Fire encompassed the perimeter of Alpha Squad's location aboard the miniscule infiltration ship, UNSC Alienfucker. After a recent surprise ambush by some punks-ass Covenant, almost everyone on board had been butt-raped by ugly faggots from space. In a nearby storage room, adjacent from the main deck of the ship, various moans and disgusting sounds echoed from beyond the iron door to the room.

Bitches.

Steel Ironfist thought as he fucked the shit out of some alien whores with his dick. Quickly popping the motherfuckers in the back of their exhausted heads with his pistol, he attempted to zip his pants back up. Suddenly, he felt a piercing pain that caused him to wince and gasp.

"OH GOD, MY FUCKIN' DICK IS STUCK IN THE ZIPPER!" He bellowed, throwing himself to the floor and beginning to squirm.

He strained himself as he grasped the zipper, tugging with small torrents of might. It was no use! His enormous, elephant cock was firmly grasped by the metal that held his pants together.

"Oh tea and crumpets Cap'n. Your dick is stuck again?" Questioned his annoying, faggot teammate, Brit the Baller, donning a now faded design of the British flag upon his armor. He slowly emerged from the shadows, drenched in alien splooge, directing himself towards the startled Spartan.

"Fuck to the yeah!" Steel yelled back, now panicked as blood rushed down his wang and stained his armor.

"Oi! I can help you with that, mate!" Brit informed, approaching him slowly whilst wiping splooge off of his helmet visor.

"Don't touch me fag! I don't want to be queerified!" Steel Ironfist snapped to Brit, who backed off in alarm.

"Fine, mate! Bleed your dick to death!"

"No, wait!" Steel ordered as Brit turned to leave.

"No! You hurt my feelings, mate!" Brit angrily said back, turning and giving him a stare.

"No, not that motherfucker! If you're here, covered in jizz, then who did I assign to pilot the motherfucking ship?!" He attempted to reason in his extremely intelligent, high IQ brain.

"OOOOOOOHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH SHIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIT!" They yelled as the ship began to take a hard dip down. Alarms rang prominently and red lights overcame the room. A monotone, female voice echoed throughout the ship:

Warning! Warning! Gravitation sciencey shit happening! You're going down, bitches!

"Yo niggas! What the nigga is going on nigga?!" A deep, manly voice boasted. A large, basketball playing-looking man charged into the room, sporting power armor that was reminiscent of the Chicago Bulls. As he approached he suddenly stopped and stared, disgusted at the two.

"Awww, ya'll niggas are gay!" He exclaimed, noticing one with his dick out and the other, who eyed it awkwardly.

"No! It's not what it looks like! I was just fucking-"

"-Fucking Brit, you gay nigga!" He interrupted.

"Oh, you say the silliest things, McMelon, my mate!" Brit said, blushing.

"Shut up, nigga."

"Ok." Brit frowned.

"My dick is stuck and we're going down!" Steel Ironfist yelled, alarming the two who has distanced themselves from the problem at hand.

"SHEEEEEEEET, where the hell is Tex?" McMelon asked, shifting around to inspect the room.

"Stupid fuck is probably smoking Tobacco off of some whore's corpse." Steel guessed, spitting at the ground.

"Aye, is the ship still fall-"

BOOODAFHKGFSDKHFLJSFAHLFJGHJSFGHLDFJGHLDFJGAHS

Steel coughed up dust and began revitalizing his vision as he laid upon a rocky surface. Steel sat up, and observed his surroundings. The room, which was once pristine and scented with hot sex, was no more. Instead, the combination of guts and jagged metal filled the area.

"Oh shit, motherfucker. We went down faster than I could calculate." Steel informed himself.

He struggled to push himself off the ground, but as he successfully hoisted himself up, a familiar pain struck him.

"Yo, this is some bullshit." He calmly said. His dick was still firmly placed in between the two portions of the zipper. He looked around, glancing only momentarily at where his teammates were formerly standing.

"Well, I guess I'm the only baller left." Steel grinned, taking a step off of the large mound of rubble that had formed into a lovely metal pillow because his armor is indestructible. Wouldn't matter anyways, because his rock-hard abs would of saved him.

"Guess again, nigga motherfucker!" A familiar voice called out.

"Holy Jesus fucking shit, McMelon, you survived?"

"Damn straight, cracker." McMelon replied, emerging from a large pile of rubble, pushing it all aside. His visor however, was now cracked, as was evident by his retarded movement to scramble over the destruction.

"Yo, you look like a fuckin' idiot!" Steel pointed out to the irritated McMelon.

"Fuck nigga, you dun think I dun know that?" He replied.

"I dunno."

"Shut up."

McMelon stood erect now, and raised his meaty hands to grasp his helm. Unhinging it from his body armor, he gave it a small tug, before the helmet popped off from his head.

Swoosh!

A large, sheep-like texture exploded atop McMelon's head. The helmet, that once caged his enormous 'do, was now released.

"Damn, it feels good to have this bitch breathe again!" He said, relieved.

"If your stupid ass survived, then where is that queer Brit?" Steel asked curiously.

"I-I'm here..." Brit weakly called out, whilst coughing heavily.

"Pssh, dammit." Steel said, rolling his eyes.

"Yo, where you at, bitch?" McMelon called out to Brit, who continued to cough, but more lightly.

"H-Here!" He whimpered, throwing an arm up to signal them. Wading through more metal shit, he met Brit, who was writhing upon the ground.

"McMelon, mate. I-I think I'm really hurt." He complained, removing his hand from his side and revealing a large gash that penetrated his armor plating. His helmet had already been removed upon discovery, revealing his short, blonde hair, and rosy cheeks that caused McMelon to wince.

"Get over it, you whiny motherfuckin' hoe; You sound like my ex-fucker." McMelon said, hastily taking hold of his arm and hoisting him carelessly over his back.

"AGH!" Brit gagged in pain.

"I thought- I thought you said that t-this armor was indestructible, Ironfist!" Brit moaned.

"Yo about that. I fuckin' lied, dumbass." Steel informed, smirking and slightly giggling.

"We dug through the ship's trash and picked up some old, decommissioned, pieces of shit for ya, dawg." McMelon added.

"W-What?!" Brit exclaimed, surprised.

"Shut the fuck up, homie. Ain't you supposed to be hurt?" McMelon yelled back to him, walking towards Steel with Brit fastened on his shoulders in a fireman's carry.

"I AM hurt!" Brit replied angrily, grasping his wound.

"You gonna be more hurt if you don't shut the shit flowin' from your mouth!" McMelon snapped back.

Brit complied, only continuing with grunts and moans from his injury.

"So.... What now?" Steel asked, leaning up against the broken hull of the ship.

"Ain't you the leader, homes?" McMelon questioned.

"Oh, yeah-"

"HEY!" A strange, accented voice emerged deeper into the destroyed ship.

"Ya'll yankees thinkin' about shit without me?" Said a slightly obese, armored Spartan, who vaulted over some extra rubble. His armor was coated orange, with a hole cut out in his helmet for his cigar, which smoked lightly and lit as the Spartan took a puff.

"Tex!" Brit yelled, surprised.

"Shut it, honkie!" McMelon said, jabbing his fro back and slamming Brit's wound.

"Yo Tex, good to see your Confederate asshole." McMelon exclaimed, grinning.

"Howdy, negro."

"Hey! Shut up you dumb sacks of shit. I got an intelligent idea!" Steel shouted, throwing his arms up to silence the two.

"Let's go..... OUTSIDE!" He pronounced, putting his arms to his sides in triumph.

"But what if the environment is toxic?" Brit murmured towards Steel.

"Say something again! Say something again, I dare you, I double-dare you motherfucker, say something one more Goddamn time!" McMelon shouted to the wimpy Brit held over him.

Brit remained silent, pursing his lips from under his helmet.

"Any other questions?" Steel asked sarcastically.

Quickly, Tex threw up his arm.

"Yea?" Steel acknowledged, pointing to him.

"Why- Why is your Willy Johnson stickin' out... And bleedin'?" He asked, scratching the back of his helmet and looking away awkwardly.

"...What the hell is a 'Willy Johnson?'" Steel asked, narrowing his eyes in confusion.

Tex rolled his eyes. "Your dick, you fuckin' copperhead!"

"Oh! L-Long story." Steel replied, quickly attempting to swipe the subject away.

"Alright homos, let's go!" Steel announced, kicking the crumbling hull behind him and sending it crashing down, revealing the lush, green landscape beyond. He dizzied himself momentarily, overcome by the progressive blood loss in his pelvis.

"Well whaddya know!" Tex smiled, taking another puff of his cigar.

"Makes me think of the ol' portrait in mah livin' quarters. Good ol' Texas, eh?" Tex reminisced, looking towards his team.

"Fuck Texas." McMelon said, who now began jogging towards the exit of the crumbling ship, pushing Steel forward and causing him to trip out and onto the earthen ground.

"Dick!" He whispered, sprawled out on the ground, aching.

"GAH!" Steel grunted, his body being further pressed into the ground by the orange Spartan who stood upon him.

Tex removed his cigar from his helmet hole and took in a deep breath, exhaling and panning his gaze across the great view beyond. He suddenly coughed, shielding his hole.

"Smells like ass out here."

"We fuckin' crash landed, you prick. I'm surprised it doesn't remind you of cookin' steaks, or some shit." Steel shouted from under his boots, reaching his arm to point forwards on the ground at the cataclysm that surrounded the downed spacecraft. There was a lush, green landscape, alright... Fifteen miles away. The surrounding area was charred and destroyed. Blackness and ash were equally spread, along with smashed bits of ship and tiny sparks of flames that sputtered amongst the ground.

"Sorry partner, didn't see ya under my fag-stomping boots." Tex replied, stepping off of his leader and causing him to gasp for air.

"Would you pussies shut your assholes up? We got some uh... company?" McMelon ordered the two, nodding his wool-covered head towards the area in front of them.

Steel raised himself up and off the ground and looked towards the three curiously. Ahead of them was a very strange sight, indeed. Horses, dozens of them. However, there was something very queer about it all. They were colored in the most fucking stupid and non-habit survivable skin colors. Not only was their colors evident, but in place of actual facial structure, large, beady eyes, almost like a crack babies, primarily overtook their heads. The horses remained as statue-like as the soldiers were, staring at one another in curiosity.

"...What the fuck ya'll lookin' at?" Tex asked, breaking the silence and leaving smoke to escape his helmet.

No doubt startling the Pride Parade horses, they perceived a sudden intake from the horses as a gasp. As they observed, the horses glanced to one another with their fucked up, overly sized, gumball eyes.

"Um... Hello? D-Did you 'things' say something?" Questioned a very effeminate and sexy voice. Steel looked around anxiously in search of the hot sounding hoe that presented herself.

"Hey guuuurl, where you at?!" Steel yelled towards the horses' direction, with his hands cupped over his visor where his mouth would be.

"Wha- huh?" The same, erotic and mentally penetrating voice said in confusion.

"Are you behind the faggo horses?" Steel asked openly, attempting to raise himself to see over the confused and slightly fearful fuckers.

"Horses? We're not horses!" The female snapped, suddenly bringing the Spartans to a shocking revelation as their gaze shifted back towards the herd.

The momentarily silence was broken once more, as McMelon, in his discovery, dropped Brit off from his shoulders and onto the blackened ground.

Oof!

"Cow slappin' Christ, McMelon. Did you drug our rations again?" Tex queried towards the equally baffled large negro.

"Fuck no, Alamo. You know I ran out of dat 'medicinal' shit 'bout a week ago!" He replied, stomping his boot down and causing a small puff of ash to blow directly into Brit's face.

"Pffgak!" Brit coughed and sputtered, his eyes beginning to water.

"Yo, uh... Not-horse niggas-" McMelon called out, starting to slowly move towards the herd. Nervously the group began to take small steps back the further McMelon got. The obvious sighting of such a large and baller negro would cause anyone to flee in fear of being stabbed, but these 'not-horses' were different.

Steel quickly grabbed McMelon's shoulder, holding him back momentarily.

"My intelligence concludes that they could be Covenant allies." He informed McMelon, who turned his head and looked at him with a raised eyebrow.

"What did you just say, bitch?" McMelon angrily replied.

"Those Mothafuckas be trippin' like alien cunts!" Steel re-worded, pointing towards the cautious herd.

"Pssh, nigga. Does it look like I be scared?" McMelon boasted.

"Ahem!" The females voice interrupted, bringing their vision back upon the 'not-horses'.

"We're ponies, thank you very much!" She said, pointing herself out in the crowd as the lavender pony, raising a dismembered leg to her breast. Seriously man, where the fuck are their hooves?

"Aight, that's cool." McMelon replied, attempting to smooth talk in a deep and orgasmic tone, in an attempt to sway their affections towards the strange beings.

"Ooh, I like that one." A separate, and more manly sounding voice emanated in a whisper from behind the pronounced pony.

She wants the dick.

"Well, the way I figure, seeing how you uh... Creatures came crash-landing in the Everfree Forest-" The lavender pony started, breaking apart from the group and approached the large, afroed man in front of her.

"-With your foreign appearance and incredibly dangerous factor about you, you sound like the perfect guests!" She concluded, conjuring up a smile which only continued to baffle their perceptions of realistic horses.

"A-Are you serious?" Brit interjected from his position on the ground, covered in soot. McMelon shot around and towards Tex.

"Would ya?" He asked.

"..." Tex held a prominent poker face at the obvious implication.

"...Sure." He replied, delivering a light kick to Brit's back.

"Ok! Ok!" Brit cried, dampening his voice.

"I'm not ganna lie, that sounds like a bitchin' idea, pony babe." Steel added, winking at the lavender pony as they made eye contact with one another.

The pony coughed awkwardly, breaking contact.

"Ahah yes... Well... You kind of made a ruckus out here-" She said, pointing towards the carnage behind him.

"-I suppose it's only fair we let possibly dangerous beings roam around us nice townsfolk freely."

"Right on." Steel followed, refusing to break focus upon the pony with enchanting eyes.

She's going to get the d.

"Something to write to the Princess over?" questioned a unique, and strangely enchanting voice that alluded elegance.

"Naaaaah." The lavender pony replied with a grin.

"I can handle it!"

"Well shit, folks! Why are we standin' around with our dicks in our hands? Let's make like a banana and split!" Tex shouted towards everyone, throwing an arm in excitement.

"God I hate you all." Brit whispered under his breath.

"What's that, Brit? Drag you by your arms all the way to town? OK!" Tex joked, grasping the armor clasp around his wrists and slowly advancing forward, scratching his body across the ground and dragging him in a most uncomfortable manner.

"Alright, everypony. To Ponyville!"

To be continued, you sack of bitches!

Author's Note

Satire? What the hell is that?