Twilight Sparkle Drops (Red)Pills
Author's Note
TRIGGER WARNING
If it's possible for you to get triggered, you most likely will be. Proceed at your own caution, and don't say I didn't warn you.
Twilight Sparkle Drops (Red)Pills
“Okay, this has gone on long enough,” Twilight Sparkle said, groaning as she looked over the desolate scene of absolute carnage that used to be Ponyville. Hundreds, if not thousands of zebra immigrants had flooded her town over the past few months, and believe me, the sight was not a pretty one; thousands of zebras, displaced from their ancestral home, raping and pillaging the town she once loved while (((griffon))) lobbyists patrolled the sky for any signs of hate speech.
It was a nightmare.
As Twilight walked down the road to her castle, which had remained zebra-free thus far, she passed by a revolting sight that she had come to see far too often:
“Pl-Please!” the mare begged a pair (((griffon))) guards, just two of the many (((gryphs))) who had been placed around Equestria in order to moderate and regulate any opposition to their cause (and in many places, to replace the existing pony-dominated Equestrian police forces). “You have to help me! I-I was just attacked and... h-he pushed himself on me and was tr-trying t-to... trying to...”
“Ma’am, please calm down,” the (((griffon))) guard on the left said. “We want to help, but if you’re in such a state of disarray and cannot present us with a factual account of what happened to you, we can’t be expected to be very effective. Can you please describe your attacker?”
“W-Well,” the mare sniffled, wiping her nose with a hoof as she tried to steady her shaking voice. “H-He was a zebra—”
The two guards turned to look at each other and burst out into a high pitched, irritating cacophony, which some experts have theorized is the (((griffon))) form of laughter. “Move along, please,” one of the (((griffons))) said through his mirth, wiping a tear from his eye with a talon. “We don’t need to hear anti-zebrican rhetoric in an attempt to slander the immigrants just because you’re a racist.”
Twilight shook her head sadly, and continued to walk to her home. “I have to put a stop to this,” she muttered, visions of the poor, abused mare flashing in her mind.
Twilight wasted no time once she was in her castle, immediately swooping to the library, which now only had a few ragged books lining its shelves. “I know it’s in here somewhere,” the alicorn muttered to herself as she flicked through the remaining books she had left (as most zebras are illiterate, it was deemed “racist” to own, purchase, or distribute anything with written language on it; Twilight had hidden a cache of her most important tomes and grimoires in the sub-sub-sub basement cavern complex beneath her home, situated between the sub-sub basement BDSM dungeon and the sub-sub-sub-sub basement ice cream shop).
“Let’s see here,” Twilight muttered as she perused the titles left in her possession. “‘The Passing of the Great Equine Race’, ‘The Origin of Species’, ‘War and Peace’, ‘The Complete Works of Coltaire’, ‘Paradise Lost’, ‘Donke’s Inferno’, ‘For Whom The Bell Tolls’, ‘Magic; History-Theory-Practice’, ‘The Benefits of Social Darwinism in the Unicorn Social Castes’—Ah! Here it is!”
Twilight extracted a thick, dusty tome, and blew hard on the cover. Waves of dust rolled from its elephant-scrotum leather cover, revealing a single, four-armed symbol on the front.
Twilight smiled, and flipped open the book, ready to get to work.
Four months ago...
"I just don't think that non-equestrians should have a say in our governmental process, nor should they be allowed to make massive decisions or changes to our immigration policy," Twilight said, looking back and forth between Celestia, Luna, and Gedeon Goldberg, (((griffon))) ambassador to Equestria.
"Hey, that's anti-griffonic!" Gedeon said, hissing through his beak as his curled feathers descending from his traditional (((griffon))) cap bounced madly.
“Well, why don’t you let them immigrate to your kingdom?” Twilight asked, sighing softly in exasperation. “Griffonstone is almost exclusively griffon, we have quite a few non-equine species living peacefully with us already. And we’re not exactly in a position to take in migrants; we’ve got our economic issues and several kingdom-wide securities matters we need to attend to first. Ever since Equestria started giving aid to Griffonstone, you’ve risen to be one of the most successful economies on the continent! You’re in much better condition to be accepting immigrants.”
Gedeon bristled angrily, his neck feather puffing out in a display of pure rage. “That’s anti-griffonic! How dare you suggest we take in foreigners after what Equestria did to us!” Gedeon leaned in close, so close that Twilight could smell the rat on his breath. “Or need I remind you of the six million?”
“Well,” Twilight said, gritting her teeth angrily. “That’s another thing; after doing some research, I think I’d like to dispute that; there’s no—”
“What!?” Gedeon shrieked in outrage. “Are you denying the death of 7 billion griffons? You disgusting anti-griffonic monster!”
“What? Let me finish! You can’t just claim something happened and then not expect people to go and verify it!”
“You are insulting the memory of the 8 trillion griffons who died at the hooves and horn of that monster Hitlercron and his tide of unicorn nationalists!” Gedeon spat. “Disgusting! DISGUSTING!”
“Twilight, please avoid triggering our esteemed guest,” Celestia sighed. “I know you’re upset, but you have to understand; in order to make up for the atrocities we’ve committed against the griffons—”
“What atrocities?” Twilight snapped back. “There’s no evidence for any of the claims the griffons have put forth about these ‘atrocities’—”
“STOP! STOP!” Gedeon screamed, clapping his talons around the holes in his head that roughly approximate to a griffon’s ears. “STOP WITH THIS HORRIBLE ANTI-GRIFFONIC RHETORIC! I’LL HAVE YOU THROWN OUT OF THE CASTLE FOR THIS!”
“We have freedom of speech in Equestria,” Twilight deadpanned. “Even if you wanted to kick me out, you couldn’t on those grounds.”
“Well, not for long,” Gedeon said. “That whole ‘freedom of speech’ schmutz that you filthy ponim seem to love so much will soon be a thing of the past. No more unsafe, hurtful opinions! With the help of our elite group of Gedankenpolize and the AML, anti-griffonism will finally be eradicated!”
“The AML?” Twilight asked, cocking an eyebrow.
“The Anti-Mean League,” Gedeon clarified. “It’s a group dedicated to finding all the mean things ever said about griffons and criminalizing them.”
“And you’re okay with this?” Twilight asked Celestia, who was staring blankly down at the table before her. “How can you be okay with this?”
“Twilight, I learned something very important in that mandatory equine studies and griffon history course I was gently coerced into taking,” Celestia said softly. “I do have my own thoughts and opinions about this, but to best avoid continuing my path as the aggressive oppressor, I have chosen to keep them to myself.”
“This is absurd,” Twilight groaned. “Griffons shouldn’t even be allowed to participate in our government! This is Equestria! You have your own kingdom to govern!”
"If griffons shouldn’t be allowed to participate in your government, then how come there are over 200 griffonic lobbies in the Equestrian Parliament?" Gedeon said smugly.
"Because you said it was anti-griffonic to not let you participate in our government after you claimed that Hitlercron massacred all your people!"
"Hey! Are you still denying the griffonicaust?"
"Well, like I said earlier, historical analysis leads us to believe—"
"HISTORICAL ANALYSIS IS ANTI-GRIFFONIC!" Gedeon shrieked.
“He’s right, you know,” Celestia said.
Twilight slammed her head against the table.
Gedeon stood on the balcony of Canterlot Palace, overlooking hundreds of thousands of ponies from all across the nation who had gathered to hear the revolution speech of peace, racial tolerance, and equality that had been promised to them by the many propaganda posters that had been delicately plastered all over every available surface of Equestria.
Gedeon came up to the microphone, and cleared his throat, a hideous, ear-splitting noise emanating from it. “Oi vey! Get this anti-griffonic device away from me!” Gedeon squawked, swiping at it with a talon. Hurriedly, a few pony attendants scurried in with a replacement, this one set at the right volume.
“Greetings, esteemed ponies of Equestria!” Gedeon said, his voice ringing out across Canterlot, reaching the ears of every last stallion, mare, and foal in the audience. “Today, I speak to you about change; a change for the better; a change for progress; a paradigm shift into the next realm of social interaction between the many wonderful races of Equestria!”
The ponies of the crowd jostled about, whispering to each other frantically, most of them confused or clueless as to what the (((griffon))) was talking about.
"I think there is a resurgence of anti-griffonism because at this point in time Equestria has not yet learned how to be multicultural,” Gedeon continued. “And I think we are going to be part of the throes of that transformation, which must take place. Equestria is not going to be the monolithic society it once was in the last century. Griffons are going to be at the centre of that. It’s a huge transformation for Equestria to make. They are now going into a multicultural mode and griffons will be resented because of our leading role. But without that leading role and without that transformation, Equestria will not survive."
Gedeon dropped the mic, the feedback echoing across the masses of awestruck ponies. “Open the floodgates,” he whispered, a psychotic grin contorting his beak.
Meanwhile, in the present...
Twilight took a shuddering breath, and placed the frog down on the cross. She raised her hammer, and gently set the nails against the frog’s limbs. As quickly as she could, she drove the nails deep into the frog’s supple flesh, and yet the amphibian made not a sound. She repeated this action twice, cringing all the way. At last, when the final nail was set, she stepped back, preparing the last part of the summoning.
“Praise Kek,” she whispered as she sprinkled the crucified frog with splashes of water from a bucket labeled “Griffon Tears”. The frog hung there, motionless for a moment, before it raised its head to gaze deep into Twilight’s eyes.
“Feels good man,” he croaked, and with a gigantic flash of light and an incredible, overwhelming roar, the entire room exploded. Twilight was flung back by the sheer kinetic force of the explosion, pinned against the wall of the far side of her room as wave after wave of insurmountable heat and blinding light washed over her. At last, it died down, Twilight peeling from the wall like a ten day-old tomato slice.
Standing in the scorched remains of the ritual site, cloaked in shadow and vapors, was a tall, well-defined male figure. As the dust settled and the haze cleared, Twilight was able to gain a more concrete view of the being standing in the ruins of her library.
He was a tall, well-built man, with skin of perfect bronze; his hair, impeccable in every way, rippled like a flaxen field of freedom, regardless of the fact that there was no wind to carry it; and his face! Oh, his gorgeous face... Twilight felt her knees grow weak just by looking at it.
“I was summoned?” he said, his voice as rich and smooth as the tears of a thousand (((griffons))). Twilight squeaked, and flung herself at his feet, hooves curled around his suave ankles.
“Mr. Trump,” she breathed, her voice barely more than a whisper. “You’ve come!”
“Not yet,” Trump said, smiling charmingly down at the purple pony princess. “But in time...” His arm shot out, and Twilight yelped, stiffening as she felt a heavenly sensation creep up the back of her body. Trump contracted his fingers, and Twilight’s eyes rolled back, her jaw popping open as her mind grew fuzzy.
“Th-Thank you, Donald,” Twilight whimpered, her legs finally giving out as the quaking heap of alicorn collapsed at Trump’s feet. Trump smiled, and wiped his hand on his pants, whistling a soft tune to himself as he made for the door.
“W-Wait!” Twilight called out, still little more than a gibbering heap lost in the throes of ecstasy. “I haven’t told you what I summoned you for!”
“Oh, there’s no need,” Trump said, flashing a smile so dazzling that Twilight’s eye sustained permanent corneal damage. “I am only ever summoned for one purpose...”
President Trump stood out before the ruins of Ponyville, observing the rampaging zebras and renegade (((griffon))) patrols swooping through the sky; The God-Emperor sighed, and reached into his pockets. From his left, he extracted the finest cuban cigar his endless access to the United States Treasury could buy, and from his alt-right pocket, he unearthed a small loan of 19.5 trillion dollars. Placing the cigar in his mouth, President Trump snapped his fingers, and the thick wad of bills burst into flames. Looking up into the sky, he cocked his arm back, and with the skill and strength of a Yankees pitcher, flung the burning money up into the sky.
“Hey! Is that money?” he heard one of the patrolling (((griffons))) chirp greedily.
“Holy Moloc! It is!” another one squawked. “It’s mine! I saw it first!”
“Like hell you did!”
“Hey! Get the hell off of me! You anti-griffonic fiend!”
“I’m a griffon too, you idiot! Give the—”
There was a massive explosion, and bits of charred feathers, burning U.S. currency, and extra-crispy chicken rained down around Trump. The leader of the free world chuckled, and reached into the pocket of his expertly-tailored suit. Removing a small book of matches, he struck one, and puffed on his cigar as he bent over, picking up a drumstick from the remains of the (((griffons))), and took a hearty bite.
“Looks like President Trump is—” Trump removed his sunglasses, reached into his suit, put on another pair, and then placed the original pair back on top of them. “The bomb.”
A chorus of electric guitars being shredded into a fine powder set the backdrop for God-Emperor Trump as he sauntered into the middle of Ponyville, head held high. His gaze fell on rampaging zebras and scared ponies, but he knew that what he saw was merely the symptom, not the cause. Every time his eyes were lain on a (((griffon))), however, he could feel his All-American blood beginning to boil.
Trump slipped his hand down his pants, fumbling around under his Trump Tower™, groping for his NRA-Approved Taint-Holster. Finally feeling his fingers clench around the cold barrel of his AR-15, the president easily slid it out of his trousers, the safety already off; any good gun owner always leaves their safety off, in case they need to protect people at 500 FPS at the drop of a Jihad. Aiming the assault rifle up into the air, Trump’s superhuman bionic vision locked on to the nearest (((griffon))) above him, and he opened fire.
It was a right massacre; the (((griffons))), unused to this kind of superior American firepower, easily fell by the hail of freedom Trump was blasting at them. They fell, one after another, to the ground, where many simply burst open like sacks of flour, their innards spilling out across the ground.
A miraculous effect began to take place: as each (((griffon))) was slain, a small group of zebras would stop their mass destruction and terror and simply stand there, confused and bewildered.
“Be free!” Trump bellowed. “Return to your homelands! I have broken the griffonic mind control forcing you to come and destroy Equestria! You are no longer part of their scheme!” The zebras cheered, and began to flood out in droves from the ruins of Ponyville as Trump freed more and more of them with each consecutive firing of his weapon.
“Look at this carnage we caused, it is truly hell; how are we supposed to live with ourselves?” one zebra lamented as he looked over the desolate ruins of Ponyville.
“Sounds like a problem between you and your psychologist,” Trump said, mowing down a pair of AML soldiers who were diving to attack him with a boiling pot of tar.
(((Griffon))) guards, both of AML and the Gedankenpolize, attempting to fight back against Trump, but it was to no avail; their swords broke on his perfectly sculpted chest, arrows simply bounced off the kevler-esque weave of his hair, and none of them even got close enough to attempt to peck, scratch, or bite. In less than an hour, Ponyville was littered with the eviscerated corpses of over two-hundred (((griffons))), one for each (((griffonic))) lobby in the Equestrian Parliament.
Twilight walked to the center of Ponyville, whistling as she admired President Trump’s handiwork. The God-Emperor was standing in the center of Ponyville, AR-15 still at the ready. Despite the taxing ordeal he had just undergone, Trump had not even shed a single droplet of sweat. Some theorize that his body works so efficiently that he has no need to sweat; others chalk it up to an optical illusion caused by the massive amounts of tanning spray he uses.
“Excellent work!” Twilight said happily. “You did a fantastic job, Mr. Trump.”
“Please,” Trump said, smiling warmly at the princess as he removed his sunglasses and allowed his weapon to rest at his side. “Call me ‘Daddy’.”
Twilight giggled, blushing furiously. “O-Okay, ‘Daddy’.”
“There is still work to be done,” Trump said, his nostrils flaring. “My freedom glands detect that this problem is nationwide, correct?”
Twilight nodded.
“Then I know exactly what we must do next,” Trump said. He closed his eyes, and pursed his lips, humming softly to himself. Twilight watched in awe as the man began to glow with a soft light, and then distort, almost as if he were an image stuck between two TV channels. From the glow, another figure emerged from Trump... and then another... and then another. Fifteen different figures, all made of the same glow, emerged from the president. When the glow died down, their features were defined, and Twilight gasped.
Sixteen Trumps stood before her, each one more identical than the last. She rubbed her eyes with her hooves, and blinked a few times. They were still there.
“I have killed enough griffons to have powered up my freedom duplicator,” Trump explained. “These copies of me will be able to carry out my work to the ‘T'." He paused, his mouth open slightly, his brow furrowed. Twilight stood there in an awkward silence as Trump's pause carried on from five seconds, to ten, and then to thirty.
"Um, Mr. Trump, sir? Are you—"
"—R-U-M-P’. When they have managed to expunge all the griffons from Equestria, they will fade," he finished. Twilight nodded, Trump having just explained a simple death-to-clone transfer spell. It was one of the first spells ever devised, first brought into practice in Equestria over 1000 years ago by Starswirl The Bearded himself, and first brought into practice on Earth by the members of the Catholic Church in the early 10th century.
Trump slapped the nearest clone to him on the rump, who jumped a little at the sensuous spank. “Ooh~!”
“Get to work! Or I’m firing all of you!” he screamed at his clones. The fifteen Trumps saluted the O.G. Donnie, and scattered, each one heading in different directions.
“Wait! I didn’t tell any of them where they need to go!” Twilight said, watching as the Trumps marched away.
Trump no.1 smiled. “Don’t you worry, I have faith in my boys; they’ll get the job done,” he said as a Trump behind him walked directly into a smouldering building, immediately catching fire and flailing about as he melted.
“Alright, I trust in you,” Twilight said.
“Is there anything else that needs to be done?” Trump asked, watching as ponies slowly began to come out of hiding in order to assess the damage.
“No, I think we can handle it from—” Twilight stopped mid-sentence as she saw a familiar (((bird))) peek around the edge of Sugarcube Corner, which had been nearly completely burnt to the ground save for a single surviving wall. “Actually... there is one more thing. Get him!”
Gedeon swerved to look in Twilight’s direction, and the (((griffon))) opened his beak in mixed fear and anger as his wings flared, ready to take flight. But President Trump has the reflexes of a cheetah on coke, so before he could even say “shoah”, Trump had Gedeon pinned against his chest in a tight lock, unable to move.
“Let me go! I won’t stand for this! Get me my lawyer!” Gedeon screamed, thrashing about in Trump’s vicegrip.
“Gedeon Goldberg,” Twilight said as she approached the struggling (((griffon))). “For crimes against Equinity and conspiracy to commit genocide against the equine races of Equestria, I sentence you to...” she paused for dramatic effect, drinking in Gedeon’s enraged and fearful expression as Trump’s fabulously muscled arms rippled every now and again. “The Truth.”
“NO!” Gedeon screamed. “ANYTHING BUT THAT! YOU KNOW THE TRUTH IS HIGHLY TOXIC TO GRIFFONS! HAVE SOME MERCY, PLEASE!”
"I know for a fact that the griffonicaust is a complete fake, because it's a simple technical arithmetic,” Twilight said, smiling viciously as Gedeon writhed against Trump’s powerful grip. “It can be solved by a foal in high school. Now, any chemist knows you can't gas anyone with hydrocyanic acid, 1000 or 2000 at a time... there were only 3.2 Million griffons living in Griffonstone at the time, so I don't know how Hitlercron could kill 6 Million griffons when there were only 3.2 Million living in Griffonstone."
“Stop! STOP!” Gedeon screamed, his face beginning to droop, feathers fluttering from him as Trump kept him held tightly in place. “STOP SPREADING YOUR ANTI-GRIFFONIC LIES!”
Twilight tittered softly. “Conclusion: the griffonicaust didn’t happen.” She leaned in, her eyes sparkling with national pride as she stared into Gedeon’s beady, bloodshot ones. “But it should have.”
Gedeon opened his rapidly deforming beak, melting as though it were clay in the hot sun, eyes bugging, bulbing, bubbling. “No! NO! NOOOOOOO—” His head exploded, showering Twilight with viscera and feathers. The alicorn laughed madly, falling back onto her rump as the most generic of ska punk riffs and a poorly-constructed bassline began to swell in the background.
Somebody once told me
That we needed a daddy
To save us from the zebra race
So I grabbed an old spellbook
And got straight to work
To summon our God to this place
Well, the zebras start coming and they don’t stop comin’
Our proud nation is what they’re overunnin’
Didn’t make sense not to give a fuck
Your complacency is what makes you a cuck
So many (((gryphs))), so many zeebs
But barely any ponies
I thought this was Equestria (oh!)
But by a look you just wouldn’t know
Hey now, we need our Daddy, to send them all back home, yeah
Hey now, Trump’s our Daddy, he’s going to save us all, yeah
Equestria is for the ponies
You have your own fucking country
Well, it’s a rare race
And they say it gets rarer
When all the ponies breed with the zebras
But the (((griffons))), they beg to differ
Controlling our media so we don’t get the picture
My patience is wearing mighty thin
I must act before the ethnic cleansing begins
My world’s in ruins; how ‘bout yours?
Living off the Equestrian system of course
Hey now, we need our Daddy, to send them all back home, yeah
Hey now, Trump’s our Daddy, he’s going to save us all, yeah
Equestria is for the ponies
You have your own fucking country
Somebody once asked
“Could you spare me from harassment”
“These zebras are raping me daily”
I said yep, and to save our skins
Our God-Emperor Trump I did summon in
He’s the man with the guts to tell them to go
He can keep us safe from any foe
Well, the zebras start coming and they don’t stop comin’
Our proud nation is what they’re overunnin’
Didn’t make sense not to give a fuck
Your complacency is what makes you a cuck
So many (((gryphs))), so many zeebs
But barely any ponies
I thought this was Equestria (oh!)
But by a look you just wouldn’t know
Hey now, we need our Daddy, to send them all back home, yeah
Hey now, Trump’s our Daddy, he’s going to save us all, yeah
Equestria is for the ponies
If your kingdom sucks that’s not our problem
Hey now, we need our Daddy, to send them all back home, yeah
Hey now, Trump’s our Daddy, he’s going to save us all, yeah
Equestria is for the ponies
You have your own fucking country
Equestria is for the ponies
Fuck off back to Griffonstone, you fucking (((gryphs)))...
Trump, who had miraculously managed to remain spotless through Gedeon’s death throes, slicked his magnificent mane back. “My work here is done; my people need me back on Earth, as there is much work to be done. I leave you with this, Twilight Sparkle—should you ever need me again, all you must do is say ‘Daddy’ seven times and sacrifice another frog to Kek, and I’ll be there in a blink of a moderately-devastating explosion.” God-Emperor Trump leaned down on one knee, and gave Twilight a tender kiss on the cheek. Twilight grabbed the impeccably-bronzed man by the cheeks, planting her own lips on his, The President of The United States and The Princess of Magic locked together in a moment of sheer bliss.
Trump broke their embrace, and gave Twilight a little wink. “You know, if you weren’t a magical horse princess from another dimension, perhaps I’d be dating you.”
Twilight swooned, and Donald Trump ascended back into the heavens from whence he came in a golden beam of light.
