Equestrian Psycho

by darkhorseapples

Rating: mature
Tags: Twilight Sparkle, Profanity, Gore, Violence, Princess Celestia, Dark, Death, Applejack, Original Character, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Rainbow Dash, Comedy, Horror
Length: 1566

Trotter Hoovesman is a office worker in the Equestrian Accounting Industry and lives a life of luxury of riches, but in the shadows struggles to control his psychopathic fantasies and hatred on the people he meets in his everyday life.

Trotter Hoovesman is a office worker in the Equestrian Accounting Industry and lives a life of luxury of riches, but in the shadows struggles to control his psychopathic fantasies and hatred on the people he meets in his everyday life. Read as this pony descends into madness and his very own psychopathy all while getting the girl and sustaining the life to kill for.

Published 2018-04-05 16:10:06 UTC
Last updated 2018-04-05 16:10:06 UTC

My name is Trotter Hoovesman

My name is Trotter Hoovesman, I work in the Canterlot Industry of Accounting (CIA) and, I live on the 23rd floor of the Canterlot Gardens Apartment Complex. My place is is worth roughly about 824,900 US dollars and the decor alone gives it another 87,000 dollar increase to its original value. I work for a man called Candlelit Brimstone. He runs the whole building and earns about three times my salary, to say I'm jealous of him is an understatement. You see, I don't want to be like him, I want to be him. He's handsome, charming and is the only person who can justifiably have an ego five times as big as his salary, having the numbers to back him up.

We get on relatively well and share a chuckle in the office and I overly respect him as a person and a business man but pardon my clear English but his employing skills are fucking atrocious he hired these two absolute boneheads in the same office block as me doing the same job with only a miniscule gap between our salaries. I think they're twins, I come to this conclusion on the only fact their names sound similar and slightly contradicting like Tim and Tom or Ben and Bob or some other dumb shit like that. Anyway the names in question were Jim and John two stereotypical stick up posh boys, late teens, undecorated record and lack of sense in fashion, all things that easily pissed me off. They strolled in every day matching dollar store ties, un-ironed striped shirts and pants that looked in the price range of twenty to thirty dollars compared to Brimstone who's ties alone out priced both their outfits combined then again Brimstone's taste in ties was divine. The texture, the colours all combined into a striped frenzy in a demonstration of wealth, that was pure beauty. I always complemented him on his ties and here he is now might as well give him a positivity shower once again. "Well sir, that tie your wearing its simply fantastic. Tender Silk is it?" I asked.

"Alright thanks for the compliment but I want work from you not a blowjob so keep working, and also your raise request has been declined, because I see no reason to increase your pay rate when you're not even the best share buyer in the office this point in time." He said back to me in a tone so ridiculing I wanted to stab him there and then.

"Excuse me? Who in this block is investing better shares and deposits than me, I'm pretty much the only one in this line of work on this floor." I shot. back immediately my face changing to a blank expression as the realization dawned on me. Could he really be referring to those bastards down the hall?

"Well Jim and John of course they've been killing your interest rates this week!" I stared him down coldly and slammed my hand down onto my desk causing my coffee mug to topple over and shatter on the ground below.

"I suggest you clean that up and control your temper Hoovesman. May I remind you, you are already on thin ice after your outburst last week" Brimstone advised with calmness somehow still sounding like an asshole.

He walked away not breaking eye contact with me, well that was until he saw Jim and John and started to pat them on the back and wrap his arm round them, guiding them supposedly to Horsia before looking back once more to scowl at me. Did I say he was a nice guy and I wanted to be like him, well what I meant was he was an asshole who flexed on the whole floor about his expensive clothes, talked shit behind your back and made you feel like you meant nothing in this world somehow more and more each day. I would never want to be like him. The closest I'd ever like to get to that sack of shit would be my finger running down the incision I would make in the middle of his throat before allowing the blood to flow on to the tiled floor of my kitchen and then I'd.....oh sorry am I getting side tracked, what I mean is he is disliked pretty much everywhere in the building. Brimstone had annoyed me enough to go home early. He never noticed if you went home early around four o'clock he was always at Dorsia never anywhere cheap like Van Hoovers
Always Dorsia. I strolled through the bottom floor registration lobby and pushed the rotating door with ease, and made my way across the street to Canterlot Gardens and checked in. I made my way up the 23 flights of stairs swiftly. I never take the elevator, the elevator is for slobs, unfit lazy bastards. Not me, for me fitness is key. I have a set workout routine i do every morning to keep me in shape I go for runs every Wednesday, Friday and Sunday. I would further educate you on how I live the perfect life but I've arrived at my apartment and me and Melissa have some issues to resolve. Big ones. I caught her sleeping with Brimstone a couple weeks ago and we've been sorting out the divorce process since the day after the incident. She's a real nagger, but one thing I can't take away from her is her arguing skills. They're some of the best I've ever seen. She once convinced me to buy her a dress that cost a third of my yearly salary back when I was a stockbroker earning near to nothing. I open the door and the smell of sizzling bacon hits me clean in the face, did I mention she was a chef. She glares at me from the counter and scowls, I do the opposite and smile. I think that just pissed her off more. She still lives in my apartment but wants to move into Brimstone's. He lives in the penthouse in the same building as me, what are the chances? She slides some of the burnt meat onto one of my favourite China plates and reaches out to hand it to me. For a minute i made the mistake of being genuinely grateful, well that was before she dropped the damn meal on the floor, shattering the plate. "Fucking bitch" I muttered under my breath. She bolted towards me and slapped me round my cheek.

"You want to call me that Trotter, well then it's clear how much you really want this divorce!" She screamed . I stared back at her slightly confused.

"Well if course I wanted this. You slept with another pony." I said keeping my cool.

" Be honest you don't want me to leave you. " She paused. "Im too stunning to let go that easily" Her accusation only added to the hatred and anger that was building. These emotions i was fabricating were about to be exposed as just a mask for my true feelings to hide behind. I got up and went to the kitchen i opened up the cupboard and took out a wine glass and began to pour myself a rather large portion of vodka. This was followed by my anti-depressants and my other prescription which was prescribed to help treat my "sociopathic outbursts" as my peers called them little did they know it didn't treat these thoughts. It fuelled them. I opened up my pantry and before my eyes were countless weapons and tools U had simply stocked up on over time. There were chainsaws, sharp blades, surgical tools, sledgehammer and three pairs of pliers. Then I caught sight of a single barrel shotgun and small handgun that were hanging only slightly out of an old dusty dresser, none of these would do the trick, I spotted a nail gun sat on a shelf and began to play the possible outcomes of using the nail gun like a movie inside my head. It was too risky and it wasn't cordless. My hand ran down the blade of an Australian hunting knife, this thing was used to kill things like alligators the damage on a human would be horrifying but efficient. I slipped all five fingers onto the blade's handle and lifted it to about shoulder height and began to limber up my arm with a couple strikes and slashes into thin air. I was ready. I walked through the hallway and saw it, second door on the right. Melissa's bedroom. I nudged the door open and saw her sleeping so soundly, so unaware of her fate that lied just seconds away, I ran the blade along her throat preparing to strike, then she sat up and looked around puzzled, I hoped she didn't hear the thud of my 246lbs body hitting the carpet and rolling under her bed. I felt her lay back down resuming her snores of relief and rest. This was it, my final chance. I crawled out from under the bed and looked down on my soon to be ex-wife raised the knife above her throat taking steady aim. "Fucking bitch" I whispered.

Author's Note

Something new I tried, based on the film of a similar name "American Psycho" hope you all enjoy comment for more.