Did You Know Rob and I Have the Two Most Downvoted Stories On This Site?
Super T was in the checkout lane at the local Right Aid when the sliding doors were kicked open.
Well, they weren’t really kicked open, cause they were already open. The dumb ass orange earth pony stallion just kicked the glass, sending shards everywhere for no reason other than to give himself a more interesting and action packed intro.
Super T just thought he looked hella wack, and voiced this thought.
“You look hella wack,” Super T said, stating the obvious.
“You call that an insult? I’ll have you know-” Cakeran, the now obviously named pony began before being silenced by a glass bottle of whiskey being shoved into his mouth.
“Shhh… it’s okay, daddy’s got your medicine.” Super T stroked ~~ROB’s~~ Cakeran’s face.
He then opened a medicine bottle, placed a square piece of film onto his tongue, and swallowed.
“Oh yeah, Daddy’s gonna be feeling good tonight.”
Cakeran slapped ~~Daddy~~ Super T’s face with a hoof.
Because hooves were awesome, shut up.
“Super T, we don’t have time for this.”
“Wait, where did that bottle of whiskey go?”
“I consumed it.”
“...”
“...”
“Alright, sounds legit, continue please, before this shit starts to hit.”
“Alright,” Cakeran copied Super T’s previous dialogue, “sounds legit. We got a job to do, so we need to leave here.”
“But I gotta pay.”
“You already did.”
“I did?”
“Yes.”
“Actually…” the register mare said, hoof halfway raised, “he didn’t.”
“Close enough.” Cakeran grabbed his sidekick, dragging him out the door with another bag full of booze bottles and Twizzlers.
Pull’n’Peels, of course, you sick fucks. I remember that scene from Chitty Chitty, Bang Bang, and how they lied to me… I couldn’t make a flute from a regular Twizzler… they lied to me.*
*if this makes no fucking sense to you, corner Rob at a convention and ask him what the fuck he’s talking about because I’ve seen the movie and I still have no clue what he’s on about but also I have bad memory and saw the movie when I was like seven or something.
Anyway, so our heroic duo climbed into their smashed up blue minivan (which had a mural painted of a wide flanked Princess Celestia for some reason) and took off, leaving the Right Aid as the two register ponies and few customers watched in utter confusion.
“Well, at least we’re all okay,” stated one of the random customers.
As Cakeran and Super T drove away, a massive explosion rocked their van, but they couldn’t bother to look behind them to see what it was, for it would have made it less cool in doing so.
Granted, they were already all kinds of dumb ass lameos and uncool, but not looking backwards in life made them feel somewhat less shitty, or some sort of anagram about always looking forward. In other words,
TDon't Look Back in Anger
So Celly can wait; she know's it's too late, as we're walking on by.
Super Trampoline ·
1.1k words
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“So, Cakeran, where are we doing?” Asked the strangely blocky black alicorn OC, who’s pattern was not unlike a ten year old’s crayon drawing.
Cakeran nodded his head, short white mane billowing in the breeze caused by his ~~shattered~~ open window.
“We are going to rob a store.”
“Dun dun dun!” Super T said out loud.
“Yes., it is.”
“So what are we stealing this time? I’ve still got that old animal hide Independence thing in my bathroom.”
“No, this one is more important than a two hundred year old piece of animal hide spewing garbage about freedom of speech.”
“Wait… but aren’t you all for that dribble?” Asked Super T.
“Yes.”
“Then why-”
“BECAUSE EXTREME CHASE SCENE.”
Suddenly there were cops. But they weren’t ordinary cops.
“Are those Caneighdian Mounties?” Super T asked, dumbfounded, the acid finally starting to hit.
“Probably.”
“But, we haven’t tried to steal anything yet.”
“Because they know…” Cakeran looked into the camera, face stoic, “they always know when trouble is afoot.”
“Hoof.”
There was a lot of distance between the minivan and mounted police, because they were riding horses. Or, well actually other ponies. It was weird, and probably most of their fetishes, but it worked. Anyway the damn point is they had lots of time for Cakeran to pull over the van and slap the shit out of Super T.
“Hey, now,” Super Trampoline responded. “If we are going to do this sort of thing, I’d like to go over safety rules and safe words and hard and soft limits first. Little did ~~Rob~~Rob’s OC know that Super Trampoline was actually an up and cumming member of the BDSM community. Seriously, that was one of the highlights for him at BronyCon. Well, actually a hotel room about a third of a mile from BronyCon. Hold on, there’s a blog post about that… [Super rifles through his old blog posts] Alright here we go: https://www.fimfiction.net/blog/866229/offer-i-will-tie-you-up-at-bronycon-and-possibly-let-you-tie-me-up
ANYWAY...
“Damn I think I got some Crayola on me,” Cakeran said, wiping his hoof off on the steering wheel as he continued back onto the main road.
It didn’t take them long, only having to bribe one moose to distract the mounties, and they were able to arrive at their destination.
“This is a Sports Authority.” Super T stated, glaring.
“Yes.”
“Dude, these went out of business like, ten plus years ago.”
“Yes.”
“Then why are we-”
Cakeran slapped Super T again.
“You know, I’m more into the power-exchange, rope play, and tease and denial aspects of BDSM than pain. I’m not so much into giving or receiving it. One of my partners loves getting the shit beaten out of them, and like, I enjoy bringing people happiness, so I’m happy to oblige.”
ANYWAY
“Because, my high as a kite friend, there’s something special in there. Their bankruptcy was all a ruse to make ponies think they were gone, but they’re still working in the shadows. Plotting against those who still believe in the second amendment.”
“That’s the gun one, right?” Super T asked.
Cakeran pulled out his bazooka from the back of the ~~stolen~~ minivan.
“Yes.”
He proceeded to blow open the wall beside the entrance doors. As they neared, the doors automatically opened for them, but not wanting to feel unvalidated, they chose to enter through the huge ass hole anyway.
Meanwhile….
Sunset Shimmer was making out with Starlight Glimmer, both in pony form.
“Mmmm, yes, tell me more about Marx’s Theory of Alienation Under Capitalism!” Sunset moaned. There were few things she found hotter than Communist ponies. Now, Starlight Glimmer’s originalI've never done quote our town stick (at this point, ST switched to Voice to Text, so expect bullshit) unquote Aesthetic was not actually communist. Communism is all about from each according to their abilities to each according to their needs. Starlight was all about making everyone uniform and removing what makes each of us special. That's no bueno. However, since that incident, Starlight had started a cultural Exchange program with Slavoj Zizek. why him? Because he's weird and also Either wrote actual My Little Pony FanFiction on this site or a very good impersonator did: https://www.fimfiction.net/user/182031/Slavoj+Zizek.
So anyway, Shim Sham and Glim Glam were getting that hot hot lesbian pony action in, when suddenly, A rather large hole was rather violently created in a nearby wall. Fortunately, They were okay, because Starlight had an OP shield going or some shit I dunno.
KABOOM!!!
“AAAAAAAAA!” both mares screamed, climaxing simultaneously. As they lay panting in the afterglow of endorphins and sweat and mare juice, and (Rob wants me to remind you) wall plaster, from the fucking explosion.
Cakeran and Super Trampoline stepped into the heretofore assumed empty ~~Chicks Sporting Goods~~ Sports Authority. As the dust settled, they noticed two familiar looking mares.
“Yooooo, ain’t that Shim Sham and Glim Glam?” Trampo exclaimed.
“OH MAN, THE BIGGEST LESBO HORSES, besides those other two, the mint unicorn and secret spie fetish one.”
“I do want to note,” added Super, “That either these sapphic sweethearts are either cheating on Sci Twi and Trixie, or in an open relationship or polyamorous like I am.” It is a known fact that all polyamorous twenty-somethings are required by law to casually mention that they are polyamorous at least three times per week. Or something. There’s probably a “Hard Times” article about it.
Cakeran looked at his companion, confused. “Dude, are you like, having a stroke or something?”
Super Trampolinguini was primed to respond, when...
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
While the two dumb asses were debating over the spelling of Linquini, Sunset and Starlight tried to slowly back away, out the sliding doors.
But then Super Trampoline read ahead of his own words, and they caught the two mares before they could escape.
Ummm, anyway, I guess the lady ponies uh noticed they had been noticed or something, and froze.
b
Super was like, “Yoooo, are y’all practicing anarchist priniciples by squating in this building and fucking each other? If so, like, right on, my dudettes!”
~~Rob~~Cakeran responded, “Hey, Supes, remember what we were originally here for?”
“No.”
“We are trying to rob the store, so we can have the most ultimate trampoline ever.”
“Even more super than me?” Estee asked. ←--Voice to text, folks. That was supposed to say “ST”.
“yes, the most super duperest of trampolines.”
“Are they calling us tramps?” Asked Sunset.
“I mean, aren’t we kinda?” Starlight also asked.
“Well,” Super Trampoline started singing, “Tramps like us, baby we were born to run!”, quoting the best or at least one of the best rock songs ever created. This is then when Super Trampoline pulled out a keyboard from his ass and began actually singing this song.
Which, honestly, Cakeran, Starlight, and Shimmer all agreed was pretty awesome.
So after a few minutes of intense rock singing that almost brought the rest of the walls down, Super T threw his keyboard at a wall and it exploded, making another hole.
“Talk about eye candy,” Cakeran said.
So the duo looked into the hole, where a long set of shallow stairs lead down into a black hole.
“Oh yeah, this is probably the place,” Cakeran said.
“I dunno man, this seems kinda gay to me.”
“Well lets make this the full experience then.”
So Cakeran grabbed the two still slick mares that were leaking fluids, and each stallion (or at least Cakeran thought ST was a stallion but not entirely sure) (I am indeed a stallion.), sat on the mare’s backs, yanked their tails to get the fluids running, and rode them down the stairs.
They landed in a stone filled room. Stone walls, floor, and even skeletons.
Like, stoned, in the sense everything smelled of pot.
What the fuck. What the actual fuck? How high/drunk were we? Anyway we need to finish this story. Rob stop reading aloud everything I say.
“Yeah okay.” ROB just looked around, still absorbing the mare juices that were flowing over his shoulders.
“That’s hella lewd, brah.” ST said.
“Yes.” Everyone agreed.
So it was decided that it was, in fact, hella lewd. Didn’t stop it from happening. So, you know, five or so minutes later, after they were done, everypony got their shit together to actually formulate a plan.
Why are we in a secret Legend of Zelda-esque stone dungeon that smells like pot or something?
Well, the truth is, they had stumbled upon the remains of a top secret pot growing operation.
Hold on, I just want to tell y’all, without telling you any sort of context, Rob just said “Oh, it’s super gooey”.
It was, by the by.
That’s right, some earth ponies on Earth, because this story takes place on earth for some reason, some earth ponies had been growing the mary Jay and selling on the black market since most US states despite being run by Republicans who espouse “small government”, believe inhaling the fumes of a burning plant should plant you in jail, especially if you are a minority. Fuck them. But since these ponies were using their earth pony growing powers to grow pots of pot on Earth, Admiral Biscuit is now required by law to blog about this story.
Meanwhile, ROB wondered if his patriotism was going to outclass, outshine, or just outright gun down ST’s ways of viewing.
Bets were all on the latest of them, and lemme tell ya… man, was everyone not sure of anything.
“No I mean really, S-T. Nopony really knew what the fuck was going on.”
ST nodded his head. “Yeah, I mean, we’re really kinda fucked up in our own ways, yet we both agree.”
“So like, what is the endgame for this story? Weren’t we like stealing a trampoline or something?” Super Trampoline wondered aloud.
“Oh yeah, that’s right.” ROB turned to the two mare turned human ponies, Starlight and Sunny Buns. “Hey, we’re gonna go rob a place. You in?” Rob and Tramp at this point had a short discussion about whether Sunset and Starlight were humans or ponies. Then they decided it didn’t matter.
Starlight’s eyes glowed with mischief and wonder. Sunset’s eyes glowed with contempt over our blatant law breaking, and yet, didn’t seem to give too many fucks.
I can’t blame her. She’s seen some shit and some shit accessories.
“So what do we do now?” She asked.
“Easy, my friends. We next go after a Montgomery Wards. They’re sure to have a trampoline.”
Everypony glared at ROB. Even ROB glared at ROB. “What?”
“Didn’t they go out of business decades ago?” Super asked.
“Maybe. Shut up.”
“We have to travel back in time to Montgomery Wards to steal it,” Rob slurred, producing another whisky bottle from hammer space or something. Honestly we are both burnt out on this fucking story.
“That’s fine. We’ll figure it out.”
“Okay,” someone said. Probably Starlight. She knows a thing or two about time travel. So she drew this wicked sigil on the floor of the secret pot farm using her own mare juice and fired up a time travel spell for the two stallions so they would get the fuck off and she and Sunset could get back to canoodling.
Several decades at least ago
Georg was in the checkout lane at the local Montgomery Wards when the sliding doors were kicked open...
Author's Note
Rob is a hoot and a half and it was an honor to work with him.
