A cake is eaten, a passive construct formed
Once upon a time, in a clichéed introduction far, far away, the local semi-deity - an inordinately tall pony who took the term 'wavy hair' to a whole new level - sat down at her kitchen table and sighed contentedly.
"At last", said she, "cake!"
And, so saying, she grasped the regal fork in her magical magic, swooped down with inelegant grace, and cut a large lump of cake from the previously unblemished whole. The slice, a magnificent, halfbrick-sized portion of chocolatey, gooey goodness, stared at the hungered princess.
She stared back.
The cake, unwilling to break its gaze, held on unflinchingly. Celestia, not about to be beaten in a staring contest by a cake, clung on for dear life, eyes watering with the pressure.
Eventually, the cake had to give way, and Celestia patted herself on the back in well-earned self-congratulation. "Good show, old sport!", said she. "And now for cake!"
Alas, she had forgotten the most important ingredient, and only realised her mistake when the aeroplane had already entered the hangar of the royal piehole: there was no sweetcorn in the cake.
"Calamity!" Celestia managed to spray out her discomfitude between half-chewed mouthfuls of chocolate crumbs. "This is a great loss. For without sweetcorn, 'tis nought but a lie!"
At this juncture, Celestia's younger sister, Princess Luna, arrived. She was awake, and therefore unhappy, because she was at what their father referred to as "that funny age". Celestia attempted to give moral support.
"Don't worry old bean", she sympathised. "We all have to die eventually, for 'tis a rule of life!"
Luna simply groaned. "Hhh..."
"Ah, yes..." Celestia had just thought of a vital fact: alicorns can't die. "Just remembered: we can't die! So there really is no hope. Sorry about that, old spudge." And, without further ado, she continued her cake-based eatage.
Luna slouched down into the chair opposite, sighing mournfully. "Do you ever wonder," she asked, "what the meaning of Death is?"
Celestia, unable to reply due to her not insubstantial gullet being full of cake, merely shook her head.
"I don't know what the meaning of Death is either." Luna was obviously in the middle of a major existential crisis. "I think it's something like this: without Death, there can never be true Blackness. And Blackness is the best. Thus there must be Death."
This made perfect sense, and Celestia had the welcome feeling of having finally had answered for her one of Life's great mysteries. "But what," she managed to choke out, "but what is meaning of Life?"
Here, Luna smirked in triumph. "That's easy. The meaning of Life is 42!"
This was a stupid thing to say, as that is merely the answer to Life, the Universe and Everything, not the actual meaning thereof. Immediately the words were out of her mouth, Luna blushed in recognition of her immense idiocy. She stood up. "I think I'll be going now. I've some very important thinking about Death to do."
"Righto, old top", Celestia agreed. "You do that thing!"
As a departing shot, Luna dropped the bombshell she'd been saving up. "Oh, 'Tia", said she. "I've repainted your bedroom door. I saw a red door, and I wanted it painted black, so I just went with that. I know you won't mind."
Celestia did mind, hugely, but loved her angsty sister enough not to say so. "Oh, that's alright", she replied, already thinking up potential acts of revenge.
As Luna passed through the doorway, somepony else entered the room. It was everyone's favourite not-really a cutiemark crusader, Babs Seed. "So, like, I mean, what's up?" she asked, eloquent as always.
Celestia looked up. "Nothing, really. Just the ceiling, if that's what you mean?"
Babs fwuffed her hair. "Not really, it's like, just, y'know?"
Celestia did know, and nodded in appreciation. Now here, she thought, is a filly who knows how to think. "D'you want some cake?" she asked.
Babs looked rather surprised at this. "Nah man, it's like, just, not cool though, y'know, yeah?" Fwuff.
"Ah, yes", said Celestia, completely out of her depth but too polite to say so. "But of course. I know just what you mean. Not cool enough. Ah. Yes. I know that thing." And then, aware that it was, perhaps, a little unusual for a random almost-stranger from the other side of Equestria to just pop in unannounced on a visit, albeit with scintillating conversation to be had, she asked: "Why - if you don't mind me asking, that is - why are you here?"
"Scissors, man." Babs seemed almost shocked that the benign dictator of all Equestria should be so ill-informed, as well she might. "Dude, scissors, yeah, y'know?" Fwuff.
"Ah. Quite." There seemed so little else to say, really.
Fortunately, to break the tension, the post arrived at that very moment. Derpy Hooves, revelling in her at last canonical expression of postmarehood, cannoned fittingly through the window, shattering glass and showering everyone within range with crystalline fragments of previously superheated sand. "I'm sorry!" She was very sorry about it. "I just don't know what went wrong!"
Having said her piece, she handed over a large letter which, as everyone knows, must therefore have been an item up to 353mm in length, 250mm in width, and no more than 25mm in thickness. Celestia wasn't too happy about this. "I say, old prune", she intoned, using 'prune' as an evidential of her disgust, "what about all those beastly foreigners and old ponies who don't use metric? Speak Imperial, there's a good mare!"
This went over poor Derpy's head, but fortunately I'm here to help things along. In Imperial, the aforementioned large letter could be up to just under 14" long, about 10" wide, and roughly 1" thick. I don't know why Equestrian Royal Post insisted upon using metric, when the Imperial equivalents were so much easier to use, but there you go.
"Ah, that's much better", said Celestia. Babs Seed, who was a young pony, and hadn't quite got the hang of the Imperial system yet, merely fwuffed.
This persistent fwuffage fascinated Derpy to an inordinate degree, and she couldn't help but ask: "Why do you keep doing that with your face? Tell me why?"
"I don't like Mondays", said Babs.
Poor Derpy didn't consider this a good reason, because there was no good reason. But Babs seemed to take delight in it, so it must be alright. "Ooh", exclaimed the postmare.
And then Babs turned into Discord. Oh, thought Derpy. That makes way more sense.
"Hello everypony!" Discord smiled ingratiatingly at the grey mare standing o'er yonder. "Goodbye, Miss... Derpy, was it? I think you're going now."
Now, as I'm sure you'll agree, Derpy is as intelligent as the next not-especially intelligent pony, but despite this she didn't take the hint. "Oh no", she hastened to reassure the King of Chaos, "I'm not going anywhere."
Discord bared his teeth, of which there was no small amount. "Actually, I think you're mistaken. I particularly need to talk with Celestia alone. That means no postmares may be in evidence."
After a few moments of stumbling through coördinating clauses and unfamiliar lexicologisms, Derpy gave a giant "oh!" of understanding. "Okay!", she agreed, and flew off back out of the shattered window.
Celestia stared sadly at her still unfinished cake. "Well, Discord", she asked. "What can I do you for?"
Discord guffawed unnecessarily, before getting down to business. "'Tia, I'm sure you're aware of the reason for my visit. I'm here to offer moral support for poor Princess Luna, whom I hear is going through a... difficult time."
"As kind of you as that is" - Celestia struggled for the right words - "I think Luna will be alright without your special brand of support. She almost smiled at me just a few minutes ago, you know!"
Discord, ever ready to be the understanding, caring and yet slightly lairy uncle, grinned. "Fear not, 'Tia m'darling, I have a special friend with me to assist in the lending of moral support." And, so saying, he brought out that most magnificent of moral support givers: a pot of maremite.
"Now watch this." Discord clapped his claw thingy and lion's paw, and Luna popped into existence.
"Eurgh", she moaned, evidently having been drawn against her will from a room of eminent blackness. "Why am I here?"
"Fear not, Luna! I have here a special friend to lend moral support." So saying, he brought forth his Support of Legend.
"Maremite", it said.
"And now", said Discord, having dispensed with the frivolities, "I have some good news! You've been voted best princess!"
Luna actually perked up at hearing this unexpected piece of information. "Really!?"
Celestia grimaced, foreseeing the outcome of this conversation.
"Maremite." Discord again showed her the jar of maremite. "Not really! I was voted best princess! Hooray!"
"Eurgh", groaned Luna again, before teleporting away in a flash of existential smoke.
"And now", Discord grinned, "for cake!"
And, with that, he and Celestia tucked into what remained of the chocolate cake. It was during these few minutes that the picture of Celestia used as the cover art for this story was taken, by none other than Featherweight, who had been hiding in the chimney for three days for that perfect shot.
Author's Note
Don't say I didn't warn you. As it happens, I did warn you, and I also warned you that mint would be making an appearance. Sadly, it didn't. But don't be too disappointed, because here it is: MINT. Now, don't you feel better? Furthermore, ten points to Gryffindor - or your house of choice - for the first person to notice all the references within the narrative. There are about fivish, so get cracking!
