Chapter 1: Snackbars Are Bad For Health
EQUESTRIA
In the dark part of the morning Pinkie Pie broke into the Castle of Friendship and shook Twilight Sparkle awake.
"Whoopee! Whoopee! Hey Twilight, how are babies made? Whoopee!"
Twilight's dream of having a pierced butt faded and was replaced with the nightmare of reality. She rumbled beneath her quilts and sat up slanty-eyed.
"Give me one second Pinkie. I'll show you."
Twilight shoved Pinkie off of her bed with a loud CRASH then opened a closet filled with implements. Cigarette lighters, a falx, a large pair of hedge clippers, a claw hammer. As she eyed each one she looked Pinkie over, calculating where the soft spots on her friend were most likely to be. Pinkie looked innocently back at her, enthusiastic and very much alive.
After a few seconds of nuzzling her precious old AK-47 which was a Sparkle family heirloom, Twilight sighed and dropped her head. She replaced everything and shut the closet with a longing glance. "Not today," she whispered. "Not today."
She then turned back to Pinkie.
"Round up the girls, Pinkie, and get six tickets to Canterlot for the next train. Today we're all going to visit the Birth Control Clinic."
"Whoopee!" yelled Pinkie Pie.
EARTH
In the dark part of the morning Ms. Jekyll, a large frizzy-haired woman, broke into her teenaged son's bedroom.
She was clothed in an oversized graphic tee and female boxer shorts. A nylon Pinkie Pie™ cosplay tail protruded from her butt.
"Sam. Sam, get up. It's time for morning prayers."
Sam groaned but got up. Like always. His fat overbearing mother was once again dictating to him what gods he had to worship, and he was just going along to get along. Like always.
His mother pulled a Twilight Sparkle™ cosplay tail out from somewhere. "Put on your prayer tail."
"I know, Mom..." It was a passive-aggressive comeback but it was the best Sam could do.
They walked to the hallway shrine. There was a squat hexagonal altar with keyholes crudely stenciled onto each side, which held papercraft icons of the Mane Six™ arranged in an occult pentacle, with Twilight Sparkle™ at the center. A 9x12 print of a Ponyville™ computer wallpaper formed the backdrop, while above it all hovered a mobile portraying the all-seeing eye of Princess Celestia™.
Ms. Jekyll got down onto her hands and knees, like a pony, and Sam reluctantly followed suit. They began to chant:
Princess Celestia, pony us.
Princess Luna, hear us.
Princess Cadance, love us.
Sweet Princesses, pony us up real good.
Sweet Celestia, pony us.
Princess of the Sun, pony us.
Alicorn of alicorns, pony us.
Mentor of Twilight Sparkle, pony us.
Protector of Harmony in Equestria, pony us.
Celestia most pure, pony us.
Celestia most chaste...
It went on like that for a while. Sam needed to peepee but he held it in.
EQUESTRIA
Twilight Sparkle and her five best friends were strolling through the slums of Canterlot. At Twilight's direction, they took a left turn into an alley between two dirty coffee shops, walked past a sign that said "No Entry", and came upon a weedy footpath that twisted and spiraled downward.
Hidden in plain sight at the bottom of the path, in the midst of a wide abandoned wastewater gulch, was a long and forbidding government building. Its walls were plain concrete, and it had no windows. There was a small parking lot in front, and a warehouse for receiving deliveries in back.
Twilight paused, took in the sight, and let out a breath. "This is it, girls. This is the Birth Control Clinic. In here, you'll all finally learn how babies are made."
Rainbow Dash looked askance at Twilight. "So you already know, then?"
"Of course," Twilight responded. "It's just one of the many perks of being a princess."
They were greeted at the front door by Dr. John Money, PhD, the legendary human doctor who had been assumed bodily into Equestria years before because of his great medical skills, the holiness of his deeds, and his perfect unstained faith. He wore a strip of condoms as a belt, and was armed with an Astroglide squirt gun.
"Ahh... Princess Twilight Sparkle? What a rare pleasure it is to have a visit from royalty!" The doctor gave his most ingratiating grin, and bent over at the waist so as to face the ponies at eye level. "We corresponded earlier today. I am Doctor Money, appointed head of this facility by the Princess of the Sun herself, now serving in my eleventh year as Equestrian Minister of Birth Control."
Twilight rolled her eyes pretty hard. "I am aware of you, peon. Quit talking and show us how you make babies."
Dr. Money gritted his teeth into an even broader smile. "With pleasure, Princess..." He held the door open for the six of them. "Right this way, if you please..." A single droplet of sweat fell from his brow to his chin.
As the ponies passed through the door, Dr. Money was still bent over. Then, at the right time, he whipped out his cellphone and quickly took several high resolution digital photographs of all their tight little pony assholes.
EARTH
Back in his bedroom, Sam Jekyll reflected on his life.
Being unemployed over a year after graduating high school was a sad situation. The same could be said about living with his mother. He knew it. But he didn't know how to change it.
He had bought a Make America Great Again hat, because he had thought that would change things for him. But it hadn't. So today he was planning to attend a Donald Trump rally. The man himself was going to be there, and thousands would attend.
Maybe going to that rally would change his situation? Somehow?
It was all pretty depressing to think about, so Sam didn't want to think about it any more. Instead of thinking, he locked his door—not that it would matter since his mother had the key, but he did it out of habit—and retreated to the one thing that never failed to free him from the pain of rational thought: his Hatsune Miku sex doll.
Sitting at his computer, Sam inspected Miku and decided she was clean enough for at least one more deed. He pulled up Youtube, turned on "Pomp and Circumstance", and got to work.
As he was sticking it in, Sam thought of his father. His father had left the faith and abandoned his mother several years prior. Sam wondered whether his life would have turned out differently if his father had been around.
A sudden knock at the door knocked Sam out of his reverie.
"Sam?" The click of the key latch was swift and unforgiving. "Sam, breakfast is ready. I made cupcakes..."
The platter of cupcakes dropped like a payload of bombs, as Ms. Jekyll let out a horrified shriek. For his part, Sam could only lower his eyes and prepare for the worst. He was still inside Miku, and he was about to nut.
"SAM! What is this—this—idolatry?!" his mother cried with a pained expression. "You know Bishop Lazarus has forbidden all sexual activity except with authorized, licensed My Little Pony™ merchandise! How long have you been worshipping this false god?"
Sam held Miku lovingly to his bosom, his arms wrapped protectively around her, his member tingling inside her. "About four months."
His mother advanced, hands outstretched pathetically. "Sam, sweetie... why did you have to do it like this? Why couldn't you just use the My Little Pony™ fleshlights I bought for you?" Tears welled within Ms. Jekyll's eyes. "This doesn't... you haven't lost your faith in ponies, have you?"
Sam looked at his mother, and then looked at his Miku doll. The look his doll gave him back pushed him over the edge, and he started ejaculating right there.
"So what if I have lost my faith?!" he yelled, as the semen poured from his urethra. "It's a stupid faith."
"Sam... You don't mean that. You're just lashing out. You don't mean that..."
But as Sam finished spilling his seed, his voice only grew angrier. "Oh, I didn't mean it? Fuck you too, Mom! I'm not stupid, you know. I've been on the internet. I've seen what people are saying. I've read the arguments, and I've seen the evidence. This whole religion is a giant load of horse shit! Now I know why Dad left us. It's because you're an idiot!"
Ms. Jekyll had lost her husband, and now she was losing her son too. She fell to her knees. "Sam... Sammy..." She began hyperventilating, and suddenly began speaking quickly. "I don't believe this is the real you. You've been possessed by some kind of changeling, or—or—I don't know what's happened to you, but a true true friend helps a friend in need. And you're in need. And, and..." Ms. Jekyll looked around frantically, then stood up and stared into Sam's eyes. "And you're still my son, and you're in need. So we're going to see the Bishop."
Ms. Jekyll grabbed Sam's hand and made as if to pull him along out to the minivan.
Sam, however, violently snatched his arm back. An otherworldly rage seemed to be swelling up within him. His mother looked back at him, and she was frightened of the look in his eyes.
"FUCK YOU, YOU BLISTERED OLD CUNT!" Sam roared. "No! Fuck no! You're not going to tell me what to do any more!" He tossed Miku onto his bed and zipped up his pants. "To hell with your religion, to hell with your Bishop, and to hell with you! And you know what else?" Sam put on his shoes and stormed past his mother, who was paralyzed with shock. "Don't call me your son any more."
Ms. Jekyll could only look back silently, in utter defeat.
"From now on, my name is not Sam Jekyll any more..." Sam's face twitched frantically as his rage blossomed to ever newer and more intense heights. He spit in his mother's face. "I'm... I'm taking Dad's last name, not yours! It's Sam Hyde now!"
With that, Sam Hyde grabbed his Make America Great Again cap, stormed out the front door, and started toward the bus stop. His destination: the Donald Trump rally.
EQUESTRIA
The girls followed Dr. Money into a large white-tiled room, with bright overhead lights. It was filled with hospital beds and dozens of pony nurses. On almost every bed was a lump that looked like a pony, covered with a white sheet, hooked up to complicated-looking machines.
"Princess, ladies, it is my great pleasure to present to you the future citizens of Equestria." Dr. Money turned toward the girls, and began slowing his pace, as they traced out a route through the room.
"Explain to them how it works, doctor," said Twilight, with a yawn.
"Gladly. Each one of these bodies that you see here is a potential new baby pony. For example, this one..." Dr. Money chose a nearby lump. "Gather round, ladies, and take a good look." He drew the white sheet back.
It was a perfect pony mannequin. Its color was pale, almost translucent, and it had no cutie mark. It was a male.
"This particular model is made almost entirely from medical-grade silicone. The hair is from donations, and implanted early. We design and produce these host bodies, then hook them up to the Spirit Grid. Eventually they come to life—or not—and a new baby pony is brought into the world."
Applejack scratched her hat. "Er, mind explaining that one a little slower, doc? You lost me there."
"The Spirit Grid contains the spiritual energies of humans on Earth," interrupted Twilight. "Humans, unfortunately, like Dr. Money. The greater a human's faith is in the Magic of Friendship, the stronger their connection is to the Spirit Grid. If a human dies with a connection to the Spirit Grid intact, their souls will travel through the grid, searching for new bodies to inhabit."
"Precisely, Princess..." Dr. Money's still gave the same irritating smile. "So, here at the Clinic, we track which humans on Earth have connections to the Spirit Grid, and we design new pony bodies especially suited for each one. Unfortunately, most humans don't know about the Magic of Friendship, or they don't believe it's real, so they don't have any connection to the grid... And the ones who do have such a connection sometimes lose it." The smile disappeared from the Doctor's face. "So at present, there are only a limited number of new ponies being born into Equestria each year. Never enough to fill the demand. Each one, at this point, is precious, so we do our best."
Fluttershy sidled up to the male host body. "So, this body is connected to a human boy on Earth?"
"Yes," said Dr. Money. "I believe that particular one was made for... yes, his name is Sam. Sam Jekyll. He's a nice boy from a good religious family. Been faithful all his life. We've got nothing but optimism about his chances." Dr. Money bent down again and spoke into Fluttershy's face, with a really slimy grin. "Perhaps one day soon you'll get to... know him."
Fluttershy blushed a lot.
The nearby nurse pony suddenly broke her silence. "Doctor Money, something's happening to Sam..."
"Can you handle it? We are being visited by royalty."
"I-I've never seen anything like it." The nurse shook her head. "His faith levels are dropping at ludicrous speed. I'm trying to stabilize him, but nothing's working."
Dr. Money jumped into action. "Ludicrous speed, you say? He must have had a crisis of faith. This is bad—pull up the POV cam! I want to see what's going on."
A monitor snapped up with a grainy video feed. In the video, a large frizzy-haired woman looked terrified. The glitchy audio was incoherent for a time before suddenly, a few words became unmistakable.
"Fuck you, you blistered old cunt..."
Fluttershy hid behind Rarity, who was now blushing too. Applejack took off her hat. Rainbow Dash jumped into the air with surprise, staring mouth agape at the video.
"Whoopee!" said Pinkie Pie. "Floor cupcakes are my favorite!"
"What's going to happen now?" said Fluttershy.
Dr. Money was focused on the video. "Just a second, miss, I..." Suddenly he punched a wall. "GODDAMMIT! Not Trump! Not again!"
The ponies looked confused. Seeing their faces, the doctor continued.
"Donald Trump is the greatest corrupter of youths Earth has seen in at least a generation. He hypnotizes the faithful with his speeches, and they forget all about the Magic of Friendship!" He sighed. "All the evidence suggests he's an agent of the Devil, sent to Earth to stop the flow of new souls into Equestria."
"What a disaster!" cried Rarity. "Isn't there anything we can do?"
Dr. Money gave a long slow dramatic look. "Ladies, Princess, please follow me into the Birth Control Room. We have to put an end to Donald Trump's influence—by any means necessary."
Chapter 2: Making America Great Again
EARTH
Sam Hyde flung open the glass doors of the basketball arena. Since he had thrown aside his childhood religion, he was dizzy with freedom and anxiety. He no longer knew what the meaning of life was, and he wanted to see if Donald Trump did.
People were just beginning to file into the arena, so the floor seats were still open. Sam took a seat in the center of the floor near the front. A black guy in a suit sat down next to Sam. He was trailed by his wife and two small daughters. A hairy guy on Sam's right was clutching a basket of chemical-scented nachos.
On the empty stage, thirteen American flags stood in a row against the back wall. On either side was a giant video monitor showing the empty podium. The loudspeakers were playing some bad old rock and roll classics.
Sam had to wait around for a while, so he put in his earbuds, turned on some Miku, and closed his eyes.
EQUESTRIA
Dr. Money, Twilight Sparkle, and the girls booked it into a round elevator behind a secret wall. The elevator shot down, down, down. They exited into a large room centered around a holographic globe, representing the Earth, with many buttons and monitors, cables and switches, with harsh fluorescent white lights hung overhead.
Dr. Money flew into action. "This Donald Trump has gone far enough," he barked, typing furiously at a keyboard. "We've tried subtler measures to reign him in before, but if he's affecting even the most solidly faithful bronies, stronger measures are going to be needed."
Applejack looked around in wonder, and gave Rarity a questioning glance. Rarity gave a shrug back, then spoke. "What exactly is this room used for, Doctor?"
Princess Twilight interrupted in a somber monotone. "These little toys allow the good doctor to play God. They interfere with events on Earth—a chance encounter here, a lost item there, a natural disaster killing thousands or a nuclear war killing millions. Anything on Earth can happen at the press of a button in this room, and Dr. John Money is the lone man in charge of deciding when to press them."
"Can that... really be true?" Fluttershy asked.
Rainbow Dash fluttered around, worried. "Hey, guys, I hate to change the subject, but has anybody seen Pinkie Pie?"
There was a lot of confused muttering and looking around. Indeed, Pinkie Pie was not in the room.
"Oh, we were in such a rush, we must have left her upstairs!" Rarity gasped. "I'll go back up and get her."
"You can't!" shouted the doctor. "The emergency doors are already closed, and they won't open for three hours. We'll just have to make it without her."
"W-what?" Rarity was struck. "Closed? But what about Pinkie?"
Applejack hung her head. "We'll be fine without her, but will she be fine without us?"
Princess Twilight turned quickly onto Dr. Money. She grabbed him with her magic in a choke, lifting him off the ground, and whipped out her trusty AK-47, aiming it directly at his stomach.
"Are you sure these doors won't open, Doctor? There's nothing you can do?"
Dr. Money struggled, vainly trying to wrench the magical grip from his throat. "It... ack... no. N-nothing..." His face was turning red, and veins were bulging.
Fluttershy whimpered and hid her face.
Twilight expanded her aura, and her eyes looked deep and sharp. "If anything happens to Pinkie Pie, I will drink every drop of blood from your living body."
There was a silence as Twilight slowly released her grasp on Dr. Money. He fell to the ground, gasping and panting for breath.
Then there was a great crash, and the room shook violently. The lights overhead swung and flickered, books fell off of shelves, and chairs toppled over.
"Aaaagh! What was that? What was that??" Fluttershy was still hunched down, and was nearing a panic.
Rainbow Dash hurried to Fluttershy. She stood in front of her protectively and aggressively scanned the room. Applejack and Rarity, dumbstruck, backed blindly toward them.
"An earthquake, maybe?" Applejack asked.
The doctor regained a fraction of his composure and breath. "No..." He swallowed, and coughed a few times. "Not an earthquake. This is more serious."
Princess Twilight jumped into the air. "A threat from outside, then?"
Dr. Money sighed, cleaning his glasses. "Influencing events on earth isn't as simple as pressing a button. It requires an enormous amount of energy to create even a small change." He replaced his glasses. "That is why this room is so deep underground."
"Oh... Do you mean to say it uses geothermal energy?" Rarity offered. "I've heard about that from... from Pinkie Pie."
"Precisely, Miss," Dr. Money continued. "We're tapping into the energy of the magma flows deep underground in order to do our work here. However, it comes with a danger, namely, periodic attacks from the Devil and his minions of Hell."
"The Devil?!" Fluttershy buried her face in Rainbow Dash's wings and hung on for dear life.
"Of course," said Princess Twilight. "I should have known. Go deep enough underground and you'll eventually get to Hell."
Dr. Money stood up. "It seems the Devil knows of our plan to interfere with Donald Trump, and doesn't like it."
A strong scent, like the smell of mushrooms, began permeating the Birth Control Room. At the same time, a great ultra-high-pitch groaning sound filled time and space, communicating itself violently:
"YOU WILL NOT INTERFERE WITH DONALD TRUMP. YOU WILL NOT INTERFERE WITH SAM HYDE."
Then a great crash and explosion took out the back wall, and a sea of magma began to flow into the room.
EARTH
It was time.
The hype-men and warm-up speakers had come and gone. A crowd of twelve thousand was bristling with anticipation. Sparks of patriotic fervor, spontaneous chants, adrenaline and pride.
"...Ladies and gentlemen, the next President of the United States, Donald J. Trump!"
Donald Trump strode out onto the catwalk, waving and giving the thumbs-up to all and anon, making his way slowly and deliberately. At last, the God-Emperor mounted his podium to shouts of joy and the blare of Trumpeters.
"Thank you! Thank you! What a crowd! Unbelievable!"
The buzz would never have died down if it were not necessary to be quiet in order to hear the words of Trump, the savior of America.
"How about this crowd tonight, folks? Someone told me there was at least twelve, fourteen, maybe sixteen thousand out here tonight? Absolutely incredible."
Wild applause.
"We are here tonight, what an amazing venue by the way, I know the owners well. John and Marie. Great people! Are you here, John? Where are you?" Donald looked around to each side, finally pointing at one of them. "There you are, John!" He gave him the thumbs-up. "Amazing place. What an honor to speak here."
Wild applause.
"So all of us are here, tonight," Donald said, palms out, "for one reason. Because this is a movement, folks, all of you did this. I didn't do this! This isn't about me, it's about all of you. I'm just your mouthpiece—although, I may say, I'm a pretty damn good mouthpiece, aren't I? What do you think of this job I've been doing?"
Genuine laughter and shouts of support punctuated wild applause.
"Ahh, forget about it." Donald waved his hand as if swatting a fly. "This really is a movement, folks. And we have such great party unity. Don't listen to the media, folks! Terrible, dishonest people, some of the worst people I've ever met. Look at them! Right there, in the media box." He pointed straight ahead, at the platform from where the media outlets had their cameras trained on him. "You know, they're lucky they've got that box with barriers surrounding them, aren't they? They never show the crowds!"
Laughter and boos at the media people.
"Go ahead! Watch this, they won't do it. Turn the cameras around, guys, go ahead! Pan around and show the crowds! Turn the cameras! Turn the cameras!"
A chant of "Turn the cameras!" began and lasted for the better part of a minute. No cameras were turned.
"See? What'd I say. They never turn the cameras, they don't want to show the crowds we have, and the level of support. Terrible, dishonest, lying, crooked people."
Boos.
"So," Donald said, signalling his transition to the more serious parts of his speech with a pause, "we're all here tonight—Republicans, Independents, Democrats, Cruz people, Bernie people, everyone—we're all here because we all believe in the same thing. And we want it, and we know that we're right and we're on the right side of history. And what we all want, the reason why so many people from such different backgrounds have all come here tonight, is because we are united. We are united, because we all want to MAKE AMERICA GREAT AGAIN!"
Thunderous, wild applause and cheering. A spontaneous chant began: "USA! USA! USA!"
It lasted a full two minutes. Donald stepped back from the podium to let the applause wear itself out. At the end he joined in a bit himself: "USA, USA, USA." Once he stopped, everyone settled down.
"So," Donald said, "I was asking my advisers: what's the single best way to make America great again? And it was interesting. They showed me some statistics, my statistician did. Incredible guy. Anybody else, you start reading off statistics, you go right to sleep. This guy, he loves the stuff. Incredible!"
Laughter.
"Anyway, he was showing me some statistics on crime. Did you know that the number of murders in a state is correlated with the percentage of blacks in that state at a rate of higher than point seven? Point seven. That's a humongous correlation! No one ever heard of a correlation that high."
The crowd fell silent.
"And you know, there are similar correlations with Latinos? Especially illegals, who crossed the border, who are here illegally? The amazing thing is, in their case, it's the rapes. It's the rapes! Haven't I always said, someone's doing the raping? Of course the media never reports that I was right on these things."
Donald continued. "Anyway, so I saw these statistics, and I said, we've got to get rid of the blacks and the latinos. We've got to! There's no choice. We won't survive if we don't. And then they told me, Mister Trump, they said, that's unconstitutional. You can't just get rid of people based on their race because that's unconstitutional. It's illegal and unconstitutional, they said. And then they added, besides, where would they go?"
"So I said to them, and now I'm saying it to you. And to be honest folks, it really breaks my heart, but things are the way they are and some things you just don't get a choice in. And this is one of those things. You know, I employ thousands of latinos, especially Mexicans. I love the Mexicans, love their spirit. But it has to be done. So I said to them, I said, whether it's 'unconstitutional', whether it's 'illegal', it absolutely has to be done. It has to! Otherwise, you don't have a nation. So I said, if it's illegal, then we're just going to have to do it illegally."
On the floor of the stadium and in the bleachers dozens of large men dressed in black wheeled out large crates and began unboxing them.
"We'll do it illegally! Because we have to, folks. No two ways about it. So we'll do it illegally, we'll get rid of the blacks, the latinos, basically all of these undesirable elements that are parasites on our nation at the moment. Muslims, of course. Jews! The Jews have got to go. Native Americans, ahh, well, they've got their own thing, we can leave them alone. The Asians are probably fine. Though, I have to say, I've made many deals with the Chinese, with the Japanese, the Koreans. But I've got my suspicions, and personally I think we need to take another look at the Asians. Because I'm not convinced they're as great as everyone says they are!" A big grin.
Laughter filled the stadium, as the shady men began pulling assault rifles out of the boxes and handing them out to the whites in the crowd.
"So, folks," Donald said, "What we need to do—and this really is a movement, a revolution almost—what we need as a nation, and what I am asking you to do tonight, is to take home these AR-15s and go into your neighborhoods, wherever you live, and just go door to door. And if it's a white family, great, we love our white families and we want them to stay where they are, happy and healthy. But if you see a black family, or a latino, or, you know, whoever, well, I don't want to say anything that this dishonest media is going to spin the wrong way, but we've got to get rid of them folks, one way or another, legally or illegally. So I won't tell you how to do the job, but the job has to be done and we—we the people—we have to be the ones to do it."
Wild applause, and the celebratory firing of rounds into the ceiling.
Donald reveled in the applause. "What a great crowd! And what a venue! John, come up here. Stand up here, John!"
John was black. He apprehensively took the stage and sidled up to Donald, somehow acting as if he was trying not to be seen.
Donald spoke into the microphone. "Let's have a round of applause for John, everybody!"
Wild applause.
Donald Trump pulled out a Magnum. "I'm very sorry, John, but we are going to Make America Great Again, and we're not going to let anyone stop us." There was wild applause as Donald Trump shot John three times in the head.
"All right, everyone! As you can already tell, this is a special rally. Unfortunately I have to cut this one a little shorter than the others have been, because tonight we've got some serious work to do. So let's all go out there and get to work! And we—will—MAKE—AMERICA—GREAT—AGAIN! Thank you! Thank you!"
Donald Trump made his way off the stage, waving and giving the thumbs-up to all and anon, signing hats and signs, all the way back to his airplane.
Meanwhile, Sam Hyde suddenly understood the meaning of life.
With his shiny new AR-15 in hand, he mowed down the black family sitting beside him, parents and children dying together.
The fervor in his eyes inspired a small crowd to follow him as he stormed out the door of the stadium, locked and loaded.
EQUESTRIA
Princess Twilight sprung into action, instantly erecting a force field to hold back the magma that threatened to swallow them all.
"You didn't mention we'd be under assault by the Devil when you brought us down here, Doctor!" she shouted.
"Of course not," Dr. Money chuckled, as he typed furiously into a computer terminal. "This work is too important. I needed some form of protection, and what better bodyguard than a Princess of Equestria?"
"I swear, doctor, when this is over..." Twilight grumbled, sweating from the strain of holding back so much magma.
At that point a mushroom-shaped face, swimming in the magma, briefly pressed itself against the force field before disappearing again.
Rarity was paralyzed. "Wh-what was that... that hideous thing?"
"The Devil, probably." Dr. Money did not look away from his typing. "We'll just have to wait him out, ladies."
Rainbow Dash zoomed up to him and yelled in his face. "What are you doing that's so important you're putting all our lives at risk?"
But Dr. Money's attention was trained squarely on his monitor. His face turned pale. "Oh, no... I may be too late. He's started handing out the guns."
Rainbow Dash punched him in the face.
"HEY! I said, what is happening?"
Dr. Money stood up straight and boomed. "There's a mass slaughter about to happen on Earth if I don't do anything about it! Now get out of my face," he said as he sent a backhand toward Rainbow Dash which she barely dodged. "If Trump dies in that plane, maybe they'll cut it short..." He began typing twice as furiously.
Suddenly a great rumble shook the room, and the Devil crashed at high speed into Twilight's force field. "NO," it groaned. "YOU WILL NOT KILL DONALD TRUMP."
Twilight, sweating, absorbed the impact, fired off a few rounds at the Devil with her AK-47, and redoubled her magic. "This is getting ridiculous."
"The hell I won't kill Donald Trump! Just watch me!" shouted Dr. Money as he shook his fist. He finished what he was typing, pressed a button, and the room began flickering and making noises.
"You hear that, Lucifer? The order's been given! The machine is powering up! Better stop it if you can!"
The Devil crashed into Twilight's force field again, twice as hard.
Twilight growled. "Would you please stop taunting the Devil, you stupid faggot?"
The room suddenly became very cosmic, as if some kind of metaphysical static was interrupting the transmission of reality. Then it popped back to normal.
"That's it. It's been done!" shouted Dr. Money. "Trump will die in thirty minutes. Hopefully it will be enough to snap his brainwashed followers out of their hypnosis, and bring our lost bronies, including Sam, back to us."
The lights in the room went out, and the groaning of the Devil shook the place up real good.
EARTH
The crooked, dishonest media was buzzing.
Donald Trump had given a racist speech inciting violent revolution just minutes before his airplane had exploded. The uprising had quickly claimed hundreds of lives, so the U. S. Army was called in to contain the threat.
Unfortunately, there were high levels of desertion among the armed forces. Thousands of men and women of uniform were running home to defend their families, or to aid the rebels, as they saw fit.
Worse, the Russians had seen an opportunity, and were currently funneling thousands of troops and tons of arms and ammunition into Texas through the Gulf of Mexico, now a rebel stronghold.
President Obama declared a state of martial law until the revolution was put down. He suspended the elections, and signed an executive order declaring that anyone seen carrying firearms without wearing a federal or state uniform should be shot on sight.
Sam Hyde, however, was undeterred.
Making his way deliberately through an urban apartment complex, he kicked yet another door in. Another mixed family, huddled on the floor together.
"Hey guys, what do you think of this bowl cut?" he asked, shaking his hair out. "That's a cool look, right?" Then, whipping his AR-15 out, he shot twenty-seven rounds through the white mother, puncturing the five little mulatto tykes she was protecting.
The father must not have been home.
On and on he went, mercilessly mowing down blacks, Mexicans, Puerto Ricans, camel jockeys, coalburners, nu-males, dykes, sodomites, and especially kikes.
A series of explosions in the not-so-distant distance sent a skyscraper crumbling.
"The Russians are here," Sam sighed. "Finally."
The smoke and debris were blinding and dangerous. Suddenly, from out of the blackness of the smoke, emerged an even deeper blackness: a spontaneous mob of upstanding African-American rights marchers, armed with kitchen knives, whiskey bottles, and three M1 Abrams tanks, which were supported by a cavalry of riders upon motorcycles looted from the local skinheads. They came blaring down the street mouthing incomprehensible rap lyrics as they barreled straight toward Sam Hyde.
"Hey, I'm not threatening or saying anything illegal," Sam Hyde said. "But if I ever see you blacks on the street, in real life, and if it's a self-defense situation that you put me in, I will drop you. Like this!" He lobbed a grenade towards the motorcade and ducked into a side street.
The explosion went off to many cries of "sheeeeit!" but the advance continued.
Then, from behind Sam, a familiar voice spoke up. "Uhhhh, Sam? Sam Hyde? This, this... this okeydoke, this... provocative crusade, this has got to stop. This is not what America is about."
Sam turned around to see President Obama. He was wearing a gi and was taking a martial arts stance. "If, if, if, if, if, if, if, if, if, if you, uh, want to end this all right here. Mano a mano. Uhh, then you better bring it. Cause I heard, uhh, that you're nothing but a bitch nigga." His hair was grayer than Sam remembered it being, and his face was wizened and shriveled.
Sam threw his gun to the ground. "Ahh, this day I have been graced with a visit from comrade Barry. Delight! Simply delight!" he intoned. "I'm not gonna need this rifle to make you wish you stayed home sucking Michelle's dick!" He threw a fierce haymaker at the President's jaw.
Obama, however, moved so quickly he seemed to vanish. He reappeared below Sam, and delivered a gut-busting punch to the stomach, its power amplified by the latest covert CIA technology.
Sam's knees buckled, and he crumpled. Obama caught him in a tender embrace, holding him up at the armpits, and whispered softly, with a voice smooth as chocolate: "Sam, you know, uhh, I've always had a soft spot for white boys. Just, uhh, ask the boys in Chicago. Why don't you... get on my airplane with me. We'll have a, uh, a reasoned discussion, and see if we can't build some bridges between our communities."
"President Obama..." Sam muttered, quietly. Obama leaned in to hear him speak.
"You shoulda got welfare."
Sam grabbed Obama, pinning him in place for a vicious headbutt that shattered the President's nose. He then grabbed his AR-15 and took off running.
"You... ow... you can't run, Sam. I've got drones everywhere. Just think about it." Obama sunk down onto the ground in pain, and started crawling, trying to find a good place to hide himself away before the angry black mob turned the corner.
EQUESTRIA
Donald Trump was dead, and the Devil was going crazy.
Other than that, it was pretty boring in the Birth Control Room. Twilight was the only pony strong enough to do anything, so she was stuck holding the force field up.
All the other ponies were huddled in one corner, crying and counting the minutes until the security door would open. In the other corner, surrounded by bookshelves, Dr. Money sat alone. He was skimming through the naughty pictures on his cellphone, and playing with his peckershaft.
Rainbow Dash flew over to him. "Hey! How much longer until we can get out of here..." She saw that he had completely whipped it out and was going full steam ahead. "Oh, sweet Celestia," she cried. Then she yelled out to the others.
Shortly thereafter, the four of them had hogtied Dr. Money up. And then, as Twilight watched approvingly, they hurled him out through her force field and into the magma, as a burnt offering to the Devil, who quickly ate him up.
As he died, he released many pained shrieks. It was very satisfying for all the ponies to watch him die so horribly.
EARTH
Ms. Jekyll was huddled in Bishop Lazarus's living room. The door was barricaded, and the two of them were marathon-watching DVD episodes of Scripture. Specifically Season 3.
Ms. Jekyll was eating ice cream from a re-used plastic butter tub. The salt from her many tears was still dry on her face. "Do you really think my Sammy will be all right?"
Bishop Lazarus, a portly young man with a grizzled beard, remained serene. "Take heart, sister. Scripture says that we all have special magical connections with those we love. You must believe that the Princesses do hear your prayer, that they will have compassion on your tears, and that they will find a way to save Sam."
"I'm, just, so worried!" she cried, and the tears started up again. "The one day he runs out of the house, we get a violent uprising, invasions, a revolution, martial law!" She lifted another spoonful of ice cream to her lips. "Why did it have to be today? Whyyy?" She sobbed.
The Bishop, moved with compassion, embraced Ms. Jekyll. "There, there," he said, rubbing her shoulders. Then he whispered into her ear: "How about if, instead of wringing our hands in here watching the news, you come curl up with me in the the bedroom for a little spiritual cuddling? Hmm? Won't that make you feel better?" His eyes were bright.
"Yeah," moaned Ms. Jekyll, dropping her spoon into the bowl. She swallowed her ice cream and stood up.
"Don't forget your cuddling tail, sister."
Blindness. Exhaustion. Sweat.
Sam Hyde trudged through the ruins of a city, shouts of war behind him. He had already killed and maimed far more than enough vibrants and degenerates to wrest the high score from Breivik. But he could not stop until his body stopped working.
As he trudged along, gripping his AR-15 tightly, a figure appeared in the smoke, walking towards him. Hipster clothes, neon pink hair. Definitely a Social Justice dyke. He raised his rifle to fire, but it only clicked.
He patted himself down, looking for another magazine, but she continued to approach him silently. As he found a magazine and began to insert it, the girl touched him on the wrist. He looked up at her, and she was smiling.
In the haze and confusion, perhaps from inhaling so much dust and smoke, he was struck to the soul. He thought she looked exactly like Hatsune Miku.
She grabbed him by the wrist, and began to run. He dropped his gun, and followed her.
The two of them weaved in and out of burning cars, falling buildings, and violent mobs. They watched a division of Russian tanks engage the U.S. Army, and kept running. They ran all the way to the deserted outskirts of town, far from any main road or populated area.
Then, they sat and rested.
The smiling girl gave him some Bug Juice and Twinkies, which he gratefully scarfed down. Then he continued to sit silently, completely entranced by the mysterious girl's eyes, as the dull glow of the evening faded into the navy of nightfall.
It took him a while to realize they had been holding hands the entire time.
Sam was about to say something, when the world began shaking, as if it were an earthquake. Then a high-pitched groaning manifested itself, and then a metaphysical buzzing, as if time and space themselves were straining.
From out of the earth in front of the two of them, like a blooming flower, rose the mushroom-headed Devil.
The girl's grip on Sam's hand grew tighter.
"SAM HYDE," the Devil said, unmistakeable in its hideousness. "YOU HAVE BEEN A GOOD SERVANT. COME WITH ME, AND CLAIM YOUR THRONE BESIDE DONALD TRUMP."
Sam looked at the girl, and at the Devil, and back at the girl. She said nothing, but her eyes communicated a lightness of being, or some kind of otherworldly spirit or life, something which Sam found entirely strange yet oddly familiar.
Pierced by this sudden inspiration, Sam faced the Devil. "No."
The Devil spoke again. "WHY?"
Sam looked at the girl, and back at the Devil. "I—I don't know. But no."
The Devil began unfurling himself. "I AM THE PRINCE OF THIS WORLD. IF YOU WILL NOT SERVE ME, YOU WILL DIE."
Then the Devil threw himself upon the two of them. Sam pushed the girl out of the way, and received all the force of the bodyslam himself.
He died instantly.
EQUESTRIA
"3... 2... 1.... open!"
The three hours had finally expired, and Applejack and Rarity carried a passed-out Fluttershy through the newly-opened elevator doors. Rainbow Dash grabbed up the exhausted Twilight Sparkle, and lugged her bodily into the elevator just as her stamina was failing her and the force field was breaking up.
"Come on, come on!" Applejack pressed the elevator buttons, as the magma was slowly rolling into the Birth Control Room, destroying billions of bits' worth of transdimensional spiritual weaponry.
The elevator gave a ding, the doors closed, and with all five ponies aboard, the lift rocketed upward.
As the doors opened back at the top floor, they all heaved a great sigh of relief and engaged in spontaneous, joy-induced hugs. Then—
"Pinkie!" shouted Rainbow Dash.
She was curled up, asleep, beside the mannequin body of Sam Jekyll.
"Well, shoot. She was laying here sleeping this whole time!" said Applejack. "I guess she got off lucky, missing the elevator like that."
"But what are these scuffs on her legs?" Rarity asked. "And her hair smells like," she gave a sniff, "ugh, dust and smoke."
"Knowing Pinkie, she probably climbed into the cremation furnace on accident," said Twilight. "Come on, girls. Let's get out of here."
With that, the six of them—Rainbow Dash carrying the still-sleeping Pinkie Pie, Applejack bearing Fluttershy on her back—left the Birth Control Clinic behind them, glad to finally be rid of another really stupid and unnecessary adventure.
