God dammit all. Tonight was supposed to be a good night! I greeted my father in-law with a smile and a handshake.

“Welcome to the Syndicate, Mr. Rich.” He seemed pleasantly surprised. “How’s business been going?” I asked him,

“Quite well, actually. We went through a whole rebranding after the… gala incident… ever since then, we’ve rebranded to just Barnyard Bargains and started running coupons and flash sales; people forgot about the gala after that.” We both shared a laugh- we both knew all too well how easy the masses are to manipulate.

“Take a seat, my man! Maria, bring out that fancy wine!” I yelled to my wife's assistant…

Oh yeah- my wifes assistant? Turns out, she’s the daughter of my first victim. Out of all the people, it had to be… her? Either way, she’s nice enough, I suppose. I dunno why she’s so skittish when I leave her alone with my wife, though.

Anyways, Mrs. Rich walked past me to join her husband with a faint smile… until I grabbed her by the collar, glaring intensely into her eyes.

“You have some fucking nerve showing your face around here.” She started nervously glancing around, sweat running down her forehead. She stuttered, but I interrupted- “If you weren’t the mother to my wife, I’d have you thrown off the tallest fuckin’ building I could find.” Her pupils shrunk and she started to shake, and I let go of her collar. Her husband didn’t even double back.

We took our seats, and Dee decided to address the elephant in the room.

“So… why… just why?” It seemed like she had been racking her brain for at least a solid minute or two, so I put a wing around her.

“Why are you here?” I looked over to Mamma for this one. “Sorry, but this came so outta left field, you know?” Mamma giggled.

“Well, as soon as I heard the news, I figured the border would be closing… so I thought, why not? I had a good friend of mine keep an eye on the house.” She then turned and glared at Mrs. Rich. “And apparently, that hag wanted to apologize.” An insult the subject of which would not take lying down.

“Now who the fuck are you calling a hag, you-!?” She half-yelled, making a move to get out of her chair.

“Let me stop you right there.” I said in a cold, stern voice that even caused my wife to straighten her back. “I don’t think you realize who owns this place. Who do you think owns the justice system? Who do you think controls the army? Who, in the god damn fuck, do you think signs everyone’s checks here?” I glared at her intensely and grit my beak- she seemed to shrink in her chair. “I guess what I’m saying is, if you DARE insult either my wife or my mother, I will bury you alive.”

After a few seconds of awkward silence, I added- “You are my guest, here. If you think you have any fucking right to walk into my home and demand anything from me, I’ll eviscerate you so fast, you won’t even have time to beg for mercy. Capiche?” She was shaking, and rapidly nodded her head. Bitches like her are always quick to backpedal. Her husband, though? He chuckled upon seeing his wife’s reaction.

I turned to Adrian and Roscoe with an apologetic look. “If ya’s don’t mind? This is a bit of a personal thing, I don’t want either of ya’s getting tied up in my bullshit.” They nodded in understanding and I walked with them to the door- which was only a few feet away. “I’ll meet ya’s at The Suite and we’ll get drunk and play poker all night like we planned.”

Roscoe looked at me with a smirk. “Trouble wit’ tha in-laws?” He gave that stupid chuckle again, “You let me know if’n I need’ta send backup.”

“Alright alright, take it easy, boys. I’ll catch up.”

“Good luck. If you need help throwing her out a window, let me know.” I’ve told my pals stories about my mother-in-law around a campfire. I admit- I rarely painted her in a flattering light.

As I walked back to the table, I saw my wife had a… disturbingly neutral expression. I’ve seen that look before- and I was fairly certain I knew what she was thinking… But part of me hoped dearly that I was wrong. I sat between my wife and my mother, and my in-laws sat directly across from us. I held my palms up, gesturing for them to start.

Mr. Rich got out of his chair. I could overhear Mrs. Rich saying something under her breath, almost in a panicked and shrill tone, What are you doing?! You can’t get close!

He approached my wife with an apologetic, almost sad look in his eyes. “Diamond Tiara, please… I’m sorry. I’ve always wanted what was best for you and…”

Honestly? I actually believed him. I knew he loved his daughter unconditionally like a father oughta- he was just a workaholic. He was always busy, and he never seemed to be able to make time for his daughter… or his wife, for that matter. But on the few occasions where he stepped in to defend and/or protect her, I knew for a fact Dee never had problems after, at least for a while.

One particular story actually comes to mind: the time Dee and her parents were eating dinner together, and her mother, the absolute cunt, had the audacity to call her own daughter a faggot. I’ll never forget the look on her face when she told me he literally slammed the plate he was carrying on the ground, shoved her into the china cabinet, and threatened to break her jaw if she ever called his daughter that again.

You know somethin’? I’d do the same fuckin’ thing for my kid if it ever came down to it. The only difference is, I more than likely would follow through with a threat like that... No wonder my wife’s a sociopath.

Anecdotes aside, at this point, Mr. Rich was about finished with his apology spiel. I feel bad for not hearing his entire apology, but fuck ‘em.

“But could you ever forgive me?” My wife had a puzzled expression, almost like she was still racking her brain from earlier.

“Why did you stay with her?” A simple question, which was asked in a deadened tone of voice. It reminded me of when Silver Spoon abandoned her: she had the exact same tone of voice, mainly because she was desperately trying to not cry in front of everyone. “Why didn’t you divorce her?”

“How could he?” I pitched in. Dee turned to me with a shocked look, a slight twinge on the edges of her mouth. “Divorce her, and lose half his shit to that hag? Risk losing you in a custody battle? He’d be crazy to risk it!” At least, that’s the way I feel about it.

“It’s because I wanted you to have a normal life!” Well, my guess was close enough. “And, yeah, that also, to an extent.” I fucking KNEW IT! “I didn’t want you to be like those other kids always swapping from house to house; I knew the kids from school would never let ya hear the end of it!”

I leaned in and whispered to Dee, where I was hugging her from behind, “It’s alright to cry. We won’t make fun of you.” Immediately, her body was racked with sobs, and she started sniffling. Her father had a beaming smile on his face, and immediately took her in for a hug.

He raised his hoof, and I took the hint and backed off. She cried hard into his chest that she missed him, and that she was sorry for leaving him. It was real touching- but of course, her bitch mother had to pipe up.

“And what about me? Am I gonna get a chance to apologize?” Her words were laced with her own sense of moral superiority. Coincidentally, her voice made her the most punchable object in the room.

I raised up the finger. “Here’s your chance to apologize. Go fuck your mother.” Her eyes shot open and she snorted defiantly.

“You bitch! I oughta-” It was a bizarre scene, if I was being honest. Dee was laugh-crying into her fathers chest after that stupid insult. Just full-on ugly howling laughter mixed with sobs that just from the look of it felt so, so relieving. Her mother was jumping over the table and the guards in the far corners of the rooms were scrambling to intercept her. While that’s happening, my mother was nonchalantly lighting a cigarette; evidently, the conversation had far exceeded the boundaries of “her business.”

I’ve never really talked about my mother-in-law too much, mainly ‘cause it raises my blood pressure too much to even want to think about her. Why would I wanna remind myself of all the times my love had gone to her mother for help or advice, and was instead met with reluctance and ridicule? Why would I wanna talk about how she went out of her way to personally make it so that the love of my life never feels good enough? Everytime something goes wrong, in that hag’s eyes, it was always Dee’s fault.

I’m only explaining this to put into reference the context of my wife’s mindset in the next scene. She understands fully what her mother did- I’ve explained her abuses many times to her, as her very own DIY therapist. She has a lot of pent up anger, and well…

As she cried into her fathers shoulder, I calmly approached the guards. “Help her up.” I glanced back to Dee and we made eye contact- and she nodded. I knew exactly what she wanted. “You feeling alright, Mrs. Spoiled Milk?” I asked, raising my wings and pretending to brush dirt off her shoulder as a distraction.

“Wha-what are-” She was asking- and I gripped her hard and swung around…

… to where her daughter was waiting with one of the guards' batons. Personally, I don’t approve of matricide, but ultimately, what my wife wants is what my wife wants.

Then again, I'd be a hypocrite to stop her. After all-I did the same thing to the mother who abandoned my human self. Speaking of which- after the baton… bashed itself into her nose a third time, my mother flew a peace sign, cigarette hanging out of her mouth, and calmly asked the guard near the door where her room was.

“Love ya, Ma! I stashed a whole crate of cigars in your room. We’ll talk later!” I already had a room set aside-just in case she ever decided to visit.

“Love ya’ too, sweetie. Come home safe.” And that was all she could ask for at this point.

I think the only reason I focused on these details so much is because I really didn’t want to pay attention to the savagery going on right in front of me. Just- the shouts of sheer fucking anger coming from my wife chilled me, and the cries for mercy from her mother made me shiver.

I knocked her to the floor and figured, fuck it, I’ve made it this far. I started kicking the shit out of the nearly unconscious ogress while Dee threw the truncheon to the side and just started whaling on her with her bare hooves. We were both getting sprayed with blood and despite all the disgust I felt, I gotta admit…

She turned me on. I stood up to get out of my wifes way and gave Mr. Rich an apologetic smile.

“Sorry, Mr. Rich, I didn’t wanna whack her in front of you.” I then looked to one of the guards, “Get a room ready for him.” My father in law just raised his hooves.

“Hey, I didn’t see a thing. Business is business. And please, call me Phil.” I gave him a smile. He knows what’s up- ever the shrewd capitalist, he always was.

I whipped the tablecloth off the dining room table, and helped my wife put the corpse on it, hastily wrapping it up. I looked back and scoffed.

“Fuckin’ mutt cracked my leg.” I admit- I’m still using the shitty hospital one. I just haven’t gotten to replacing it, but it was starting to chafe like a motherfucker. Id’ve gotten to it sooner or later, either way.

I had some guys take the stiff downstairs and put it in the back of my carriage. As they dragged it out, I ran over to my wife and hugged her tight.

“How ya feel?” I asked, unsure of how much my wife thought this through. She took several deep breaths, her expression remaining neutral. “Good? Bad? Unsure?” after a few moments of silence,

“Honey, where’s the wine?” I couldn’t help but feel relieved.

“Tell ya what, let’s meet up with the guys. We’ll get wasted, play cards, and dump this stiff in the woods. How’s that sound?” She gave me an odd sounding giggle.

“Oh sweetheart, I don’t want to get wasted… I want to get absolutely fucking obliterated. Call your drug guys and the IEA. It’s time to burn both our memories and some royal garbage.” Ah- The IEA is the official government designation for the Enforcers. Internal Enforcement Agency.

God damn-I even have my own three-letter agents now! I wonder if Roscoe will start glowing in the dark soon?

Wait. What?

I held my hands up in a slow the fuck down gesture. “Woah, woah, calm down. No drugs. Just booze and cards. Those drugs’ll turn your brain into fuckin’ mush.”

She groaned in feigned annoyance. “You’re no fuuun!” She embraced my neck and kissed me on the cheek. We made our leave and I spanked her with a wing on the way out the door.

By the time we got cleaned up, our carriage was already loaded with the cargo- We’d just bury it tonight with the guys’ help.

When I arrived to the little run-down bar owned by an associate of mine, my friends greeted me by yelling happy birthday, to my embarrassment.

“Well, that was quick!” Adrian said, and I chuckled.

“Yeah, we got it all taken care of. Pretty much.” I said, whistling for the bartender- some older fellow who ought to be in a retirement home. I ordered my whiskey and my wife’s usual wine- and the night unfurled.

We played cards for a while, but eventually, we were just chatting around the table. We didn’t want to get too drunk, after all- we had shit to take care of.

“Did I ever tell ya’s about the time she burnt a salad?” My wife sighed in annoyance.

“Will you ever let that go!?” I just snorted,

“No, I won’t, because it’s funny as fuck! See, we were both baked out of our fuckin minds, you know?” It was story time, and everyone was listening. “And you know, eventually you get the munchies! So Dee gets up, says she’s gonna make a salad. Ya see, this is where our different diets can really fuck us up. So I said to her, ‘heat up my calzone in the oven, would’ya?” She was blushing and I wrapped an arm around her, downing a shot of bourbon while everyone calmed their laughter.

“Aaaanyways, she gets up- makes her salad. You know- lettuce, tomatoes, cheese, peppers, flowers, that sorta rabbit shit!” The table, being mostly griffins, was roarin’ with laughter, and I said- “so she heats up the oven for my calzone. And you know- it takes a couple-a-minutes to heat through. Now, up to this point, everything is fine, but this little cutie over here got a worse attention span than me.”

My voice was dead serious, and I gestured accordingly. “She put the fuckin salad… in the oven… then, get this, she walks away! We were so fuckin’ stoned, both of us fucking forgot the whole original task of get food!” I downed another shot for good luck, and to help keep a straight face. “And we were just chillin’, layin’ on the floor, listenin’ to music… and then I get a whiff of somethin’ that’s smells like burning paper and charcoal, and I gotta muster all my fuckin’ energy to get to the kitchen, y’know, cuz I was just fuckin obliterated. As I’m walkin’ there, I’m wondering what in the fuck is wrong with this calzone? I open the oven and after the smoke clears out, all I can see is melted cheese and some black shit. It took me a sec and then it hit me, and I yelled out ‘Dee! The salad! The salad is burning!” I gripped my side, wheezing out laughter, “She burnt a fucking salad!”

Eventually, our laughter started to die down, and Roscoe complimented- “Yer a funny gal!”

My laughter slowed and I looked him dead in the eye. “I’m funny… How?”

Once again, Amelia was alone, left to wonder just how the fuck her life ever got this wild. She was the mother of a dictator, of which married a genuine psycho. But yet- she learned a long time ago to not think of her daughters… darker tendencies. Just give her a hug and be glad she made it home alive.

She was laying on her comfy four-poster bed, smoking a cigarette and reading out of a cheap pulp magazine. It was like the fanciest hotel room you’ve ever seen- it even had its own separate living room area, and a kitchen with a minibar. There was even a button to call for room service!

She heard someone knocking at the door- and curiously, she got up to answer. You see- unlike her daughter, she’s not paranoid… so she just opened the door without a second thought.

“Phil? What’re you doing here?” She greeted him, and the aging stallion shook her hand.

“I just… wanted to talk about tonight. You got a minute?” She ushered him to the couch, telling him to take a seat.

“I got bourbon and cigars. Sound good?” She asked with a grin, and Phil chuckled.

“Sounds fantastic. Bring ‘em over! I’ll show you how it’s done.” They sat on the couch, and Rich taught Amelia how to properly smoke a cigar. It was a bit awkward, though- the guillotine was made with griffons in mind, since you need fingers to use it. It was easy enough to understand, and soon they were both drinking whiskey on the rocks and puffing cigars.

“You’re probably wondering how I can live with myself knowing my daughter’s a murderer, right?” She asked, puffing on her cigar. “Well, the answer is… well, I don’t know.” Phil looked up from his glass of whiskey.

“You don’t know?” He asked incredulously, and she laughed.

“Not a fuckin’ clue. I’ve found that the best thing for me is to keep my mind occupied.” She took a sip, and Phil urged her to go on. “I’ve found that promiscuity works well for me. And honestly? I can’t look at my daughter without seeing that sweet little hen she was.” She gave a sigh, staring off into the distance. “Even if sometimes, I see that same little hen, laughing while covered with blood.” Phil nodded somberly.

“I… I doubt I’ll ever forget the sight of my daughter just…” He was getting choked up, and took a sip of whiskey. “I just never knew she had it in her, you know?” Amelia laughed and threw a wing around his back in a friendly manner.

“Ain’t that the fuckin’ truth. You know what I do?” She said, using the cigar to gesture around. “You know, I just cherish every second she’s around. Like, I don’t care what she does, as long as she comes home safe.” She couldn’t help but laugh as a particular memory popped in her head. “You’re home! It’s two-o-clock in the morning, sit at the table, I’ll make some fresh peppers and sausage. Where’ve you been, it's been three nights! Dee’s here too? I’ll make some hash browns for your fillyfriend, come in, sit down and eat something!” That little anecdote boosted both their moods significantly.

“No wonder she spent so much time over at your house!” His laughter slowed, “If I ever saw my wife happily cooking for my daughter at two in the morning, my first thought would be changeling!” After some shared laughter, they both calmed down with a sigh.

“Goodness, when was the last time we’ve ever sat down to talk?” Amelia asked, and Rich snorted.

“Too dang long.” she agreed wholeheartedly.

“You know what?” She said with a giggle, getting off the couch. “Let’s go find out where our daughters went.” He just shrugged, thinking why not? Tonight can’t get any more fucked anyway.

It was getting pretty late- approaching 11PM, so we decided we were about done for the night… until two more showed up.

“HEY, MA! OVAH HERE!” I yelled, getting their attention.

“Hey, daddy!” My wife greeted her father with a hug, and I whistled for the bartender to bring us more drinks.

“So what’re you doin’ here? I figured you’d be in bed!” Mamma, of course, giggled.

“What, and miss my own daughters’ birthday party?” She said, and I couldn’t agree more.

“I find myself in dire need of a drink, right now.” Phil said plainly. You may be wondering how he was taking this all in stride, but you have to consider; this man is a die-hard capitalist. He’s not afraid to strongarm people to get a better deal for himself, though he usually hires help to do it for him. What I’m saying is- he’s a bit… cold. Much like your average gangster- usually, the only difference is whether they hire people for their dirty work.

And so, we all wound up getting way more fucked up than we intended that night- which was an issue, since we still had that problem to take care of.

“Alright, alright, we’ll take the wagon.” I slurred a bit, stumbling over a rock. “Ross, Adrian, you two pull.” I dismissed the guards ages ago- it was getting stupid late, and they had families to get to.

“Fackin… who diedn’made you queen?” Ross slurred as he hooked himself up.

“Grover did. He died and made her queen.” Adrian said- somehow, he was the most sober out of all of us.

“THat’s DON, to you!” I declared, almost tripping and falling as I climbed into my seat. I often forget I had a wooden leg, somehow.

“Leona, be nice!” Mamma yelled, thumping my head with a wing. “And cut back on tha’ swearin’! All’a ya’s!”

“I’m an adult, Ma!” I yelled, and then I added- “And the fucking DON!” thwap.

Point taken. I grumbled, and crossed my arms in defeat. Dee and her father sat behind us- the seating arrangement was kinda set up like an SUV.

“Y’all know the place. Let’s get some dirt on ‘er and call it a night.” I said to the lads, and they gave me a salute- which morphed into a middle finger. “Look, I’m sorry. This was unplanned, but you know I’ll take care of ya’s.”

“Why did you think we were following along? Loyalty?” Adrian said, and I rolled my eyes.

“Glad I have such good friends.” I lowered my hat, and intended to get some shuteye when my mother piped up.

“You’re not dropping us off?” Mamma whinged. We were all pretty fuckin’ hammered, and I wanted to make sure everyone got home safe. They were safe with me- I’m a professional.

“Just get some shuteye, we’ll take care of ‘er.” I said, starting to get irritated.

“What about Equestria?” My dear ol’ father in-law spoke up, and I sighed.

“I’ll put an obituary in some fuck-off publication and we’ll say she dropped from a heart attack. Don’t worry, lemme get some fuckin’ rest over here!” not that I ever got that often, of course. As much as I hate to admit- Seeing those dogs over and over in my dreams just… agh…

Thump!

I snapped back to reality- everyone around me was sleeping peacefully as we went down the road. How long was I out?

Thud! Thunk!

“The fuck?” Dee asked, awaking from her sleep. We all rose slowly, wondering what the fuck happened.

“Whe hit somethi’?” Ross asked, sounding like a zombie. Shit, I might have to pick up slack to get us home.

“Oh for fucks sakes…” Dee muttered angrily- and we pulled over, into the woods on the side of the road. We lit a lantern I had stashed in the cart- because realistically, we all knew what the racket was.

“Gimme your knife.” Dee commanded, taking my dagger- but before she could open the trunk, I grabbed her.

“Wait. Ma, Phil- take a smoke break.” I commanded simply, and they understood. They stood a good 20 feet away- each lighting up a casual cigarette, trying to pay no mind to the travesty that’s about to happen behind them.

“Just be glad it’s not your daughter in a situation like that.” Amelia said, and Phil nodded solemnly.

We moved to open the trunk- and sure enough, Spoiled Milk was still alive- thrashing about. She froze when the door opened, looking up at us. She had a pleading look in her eye- and she moved her mouth and shook her head, as if to beg for mercy. She could barely move her hoof to defend herself as her daughter rushed in with a knife, stabbing her over and over again.

“Fuckin bitch, DIE! DIE!” Oddly enough, I could see the glint of a tear in Dee’s eye, glistening in the moonlight. A tear of guilt? Relief? Happiness? I dunno.

Amelia puffed her cigarette, and was mid-conversation with Phil, when she couldn’t help but flinch…

BANG! BANG!

…as two gunshots rang out from behind.

“Despite all this? She was a good piece of ass.” Phil said with a remorseless chuckle about his now assuredly deceased wife.

“I know.” Amelia said, and Phil turned over to look at her with a look of what the actual fuck in his eye. “What? She was in heat and you worked all the time, what, did you think she wasn’t sleeping around?”

“How many people banged that whore!?” Amelia just chuckled, throwing a sympathetic wing around his back.

“Buddy, just be glad you never caught the clap. Happened to me once.” She said, causing him to jerk away from her. “What? I’m clean!”

Meanwhile, I was slamming the trunk shut.

“Fuck ‘em. Fuck ‘em.” Was all I could say, helping bring the cart further in to bury her.

In the end, we hucked her in a shallow grave with nary a second thought. But still- it don’t sit right with me. Maybe it’s because I have a good relationship with my Mamma and I felt bad that Dee will never have that chance.

I mean, maybe someday they could’ve reconciled? I dunno. Maybe she realized it too- when we were cuddling that late night, she started crying outta nowhere. Say’s it’s because she’s glad to have her father with her again- but who knows.

The next morning when we got up, probably sometime around noon, Mamma made us all breakfast. I noticed Roscoe and Phil were picking at their meal- but I paid it no mind. Business is business, after all. I really did feel bad for dragging them into this- but like I said, I make sure they’re well taken care of. It’s the least I could do, anyway.

But in the meantime? I had a couple things I needed to take care of, eventually. For one, I had an “important meeting” with my wife and Adrian. I also had a plan to get the heirs of the rival kingdoms on my side to secure my long term rule.

I had a lot of eggs on the skillet- but hopefully, it’ll all pay out. Doesn’t help that I planned to complicate my personal life even further, but what can ya do?

Author's Note

Sorry this chapter took so long! I've been dealing with the dying disease (a cold) for MONTHS! (The weekend). The ending to this chapter was a bit rushed, I admit- but trust me, the next chapter's COOKIN.

I have a discord server for this fic out now!! It'd be real cool if u joined :333

Incase you didn't see the blog post, my gf made this :3

As always, thanks for reading! Likes and comments are appreciated greatly :3