We reached Cheerilee’s house after a few minutes' walk through Ponyville, the theatre being sited on the very edge of the town. It was a nice, nondescript structure, being built in the typical, half-timbered Plantageneight style that was usual for Ponyville. It had two floors, and a thatched roof which I imagined was good for keeping the rain out, and the warmth in. Cheerilee walked over to the door and unlocked the door, indicating with her hoof for me to go in. I put my saddle bag on the table and fished around for the piece of work I had produced in order to claim I was having difficulty with it.

Cheerilee went over to her kitchen. “You wouldn’t mind putting it on the table, would you?” she asked. I went into the living room and looked over the furniture. It all looked like it had been recently repaired. One of the table legs had a crack in it, which had been fixed with a combination of nails and superglue. It all looked very haphazard, and furthermore there was a window covered in black and yellow tape, as if it had been broken recently.

Cheerilee trotted in after me a few moments later. “Just been doing some remodelling in here,” she said.

“May I ask why the table leg is damaged?” I asked.

Cheerilee laughed. “Oh! I bumped into it one day whilst dusting the house and it broke. I had to fix it, which took such a long time, but it’s held for now.”

There was an awkward pause. “Would you like something to drink?” Cheerilee asked, as she moved over to me.

There was something very, very wrong. She was being too nice, too cheerful. It simply felt forced, and I had a feeling of dread building up in my stomach. However, I had to answer the question. “Water, please,” I replied.

“Sure!” Cheerilee replied, heading into the kitchen.

That was my chance. Once she had shut the door, I headed out into the corridor and began to look around.

First, I poked my head into the parlour. There was not much of interest in there, apart from a few photos and other such memorabilia. I looked at one of them, which seemingly had been taken a while ago, which showed Cheerilee with another mare who looked rather similar to her. The resemblance was uncanny. I brushed it off, and moved on. I decided to try the basement next, but that was locked, and so quickly gave up. Just then, I heard the door open, and Cheerilee stepped out with two drinks, one of them the water I had requested. I quickly dived down the stairs and waited for her to go past, and once she had gone by, I then headed back and cantered up the stairs as fast as I could.

“Oh, Silver Spoon?” I heard Cheerilee ask. “Where are you?”

I froze in position. My cover was blown, I knew it!

There was a deafening silence. And then she spoke again. “Oh, she’s probably in the restroom. Nothing to worry about, I’ll just wait for her to finish.”

I let out the breath I had been holding in, of which fact I was unaware, and then continued on my journey. I poked my head into the bedroom, which had a pair of curtains over the windows, and a scattering of furniture items, such as a dressing table, a chandelier, and some chairs. There was also a desk, upon which a typewriter sat with a copy of the play Reginald the Sly set next to it. So, this was the place where she had written it. I have to say it was pretty impressive how she had turned it out in such a short space of time.

I flipped the script open out of interest, and reached the scene where Scootaloo (as Sir Lancelot) confronts, and is defeated by, Reginald.

Sir Lancelot: These are the Wildlands, there is no doubt. So where could that weaselly Reginald be? I heard he’s sly as a fox, and true as that may be, he’ll never outwit the likes of me.

Reginald appears, wearing a black cloak, next to the mine working.

Sir Lancelot: Halt! By order of the king I, Sir Lancelot have come to put an end to Reginald the Sly. Are you he?

Reginald (as hermit): Oh no, noble knight. I am but a simple hermit, living in the mountains yonder.

Sir Lancelot (dismissively): A little thing such as you would indeed not have been much of a challenge. You look like you can hardly stand upright during a gentle summer breeze. Now tell me quick, simple soul, if I wish to find this Reginald, where should I go?

Reginald: Ah, you are indeed fortunate, sir knight. The villain you seek has his lair in this very cave.

Sir Lancelot peers in, suspicious.

Sir Lancelot: In there? You are sure of this?

Reginald: Of course, would I lie? You might have to leave your lance behind though, a lot of narrow passages down there.

Sir Lancelot looks around, and then shrugs.

Sir Lancelot (confidently): If I find him not you shall rue the day you were born!

Sir Lancelot enters the cave, and waits for a moment.

Sir Lancelot: It’s a dead end in here. What trickey is this?

I chortled for a moment. Scootaloo had been getting most of these lines wrong for weeks, though whether this was deliberate or because she was stupid, I’m not sure. The script then continued.

Reginald pulls on a hidden lever, and a set of bars drop into place in front of the cave.

Sir Lancelot: What is this trickery? Let me out right this instant, or the justice of King Golden crown shall come down upon your head, be whomever you may!

Reginald lifts his hood, revealing his true identity.

Reginald: Be whoever I may? Why, you’re thicker than I thought, you righteous foal. It is of course I, Reginald the Sly. Did you think I would not expect one of you to come here eventually, or that I would not recognise the ‘Great’ Sir Lancelot, bravest of all the knights in the realm, when she arrived upon my doorstep? It is your courage that shall now be your undoing.

Sir Lancelot (angry): You devil! You heathen, you dishonourable wretch! When I get out of here, it’ll be off with your head!

Reginald grips the lever once again.

Reginald: Then it is fortunate that you will never get out of there, ever again.

He pulls the lever (cue orchestra), and Lancelot backs up onto the platform. This drops out of sight, whilst rocks fill the mine entrance. Exit Reginald to stage left.

It was the next note that caught my eye, written in red and not present in the script copies we had.

Note: Whilst changing scenes for the King’s palace, operate press. That’ll make a bloody mess!

Next to it was a crude diagram, showing a stick-figure representation of Scootaloo being squished in some sort of cage, with some sort of liquid falling into a pool.

This has to be some sort of sick joke! I thought, as I flicked through some more pages. I stopped at the point where the sun falls from the sky. Next to it was another note in red.

Note: Ensure lamp falls on top of Snails. Force sufficient to kill.

By Celestia, what is this?

I flicked forward a few more pages, to the scene with Sir Altruis.

King Golden Crown: NO! My decision is final, you will have to go.

Sir Altruis: But my King, the royal guard, they-

King Golden Crown (interrupting): Are needed to defend the capital. With tensions rising in the east, we have no ponies to spare. You know this, Altruis. I trust in your capabilities. You will not fail me, like the others have, for if you do... I’ll have to accept this cretin’s challenge myself.

Sir Altruis crosses the stage (dim lights on King’s table). Eventually, he reaches a forest to see Reginald caught in a bear trap.

Reginald: Well, well... seems at least one of us is in luck today. The great knight arriving during the villain’s finest hour... You must be thrilled.

Sir Altruis: Are you hurt?

Reginald (sarcastically): Oh no! This thing is very comfortable, in fact.

Sir Altruis (cautiously): I’ll get you out. But if you make one strange move...

Sir Altruis is caught in wires and is suspended from the ceiling.

Sir Altruis: Hey! Let me down!

Reginald steps out of the bear trap, revealing it to be a fake, and laughs.

Reginald: Ah, dear Sir Altruis, is it not? Not one for skulking about, are we? You’d have to be quite good not to be spotted by me, anyway... And that legendary kindness, who knew it’d get you in the position you are in now?

Sir Altruis: If you know what’s good for you, Reginald, you’ll come with me. The king is fed up, and whatever his next move may be, you’ll probably not like it if you stick around here.

Reginald: I’ve heard the same tale spun twice before, good stallion. I’m quite sick of it by now, so if you don’t mind... This’ll be goodbye. Say hello to the beasts of the underworld for me.

Reginald pulls another lever, opening a trapdoor. Altruis falls through it.

There was another instruction in red.

Note: remember to remove crash mat on the night of the play.

Next to it was a crude drawing of Sweetie Belle being nailed down and then devoured by rats.

Note: Fire works well for getting rats to co-operate.

There was one of these notes next to each and every scene, which made one thing clear to me. Cheerilee planned to kill each and every one of us! This made me so sick, I wanted to-

A loud banging noise interrupted my thoughts. It was coming from the wardrobe. What could be in there? I trotted over and opened it, and my eyes filled with horror when I saw what was inside.

Inside, was a purple mare with a two-tone pink mane and tail, with a cutie mark of three smiling flowers. She was tied up and gagged as well. It was Miss Cheerilee!

“What are you doing in here?” I asked. She simply made some noises, so I pulled her out and tried my best to untie her, which proved to be incredibly difficult as the nots were very tight. Once I was done, she turned around and looked at me. “You have to stop her!” she said.

“Stop who?” I asked.

“Well, well, there you are,” said a voice. I turned around, and there was Cheerilee as well. But how could there be two Cheerilees?

“You know too much,” she grinned. “Weed.” That’s all I remember, before all went black.

Author's Note

Dun dun dun!

In case you are interested, Cheerilee's bedroom was based on that of Mrs Bates in Psycho: