Ponies do things

Spike sunk the large shovel into the ground, pulling out a large mound of dirt and throwing it over the side of the hole. Six feet was deep enough. He scrambled out of the hole and looked around. Ponies rarely came this far to the back of the Sweet Apple Acres plot, but a few of the more eccentric ponies considered it a very romantic place to make out while also committing harmless crime, so it was also best to check.

Spike looked at the rolled up carpet; he couldn't believe that he had done this. Sure, he knew people that had killed a hooker or two, he'd even put a few out himself. It was pretty much a rite of passage with his friends, Rainbow Dash being the undeniable champion in the sport of hooker-killing, but This was different. This was a real pony, a living creature. Spike was disappointed in himself.

He was still confused at how this had happened. On moment he was eating a freshly baked donut, the next he was burying his own friend. It was as if the force of death itself had started the beginning of a large chain of events, Rube Goldberg style, and pushed Spike into a situation in which he had no other choice but to kill a defenseless pony. Like a franchise of really bad movies.

He picked up the bag and threw it into the ditch. He picked his shovel back up and started filling in the hole. Spike had a habit of burying his problems, from sexual frustration to highly expensive bottles of wine that appeared in his room mysteriously, and a strangely high amount of his problems required actual burial.

Once he finished patting down the fresh soil and spreading over some grass seed, just to be sure, He walked back towards the barn to put back the borrowed shovel. He was sure Rarity wouldn't notice her missing.