Chapters Apparition Amphitheater Presents: Mr. Killjoy
If You See Me, Better Flee Me
The howling of the hallowed wind signified yet another night of ominous theatrics. The darkened amphitheater, with dulled-out dead leaves and shimmering cobwebs, suddenly throbbed to life as the lights grew to contest with the moon’s silvery presence. Insects and rodents remained wise and steadfast, sticking to the harsh shadows cast, remaining unseen, and petrified by the sudden presence of phantom commotion. The musty smell of the old forest wafted in as tattered cloth gently fluttered in the breeze, giving the place a much richer aroma than the dead, abandoned wood that made up the entirety of the building and its furnishings. Sounds of rustling and scuttling died down as the wind began to subside, leaving only the light alive in this lonely moment.
Ever so slightly and slowly did the lights turn to the torn curtain that remained closed upon the stage, only resting to shine dead center in anticipation. Not a moment later, the drapery was tossed aside by the master of the theater, clad in a grey hoodie and a darker grey set of jeans. His wild, light brown hair gently swayed from the gust of his movements, while the harsh light illuminated his half skull mask, though it did no favors for the rusted nail that protruded from the forehead. With his sharp, three-pronged, cloven hands opened wide as his barbwire-wrapped arms stretched out, he gave a lengthy yawn as if he just arose from a deathless sleep.
Oh, my sincerest apologies. How terribly rude of me to behave in such a way. I have been quite busy in the last year. Believe it or not, I do have other obligations aside from my humble little theater. Other jobs, other projects, other hobbies. Perhaps one day, a few brave souls will finally answer the call to assist with conducting this ghost opera. In the meantime, I’ll keep marching forward. But, oh, how I could use a little break. A nice little moment of fun for all the hard work I’ve done, and share in the festivities with those closest to me. Perhaps with a touch of my favorite poisonous color: Pink.
The wind whistled for a moment as the figure scratched his chin while deep in thought, or perhaps reminiscence. He gave a light sigh, before he coughed briefly to shift into a more relevant topic.
Anyway, enough of my woes and wishes. I believe it would be more apt to talk about our next story on the list. A story about a young pony with grand aspirations to be the best at what they do. A story about the merits of celebration. A story of diligence and sacrifice. And one young pony is going to learn that no matter the goals you have in life, there will ALWAYS be someone out there to spoil the fun. There is ALWAYS someone to crash the shindig. Then again, every party needs a pooper, and that’s no less true in a little story I like to call:
MR. KILLJOY
-o-v-o-v-o-v-o-v-o-
Equestria’s nightly air was quite harrowing tonight, despite how still it was. Among the trees, not a single creature stirred from the shadows, sensing the malevolence that was approaching along the tracks, hitching a ride on the midnight train. As the great metal locomotive sped along its rails, an unremarkable, gray-coated, brown-maned unicorn stallion hung from the doorway of one of the boxcars, breathing in the air with reverie. The pure euphoria he was feeling right now could only be comparable to a truly grand celebration, only this was much more lasting. Yes, the late night air was crisp and clean with that slight bite of the night’s chill, but that was the least potent part of what he was feeling now.
Far behind him, a great orange light and smoke could JUST be seen in the distance, signifying what would normally be the Burning Mare Festival coming to a head in Vanhoover. However, the fire’s light was so much brighter and the smoke was so much blacker this time around. Looking back, the stallion couldn't help but revel in his handy work as he could still hear the cries of phantom wails nearly an hour after completing his task. After all, replacing the sprinkler system's water mains with an oil line and setting it off just as the wicker figure was to be lit aflame was an act he could only describe as utter genius.
Mr. Killjoy: That’s what they called him in the papers. An unknown pony in the eyes of the public that, for many years in many cities, had appeared at many celebrations, galas, festivals and other congregations to bring the party to a screeching halt. Oh, what a wonderful title to hold, as it struck fear into the hearts of the party goers across the country, though not enough to stop all parties from ever starting, and that’s just how he wanted it. His attacks were rare and specific. He targeted only the best of the best, the most notorious of any party animals that he could find after his very first attempt: Dancer Crash, a professional party crasher and rave enthusiast in the city of Manehatten, died to a steep fall after a railing conveniently broke over the top of a roof starlit rave. The condition she was found in was exquisite: with large planks of broken wood piercing her body upon the harsh impact she made on a parked carriage. He always mused that she partied so hard that she lost control and came crashing back down to earth.
Then there was Joy Belle, a much more intimate and regal execution. She was a professional wedding and gala planner in Las Pegasus, and at the time was getting ready to attend her own marriage. Mere minutes before she was to be called to walk the aisle, he crept into the bride’s room, disguised as an usher, strangled her with her own wedding dress, and hung her from the rafters with it. Such a tragically beautiful end to such a well known and artistic soul that brought so much happiness to many couples over the years. It simply brought a tear to his icy blue eyes.
Oh, and how could he ever forget about the caterer Sweet Delights, whom started parties on a whim to share his absolutely brilliant treats and desserts to the public. Flash mobs were guaranteed when he was in the area, which included rival and aspiring bakers and snack makers. Thankfully, Mr. Delights was such a good sportsman, that he tried every treat that was presented to him. Especially that cyanide-laced cupcake with the blue frosting he switched out with an aspiring baker. The look on the young confectionery artist’s face as Sweet Delight enjoyed his last treat was heartwarming, up until the utterly extraordinary shift into horror when the caterer choked violently and passed out dead in front of him. That was the last flash mob Appleoosa has seen in months.
No matter where he went and who his victim was, he always made sure to inject that sense of danger and get those lovely reactions out of ponies before he disappeared. Every now and then, however, he would become a little bit too enthusiastic, and end up exposing his cover or intentions to an uninvolved victim. They had to be silenced, of course, and thankfully that wasn’t a normal action. The Burning Mare Massacre, as he has decided to call it, was the outlying exception, as he didn’t intend to burn everyone alive initially, but he absolutely NEEDED to correct this situation in the most efficient way possible, while still making it the talk of the year.
Originally, the plan was to rig the stage so that the designer and operator of the festival would trigger the mechanism he’d set, and the stage would blow up with him on it. It would have been a fantastic firework show, but alas, the best laid plans don’t always come to fruition. His gear was taken by a thief that had intended to rob everyone at the festival. He couldn’t let him get away, but a thief has a way of disappearing into the crowd and out of sight. If he tried to actively search for the leech, he would miss his opportunity, so he decided to just expand his horizon. That’s when he realized there was a gas line set up for the pyrotechnics that would be used for the show. With a little bit of Jerry-rigging, he managed to use the sprinkler system to his advantage and, before the main event could begin, set everything in motion.
Honestly, the outcome was so much more grand than his initial expectation, but he couldn’t help but feel a little sorry for all of the ponies that got caught. At least the thief was roasted along with the other victims.
Which brought his attention to now. After such a laundry list of victims, and with such a grandiose and complex display of his latest activities, it was time to tackle some of the more desired targets: Vinyl Scratch, Cheese Sandwich, and Pinkamena Diane Pie.
Considering the three, while he wanted to save Pinkie for last for her legendary planning and carefree activities, he had to confess that it may not be in the cards for him. Cheese Sandwich, party designer extraordinaire was a the most likely candidate, but he was a wandering party maker. Finding him conveniently would be improbable, and his train was only going in one direction tonight, which left the two girls on his list. Vinyl Scratch, rave master and musician, however had to be ignored for the time being, as while she lived in Ponyville, she was on a concert tour to promote a new album. Unlike Cheese, Mr. Killjoy could at least predict where she would be going next. After the Canterlot concert tomorrow, she’d be heading to Baltimare for the next three days, which he could take a train to after he finished his job in Ponyville.
Oh, what a lovely specimen Pinkie was. He had heard of her exploits as both a legendary partier in all styles, and as a quick thinker to develop impromptu celebrations for any situation. He had also heard rumors that the great Cheese Sandwich gained inspiration to do what he did from her. A legend begetting another legend. He too would become one after this, snuffing out the greatest of all, but that was the furthest from his desires. Honestly, all he wanted from her was her grandest of reactions, her final screams, and to witness what is decidedly a living party coming to an end. It got him giddy just thinking about it.
But, how would he pull it off? He can’t repeat himself, no question, but he can’t top his previous exploits either, otherwise it would just look ridiculous. Looking back, while it was a work of impromptu genius, he had to admit that he set the bar a bit too high. It can’t be some grand explosion again. Once was enough for a while. He sat back inside the boxcar and thought for a little while as his eyes gazed out into the trees that zoomed by every second.
No matter what it would be, it would have to be fitting, and he’d have to choose soon, as the train was now fast approaching Ponyville, seemingly already in full swing with a new celebration.
“Perfect,” he uttered with a stretched smile. Pinkie Pie parties are known for having an open invitation, where anyone can join, provided they know about it. No waiting and no invitation meant fewer problems he needed to adjust for. It also, however, meant he needed to improvise depending on how far into the celebration it would be by the time he arrived, which was something he was thankfully good at pulling off over the years.
The minutes flew by as the train finally began to slow down more and more until it reached a stopping point. Peeking out, he made sure train yard security wasn’t paying attention, and when the coast was clear, he leapt out of the train’s car he rode in and dashed through the brush under the cover of darkness, making a beeline for the town. Trees whipped as leaves crackled under his hooves, signalling his presence, but not a soul could hear him over the loud music that managed to cover the town square.
Intense eyes melted away to serene orbs of wonder and a genuine smile of joy as he stepped out of the darkness and approached the ongoing party and merry townsfolk, madly dancing, singing, and drinking the night away under crude but endearing decorations. Bounties of food and drink stretched upon tables and tables off to the side, and no matter how many treats were taken, they would always be replaced. The music, as loud as it was, never sounded too loud and retained a proper energy that was rhythmic and peppy, but not so sugary that it sounded childish. It was a partier’s heaven.
Before he could react, a pink blur zoomed up to him, weaving through the crowd like a shark in the water, and appeared before him with the widest, toothiest grin he had ever seen in his life. A smile so full of joy and elation, he couldn’t help but smile back. Furthermore, her pink coat seemed to shimmer in the atmospheric light as her cotton candy pink mane bounced at her every move, giving off this aura of fun to couple with her grin.
“Well, HELLO THERE! My name’s Pinkie! Welcome to Ponyville and the Pre-Nightmare Night Nightmare Night Celebration Extraviganza!” she announced with the same attitude it was rumored she’d have. “Please, make yourself comfy and PARTY THE NIGHT AWAY, Mr... uh, I don’t think I caught your name.”
“Oh, I’m sorry,” he said with a practiced blush, “My name is...”
Apparition Amphitheater Presents: Mr. Killjoy
If You Hear Me, Better Fear Me
The pre-Nightmare Night Nightmare Night Extraviganza was what one could possibly describe as a work of art. Utter poetry in motion. He had never really encountered a party quite like this. Over his career, he had been to many different celebrations, both grand and small, many of them with higher artistic merit and direction, and others were of higher energy. None of them, however, seemed to have the sense of balance and joy that a Pinkie party had. Everyone was happy, no matter what they were doing, whether it was eating, drinking, dancing, talking, playing games, betting on said games, acting a fool, showing off, or whatever they wanted to do to unwind. Under normal circumstances, as with most large get-togethers, it was inevitable that a couple of euphoric ponies with opposing personalities and thoughts, especially in such an open environment, would clash for one reason or another. Even in a normally harmonious land, dissent and conflict did crop up from time to time. But here, in this party, it seemed like even the most contrasting of personalities coexisted peacefully, intent on only having a good time in the purest sense.
“So, when did you get into Ponyville? I don’t think I’ve EVER seen you around here, and I know everyone in town and anyone that’s visited while I’m around. Not to mention all of the ponies I’ve met while traveling every once in a while. I won’t lie, that’s A LOT of names to keep track of, not to mention birthdays, but I have the PERFECT system to keep track of everything. By the way, when did you say your birthday was?”
“Oh,” he responded, “It’s tomorrow actually. I guess I’m a day early. Bad timing, heh.”
“Are you KIDDING?! This Is PERFECT TIMING! We can have a Birthday Party Nightmare Night celebration! Oh, oh oh, we can make it a Welcome to Ponyville Party on top of that. I’ll make the biggest, bestest cake you’ve ever seen!”
“You don’t need to go out of your way for me, really.”
“No no. No can do. It’s too late now. You’re getting that cake, and it’s going to be AWESOME!”
“If you insist, heh,” he said with a hollow chuckle. It was strange, honestly, seeing her up close. It was rumored that she could read emotions just as easily as she could read crowds, but the pony before him seemed so bubbly and oblivious. Behind his smile, he was already considering what he could do to snuff out her life. So many methods presented themselves all around the party. Wiring for the lights and speaker systems implied a possible method of electrocution. However, they seemed to have been reinforced to prevent tampering. He then considered the nearby above ground pool that was set up. However, it seemed that it was filled to capacity, and there’d be no way to get away with a public drowning. Sabotaging the stage equipment seemed viable, but the he realized that he attempted that last time and he doesn’t have the equipment to do it now. He looked about the surrounding area for any decorative statues that could be knocked off so that they land on their intended target, but it seemed the only statue was the ice statue set at the snack buffet, and it wasn’t nearly big enough to do any real damage. He then thought of poison, but he didn’t have anything that would be different enough to what he did last time. If he had time to prepare, he could concoct a slow poison and have her consume it, and watch as she died slowly over the course of the night, but alas, there was no feasible way to make the time.
“Whatchya thinkin’ about?” she asked with a chipper tune.
“Oh, sorry, just admiring your party. It’s so lively and... nice, really. Everyone is getting along so well.”
“Well, duh! It can’t be a Pinkie party if even ONE pony is in a sour mood. Yeah, sure, every party needs a pooper to bring the mood back down now and then, but I’ve been doing my best to cut out the middle ground and keep it just enjoyable enough to keep everyone in good spirits. No burn outs, no frustrations.” She said as she leaned against the table, slowly waving her hoof across her, motioning to the attendees. “It’s been a dream of mine to conduct a perfect party, but I’m noooot quite there yet. There’s always still something MISSING.”
“Oh?” he asked, genuinely curious.
“Between you and me,” she whispered, “I got close to conducting the perfect party, once. It had the best cake I ever made. But a little accident sent it flying and splattering all over the ground. It was HORRIBLE!” She suddenly shouted, attracting attention briefly, before everyone returned to their own devices. “It’s alright, though. I’m so close to making that cake again, and I’ve gotten WAY better at hosting parties lately. Cheese Sandwich showed me a thing or two on the designing aspects.”
“You know Cheese Sandwich?”
“Yeah, and he’s a super duper awesomesauce party animal! I was a LEEEEETTLE jealous of him when I met him, but I got over it and he helped me rig the best birthday bash ever for the best birthday DASH!” She then laughed at her little, corny joke before continuing, “Anyway, yeah, he helped give me more of an artists eye for party planning. I’m not at his level yet, but I think I can keep at it!” she declared with the strongest fire in her eyes.
It was rather interesting watching the legend herself speak of Cheese so fondly with such adulation. Sure, he was the direct result of her actions, and they may share a common bond between artisans of their caliber, but he was bemused to know such feelings of admiration ran so deep.
“Oops,” she suddenly exclaimed, “we’re getting to the halfway mark of the bash. I gotta address the crowd and make my rounds. You enjoy yourself while I’m gone, eh?” Before he could reply, she zipped away from him and up the stage where the music was being controlled by the performing DJ. “Alright, how is everypony DOING?!” Holding the mic with her hoof, she directed it at the crowd, which gave an uproar that could shake the very soul of Canterlot’s mountain side. “GREAT! We’re at the halfway point of the party, so I thought we could kick things up a notch. DJ, BRING OUT THE GOOD STUFF!”
It was then the jocky behind the stand gave a silent salute, before spinning a record in his hooves and plugging it into the sound system. In honor of Nightmare Night coming up tomorrow, he plugged in the only viable party album for the occasion. “Dead Mare’s Party” by BOINGO. The jaunty, upbeat music started off with the offbeat feeling, keeping things cheerful, but now given a slight strange and unorthodox twist. Despite the odd change, the attitude of the party-goers never dipped. In fact, they seemed to elate as bodies were a little more earnest in swaying and bobbing to the music, especially those that weren’t doing so to the previous music selection. No matter what they were doing, whether it was eating, drinking, or even talking, everyone was now dancing just a little more, having a good time. It was such a simple thing to do, but it transformed the already great party into something more. This was no longer just a work of art. It was a masterpiece.
“Something so simple,” he uttered to himself, letting the music wash over him and cut his senses like a knife. The atmosphere seemed to have change with the new feeling and music, and he couldn’t help but feel inspired. How he would channel it, however, would be a totally different conundrum altogether. “I wonder if I can do the same?”
-o-v-o-v-o-v-o-v-o-
As the party went on, as track after track played out, and as the food finally began to diminish without replenishment, it was clear the festivities were beginning to die down. Despite the obvious winding down of party favors and entertainment, the spirits seemed to still be in high gear, as if fatigue wasn’t even a factor. Never the less, while waiting for things to edge closer to the finale, the self proclaimed Mr. Killjoy had a chance to explore the party as a whole, seeking out a prime opportunity. Regardless of his diligence, he was ashamed to admit he couldn’t find anything suitable for the occasion. Darts and tacks were either too small or well guarded if big enough, any hazards were idiot proofed, cleaning chemicals that could be used for impromptu poisons were missing in the extended area, and every single structure around the party was so sound it would take a strong swing of a sledgehammer to at least to do any real damage. Any flammables were kept away from the flames that still existed, and most flicks of fire were closed off. Most options of what to do were entirely closed off, especially the simple ones.
He slumped in the chair behind the buffet, reaching up to grab a slice of cake that had been left behind by a careless party goer. Fresh, moist, and delicious, just as an expert would make it. It gave him a small bolt of joy tasting such a perfectly sweet little thing. A simple little joy, but not the one he was wanting. He sighed, but before he could do anything further, a cotton candy pink ball of exuberance popped into his vision.
“You looked a little bummed out. You alright?” she asked.
Inwardly, he screamed that he had nothing to show for his efforts while her masterpiece of a party went on unhindered. Outwardly, he answered, “Just a little tired.”
“Oh, that’s no good. I hope you aren’t wanting to go home just yet. I’ve got an extra special announcement later, and you’re included in it!”
“I think-” he started, before a hoof was shoved in his mouth to keep him from talking any further.
“Oh, shush now. Tell ya what, how about I give you a grab bag as a “thanks for coming to the party” sort of thing.”
He thought for a moment, feeling the finale of the night approaching fast, the fruits of his labor withering away, and the energy of his previous triumph leaving him. Pinkamena Diane Pie, out of sheer preparedness solely for the festival, out of an oblivious but masterful conduct in planning what could possibly be described as the ultimate party, has eluded her role in his own wicked wishes. Perhaps he wasn’t ready to tackle such a legend yet, and would need to hone his craft upon other party ponies across the land before he returned. Perhaps he had spent his creative load on his last endeavor and jumped into this venture too quickly. So many more possibilities, and no real answers.
“I suppose I can accept that,” he said finally.
“GREAT!” She exclaimed, “Follow me. All of the grab bags are at Sugar Cube Corner. It’s so greedy greedy ponies don’t just take theirs and run. I mean, how unfun and boring would it be if they did something like that?”
“Very,” he responded simply, still a little disheartened.
At that response, Pinkie Pie leaded her impromptu guest away from the ongoing party and down the darkened streets of Ponyville, which stood eerily quiet. It was beyond midnight at the point, so it was understandable, but something did feel just a little bit off, even in this sleepy little town surrounding the still lively festival. Soon, the two came up to a building that looked akin to a gingerbread house, complete with frosting and candied decorations. Pinkie Pie stopped in front of the locked door, reached into her own mane, and pulled out a small key with a lollipop handle before she used it to unlock the door. With a turn of the handle and push of the door, she waltzed inside and turned on the lights before motioning for him to step in.
“It’s a good thing the Cakes are out of town for a few days with the foals, otherwise this would be a very awkward conversation, heh. The grab bags are in the cellar. Just hang tight while I go find the key. It always seems to go missing at the worst of times,” she pouted, as she disappeared from view. Her guest wandered a little, looking about the dining area for a moment before looking over the display cases. Fresh, delicious pastries and cakes of all kinds were displayed, and smelled as fresh as they looked. I wonder if she catered her own party , he thought somewhat amused. I wonder if all of these cakes are fresh. With that idea in his mind, he looked a little further beyond and noticed the kitchen where a small mess was left behind. Something shiny glinted in the moonlight, however, causing him to canter around the front and disappear into the kitchen. And there, embedded into the wooden countertop, was a beautiful, elegant, properly sharpened knife. Flaring his horn, his magic pulled the blade free from its resting spot and examined it closely. Strangely, it was a butcher’s knife, something he could immediately discern considering the embedded symbol that showed it came from the gryphon kingdoms. Now what would a knife like that be doing here , he pondered.
Regardless of the how or why to its presence, the answer to his long awaited question finally struck. It would be the perfect answer to her loud, exuberant life. A slow, simple push of the knife. And, if she were in too much pain for his tastes, he could always behead her to end her fright. Perfect.
“Pulled away from her brilliant party, and stabbed in her own home while the other party goers are none the wiser. It’s a shame it won’t be public, but knowing how loved you are, you’ll be found soon enough.” He mused while spinning the knife.
“I found the key!” she shouted as the sound of a wooden door clicked and creaked open, before hoofsteps loudly clambered down old, squeaky stairs. Mr. Killjoy turned to the noise, and noticed the door fully open, he wandered over and peeked his head around the opening, seeing that Pinkie was already at the bottom of the cellar, fumbling with something halfway in the dark.
“May I come down?” he asked, knife hovering behind him.
“Sure! Just watch your step, and mind the smell. I had an experiment accident a few years ago, and it hadn’t smelled the same since,” she warned.
He smiled a little, noticing that she hasn’t turned around yet, still fidgeting and fumbling as if she was having a bit of trouble. “Do you need any help,” he offered as he slowly crept down each step, each one squeaking in protest as if trying to warn the victim.
“No, I’ve got it. Oh hey! Mind if I tell you something I’ve noticed?”
“Sure,” he said as he made it halfway down the steps, creeping closer and closer, pulling the knife forward more, which seemed to ring lowly in the air.
“You seem rather preoccupied while you were at the party, and it made me feel you were more of a party pooper than I initially thought.”
“Is that right? I’m sorry if I gave that impression, Pinkie,” he apologized, getting closer, knife raising up. So close now. Savor it.
“But,” she started, “then I remembered a little song when I was younger. Do you want to hear it?”
“Sure,” he answered, stepping ever closer.
“Every party needs a pooper,”
Step
“That’s why they invited you,”
Step
“Party Poopeeeeeer,”
Step
“Party Poopeeeeeeeeer,”
Looming over her now, he raised his blade high into the air, ready to plunge it deep into her back. Suddenly she whirled around with a sledgehammer in her hooves and-
*WHACK*
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Apparition Amphitheater Presents: Mr. Killjoy
I'll Help You From the Fryer... Into the Fire!
Bleary, dazed, and confused, the pony that calls himself Mr. Killjoy woke up with a blinding light shining on his face as he was seemingly laying face up on a very flat, very hard surface. While in his stupor, he tried to roll right-side up, but felt a tug against his limbs. Snapping to attention in alarm upon the first attempt, he tried to pull them against himself suddenly, but the swift motion was met with iron clad resistance with all four hooves remaining in place. With his awareness slowly coming back to him, the pain in the side of his head came rushing back, forcing a groan to leak out along with a spittle of blood. The throb in his head suddenly reminded him of what happened just before he blacked out, and gave a clue as to why he was-
“Oh good, you’re awake!”
“Wha... what’s...
“I wasn’t expecting what happened to happen, but one of my combos told me that you’ve been a veeeeeery naughty pony and that you were going to do something to me.” There was the squealing sound of sharp, polished metal scraping roughly against an unknown surface. “I just didn’t think you’d go for the classic! Go all ‘SHING, SHING, SHING, SHING’ like that stallion in the movie... what was his name? Something Bates? Hmmmmm... I can’t remember. I know there were a bunch of lame sequels and a... weird scene-for-scene rewritten version, but that’s not the point.”
“I... ugh... I,”
“Point is, ya lost. Too bad, so sad. I was actually rootin’ for ya. You seemed kinda fun, and I could tell you were enjoying the party a bit. Would have let ya go if you would have not brought that knife down the stairs with you. Bad move on your part. I mean, come on. You were lead down into a cellar. A CELLAR! Do you know how dumb that is? Ok, sure, you were armed with the knife, and you were hoping to be to big bad killer while I was the poor defenseless filly. But you still should have felt something was a little wrong with the situation, especially with a knife just sitting there like that, out in the open. It was there for you, and you took the bait. I just had to wait long enough for you to go exploring, see it, and look to see if you would pick it up. After that, I had to wait to see if you had the guts to come downstairs with it.”
She rose up out of her chair and disappeared into the darkness, but only for a moment, as she returned with this strange sawblade like contraption, except instead of a blade fitted to it, it was a disk that had feathers grafted to it. What in-?
“Oh, don’t mind that. It’s for later.” She cantered on over until she was face to face with him. “Ok, so, you’re probably wondering what’s going on, right? Why am I strapped down like something out of a cheap horror reel. Don’t worry. I’m not going to be so egregious as carve you up to make cupcakes, or whatever, or use your coat as part of an ensemble. Nope, nope, nope. That’s going a little bit too far.” She leaned back a bit and pawed at her chin with her hoof. “That saaaaaid, I’m not letting you live, either. You brought this on yourself, like the others.”
“O-others?”
“Oh yeah, you don’t know do you? You aren’t the only ‘party pooper’ out there. Every single self absorbed jerkface that thinks they’re a genius because they murdered a couple ponies that want to bring a little light and joy to everypony’s life always ends up coming to me, one way or another. I always try to keep an eye out for rising trouble makers and keep other party planners safe, but there are leeches that slip through the cracks. Poor Cheese wasn’t quick enough to stop what you were going to do at the Burning Mare festival, considering the fire I can juuuuuust barely see in the distance. I do hope he’s alright...” She worried. Looking back to- “They called you Mr. Killjoy, right? Good name... Good song, actually. Don’t ask from who. Nopony has ever heard of them... not here, at least.” She sighed, “You’ve done quite a bit of damage. Four known incidents, including Burning Mare, and 3 other rising party ponies. And you came directly to me when you thought you were hot stuff... or because it was convenient. Who knows. It’s not really THAT important.”
She wandered away, back into the shade, only to come back out with the knife. “So, now what, right? Well, I’m going to keep a few promises. First off, I’m making you your cake, and it’s going to be the bestest ever. It’s too bad you won’t get to taste it, but you’re going to be helping me make it anyway. Good time too, because I’m AAAAAALL out of eggs. Used the last to make all the treats for the party. I could go buy some more, but we won’t need to. That’s where you come in.”
“What-”
“No no, don’t talk. That’s my thing. I’m warning you now,” she growled, pointing the knife at his eye, “Secondly, despite what I’m going to do, I don’t like it when ponies are all frowny. It just makes the day feel so much worse, ya know? That’s what that is for.” She explained, pointing at the contraption. “When I turn that on, it’ll run at a high enough speed to tickle you senseless... which will make it so much harder for you to feel the pain. Either your heart will give out from the constant tickling, or... you can figure the rest out.”
She then walked back over to the machine, and wheeled it closer to his lower right hoof, before she turned it on. It immediately began to spin violently, as the feathers ruthlessly struck the nerves and caused him to start laughing wildly. Unable to get away, he was at the mercy of the device’s brutal method. As he laughed uncontrollably, writing in his binds, Pinkie cantered over to his other leg, pressed it down with an amazing amount of strength to keep it still, and jammed the knife into the flesh. The effect was immediate, as he let out a loud wail of agony before he returned to his laughing fit, tears welling in his eyes. Blood leaked out from the fresh wound as it dripped down into a trough that he could hear but couldn’t see.
“That’s great. Just keep laughing, and you’ll go out with a smile.”
The trapped pony’s laughter forcefully died down as he wadded up a gob of blood from his mouth and spat it at her face.
“Ew... that was rather rude of you,” she pouted, “If that’s how you want it, we’ll do this the quicker way.” She then, while the machine was still forcing him to laugh, rushed over to his head, place the knife on his neck, and slid it across, causing his laughter to cut short and immediately devolve into gargles and choking sounds. Pinkie’s mood soured as she watched his pleading eyes stare up at her as he painfully attempted to laugh and scream from the sensations. It was the worst feeling, and she couldn’t bare to watch it drag out in such a way.
“I’m sorry... I made you suffer, and it doesn’t feel right. I thought the knife would snuff you out like a light...” she then tossed the blade aside walked into the darkness for a moment, before returning with sharpened axe. “A quick beheading will end your fright.”
His eyes widened in horror as she raised the axe above her head and-
-o-v-o-v-o-v-o-v-o-
“This cake is amazing, Pinkie!”
All of Pinkie Pie’s friends gathered about in costume around a large, triple layered cake that was decked out in the best Nightmare Night edible decorations that she could make. It wasn’t exactly normal to serve cake during such a holiday, but all five of them weren’t exactly surprised she decided to go the unconventional route. Besides, there was still plenty of candy, pies, and apples available to snack on for those that weren’t up for such a hefty confection. However, everypony that tried it had nothing but praise for it, saying that it was her best yet.
“Seriously, Pinkie, you’ve really outdone yourself. But, uh, where’s the stallion that helped you with it?”
“Oh, he had to leave. He was SUPER busy. Poor guy seemed like he’d lose his head if he didn’t get back on the road.” she said with a chuckle.
“He sounds like a real knuckle head. But, busy is busy. Can’t fault a guy for trying.”
The girls gave an innocent laugh, wishing the unknown stallion good fortune while the pink mare simply laughed along, already making plans to take a trip to Everfree to feed the wild plants the excess materials she wasn’t going to need. Oh well , she thought, He’s really missing out on such a good cake.
-o-v-o-v-o-v-o-v-o-
As tempting as it is for a bad heart to go ahead and try to be a real killjoy, unless you have a good reason to do so, it’s quite the rude offense to take away the life and bliss that others so generously grant. Worse still when your intentions are purely to make a name for yourself, spitting in the face of others. So, do yourself, and everyone else a favor, and instead of tearing down something just to gain attention, maybe direct a bit of that effort into being kind enough to lift another’s spirits. You never know who you might run into after all, and it just may pay off... instead of carry a hefty price upon scorning them.
The sound of squeaking trolley tires rolling on creaky floorboards could be heard as the theater master began sniffing at the air.
Is that... cake I smell? I’m not much for it, but maybe I could use one... little, itty-bitty slice. Then I guess, I should bid you all adieu, while I go and relax with a small snack. Happy Nightmare Night, my dear audience, and have a fantastic end to the year!
The curtains slowly closed up as the strange figure walked toward the wafting smell behind the tattered cloth. Soon enough, the lights began to dim as the wind died down to a slow whisper, up until all in the theater become still and quiet. Another Nightmare Night had come and gone, and many more would return, along with hopefully another tale from the Apparition Amphitheater.