The Chapter in which a Semblance of Plot is Hastily Contrived
Author’s Preface:
The author would like to formally apologize for the atrocity that is about to be committed. The following literature is an affront to My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, the My Little Pony franchise, the absurdist comedy genre and the very medium of the written word. It is an insult to artists of any medium or talent, and should not be read by anyone under any discernable circumstances.
Chapter 1
The Chapter in which a Semblance of Plot is Hastily Contrived
As dawn broke over Equestria, the sun’s rays spat across the landscape, shattering the fragile hourglass that is time and creating eloquent metaphors that lack any point or meaning. Twilight Sparkle, a lavender mare who’s ineptitude to interact properly in any form of social situation was matched only by her penchant for joyful naiveté, paced the breadth of her library, pondering what truly was one of life’s great questions.
“Where did I leave that book?” Twilight’s anxiety was only amplified by the early hour in which she lost her possession, disabling her from resorting to the usual solution of getting her child-slave, Spike, to find it for her. She had a backup slave for just this type of occasion, an owl by the name of Owlicious, but he had left for a vacation due to his disposition to avoid tireless nagging and absurd requests.
Deep into the bowls of the night Twilight paced, her mind fraught with worry. Her mind spun and rattled as she searched not only the library but her own psyche, desperately trying to discern the location of her lost literature. As night became morning, and the visible marks of her endless pacing were laid clear upon the library floor, Twilight Sparkle came upon an unsettling discovery; the location of her missing book had no relevance to the upcoming events, and was simply a contrived attempt by the narrator to assemble the opening of the story.
As the morning hours approached, Twilight Sparkle’s loathsome roommate, the infant dragon, Spike, awoke to present his services to his genetically and socially superior master. Once the creature had brought his full attention to the world around him, he dared taint his master’s ears with but a simple and yet painfully meaningless phrase. “Hey Twilight, what’s up?”
That such a lowly stooge would even attempt to address a creature as superior to himself as a pony, and a unicorn no less, was inconceivable. However, Twilight Sparkle was no ordinary mare. She was a lonely and weak-willed creature, and would permit even her underlings to converse with her if it could mean that she could experience some remote semblance of companionship.
“Oh, Spike! My book on obnoxious satirical devices in literature! I can’t find it!”
“Geez Twilight, what’s so important about some book?” That such an inferior creature such as Spike would even question the motives of his superior was a clear indication of her own weakness, rather than his bravado.
“Spike, you don’t understand! This book was lent to me by Princess Celestia!”
And with that, Twilight promptly ignored Spike’s carefully prepared meal to venture out into Ponyville, hoping that sunlight and the company of her alleged “friends” would help her forget or resolve the issue. The first pony she came into contact with after leaving the dreary confines of her home was Rainbow Dash. While many things can be said of Rainbow Dash and her personality once one gets to know her, anypony could discern at no more than a initial glance that she was, unequivocally and unimaginably, the most homosexual pony in all of Equestria.
“Hi, Twilight,” her every word oozed lesbian desire, carrying with them a lucid implication that her friends still failed to discern, “you look like you need a nap.” Her boyish cyan coat was topped with a long, yet masculine, mane, whose color could only be described as “flamboyant.” Even her eyes, which shined with a feminine shade of magenta, clearly burned with an intense passion for mare-on-mare action.
“Rainbow Dash, have you seen my book? I can’t seem to find it anywhere!”
“Uh, no I haven’t, Twi. I live in Cloudsdale, remember? I don’t think your book got up there.” Rainbow tapped her chin with a hoof, though it could possibly be more properly described as seductively stroking her face. “Maybe Pinkie Pie knows where it is, she’s the closest to here.”
Upon entering Sugarcube Corner, both mares felt a definite chill in the air, which stirred their insides nervously. Their hearts filled with horror as the object of their terror appeared before their eyes.
“Hiya Dashie! Hey Twilight!” The bright pink apparition that lay before them was certainly a creature of naught but sheer malice, her every word seeping into the dark crevices of their mind like a demonic mist trying to usurp their darkest fears and secrets. “What’s up?”
It was evident from Twilight Sparkle’s movements that she was aware of the beast’s violent nature. “Hey Pinkie, I can’t seem to find a book,” her obvious caution and hesitation only brought chase by the terrible Pinkie Pie, the scent of fear now clearly in the air. “You haven’t seen it, have you?”
The laugh that Pinkie let out could only be described as horrific, though such simplistic language does injustice to the sheer horror that any one pony could experience by being in her mere presence. It was obvious to all around that Pinkie Pie was a ticking time bomb; ready to crack with psychotic rage. This abject horror was only amplified to those who that Pinkie was aware of an ever-present audience, thus granting her god-like powers as she toyed with the very reality she inhabited.
Her response was characteristically cruel in its playfulness, as she clearly taunted her friends with her coy behavior. “Nopey-dopey! I haven’t seen any dusty-old-books around here, Twilight!”
“Pinkie, it’s not dusty, or old; it’s practically brand new!” That Twilight Sparkle would dare temp the wrath of the beast with her abrasive behavior was something that could be questioned and pondered for eons, but it was almost certain that it did naught but near her inevitable demise.
“Okie dokie, whatever you say, Twilight!” the beast’s wrath was stayed for the time being. Perhaps she knew that, in her omnipotent and clearly deliberate disregard for reality itself, that she could strike back at any time from any place if she so chose.
Regardless of Pinkie’s intentions, she decided to follow her friends as they sought out their next victim; their voluptuous friend Rarity. When the three arrived in Rarity’s boutique, it was evident that their friend was engaged in the most adult of practices at the time, evidenced by the large, flowery and unrevealing dresses that were scattered about the building.
“Hello Rarity!” Twilight’s voice clearly evidenced that she knew of Rarity’s illicit behavior, “do you have a minute?”
“Just a minute dear, I just need to finish this hem,” clearly a family-friendly code for the sexual behaviors that were obviously the mare’s only pastime. As she arrived from the back room of her boutique, it was clear from her expression alone that she had already thought of the dirtiest things she could possibly do with each of her friends simply by looking at them. “Thank you for waiting! What was it you wanted, Twilight?”
Evidently Twilight was unaware of her so-called friend’s implicit advances, or, more likely yet, she was already enraptured in them, desperately willing to be overcome by Rarity’s embrace. “We’re looking for one of my books, Rarity,” if these words did not say something about her obvious loss of self-control, it’s unlikely anything could.
“A book? Well I’m not sure it’s around here, but I could have a look,” mares, stallions, fillies or colts, Rarity never cared. She spoke to all this way, tried to enrapture friend and foe alike in her web of passion and desire. Rarity soon exited the room, displaying her flank in huge sways of motion like she was putting it on a mantle. When she returned, she magically carried a larger purple book, which she no doubt intended to use as a toy for her “sensitive” games. “Is this it, dear?”
After quickly inspecting the cover of the sex toy/reading material, Twilight shook her head. “No, Rarity, that’s the book I lent you on over-dramatic interpretations of characters based on subtle behavioral traits, remember?”
Rarity raised an eyebrow. “Of course, how could I forget…” She tossed the book aside before turning back towards Twilight (her eyes lusciously batting just as a speck of dust conveniently entered their premises). “Well, perhaps I can help you girls look for the book you’re trying to find. I’m mostly done with my dresses for the day, anyways."
It was at this point in these mares’ adventures that you, the reader, realized that this is in fact not a clever and eloquent third-person satire, but actually an ingenious second-person masterpiece. All assumptions of the inferiority of second-person narratives are now invalidated by the grandeur and magnificence of this unparalleled artwork. Where once it was but a story, chronicling the adventures of six young mares and their trials and terrors, but in fact an interactive experience, in which you, the reader, have the ability to directly partake in the outcome of the story by being spoken to rather than simply following the story from a distance. Marvel at the wonder that is the second-person narrative, as it baffles the mind by acknowledging the reader directly, thusly implying the narrator’s godly power and absolute omnipotence.
The four then ventured to Fluttershy’s, the residence of their only other friend. As they approached the gates, they could see Fluttershy out front enjoying a bit of tea. That she even ventured into the sun, considering it’s inherit dangers, was naught but a miracle, but that she would even risk contact with other ponies, despite the even incredibly slim chance of public embarrassment, was nearly unspeakable. And yet still she sat, waving to those ponies who pitied her so that they decided to taunt her constant phobias with their companionship. “Hello girls! Would you like some tea?”
“Howdy Y’all!” Oh. Also, Applejack was there.
“Have either of you girls found one of my books?” Twilight replied, evidently asking Fluttershy and one of her animal friends, “I can’t seem to find it anywhere!”
Fluttershy, still shaking in abject terror from her friend’s arrival, was hardly able to muster a reply, “I’m sorry, Twilight, I haven’t seen it anywhere” Applejack replied as well, but it wasn’t significant enough to even take note of.
“Good idea, Applejack!” Twilight replied to nopony in particular. With that, the group headed off, back to Twilight’s library to follow a procedure spawned directly in Twilight’s imagination and not explained by anypony noticeable.
It was as they arrived, however, that the true nature of the story revealed itself. As they arrived in the library, a magnificent alicorn burst dramatically through the wall. Though his appearance was both horrifying and graceful, his horn and wings were clipped off, preventing him from performing any spectacular feats that would easily resolve the conflict.
“Twilight Sparkle!” the majestic stallion bellowed, his voice echoing through not only the library but the annals of time itself. With a bow, the alicorn continued, “my name is Plot Device, and I am here to warn you that a great evil is approaching, and that you are the only ones capable of stopping it. I would do so myself, but as you can see, I am stripped of my power and therefore only useful as a messenger of great and terrible news. It is your responsibility as the elements of harmony to stop this rampant evil, plaguing our civilization with its ambiguous villianry and indescript terrors! Please help us!”
Though so little information was provided, it was as the great Plot Device said; the elements of harmony had no choice, or else the story would be unable to continue (without resorting to actually skilled and artistic literary techniques and not simply snappy satire). With resolution, Twilight Sparkle was the first to step forward and speak up.
“We shall free Equestria! No matter what danger lies ahead, no matter what absurd twists we encounter, no matter what horrid dialogue we are made to partake in, we shall not fail!” And so, the six mares committed themselves to a wretched adventure of plot devices, repetitive narration, poorly developed characterizations, unexplained style alterations, and narrative descriptions that are quite often repeated.
Woe betide those who indulge in such a miserable excuse for literature.
