This is a social commentary on heart disease
View Online
We're all going to die. Isn't that special?
This is a social commentary on heart disease
The moon glows brightly over Ponyville, the crows dance like ballerinas. Luna is raping children in their dreams.
Vengeance on her mind, death in her grasp. The path is clear, hearts still. She creeps around the room silently, severed penis in hoof. Slowly sneaking up on the pony in the bed.
Slowly.
Slow.
Slo.
She jumps up and stabs Rarity’s head with the penis!
"Aagaahaahgaah!” Rarity bolts up and screams.
Sweetie Belle is still making stabby motions.
“Blgghh!” is her voice now.
Sweetie Belle makes stupid noises. Yes. “Kthxxxxxxxxx!”
Rarity is bored of this. Magicks the SweetleBeetle away from her. “What the fuck. I thought I raised you better.”
Little sister’s voice syncing is slightly off. She says, “No. Mom raised me, raises me, and raisined me.”
Rarity shakes head once, twice, three. “Eww, gross on you. My knowledge of that should be zero.”
Sweetie Belle says sorry and they kiss (with a little too much tongue.)
“All better?”
Rarity smilers. “All better.” Ooh ah. “Now, can I have that penis?”
But oh no, that question has turned the Sweetiebelle into a werewolf! Coarse brown fur shoots out from her pores and vagina! “Chh khh chh khh!” She spasms, spitting on some stuff. The chair spits back at her.
Rarity leaps back in fright, her head twisting around like a bobblehead. “Oh no. Please stop.”
No dice from the SweetieWerewolf. She screams. “All sexed up, I kill your people. God said to do it—Sick!”
Rarity’s little heart can’t take it, all pitter pattering against her ribcage. Sweetie takes a menacing step toward her. That did it! The pressure explodes and Rarity’s heart bursts, shooting straight out her rib cage! It clocks the Sweetle right in the fuzzy brown head! One of her eyes falls out of its socket.
“Oh no, I am squealing like a pig!” she laments, right eye hanging limply from its socket.
Rarity dies, that is how dead works.
Now would be a good time for Big Macintosh to make an appearance. He teleports into the room, hopping about all Matrix style. Except his sunglasses have little kittens on them. Too cool for school.
He says, “Now is destiny time. I will make you regret every salad you have ever eaten, you psychotropic mouse.” His voice has the consistency of purple pudding with ants in it.
Werewolf Sweetie leaps to the ceiling because werewolves also have spider powers. She viciously swipes her claw but misses because she is across the room. Better luck next time.
And the stallion only laughs at her failures. “Oh, so spider baby thinks it has a chance for victory against the Big Mac? I went to wonderbolt academy, you bitch! I was fucking top of my class and won the fingerpaint competition!” Windows shatter all around them from epic.
He pulls a silver gun out his ass, waving it frantically at her. “Prepare to meet your doom! Now!”
Sweetie Belle cries with the blood of innocents. “Oh no, please no, oh no, please no. I’m pregnant.”
The Big Mac pauses, raising one eyebrow then the other. “Little werewolf filly shouldn’t be pregant.”
“I raped my silverware.” Sweetie Belle explains, falling from the ceiling. “It’s a bad habit, I can’t help it, so shiny. Too shiny, shiny like soft bumblebees in the wind.”
The red stallion takes sympathy on her plight for he can relate. Pity face status? On. “Oh no you poor vicious werefilly! Here, come with me and we’ll go get an abortion.”
They hug like best friends that stopped being best friends but then met in an ice cream shop seven years later and reconcile their differences in a happy reunion which leads to lots of hugging. Sweetie Belle nuzzles his big red chest.
But then! She says, “Haha, I have committed deception, you idiot!” She produces another penis, quickly stabbing him. Penetrating his lungs, blood oozes and the stallion falls in agony. He squelches and then takes his last breath. It was a peaceful death.
But oh no it is a cursed penis so Sweetie Belle dies too. Their corpses lie there rotting on the cold floor, silently making love.
The royal throne room has never seemed more somber. Except when Sombre was over for scones.
A lone messenger cautiously enters. He paces up to the throne.
“The heathens are dead, m’lady”
“Good.” Celestia’s voice was stern but pleased. “And how did the citizens take it?”
“Public reaction was shocked but accepting. Some of the younger ones even took a great interest,” the messenger reported.
“Not surprising. Ponies always have had a certain taste for homicide. The curs.”
Later that day, Princess Celestia’s heart bursts out her chest and she dies on the toilet.
Like a stupid puppy, Fluttershy is licking the floor again. She thinks she dropped some cereal on it but isn’t sure so she is just licking all everywhere. (Sometimes she licks her butt like a cat when no one is liking. Gross. And you still probably want to fuck her, don’t you?)
Fluttershy swallows a staple. “AAAAAdgahga!” She screams as it tears up the inside of her throat, turning flesh all into a pulpy mass. “Oh no I can’t breath,” she shouts, using up the last of her breath. No air. No air. None. Her heart can’t take it! The pressure builds up too much and it explodes, shooting out of her ribcage like a squirrel at bath time!
The heart rockets to the ceiling, splat, and bounces back down, impact caving in the mare’s head. Blood everywhere, pouring down the walls.
Oh geez this can’t get much worse can it? Fluttershy’s insides clean blew up and her own heart has just betrayed her, smashing her like a pumpkin. She even shit herself.
But it will get worse, it always does (Take note, kids.)
Her guts have a chemical reaction with the windex she drank earlier (what a dumb animal) and her body disintegrates and implodes, opening a vortex that sucks her cottage right into space. So she probably died.
Applejack is bucking apples and misses, falling to the ground, head plowing into the dirt.
“Well ouch damn, that hurt!” she says. Applejack went to college and has a medical degree, so she is qualified to make that diagnosis.
She pulls some pills out her ass. “Whelp, better take these then for to make that there headache go away.” She takes one, two, three, aww she doesn’t like counting and chugs the whole bottle of pills. They are rainbow colored and have smiley faces on them.
Her vision turns into a blurry fish. “Well golly shucks, hi there, mister tree!” She hugs the tree that she is in an abusive relationship with.
But suddenly! A splinter from it pierces Applejack’s skin and her tempered immune system completely overreacts, spiking her blood pressure into astronomical territories! Veins constricting, eyeballs bulging, heart compressing! Compressing, compressing, boom!
Applejack’s heart explodes out her chest. It kills some birds.
Lyra is watching television. Boom. Heart bursts out her ribcage!
