He Can't Keep Getting Away With This
It all started with J Edgar Hoover. Life was nothing but fake news. Hoover had already changed the face of the world with his way of running the FBI, but it got so much worse when he was transported to Equestria. After all, they didn’t call him ‘Hoover’ for nothin’, if you know what I’m sayin’. At first, things were fine, that was until he discovered the existence of… the zebras. Fuck.
J ‘Eddy van Hoofen’ Hooves was attending Bad OC’s Anonymous one day, when the politically incorrect news was sprung on him like a boner in a monastery. He then decided that it was time to investigate… the ziggers. He tried to tap their phone lines, but couldn’t. Probably because they were too uncivilized for that type of technology he decided.
“What kind of faglords ain’t have no goddamn phones?!” he screeched at his right bollocks that he aptly named ‘Lupita’.
“That’s insensitive, Hoover!” replied Lupita.
"Shut up baby, I know it," said the J-man.
He glances to his noose in his bathroom, gave it the good ol' finger guns, and said seductively, "Not today, old friend. But probably tomorrow."
However, upon kidnapping one of the ziggers and hiding it in a little wooden shack in the woods, he discovered all of the recipes to his southern ways. Southern. Deep Fried. Chick Tendies.
It was revealed the deep secret to this delicious cuisine… was beanis. They used beanis in everything, from their chick tendies to their watermelone and blurple drank. Hoover was fascinated, but felt this information was not safe in zebra hooves.
He smirked devilishly, for he knew things were about to get… Ausche-Lit.
“I think I’ll dress up as St. Nick and collect every zebra in town,” he cackled. “Use their big black cocks to mold my magnum condoms. But first, I will need a side-kick.”
He picked up his phone and called Sir Winston Churchill and said, “Ey yo nigga, I need jo help.”
“Awww shit kid,” said Winny. “I’ll be there faster than you can say: ‘Have you heard the tale of Darth Plagueis the Wise.’”
Before he hung up, uh, hold on there mother fucker, before he- shut up. God damnit.
So, before he hung up, he told W Daddy: “Hey, how about you get my good nigga John Adams over here too, I ain’t seen that fuck head since the Apple Family Bar and Grill Festival of ‘69.”
“Shit son,” replied W. Daddy. “Should I bring the dog dong as well?”
“No, but be sure to grab my father and brother Dickerson Nailher Hoofer Jr and Sr. They’ll enjoy what we have planned.”
Princess Celestia sat in her private study of Canterlot Castle doing fuck all, like she always did, when she heard the news. Princess was smokin’dat dank-ass green from her zigga fam. When she heard that her dealer was more into gas these days than smoke, she stood up and reeeeeee’d.
“War never changes, reeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee.” And then, a new letter came.
“War has changed.”
“Shit, how many twin towers do I need to demolish this time?” Celestia mumbled.
“None! Our allies are going to train the changelings to control the pegusai and crash them like so many bugs on a windshield,” said Twilight, who else?
“Well,” said Celestia. “We can always introduce crack cocaine manufacturing to destroy the population.”
“I thought we were trying to save the zebras?” said Twilight.
“Dude, I’m so high right now,” said Celestia.
That’s when the ponevengers jumped in: Eddy van Hoofen, John Adams, Whinny the Church and their secret weapon… Shaodw Blafe. That’s when they released the power of the AUTISM GAUNTLET!(™ Barcast 2018) Celestia grimaced at all the cancer that flowed out of it, like so much semen out of a fapping brony.
"Hey bby, want sum fuk?" said J Eddy to Celestia.
Celestia then remarked, “If it hadn’t been for Cotton Eye Joe, I’d of fucked your mom last Tuesday afternoon. Umph.”
“Jokes on you,” said J Edgar Hoover. “I already fucked her last night!”
From out of a window, Derpy’s head popped. “She broke halfway through the night, I just don’t know what went wrong!”
The rest of the Mane Six burst into Celestia’s already cramped study, each politely nodding to their stallionfriend Shwosa Eblade Games.tm because they would make out later, to save the day.
Sir John ‘Goodman’ Adams then sinisterly threatened “I’ll have two number nines, a number nine large, a number six with extra dip, a number seven, two number fourty-fives, one with cheese, and a large soda.”
As the others confirmed their equally ridiculous orders, they turned to Shawoza sitting in the corner playing with his ‘fidget spinner’. ;)
Sir Adams, watching the titillating spinning between the hooves of his comrade, his kegs burst and frothed all over the floor like a naked child playing in a tub with too much bubble bath, forever staining the planks beneath their feet.
“Okay, this is getting to be a bit too much,” Celestia said. “There’s only one cancer that can set all of this back to some semblance of normal. The Juice.”
“Do you mean the Jews?” asked Twilight.
“Were those the creatures that I banished to The Dahk Sied of the Moon to keep Luna company?”
“Can I keep their foreskins?” asked Twilight. “I need them to finish my necklace.”
When through a pair of dumbledoors, Luna and her guards burst in bellowing “To life, to life, l’chaim!”while dancing the hora.
Celestia quickly opened a safe, pulled out a magic box of juice, and tossed it into her gas fireplace, burning all of the juice.
“Sieg Heil!” declared Celestia!
Suddenly, all of the humans, who turned into ponies for some reason, fucked back off to Earth, because Sieg Heil was the word of the day. Peewee’s Playhouse rules, I guess.
They all gave the white pony power salute and decided to go get drunk together. And everyone forgot that they had massacred all of the zebras, but that’s okay because who cares about zebras anyway.
End.
Author's Note
Priest: "I'm sorry, Mods."
Milk: "We're Not Sorry."
Anonpencil: "Please don't ban us."
Enigmatic Otaku: "Objects in mirror are more racist than they appear."
Flammenwerfer: "I'm like the downgraded Jesus. I just came to this Earth to suffer."
Ravvij: "Add this to Meester's Favorite's folder without him knowing <3"
