Last Story Before The Corporate Defamation Lawsuit
Nopony saw the wagons coming into Ponyville that night. Very few were awake that deep under Moon, and even those who shared the majority of their hours with Luna missed the arrival, for the advance scouts had been carefully surveying the settled zone for several weeks, and part of what they'd been sent to learn was how to avoid the eyes which were most accustomed to working with night vision. After all, there was always a chance that somepony, even one pony, had heard of them before, and that meant the best way to get established was to avoid all of them until the moment everything began.
Nopony saw the sales cart being unpacked from the largest of the wagons and placed into an already-rented waiting space (a prepaid voucher, mailed without a return address, with the signature carefully blurred) in the town's open air market. Nopony spotted the small army which moved beneath the cloud-ridden sky on a new Moon night, carefully leaving pieces of offer paper in front of every door. Sometimes the paper was placed into a mailbox, or jammed in front of a window pane. Multiple tear-away copies were placed on public notice boards. Anywhere they would be spotted. Anywhere it would be impossible to escape.
Nopony saw them arrive and afterwards, everypony agreed that if they'd only known, if there had been any chance, they would have united to stop it.
Yes, it's going to be that kind of story.
Consider this to be your only warning.
The offers had been personalized: that was another reason for the existence of the scout team. And so when the residents of Ponyville began to crowd into the market square that morning, they were curious. Excited. Happy. Because there are many beloved words in the Equestrian language, like "love" and "friendship" and "harmony" -- but few things get a pony's legs moving like "FREE."
"Hi!" the young adult pegasus mare greeted her first customer of the day, smiling prettily as she did so. She had a butter-yellow mane to go with a coral-pink coat, looking like nothing so much as the product of a lazy artist who felt a basic palette swap substituted for original work, or an equally lazy writer who was just pounding out a short piece and couldn't be bothered to come up with anything new. Or she would have if not for the other hues, for a pony in her line of work tended to take some of it to the next town with her, especially as she never got to enjoy some of the benefits of staying in the same place for more than a single day. Such as bathing.
The mare was actually rather attractive, as long as you didn't need to breathe.
"Hello!" the slender purple unicorn mare enthusiastically replied. "I found your offer --" a pinkish bubble carefully floated it forward "-- and I just had to drop by before the library opened! You're saying you can print up new shelf labels for me, with pictures of the subjects next to the words -- and you'll do it for free?"
"Well, of course!" the pegasus beamed. "That's what I do! I put pictures on things. Anything." She nodded to her mark, then gave the actual object it represented an affectionate pat with her left forehoof. "My printing press and I won't be happy until you are!"
"But..." The unicorn was displaying a certain amount of hard-learned caution now. "...for free? I mean, that's a lot of ink, and a lot of work, and -- I don't even know where you got the pictures, I don't have any unless you want me to sort through all the books and look for something appropriate, which is going to take a while. Because there's a lot of books. And pictures. Plus I'd have to set up some sort of formula where I could compare them all with each other for levels of appropriateness, and that just might wind up getting into a public vote, I don't even have a ballot box right now and --" She finally took a breath and found it to have been a bad idea. "-- anyway, this said it was a limited time offer. Today. That's not even enough time to evaluate Sex Education."
"Don't worry!" the pegasus happily exclaimed.
"And there's only four books in Sex Education," the unicorn considered. "Which I've never read, because it's so obviously stupid. Why would anypony need education on how to tell which sex somepony is?"
"I usually just look at the jaw," the pegasus admitted. "But don't worry! I can take care of that for you! I keep a large number of images in stock." A casual nod was made at a rather large oaken trunk. "Plus you're not the first library I've helped, and since I know what the others are using, all of my suggestions will be appropriate. So that's one free limited-time order of shelf labels plus certain minor expenses to be delivered to your tree later today!"
"...what was that middle part?"
"What part?"
"The part where, if I was transcribing this, I'd be using a really small font."
Cheerfully, "Oh, I was just repeating what's on the offer paper! And since you already read that, there's nothing to worry about!"
The unicorn's field bubble lifted the near-card up for mutual closer inspection.
"About the offer paper."
"Yes?"
"This black smudge at the bottom..."
"That's my Terms and Conditions!"
"Yes. I was wondering about that. What does it say?"
"Terms and Conditions," the pegasus admitted. "Plus some other stuff. But it's not very important, so I thought it didn't need to take up any real room. The white space around it is more important. The best things happen in the white space. That's why I used a very small font to transcribe them, which I already know you can appreciate."
"I tried to read it," the unicorn said. "With magnifying glasses. And devices. And one spell which I hadn't tried out before and has now left me with a magnifying glass three body lengths across. Which still didn't do the job, although now I know the fireproofing spell in the Accounting section isn't all it was cracked up to be. What does it say?"
"That your order is free!" the pegasus beamed. "Although there are certain minor expenses. So I'll have that to you later today?"
The unicorn seemed to be thinking about it, and the time it took her to consider her options created an opportunity for the dozens of other ponies who'd been approaching the stall and just hadn't been mentioned before now to vocalize their displeasure about how long she was taking, which was clearly keeping them from getting their free stuff. It made her blush intensely.
"Okay," she decided, mostly as a means of escaping. "Thank you! I'll look for the delivery at the library. Um -- who will the package be from?"
"I'm Shutterfly!" the mare continued to beam, as light glanced off the myriad of ink hues which stained every tooth.
The unicorn, who'd been on her way out, paused.
"Seriously?"
"Yes."
"Shutterfly?"
"Really!"
"And not --"
"-- coincidence," Shutterfly said. "Just coincidence. Certainly nothing anypony or anyone should try to sue over, especially when you consider that parody is protected speech."
The unicorn thought about that.
"Huh?"
"NEXT!"
They came two by two, and sometimes four by four, and when you considered the limb count on the pegasi, six by six. All of them came bearing their offer papers, with their special personalized freebies, and while some brought a certain amount of disbelief to the process, every last one had heard the call of FREE. And so Shutterfly smiled at them all, assured everypony that she had pictures aplenty if they didn't have any themselves, that she could in fact print on cloth and glass and had even figured out a technique for stamping images into clouds by weaving the ink into the water, which was a startlingly advanced technique which will not even remotely be discussed here because let's face it, that's just too potentially interesting to talk about, at least until the moment it goes wrong. They came, they showed her their offer papers, and she took their orders and promised same-day delivery to the addresses which her advance scouts had already put on file. And then when all of the ponies had been dispersed, which was a truly considerable number even when you realize nopony knows what the actual population of the area is, she began to work on their orders. Actually, when you think about things, it's even more amazing that she was able to take care of all those orders and get them delivered in a fraction of the very small amount of time over which this story takes place, but if you're thinking about things, you should probably decide it's her mark's magic at work and if you think about them beyond that, you probably shouldn't.
At any rate, for the purposes of this story, the orders were recorded, fulfilled, and delivered. All of them. However many of them there were, for whatever number of ponies made them. Seriously, would it be so much work for Twilight to take a Season 7 census? 'I count six of us, one dragon, several idiots, the trotting beehive, and about three hundred extras with five names and two body types each. None of whom are paying any taxes. No wonder my library budget sucked.'
Now in a much better story, the wandering printer might have found a permanent home, slowly becoming accepted by the locals, perhaps saving a life or two with her ability to quickly post an eye-catching emergency notice, had a good laugh with somepony whose name just happened to resemble her own by, and I can't stress this enough, pure coincidence, and eventually found love with whatever pony hasn't been shipped before now and dear sweet Celestia, figuring that one out is going to take a while. But you were already warned and you're still here, so consider everything which happens after this to be entirely your fault.
It was sometime after noon when the first customer came back.
"Excuse me," said the customer, who will not be identified just yet because this story has no real dramatic tension, so we'd better fake something for a few seconds.
"Yes?" chirped a happy Shutterfly, who'd been caught in the middle of counting.
"About your free offer," the customer said. "The one y'sent t' the barn all personal-like." (Oh, great, now that's torn it.)
"Did it arrive intact?" Shutterfly inquired. "I have a satisfaction policy regarding the packaging."
"Naw, no problems there," Applejack said, helpfully using two forms of the same negative word in order to keep her speech pattern from becoming any more confusing than it already was. "It's jus' -- everythin' else."
"Such as?"
"Well... first off, the offer card said free."
"Yes! Your prints were completely free! Now, as I recall, I made you up some pictures of apples on wooden signs, so you could put them in your own cart's barrels and attract customers with a larger-than-life image of your product. So what seems to be the problem?"
"The cost."
"The prints were free."
"Your deliverypony told me t' kick over thirty bits before Ah could even see the prints. How is that s'pposed t' be free?"
"Well," Shutterfly smiled with the ease of somepony who knew that assault charges would be brought against the pony who kicked first, "the prints are free. There are, however, a few other fees, as explained on the offer paper."
"Y'mean the one which Twi's still tryin' to read, which is why we've currently got a magnifyin' glass the size of the library where the street in front of it used t' be, an' there's a Sun-burned hole going down 'bout two pony heights into the ground?"
"...really?"
"Could be three by now. Ah'm estimatin'." Disgruntled, "Ain't like anypony's ever said what the average height was neither. So anyway, thirty bits. Why?"
"Well, there's the delivery charge..."
"Ah'm four carts down. Y'can see me if y'jus' learn your head out a little. Y'could have kicked it t' me iffin the wind was right."
"Oh, I'm much more careful than that with my prints," Shutterfly assured her. "That's why I wrapped them. Which was four bits of the thirty."
Applejack considered that. "Four bits."
"Yes."
"Two sheets of tissue paper. Four bits."
"Well, there's a certain amount of time involved in wrapping them up, especially by mouth. Which brings us to the handling fee."
"Handlin' fee."
"Yes."
"Y'ain't got hands. An' again, not sure Ah can stress this enough 'cause it's easier to say that and have a runnin' word theme goin', Ah'm four carts down."
"But the pictures were satisfactory?"
"Yeah. The pictures. Probably 'bout time we got t' that. Y'used what you called 'stock photos' of apples?"
"I find it saves my clients a great deal of time when I give them appropriate images from my vast catalog --"
"-- got any stock photos without worms eatin' the apples?"
"Oh, you want our deluxe stock catalog! For just ten bits --"
The hard glare from the green eyes cut her off, and the farmer stomped off.
Shutterfly smiled to herself and waited for the next, because again, it's that kind of story. Seriously, I would have thought some of you would have learned after the Sherman Tank.
"So is there a problem with your order?"
"No. The order's fine. And I guess I understand the delivery charge, unlike the last twenty ponies who were in the line ahead of me. And the packaging. And the print cost for putting your logo on the packaging. It's just the offer paper."
"What about it?"
"Well, I got the one this morning, obviously."
"Right."
"And then I got my order."
"My delivery staff is exquisite."
"And then I got an offer paper."
"Well, you hadn't ordered in a while, so I thought if I sent you a reminder..."
"Your cart was set up for the first time today. It's the same day."
"Yes, but not for much longer! You really need to act fast if you want to take advantage of my special free offer for repeat customers! It's only good until Sun-lowering! And if you place your order now, you might be able to get home in time to find out what I'm willing to sacrifice for three-time clients! It's really spectacular. So how many copies of your second free offer would you like? Please keep in mind that there's a separate wrapping charge for each. Also, they're delivered individually, because spacing them out really helps you appreciate the sequencing of your images. Better hurry, because I can already tell you your fourth offer won't go past midnight!"
And it went on like that for a while, with neither pony being identified in any way beyond alternating their dialogue because let's face it: the author is just cranking this one out over some level of personal issue with a company that shall not be identified and once again, let's just remind everyone that parody is protected speech. Hey, isn't it about time for one of those line breaks?
Told you.
You know, I seem to remember putting the mayor in the character tags. And that's because I had some vague idea that I might be using her at the time, but frankly, I had no concept of how. Still, it's really too much trouble to edit, and I'd like to get this thing up tonight. So let's see. We've already got the mayor promised for an appearance, and I've said that Shutterfly knows how to print things on clouds, but something goes wrong. Why don't we just tie those two things together and make it look like I planned everything out the whole time? Because the illusion of plotting and competence is important, even when I just totally shattered it for the sake of a cheap joke and some extra digits on the final word count!
I am so losing a hundred followers after this at least.
"I would like to discuss," said the mayor with the desperate attempt at illusionary competence which can only be produced by a mare who hasn't done anything more than perform as an opening act in six seasons (but may still have her own short story coming up for the main 'verse once America reaches November 9th and I can risk something political without making that loss into four hundred followers), "my signage."
Shutterfly immediately perked up. "Oh, the cloud order! I'm always so happy to get one! You know, I think I may have invented the technique which makes it all possible? Nopony thought it was possible to bond ink with water across a flexible surface, but once I let my field flow along just the right conduit..."
"Yes, yes, we're all very aware that the author is too lazy to make up fresh vocabulary for magic terms no one else is ever going to bother using," the mayor snapped. "At any rate, regarding my signs --"
"-- I can explain the fees --"
"-- oh, please." The mayor waved what, if but for the cruelty of anatomy, would have been a dismissive hand. "I'm a politician. If you can't bury a dozen extra charges in a form, you're not doing your job, I always say, although not when I'm under oath. I have no problem with your fees. I paid your fees. In fact, when the problem began, I was in the middle of taking several notes while considering hiring you as an advisor, mostly so I could keep an eye on you. But that stopped when my staff --"
"-- you have a staff?"
"Restrictive animation budget."
Shutterfly sagely nodded.
"At any rate," Mayor Marigold Mare continued, because she was finally given a name in the main 'verse continuity and much like the magic terms, no matter how little everyone cares, we're gonna keep using all of it, "I was told that my signage would soon be passing by overhead. And once again, I truly did love the idea. Bonding ink to clouds through whatever amount of frankly lazy magical doubletalk was required, producing floating advertisements for my campaign. My face. My slogan."
"'Building A Better Tomorrow Through Harmony,'" Shutterfly quoted in the service of moving the rather minimal plot along.
"Yes. Well, your one-of-a-kind technique certainly binds ink to clouds. What it does not appear to do is keep them from changing shape when pressed upon by normal wind and air currents. I would normally wonder why that is --"
"-- well, the molding seems to -- "
"-- Celestia's hooves, enough with the magical doubletalk! The point is that by the time the first cloud reached my view, the distortion of its shape had altered the words somewhat." Marigold took a deep breath. "To wit, I now have an entirely different slogan." She dramatically paused.
Nothing happened.
"Psst!" said the director from her place within the white space, because all the best things happen there. "Line!"
"Huh?" said Shutterfly, who had missed the last rehearsal, and totally not because she decided to go behind the barn set with Big Mac and -- what's this story rated? Everyone? Really? -- go behind the barn set and discuss philosophy. Aristotle. Or Aristrotle, as you like.
"Ask her what the new slogan is!" the director hissed. "She's only pausing to build whatever tiny amount of drama can exist in this pitiful farce!"
"Oh!" Shutterfly blushed. "Sorry. I got distracted by the dramatic unities."
"Yes, I know," the director said without a single hint of innuendo. "You do seem to discuss those a lot. Just keep going. We'll take out the break in editing."
The pegasus looked worried. "Since when does the writer edit anything?"
"I'm sure we'll be fine. This time. For once. Lazy piece of..." The director faded back into the white space, where there was a party and concert and all the secrets of the 'verse which no one cares about, including that one you got wrong in the last Comments section. Really, I thought you would have worked it all out long before this.
"And what's the new slogan?" Shutterfly asked, at least after she finally remembered what her character's motivation was.
Marigold took a slow breath. "Breaking A Better Bad Through Meth."
"That's an... oddly specific distortion," Shutterfly considered.
"Yes, well, have you seen what passes for our alphabet lately?" the mayor snapped. "And that was just the one cloud. If you go out by the dam, I am apparently promising to 'Butter A Batter Timmy For Money.' Who is this Timmy and why would somepony pay to batter him? But at least those two retained the image of my face, however unfortunate that might turn out to be in the long run. I know of three other clouds where the slogan remained intact, but the section with my picture changed. As a result, Discord is now running for mayor in this district."
"Oh."
"And he's polling at thirty-seven percent. Although everypony keeps telling me that's his ceiling, while he insists that the polls are skewed because we're only counting pony voters and Luna's star-tangled tail, it isn't even November 9th yet!" She reared up, slammed both forehooves onto the ground. "Fix this. Now."
Shutterfly considered her next words to be a favor, because usually, you had to call a customer service center in Yakyakistan to get this kind of answer, and not only was nopony sure if that nation existed in what passed for this continuity, but everypony knew phones didn't. Shutterfly often regretted that, because while she could put on her own contrived accent at will, it was a lot harder to put somepony on hold for an hour when they were standing right in front of you. "If I shipped you a picture-printed mug, and a wind gust knocked your hoof out of the loop -- yes, I realize how unlikely that is, but anatomy -- so that it fell and broke, would you tell me I was liable for the replacement?"
"...no."
"So if I put a cloud in the sky, and the wind blows it around --"
"-- today is your first day in Ponyville."
"Yes."
"Has your business been in other settled zones prior to this?"
"Lots of them!" Shutterfly said with obvious pride.
"For how long?"
"Oh, we've been in business for --"
"How. Long. Each?"
For the first time, Shutterfly looked slightly cross. "Look, this story's never getting on TVTropes. You don't need to try to get a Punctuated! For! Emphasis! listing."
They both paused to see if any reader would scoot off to the linked page and add the example. It didn't happen.
"You say you print pictures on anything," the mayor finally resumed. "Would that be correct?"
"Absolutely! And if you place a second free order today --"
"-- so I could get, just by way of totally random example, a picture of your face on a Wanted poster. Pitchforks. How are you with torches?"
"...you know, a lot of ponies ask that question, which is why --"
The mayor raised an interrupting hoof, which was the only thing she ever used that hoof for. "Oh. Wait. I sense that the writer just remembered having brought in our librarian at the very start of this supposed tale, and has also just realized that a dangling 'plot' thread might not be the best idea in an effort already destined for a one to twelve upvote to downvote ratio. Do you mind if I step out for a bit?"
"No, go ahead." Shutterfly sighed. "I understand about having to work with hacks."
"Well, at least you're just a temporary." Mournfully, "I supposedly have my own short story coming up."
"I'm very sorry," Shutterfly sincerely offered.
They embraced, and the mayor cried into the printer's ink-stained shoulder for a while. Then the elected official left, and Twilight stepped in.
"Marks!" the director called out.
They both looked at their flanks.
"Other marks!"
The mares got into position. Twilight took a slow breath and hoped not to sound too much like Timmy Turner on her next line.
"MY SHELF LABELS!" she cried out with the pain of an obsessive-compulsive who knew that someday in her own splinter continuity, she might be stuck staring at a beehive hairdo for moons upon moons with no way to destroy it.
"What about them?"
"The... the stock photo Sex Education picture..."
"This story is rated Everyone," Shutterfly politely reminded her. "Incidentally, did you enjoy the free tacking glue? It'll never come off!"
"I KNOW!!" Twilight wailed.
And with that, the director sent everyone to line break.
Well, you can just imagine the disasters which came after that. In fact, you're pretty much going to wind up doing all that work yourself, because this is a hack job which the author is using to clear out mental room for a much more serious Spike piece and as everyone keeps telling the writer, these things just run on way too long already because someone doesn't know how to write short. So let me explain. No. There is too much: let me sum up. No, there is too little: let me rip off The Princess Bride. But after that, let me bullet point, because the Mane Cast character tag was put on this thing, so let's just run through a few of the others and say you got your money's worth, which is a total lie because no one was going to pay for it and even the author realized how ridiculous this thing was and made it a Patreon freebie.
(Can you believe this? Linking to that site in the middle -- okay, nearly the end -- of a story? What nerve! Why, that should cost seven hundred followers!)
* Rainbow? Of course Rainbow has pictures of herself, which she puts in prints to give out with autographs, also of herself, and let's face it: having sixteen thousand in emergency reserve just isn't enough because eventually, the entire population of Equestria is going to want one, and who knows how many ponies that is. So naturally, she took the opportunity to have some extras made. And it's totally not her fault that the image she lovingly brought in somehow got switched for a stock photo of a rainbow dash. As in, a - with rainbow patterns on it. Why would that be a stock photo? I'm sorry: are you seriously looking for logic now?
* Spike? He briefly appeared in the story as a reminder that he existed. There's no need to talk about what he actually did. Is there ever? Besides, he's got a feature piece coming up in a day or two. Geez, it's like giving a pinch hitter one inning at first base, and then they spend the rest of their supposed career demanding to start...
* Rarity's targeted offer was to make up some new catalogs for her business. So naturally she bit on that. And she received some truly fine catalogs indeed. Now as soon as she decides to start selling charming pictures of cats, she's all set.
* Pinkie always needs extra party invitations! It's not as if she can just pull the thousands she uses every year out of thin air, at least not that you know about but probably suspect anyway. So she ordered them! And they were delivered! Correctly printed! In the right language! Every birthday in Ponyville accounted for, with everypony who'd be attending! And every single invitation had its own delivery charge! Plus the packaging cost of all that tissue paper! It's specially-printed, you know!
* Lyra did something which did not involve humans in any way, because humans still don't exist. Deal with it.
* And there were a whole bunch of other ponies, but honestly, who cares? We all know what you're here for. So let's wrap this up and skip to most of what's never going to be the punchline already, just like that tank story. Hey, at least you're dealing with a consistent hack.
Shutterfly resumed counting her money as the wagons made their way out of Ponyville, while her assistants went to work on snuffing out the last of the flames on the fire-resistant walls. Because she made some profit on delivery and assorted fees which included handling without hands, but the three things she never gave out as a free picture-printed item were the Wanted posters, pitchforks, and torches. It was actually rather hard to print a picture on a torch, and finding a way to make the smoke form a silhouette of her face had taken two years.
And then the wagon train stopped, for there was a yellow pegasus hovering in front of Shutterfly's conveyance.
"...is this about done?" she eventually asked.
"I think so," Shutterfly replied. "We are on our way out of town, and I think the writer wants to get in some Hulu before bed."
"...it was a very cheap joke," Fluttershy considered.
"Well, you know," Shutterfly shrugged.
They both nodded and as one, said "Hack."
Each smiled at the other.
"...so where are you going next?" Fluttershy asked.
"Well, we're close," Shutterfly considered. "Just one gallop -- how far is that, anyway?"
"...it's been over fifty stories and I still have no idea," Fluttershy admitted. "One gallop? So you're... going to Canterlot?"
"Of course!" Shutterfly beamed. "I bet the palace needs lots of printing done! So long, suckers!"
And a hovering Fluttershy watched the wagon caravan roll by, waiting until the very last pony was well out of earshot before whispering "...so long, you palette-swap cheap ripoff of a one-note joke..."
Some say that the very last words spoken by the first pony royally executed in over six hundred years, in the last moment before the trapdoor opened and the noose went taut, were "You know, if you give me an hour, I can run off some free quills to commemorate this kind of special event. And the delivery charge would only be --"
But few ponies were truly listening, because most of them had been dispatched to Ponyville so they could help seal the tunnel into Tartarus which had been burned into the earth by a giant magnifying glass.
(Bet you thought I forgot about that, didn't you?)
(I smell a sequel!)
