It was a nice fucking day in Ponyville. No, really, it was. The birds were chirping in the trees, ponies were going about their daily business, and Princess Twilight was stuck in her fucking huge castle, listening to somepony drag on and on about something she clearly couldn’t give two shits about. Ever since she had become a princess, Her Glorious Plotness Celestia had decided to give Twilight more responsibility, and gave her her own court over half of the country. What Celestia had forgotten to mention was, she had given Twilight the biggest bunch of whiners on the whole fucking continent.
Twilight groaned, fidgeting in her solid crystal seat. “Mr. Bit Monger, I’m sorry that you are having trouble with… what was it again?”
The stallion stomped a hoof onto the floor. “HayDonalds served me a hot coffee, and it spilled into my lap! I demand recompense for my injury!”
“Yeah, that. I’m sorry, but this seems more like something their legal department and your local court can solve, not the highest court in the land. I’m sorry you spilled your coffee into your own lap but there’s not really much I can do. You can show yourself out.”
Grumbling, the stallion bowed and exited the throne room. Sighing, Twilight turned to her chamberlain. “How many more of these are there?”
“Thirty-seven, Your Highness. Of which, twelve are legal issues, five are quarrels between two parties, and one is a land dispute involving a peach tree,” he said, consulting the clipboard in his hoof.
At that moment, something snapped within Twilight. Her ability to care just up and vanished, gone like a Breezy in a stray gust. With a small smile, she hopped off her throne, descended the stairs, and exited through a side door.
The chamberlain pursued, concern written on his face. “Princess? Where are you going? We have a lot more cases to settle to—oof!” He was stopped cold by an immovable wall of magic.
Twilight flipped her hair. “Why don’t you go tell all those ponies out there to fuck off? As Her Royal Fucking Highness of the region, I declare the court closed!” Forming a magical door behind her, she slammed it in the chamberlain’s face.
Continuing through the castle, Twilight continued to not give a fuck. She didn’t give a fuck about the maids accidentally knocking over a vase. She gave exactly a rat’s ass about the smudges on the windows lining the halls. Her Give-A-Shit-O-Meter rated in the negative numbers as her best assistant, Spike, ran up to her on his chubby little legs.
“Twilight! A letter just arrived from Princess Celestia!” Sure enough, he held a wrapped scroll in his chubby claws. Twilight took the scroll, examined it, and then shoved it into Spike’s mouth.
“Return to sender, please.” She stalked off, a slight spring in her step. As she reached the end of the hall, she looked back. Spike was gagging, trying to remove the offending object from his mouth. “Oh and Spike? Not that I fucking care, but go on a fucking diet. Your ass is getting as big as Celestia’s!”
She entered the library, which happened to be located at the end of the same hall she was walking down. She strode to the section containing the “How-To” books and began scanning the shelves.
“Let’s see, ‘How to Give a Fuck Again,’ ‘Seven Ways to Get Your Fucks Back,’ ‘How to Fuck’ is in the wrong place… aha! ‘How to Enjoy Your Time Not Giving a Fuck’, perfect!” With a poof, she teleported up to her bedroom, the coziest place she could think of in her fucking massive cold castle. She flopped onto her bed and opened the book, perusing the words within.
She stayed that way for a while until her bedroom door burst open and her friends piled in, cramping up the spacious room with their caring-ness. With a massive intake of air, they all began talking at once.
“Twi, the fruit bats are—”
“The weather team needs—”
“Applejack, it’s mating season for the—”
“Darling, I need some input on—”
“I LIKE YELLING AND LOUD NOISES AND—”
She allowed them to continue their respective rants for several minutes before using her magic to glue all their mouths shut. “Girls, these troubles are important and all, but I seriously couldn’t give less of a fuck right now. You could tell me Chrysalis has returned to take over Equestria, riding on Tirek’s back while she had Starlight Glimmer bent over in front of her, and I would continue to not care in the slightest. Unless you have something important to my not giving a fuck, get the hell out. I need to write a letter.”
With a series of pops, Twilight teleported her friends to outside the room, using another tendril of magic to slam the door shut.
Slinking over to her desk, she sat down, took quill and paper in hoof and began writing.
Celestia sat upon her golden throne, sipping tea with one tendril of magic, and holding a piece of cake speared with a fork in another. As she sipped, she thought back on her brilliant move of giving Twilight her own court. With it, Celestia’s work load had been halved, allowing for free time she hadn’t had since Luna had gone all uppity and been banished. As she took a nibble of her cake, a scroll appeared around her horn in a poof of pinkish magic. With a smile, she took the scroll off her horn, unrolled it, and began to read.
Dear Princess Celestia,
What the hell were you thinking? You really thought with the time I need to devote to my friends, on top of everything else you throw at me, I would have enough time to run a fucking court frequented by the biggest asses in the country? Today, I listened to one shithead drone on for a half hour on why it should be HayDonald’s fault for him dropping his coffee into his lap!
I swear, most of these ponies have their heads so far up their own asses (and sometimes another pony’s ass) they can taste their breakfast again! And that’s just the commoner ponies! Don’t get me started on the nobles!
Oh my you, the nobles. Biggest bunch of whiny bitches I’ve ever met. They come to me now, whining about how their gardener should be punished for not having the grass cut low enough for their ‘Dick and Caviar’ party.
As such, I have decided that, for the time being, I have stopped giving a fuck. If I cared, I would create a device to measure the amount of fuckage I give, even though that would break the machine since I don’t care. In fact, a few minutes after you get this, I am going to use my last ounce of fuck to send you every. Single. Fucking. Letter and case and correspondence I’ve been given since you thrusted this upon me. Maybe you’ll get it through your cake-laden ass that I don’t need this much stuff to do in my life! Get off your own ass and do it instead!
Your Absurdly Hotness,
Twilight Sparkle
P.S. If you don't like it, you can sit on my pristine purple horn and spin.
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