Mr. Rich Wins the Peace Prize
Mr. Rich Wins the Peace Prize
There were five of them at the long, circular table, which until recently was used as a barstool. One griffon, two earth ponies, one pegasus, and a lowly, sniveling unicorn clerk they’ve captured to replace the other designated unicorn judge, who was still comatosing after last night’s drinking binge. Mr. Mountain Feathers, the highly notorious gutbuster, was the only survivor of last night’s party, his past kindly paying back the present with headache pain.
In fact, it looked liked the esteemed committee of this year’s Whinnyapolis Peace Prize was at a standstill. You see, a problem arose between one Mr. McFly and one Mrs. Pennywenny. Apparently, Mr. McFly made a pass at Mrs. Pennywenny, completely ignorant of the fact that the r in her name wasn’t because she liked razzberries. Where hilarity should have ensued, anger came crashing in, egos were destroyed, and seclusion happened. That’s all to that unimportant story.
As beforementioned, the five creatures were sitting at the largely important but yet largely unimportant table, staring at the floor and rethinking their lives, leaving the lowly clerk and the representative from Fillydelphia to mill over the fate of one comically large ceremonious medal.
There was a cough, then a constant wheezing sound from Mr. Mountain Feathers, as if his fur were strangling him. This was a social cue that perhaps Ms. Lowly Clerk should begin the proceedings before the coughing drove everyone to kill each other.
“Hmm… Well…, sorry, I’m quite new at this.” Ms. Lowly Clerk pulled out an important looking piece of paper, containing a list of names. “Well, you … I mean we… are tasked with finding someone who rightfully deserves this year’s Peace Prize. Well, let’s go through each name and vote. First off, there is Snow Shovel, who single-hoofingly protected everypony in Equestria from the lies of the evil National Satirical Agency by sticking flyers in all the mailboxes in the world. Who thinks he should receive the medal?”
Mr. McFly said, “No, let’s not give it to him. I almost got a papercut from one of his flyers. It very nearly killed me! We don’t give medals to murderers. Next.” Mr. Mountain Feather nodded because he wanted to shake all the booze out of his head. Mrs. Pennywenny just shrugged - she was missing her nine o’clock show.
Ms. Lowly Clerk was not amused. “Very well, the next candidate is Pope Schnookums, who as you all know, whose messages about peace, love, and tolerance has spread all over the globe, inspiring millions -”
“Hogwash! The Pope is a lying buffoon!” Mr. McFly exclaimed.
The Representative interjected. “I happen to think he is a very nice and pious chap, and I won’t allow you or anyone else to …”
“Shove it, Mr. Whateveryournameis! I happen to know that the Pope blessed my mother once. She became pregnant the next day and had me! Since I’m not the messiah, all religion is bunk,” Mr. McFly declared, quite confident in that fact.
“That is absolutely absurd! I have a good mind to … never mind, I just want to survive this.” The Clerk sighed. “Fine. The next candidate is… Okay, who put this name here? Come on, this is serious! This is an important committee, not a billionaire’s club!” she exclaimed.
“Who is it?,” asked the Representative. Clerk faced the paper towards the crowd, each one grinning ear to ear.
The Clerk and Representative smiled. She said, “Well, since I know you are all just going to rightly mock him, go right ahead. I could use a chuckle.”
However, Mr. McFly had other plans. “Yes! Yes! Yes! He should have it! I absolutely love his humor, how thrashed that stupid reporter with that leg whatchamacallit. He cracks me up! Plus, his ingenious business skills! I have confidence that if he’ll cut out government spending entirely, Equestria will finally gain a profit for once.”
Mrs. Pennywenny added, “I agree. Why not? I happen to agree with his stance to ban zebras from Equestria. They are all disgusting anyway. Also, he’s sorta cute. You know, with his horrible toupee, he almost looks a five year old who cut his hair by himself! Oh, isn’t he the cutest!”
Mr. Mountain Feather also agreed. “He lent me five bits once! He only asked for 250% interest. In all my years, I’ve never met such a nice and generous pony! Let’s give it to him!”
“Now, I must stop this. There is no way I’m voting for him. Are you all absolutely bonzers! He is the most despicable, most annoying, most opinionated pony I’ve ever seen!” Clerk outraged.
She felt a nudge coming from her right. The Representative took over. “Let’s get some semblance of order here. Take an official vote. Well, who wants to give him” - he stared daggers at the name on the paper - “our most cherished, expensive, and sought over award of all time?”
Two hoofs and one claw rose. The poor Clerk and Representative banged their heads against the table as Mountain Feather stood up. “It is my pleasure to formally announce that we, the esteemed Whinnyapolis Peace Prize committee, have chosen to award this year's Peace Prize to the great, the honorable…”
“Me?!” Filthy Rich screamed as his eyes reached the conclusion of the letter. His mouth was catapulted open, drool dripped down his thousand-bit suit. For once, he was speechless. His daughter, hearing the horrid screams, quickly came over into the mansion disguised as a bedroom.
“What!? What is it? Is your brain hurting again? Darn it, the doctor advised you to stay away from math!”
“No dear. Look at this.” Diamond Tiara’s bemused smile turned into sunshine. That is, if sunshine was 1000 degrees Fahrenheit and the burn marks on her lips weren’t from the tea she just made.
“Oh.” She was unimpressed.
“That’s all you have to say? Not a ‘good job’ or ‘congratulations’ or anything?”
“Good job. Congratulations. Anything.”
Filthy Rich was not amused. He looked at the letter and read that he must attend a formal ceremony that was to be held on that day at seven o’clock. His toupee did a three-sixty degree spin and landed perfectly on his head.
In order to make a very irrelevant joke, Diamond Tiara picked up a cat she found in the middle of the disgusting street. “Daddy, can my pussy and I come see the ceremony?”
“Absolutely!,” he screamed, staring at Diamond’s pussy. “Where’d you get that thing anyway?”
“It doesn’t matter.”
Filthy was unperturbed with this revelation. After a certain amount of minutes staring at each other, trying to find the joke in the situation, they soon went to the ceremony that was held in front of the courthouse. A lot of ponies were there wearing black suits and dresses, a memorial of good taste and judgement.
The Mayor was there and gave a very long and ultimately pointless speech about the state of society and wealth is the most important quality one can have.
As soon as he received his outrageously humongous medallion, he farted into the microphone and screamed, “I’m running for mayor!” and grabbed Diamond Tiara and her pussy and trotted home happily.
Author's Note
I hate Trump.
