of bed to fall on her pillow. Now adequately awakened, she trotted to her bathroom and began her morning rituals. Wash her face, brush her teeth, wink slyly to herself in the mirror for looking good, and neglect all consideration of fixing her mane because who did something like that anyway?
Done with that bothersome task, Scootaloo trotted out of her room—but not before admiring the impressive collection of Rainbow Dash pictures, plushies, and memorabilia she had along her wall. It was so cool she almost wished she could show it to Rainbow Dash herself, but… well, that wasn’t going to happen anytime soon. Stupid family rules.
Shrugging off the disappointment, she made her way down the stairs in an impressive slide along the railing. She jumped off with a perfect double-flip and landed with gymnastic grace flat upon her face. Looking around to make sure no one had caught that embarrassing trick gone wrong, Scootaloo picked herself up before running to the kitchen.
“Hey, hey, no running in the house, remember?” Scootaloo’s mom yelled from her place over the stove.
“Can I fly through the house then?” Scootaloo asked, jumping up in the air and buzzing in place slightly as her wings struggled to keep her up. Unfortunately, her landing was just as graceful as her previous attempts, and she ended up trying to make out with the leg of the kitchen table. It was a brief but painful romance.
“We’ll make a rule change once you’re able to,” Golden Loom stated, not bothering to look up from the eggs she was frying. The unicorn mare frowned, staring at her skillet with a raised brow. “I thought I told your father to buy free-range organic eggs.”
Scootaloo ran her tongue over her teeth, checking to see if she’d chipped any of them. “Didn’t he?” asked Scootaloo, standing on her tippy-hooves to catch a glance at the skillet. She turned her curious gaze up to Golden Loom. “How can you tell the difference?”
“For one thing, your father hates the taste of those eggs.” Golden Loom sighed, using her magic to pull out a plate so she could slide the eggs right off. “Another thing is that he’s made it his life’s mission to resist the diet I’m trying to put on him. Well, excuse me if I think losing a few pounds would do him some good.” She glanced out the window, a faint smile playing on the edge of her lips. “You should have seen him back when we first met. He was so… fit.”
Scootaloo accepted her plate of eggs with gleeful hunger in her eyes. “Didn’t he say the same thing to you?”
“And that’s why he slept on the couch that night,” Golden reminded her. Golden was far from chubby, her gold-coated feminine figure still the envy of mares everywhere. Though Scootaloo noticed she was starting to look a bit plump around her rump, where her golden needle cutie mark lay.
Still, she wasn’t stupid enough to actually say it out loud.
Golden swept her pristine white mane over her cheek as she went about cracking more eggs to add to the skillet. “Now eat up, dear. You need to leave for school soon. But be sure to say goodbye to your father before you leave. He has a busy day in front of him. Poor dear has been overworked all week.”
“Is that why you’re not going to yell at him for buying the wrong eggs?” Scootaloo asked, stifling a giggle.
“Of course not. My revenge shall be asparagus and brussels sprouts for dinner tonight.”
Scootaloo stuck out her tongue and did her best impression of a sick cat.
Golden kissed her daughter’s head. “But if you’re a good filly and eat your veggies, there may be a haysicle or two that Daddy won’t be having.”
Smiling wide, Scootaloo made her way to the dining room, her mouth already watering at the thought of those delicious haysicles. Being good might be irritating, but it would all be worth it in the end. Sitting on the chair next to her dad—who was currently tucked into his newspaper that covered his entire face—Scootaloo asked, “Hey, Dad, how ya doing?”
There was the rustle of paper. Dozens of unblinking eyes turned to look down at Scootaloo. Her father opened one of his perforated mouths, the mountain of sick, wet flesh that made up his bulk weeping slowly. "The sheep shall bathe in blood at high tide as the night collapses. Darkness. Dominion. The singing never ends, and forever is the turmoil.” A dripping pseudopod gingerly turned to the next page of the sports section, and he glanced away.
“Well at least you’re not sleeping on the couch anymore.”
“A forest of sleeping iron trees consume the freedom that dances in the dwindling hurricane.”
“Wait. Mom seriously doesn’t believe you when you tell her she snores?” Scootaloo sniggered under her breath. “She must be keeping you up all night. How did you describe it again? Like a pig? Pfft!”
“Heartfelt. Terrible music like the triumph of the devouring sow reborn.” There was the sound of wet rumbling as he laughed aloud—although more than one of his eyes nervously glanced up at the door to the kitchen. “Sevenfold.”
Scootaloo’s smile turned playfully wicked. “Moooooom! Dad called you a sow!”
Golden appeared from Cthulhu’s side, carrying with her another pan filled with eggs. “Oh did he now?” Golden glared at her husband with a look that could sizzle haybacon. “Isn’t that a bit hypocritical, seeing as how whenever he snores, entire civilizations are driven murderously insane?”
Cthulhu’s tentacles waved irritably. “Scarabs digging in the flesh,” he snorted, scanning the newspaper with more intensity than required, refusing to look up.
“Keep talking like that mister, and you’ll be sleeping on the couch again. Maybe then my snoring won’t bother you anymore.”
There was a low grumble, but Cthulhu kept his mouths silent as he set his newspaper down. He watched eagerly as Golden Loom slid the eggs and bacon onto his plate, his sharp tongues licking his many suppurating lips.
Scootaloo swallowed the rest of her juice after she scarfed down her breakfast in record speed once again. Like her role model, she liked to do everything as quickly as possible. Wiping her muzzle with a hoof, she looked expectantly to her dad with that usual curious, wide-eyed stare of hers.
Cthulhu paused when he caught her eye. “The shadow-spawn speaks?”
“Dad, whatcha gonna do today at work?”
“Snowfall, the kingdom of the bats shall collapse upon the lungs of the weak and bring forth a torrent of soul-fire. Damnation, ruination, castigation,” he muttered, one of his unending tentacles slipping around one of the forks and scooping up a heavy mouthful of eggs. “Knowledge is lost by the insane?”
“I’ll be at school learning about fractions.” Scootaloo’s screwed up her muzzle and stuck out her tongue. “Ugggggh, I hate them. Why should I waste my time on them when I’m trying to find my special talent?” The color drained from her face. “Oh no! W-what if I end up getting my cutie mark in math! That would be the worst!”
Cthulhu reached out to comfort his daughter. “Masticating the downfall of urban decay, death is undulating eternally.”
“Your father’s right, sweetie. You’re not going to end up with a cutie mark in something you hate, so you don’t need to worry. And besides, fractions are important for your education,” her mother said, refilling her glass with a pleasant grin. “Take your father, for instance. He went to college, got a degree in finance, and is now very successful. And do you think he got that way without knowing fractions?”
“I dunno,” Scootaloo said. She shrugged. “Hey Dad, do you like fractions or not?”
“There is a purple glow on the horizon that draws forth pain upon pain. Shadows congeal from beneath the planets to create fleeting beauty before dissolving again.” He picked up the silverware and illustrated what he meant, pushing them together and pulling them apart.
Scootaloo looked from the silverware to her dad, then the silverware, then her dad, then the silverware once more. “Dad, just what are you talking about? It’s like you’re speaking another language or something. Plus it’s boooooooring.”
There was a long pause. Slowly, Cthulhu lowered the silverware down. He sighed. “Grub.”
“Looks like someone is in a foul mood today,” Golden said. She dumped the pan in the sink and started running her hooves under some cold water. “What’s Mister Grumpy Pants have up his butt this morning?”
“Rivers that run free don’t climb up the overwhelming force of pressure and fear.”
“Ha-ha. You should have been a comedian instead of a deity. You’re about as good at both of them.”
“Burst globules of pus and tears?”
Golden rolled her eyes. “Doing better than my sister? At least my sister doesn’t have to deal with impaled cultists and the ranting of lunatics at three in the morning at her job. She might not be a god, but she’s at least able to get home more often than just ‘every fortnight twixt the blood-red moon reborn’.” She turned back to give him a smirk. “And her special somepony doesn’t have to sleep on the couch whenever he sticks his hoof in his big mouth.”
As Cthulhu sulked further into his newspaper, Scootaloo called out, “Mom, can I have more juice?”
“No, deary, you’ve had enough this morning. You still have school today, and you remember what happens when you get too hyper.” Golden sighed. “Or at least I do, and I really don’t need another emergency parent-teacher conference.”
Scootaloo rolled her eyes and sulked in her seat. “Oh, come on, that’s totally unfair! Diamond Tiara dared me to do it!”
“If Diamond Tiara dared you to jump off a cliff, would you do that?”
Glancing at her wings, Scootaloo shrugged. “If I could fly, sure.”
Golden glanced at her daughter and husband. Particularly her husband, whom she was fixing with an angry stare that burned right through his newspaper. “I bet you’d be able to fly by now if a certain somepony could take the time out of his busy work schedule to spend some time with his own daughter. Maybe someone who can bend reality and truth itself to create his own twisted desires? But who could that possibly be, hmm?”
There was something muttered from behind the newspaper.
“What was that?” Golden snapped. The newspaper wavered, but there was no response. “I thought so. Now, as I’m determined to make sure both of my children aren’t left hungry and helpless, I’ve already made lunch for the both of you. Wait here while I get your bags.” Golden turned and dipped back into the kitchen.
Staring at the empty space where her mother just was, Scootaloo leaned in closer to her father and whispered, “Hey Dad, why’s Mom so cranky?”
There was a moment’s silence. “Sanguine skulls sliding over crimson fields of bad cheer.”
“I have an Aunt Flow?”
A stern stomp from the doorway brought both of them to strict attention.
“Ahem.” Scootaloo turned to see her mother standing in the doorway, a fully loaded school bag and two simple brown-paper sack lunches levitating nearby. “Scootaloo, it’s about time for you to go to school,” she said. Her eyes never left Cthulhu, who had turned an impossible shade of dark violet as he tried and failed to meet his spouse’s glare.
Scootaloo groaned, just like always, but with much jostling she got out of her seat and pulled her school bag onto her back. She still managed to smile at her mother. “You’re not mad at Dad, right, Mom?”
“No, sweetie, of course not. I love your father,” Golden said, kissing her daughter’s forehead. “Your father can just be stupid sometimes. Or most of the time.”
“Or all the time?”
Golden nodded. “Or that too.”
There was a grunt of objection from the towering dark god, but once again his many mouths stayed clamped shut.
“Now, let’s make sure you have everything,” said Golden as she gave Scootaloo’s backpack a once-over, ensuring the homework was secured neatly. She slid the lunch bag into a corner where it wasn’t going to end up squished if, say, an over-excited filly ended up riding her scooter along a bumpy road a little too fast.
“Mooooooom, I’m gonna be late!” Scootaloo said, wriggling in her mom’s grasp.
Golden arched a brow. “Oh, so now you’re eager to get to school, huh?”
“Education is fundamentally important to my life. Yadda, yadda, yadda. Yay learning.” Scootaloo stared up at her mother with a deadpan expression. “Can I go now?”
Golden attached Scootaloo’s helmet and released her daughter. She pushed open the door with magic, tutting under her breath. “I can certainly see what branch of the family tree you got that attitude from, that’s for sure.”
Scootaloo let out a shout and took off through the door, kicking up a small cloud of dirt. With a leap she was on her scooter and was rocketing off down the road, her small wings buzzing furiously.
Golden watched from the doorway. She still felt a burst of anxiety whenever she saw her little girl ride that death trap. She would have tossed it months ago if it wasn’t her precious girl’s favorite toy.
“At least that oaf can get something right now and again,” she whispered to herself, cracking a weak smile before turning back to the modest little house. It would have fit in amongst any one of Ponyville’s more affluent neighborhoods. Her smile slipped. The howling black void in the clouds above the house, like a sucking wound in the very sky, might seem out of place. The screeching soul-wraiths nesting in the chimney didn’t help things either.
Golden walked back into her abode, passing Cthulhu, who was still reading his newspaper. “Wait a minute…” She retraced her steps and laughed when she glanced over her husband’s shoulder. “You never read any of the articles other than the comics, do you?”
The newspaper dropped down a few inches as he turned to look at his wife. “Traveling minstrels cavort in the light of a dying stars, their clay-flesh harboring secrets and greed.”
“Oh please, Garfield was never funny in the first place.” Golden rolled her eyes as she picked up Cthulhu’s plate and took it to the sink. “Really, I just don’t see what you find funny about those things.”
“Irredeemable heretic! The challenge of a thousand gods fighting for supremacy shall bring down the heavens.”
“The sports section doesn’t count.”
Golden picked up another paper sack with her magic and drifted it over to the table. “In any event, here’s your lunch. I hope you enjoyed breakfast, because you’re back on your diet, mister. And don’t you dare try to break it by using the vending machine at the office again.”
He stood with an affronted huff. “Oil slicks soaking the crime from the petty orchids, skull-child.” He gave Golden a peck on the cheek as he grabbed his lunch and, picking up his hat and briefcase as well, and then strode out of the house and into a swirling morass of insanity given physical form. He set off at a brisk pace, the unreal terrain beneath his tentacled bulk warping and recoiling like a wolf from fire.
The office was not too far away—only an eternity or two, depending on the weather—but even that was enough to make him grumble some more. Golden was just looking out for him and his expanding waistline, but some days he wished he didn’t need to walk/slither/cavort to work and could just take the bus.
He huffed. Some days he just wasn’t sure who was the Elder One in the relationship.
Cthulhu’s daughter, on the other hand (along with tentacle, claw, talon, and horrible malformed appendage not of this world), was already busy providing free fare to her friends, both of whom were in the wagon attached to the back of her scooter.
“C’mon, Scootaloo, hurry up or else we’re gonna be late fer class!” Apple Bloom shouted over the buzzing of Scootaloo’s wings. “Applejack threatened to tan my hide if I was late again!”
“We don’t hafe to go too faft,” Sweetie Belle said around a mouthful of pencil as she attempted to scribble some last-minute complete nonsense down onto her unfinished homework. It wasn’t a difficult goal as her mouth-writing made everything barely legible even when they weren’t rocketing down a bumpy road at neck-breaking speeds. She considered her worksheet. “Affle Floom, what’s sefenty-two difided by eight?”
“Uh… twenty-seven?”
“Good ’nuff for me!”
Scootaloo glanced over her shoulder and scowled at both her friends. “Seriously guys? I can’t even believe you two right now!” Scootaloo skipped a beat, passing over a pothole that rocked the scooter and wagon to and fro. “The answer is obviously forty-two. Duh.”
Sweetie nodded her head and, after some eager eraser work, filled in new answer. “Ooooh, riiiiiight. Fanks!”
What began so promising took a literal and metaphorical turn for the worse when, rounding the last corner into Ponyville, and only a dozen yards from their final destination, two familiar obstacles strode out into their path, forcing Scootaloo to bring the cart to a screeching halt to avoid a collision.
“Oh shoot, it’s Diamond Tiara and Silver Spoon,” Scootaloo said. All three Crusaders shared a collective groan.
“Well, well, well, look what the cat dragged in this morning,” Diamond Tiara said to the trio. “The dork squad on their dweeb mobile!”
Silver Spoon joined in with Diamond Tiara’s evil villainy laugh, which the two must have practiced to perfection over many long weekends for just such an occasion.
“A cat dragging a pony? How does that make a lick of sense?” Apple Bloom asked nopony in particular.
“I think it’s supposed to be a metaphor for something,” Sweetie Belle whispered to her.
“A what-now?”
“You know, metaphors. You do know what a metaphor is, don’t you?” Sweetie asked, looking quite smug with herself.
“Do you?”
“Uh…” Sweetie leaned out of the wagon and shook her hoof at the sinister duo. “Oh yeah, well, at least we’re not the… the… um… jerk team on their… no-vehicle-at-all mobile!”
Scootaloo let out an exasperated sigh, rubbing the bridge of her muzzle. “Oh, c’mon guys, let’s just have one day where we don’t have to go through the same song and dance routine.”
“I have no idea what you mean,” Diamond said, sneering at the three, Silver Spoon quickly joining in turn. “We’re just simply walking to school is all.”
“What I mean is that you typically make fun of us for being blank flanks. We insult you. You insult back. Yadda, yadda, yadda, blah, blah, blah, no progress is made and we repeat the same shebang the next day and then the next one after that, over and over again.” Scootaloo shrugged. “Seems kinda boring at this point.”
Diamond arched a brow in consideration. “You know… a blank flank would say that, now wouldn’t they?” Diamond Tiara and Silver Spoon shared another synchronized bout of laughter, although this time their tormented targets weren’t listening. In fact, they had already forgotten about the dastardly duo as they grabbed a seat at one of the lunch tables just outside school. Thanks to Scootaloo’s impressive speed, they had enough time before class began to engage in a more important and time-honored activity.
“Oh man, Mac fergot to pack me some grape juice today,” Apple Bloom said, bemoaning her cruel fate as she continued to search through her lunch bag. “I didn’t get no raisins either!”
Sweetie frowned. “Wait… wouldn’t you have gotten apples instead?”
Apple Bloom paused and stared at Sweetie. “What? Why?”
“Because, well, you know…”
“Know what?”
“Your entire family grows apples, you live on an apple farm, and your name is Apple Bloom.” Sweetie shrugged. “So wouldn’t it be obvious you get apples in your lunch?”
“Nah. After your upteenth millionth apple you get kinda sick of having them all the time,” Apple Bloom said. A wide smile suddenly jumped to her face. “Score! I got apple fritters today!”
“But you just said—”
“Apple fritters, I know! Awesome!”
“Excuuuuuuuse me,” Diamond said to the group, all of whom glanced back dismissively towards her. “We just weren’t done dissing you guys yet. And frankly, it’s quite rude that you didn’t let us finish.”
“Quite rude,” Silver Spoon repeated, adjusting her glasses.
There was a long pause before the Crusaders simply turned back to one another.
“Hey Scootaloo, what’d ya get in your lunch today?” asked Apple Bloom.
“Probably chocolate pudding. I wanted cupcakes, but my mom doesn’t buy them anymore after my dad ate an entire box the day she bought it.” Scootaloo shuddered. “And when I mean the entire box, I mean the entire box. It’s any wonder my mom hasn’t used my dad as a garbage disposal yet.”
Sweetie Belle picked up Scootaloo’s lunch, shaking it a bit next to her ear to catch any signs of what it contained. The temperature around the table plunged as Sweetie jostled the bag, making it squelch and groan unnaturally. At least it sounded like pudding.
She handed it back to Scootaloo, her breath frosting the air. “Well, go ahead and open it up. Maybe you have something you can trade me for one of my cupcakes.”
“Cupcakes?” Apple Bloom and Scootaloo asked in stereo.
Scootaloo leaned forward. “As in, more than one cupcake?”
“Yup! There have been a lot of extra cakes and candies and ice cream ever since Rarity broke up with that stallion from Canterlot.”
“Well then, let’s see what I’ve got!” Scootaloo declared as she up-ended the brown paper bag, and emptied the contents onto the table.
Perhaps it was all the screaming. Perhaps it was the sound of flesh being flayed by the nails of the damned as they were consumed by unthinkable things that dwelled in the darkness beyond mortal vision. Or perhaps it was the sun turning a cancerous shade of black as an eternal tide of sickly clouds swallowed up the heavens.
However, perhaps the most terrifying fact of all was that there was no pudding.
Cthulhu pulled a plastic-wrapped sandwich from his bag, his confusion reflected in dozens of his eyes. “Argent diamonds of strife, embedded in the eyes of discordant flames?” he asked before upending the contents of the bag onto his desk. It hissed at the violation of being touched by the physical matter of the mortal realm, but he ignored it as his tentacles investigated his lunch.
Sandwich… milk carton… apple slices… pudding pack… This was sustenance meant for a mortal child, not a Greater Old One.
One of his suppurating mouths opened wide in understanding. Cthulhu let out a low chuckle that drove those within earshot to bleed from every orifice.
He smirked, imagining the look of embarrassment Golden’s face when he finally told her what had happened. It was petty, but he wouldn’t pass up the small victory. His wife might act like she was in control, but she could still mess up something as simple as making lunch. The irony was delicious.
Even better, she couldn’t hide it from their daughter this time. Scootaloo wouldn’t be happy to find out she’d ended up with Daddy’s lunch.
The laughter died on his many tongues. Scootaloo had his lunch. His lunch. And when she opened up the bag and glimpsed the horrors within...
Cthulhu sprinted for the exit.
“Ewwwwww! Egg salad sandwich? What was Mom thinking?” Scootaloo said, gagging as she pushed the offending item away. Poking through the remaining contents, Scootaloo muttered, “Let’s see… tears of the innocent… a three-sided cube… angel bile… baby carrots? Jeez, no wonder Dad is always scarfing down junk food whenever he gets his tentacles on them. Mom’s barely feeding him.”
Scootaloo stared up from the bag to the rest of her friends, all of whom stood completely still. Glancing up to the sky, Scootaloo asked, “Whoa, when did it become so dark all of a sudden? Is it gonna rain?”
The dark clouds overhead visibly squirmed when she mentioned them, like they were self-conscious of the attention. Silent lightning arced through the sky, the after-image like ugly scars in the clouds themselves.
I wonder how Rainbow Dash is going to deal with this mess, she thought with a grin before turning back to her friends. She was about to repeat the thought aloud when she noticed that the other fillies weren’t looking at her. “Girls?”
Eyes rolling back into her head, Sweetie Belle foamed at the mouth. At her side Apple Bloom was attempting to tear her mane out by the roots as tears of black pitch leaked down her face. Both were screaming, but the only sound was the buzzing of thousands of flies.
“G-girls?” Scootaloo repeated, her voice cracking. Around her, insanity had taken hold. Students jerked and twitched, limbs bending painfully, as they all howled in silent agony. Diamond Tiara and Silver Spoon were flat on their backs, bloodshot eyes watching the black sun lumber across the wounded skies. The school house seemed to warp and disintegrate, the wood rotting away as it aged centuries in mere seconds.
When she saw the a colorless pit burst forth from the center of the playground in a gross violation of reality itself, she let out a loud and indignant groan. “Daaaaaaaad! Stop it! You’re embarrassing me!”
“Squirming, sliding, sinking, screaming,” he replied as he hauled the upper half of his bulk up into the physical plane, his form shimmering with arcane energy. Reality recoiled at his presence, the earth bucking and twitched as it tried to get away.
Scootaloo just snorted and crossed her arms, blushing. “Yeah, I know that Mom mixed up the lunches. But you’re still embarrassing me. Just look at my friends!”
Cthulhu glanced around at the dozens of trembling figures. He gave his daughter a dozen sheepish grins. “Howling amends underneath the claws of the timid fallen?”
Rolling her eyes, she scooped everything back into the paper sack and before thrusting it out towards him. “Here. Just take it and go before I get into trouble. School is starting soon, and I don’t wanna have a meeting with Miss Cheerilee about the death of existence or why I’m late again.”
Cthulhu patted Scootaloo on the head with one of his tentacles as he swapped the lunches. The earth shook as he slowly reclined backwards into the abyss, the ground clashing together like a rocky mouth closing around a tasty morsel and swallowing him and the accursed lunch, taking them back into the hellscape that had spawned them both.
In an instant the skies cleared. As one a dozen foals collapsed to the ground like marionettes with their strings cut, aching and sore and unsure why they all tasted bile at the back of their throats. Apple Bloom wiped the tears from her eyes and glanced around as Sweetie Belle shook her head in confusion.
“Uh, Scootaloo? Did something just… happen?”
“Like what, Sweetie Belle?” she replied, her face a mask of innocence.
Sweetie Belle rubbed her temple. “I don’t know. Something… sad and terrible and in violation of all the natural laws of Equestria?”
Scootaloo tapped her chin. “Noooooope. I don’t remember anything like that happening. Maybe it was something you ate?”
“Oh. Okay.” Sweetie Belle glanced down at her meal. “Why do I suddenly feel the need to call my parents and let them know I love them?”
Smiling, Scootaloo reached into her bag and withdrew the contents. Her smile vanished.
“Where’s my pudding cup?”
Author's Note
This was a product of a lot of cough syrup, some severe writers block, and the insanity that is RainbowBob, who wanted me to let you know how smart, attractive, talented, and financially successful he is.
Seriously, he wouldn't stop harassing me about it. So please, to keep him from going after me some more and, I dunno, breaking my kneecaps, be sure to give him some love.
And if you're one of Bob's many thousands of ~~slaves~~ ~~converts~~ ~~cultists~~ followers, welcome! 
