You Punch My Goats, I'll Punch Your Throats!
Iron Will sat in the bushes outside of his trailer, where there were several tents set up for his posse of goats to sleep in. In recent weeks, his goats came to him with… problems. On several occasions some of them would wake up with black eyes. Other times it was a bum knee. One instance involved one of them urinating blood for a week. Iron Will, in his infinite wisdom, had come to one conclusion:
Someone had been punching his goats in their sleep.
Well, they weren’t exactly his goats, per se. They were just goats who happened to work for him. He supposed the proper sentence construction would be the posse of goats who he employed. Yeah, that sounded—
A rustling attracted his attention as he snapped to look at a cloaked interloper entering one of the tents. Sizing him up, he determined the vagrant to either be a skinny minotaur or a teenage dragon. He hoped to himself that it wasn’t a teenage dragon. Strained bleating filled the night as one of his goats was probably being punched. Iron Will felt bad for the goat, but he didn’t want the assailant to be able to take one of his employees hostage by confronting them when they were within hostage taking distance, so he let the beating commence even as he winced from each cry they made.
Iron Will would have to give him a bonus.
The bleating stopped and the criminal left the tent and stole into the night. Iron Will removed himself from the bush and snuck behind him into the maze he set up for his seminars. He liked mazes. They represented the conundrum that all ponies find themselves in before being uplifted by his extremely motivating talks. That also meant he knew the layout like the back of his hand.
Apparently this goat-punchng monster knew Iron Will’s hands, too, for he seemed to easily find the exact path out. Iron Will picked up his pace as he realized the time for stealth was over. Left, right, right, left, straight—this guy really knew the maze. They were almost at the exit.
Iron Will broke all pretense of hiding as he skillfully charged the hooded figure and tackled him to the ground.
“Alright, you goat-punching villain! Let’s see who you are!” Iron Will announced.
Iron Will pulled the hood back to reveal… a healthy-looking being who appeared to have something resembling a black caterpillar under his proud facial protrusion.
“...or what you are.”
The being spat in Iron Will’s face. “Joseph Stalin is not a what! I am here in what must be a mission to take down your disgusting bourgeoisie way of life!”
Iron Will raised an eyebrow. “...what?”
Joseph Stalin struggled under the minotaur’s iron grip. “You especially are disgusting! Going from town to town, spouting that ерунда about achieving more than you thought you could when there’s only one place that this world of weird horses belongs!”
“Listen, Joseph, you’re not making any sense here. I help ponies self-actuate into amazing individuals. How is that bad?”
“Because they should all be equal under the heel of my boot!”
Iron Will picked Joseph up by the scruff of his neck. “Listen, mister, I don’t know where you got your weirdo ideas from, but I caught you goat bashing, so you get a thrashing!”
“Oh, yeah?” Joseph smugged. “Try me.”
A twinkle sparked in Iron Will’s eye as a smile slashed across his face. “Buddy, you don’t know the world of hurt you’re in.”
“...guilty of five counts of breaking and entering, and twelve counts of first degree assault of a lesser sentient ungulate. You are hereby sentenced to fifteen years in Equestrian prison and are fined forty thousand bits in damages to be paid to Iron Will.” Twilight Sparkle smacked the gavel down. “I hope you turn your life around, Mr. Stalin.”
“корова!” Joseph Stalin said in his indecipherable nonsense language
Iron Will smiled. “Justice has been served today. It’s nice to see Joseph get the legal thrashing he rightly deserves.”
Two unicorns handcuffed the former dictator as he shouted what the audience determined to be obscenities by the vigor with which he was spouting them.
“Now, now, Iron Will,” Twilight said, “I’m simply passing the judgement down as provided by Equestrian law. It’s not a thrashing.”
“In my country you would be shot if you were caught punching a goat. You ponies are soft creatures who have never experienced the chilling embrace of a Russian winter to harden your hearts.”
“What’s a Russia?” Iron Will asked.
Twilight motioned to the guards, who stepped away from Joseph. “Alright, Mr. Stalin, you seem to have a lot to say. I’m giving you a chance to say something that might alleviate the suffering that Iron Will’s goats, and Iron Will by proxy, have suffered. Will you take it?”
Joseph looked around, then at Twilight. “Really? You are not going to shoot me?”
“No, Joseph.” Twilight smiled. “All beings deserve a chance to better themselves, and if you’d like to start now, I’ll grant you that.”
Iron Will raised a hand. “Princess Sparkle, forgive me for being so blunt—”
“No, Iron Will. Everyone deserves a chance at forgiveness.”
Joseph grinned wickedly at Iron Will as his took his place in front of the court, still handcuffed.
“People of this kangaroo court designed to besmirch my good name as rightful ruler of the United Soviet Socialist Republics, I have but one thing to say and that is to my good friend Iron Will.”
Iron Will looked up. Maybe this short, mean little creature did have some good in him. “Yes?”
Stalin’s smile grew so wide it threatened to wrap around his face. “I really got your goat.”
Twilight buried her face in her hoof. “Take him away.”
Joseph Stalin guffawed as the unicorn guards took him away, leaving Twilight, Iron Will, and the court in silence.
Iron Will pursed his lips. He opened his mouth, closed it, then said, “Do you think he set all of this up for that line?”
Twilight Sparkle sighed. “I have no idea. None of this really made sense, anyway.”
Author's Note
Blame those who blame themselves.
