Why are there no good stories on this site? you think, frantically clicking through the new story list. It’s almost like they aren’t trying anymore... Wait. What was that?
You scroll back through the stories, and see a strange picture. It looks to be a screenshot from the show, but you can’t quite remember where it was from. The title is ‘Angelic Insight’.
The description is rather short, just “Whoops! Now you’re Angel!” This, of course, is preposterous. What? I’m not a jerk! Besides, you don’t know me; I doubt you could capture my amazing complexity. Then the seeds of doubt creep into your mind. A little itch appears in the dark recesses of your inner self. Maybe they did...
Well, what the hell, you think. At least when they inevitably fail to do this right, I can destroy their comment section with fire! You click the story.
Suddenly a bright light fills the room. You can’t see...
A shadow falls across your vision, blotting what you suspect to be a stage light. Slowly, the shadow resolves itself into a recognizable shape.
“Oh, um, hi there,” mumbles Fluttershy.
You put your hands to your face. Something is wrong. This isn’t possible. Then you feel the fur. Opening your eyes, you find yourself looking at small, pink paw-pads. Reaching up, you grab your ears. Sure enough, they’re long, white, and fluffy. No... I can’t be a jerk. That’s not possible!
“I know that you must be confused right now, but Mr. Silver asked me to talk to you – I think.” Fluttershy looks at you questioningly, as if expecting you to answer.
There’s no way. I mean, it’s not like I could be mean to Fluttershy, right? C’mon brain, just be nice to her!
Seeing you hold your silence, she continues, “I, um, don’t really know what’s going on – I mean, you still look like Angel Bunny.”
Crap! What was she saying? Damn it, me! At least pay attention to the poor girl – er, mare.
“Do you know what’s going on here?”
You try to talk. You try to tell her you have no idea where you are or what’s happening, but all that comes out is a little squeak. Maybe charades?
First you shake your head, eliciting a confused glance from the yellow mare. Sighing, you roll your eyes. Maybe I can get her to repeat the question? So you jump onto a nearby table, trying to get at her eye level. Holding your paws up to your mouth, you open your mouth repeatedly, looking for all the world like a cheaply made puppet.
“Angel, what are you doing?” she asks.
You feel your paw move involuntarily towards your face. Oh no, he is taking over.
Quickly struggling to recover, you try to find a paper. Eventually you find a copy of a script, and mime writing on it with a pen.
“Oh!” Fluttershy exclaims. “You want to learn to write cheesy comedies! There are a lot of ponies here who could help with that.”
Stay calm. Just. Don’t. Snap.
You feel the script drop from your paws. The task ahead of you is starting to look hopeless. Maybe if I get a “volunteer”...
You run over to the nearest pony, a gray mare with shiny black hair, and drag her over to Fluttershy. You quickly jump onto her head before she can object and move her mouth up and down. Then you move her ears, as if she’s tracking a sound. Of course, this annoys the mare, but you’re desperate!
“Angelo Bushtail Bunny! You stop that NOW.”
The force of her voice sends you flying off the strange mare’s head. Your puppet trots away, muttering something along the line of “Why I never!”
You feel your gaze drawn to the mare, falling into her suddenly wide eyes. A blackness seems to take you over, putting cold into your very soul.
“How many times have I told you not to use ponies to play your silly games? That’s wrong, mister.”
You can feel yourself released from whatever-it-was that did that to you. I really am that little devil...
A teeny, yet powerful voice responds in your head. No. You aren’t.
“Now,” Fluttershy sternly continues, despite your apparent confusion, “since it’s obvious you didn’t hear a word I said, let me repeat myself. Mr. Silver asked me to talk to you. I don’t know why he wants me to do this, since you still act like Angel, but apparently you’re not.” At this, Fluttershy blushes again, her pink face blending into her mane. “Now can somepony please remind me why it’s me doing this?”
Suddenly the same voice booms through the room, Because Pinkie is on break.
What was that? you think, hunkering down in your new, tiny body.
“Oh, that’s just Mr. Silver,” Fluttershy says, looking down at you from above the table. "He likes to mess with the special effects sometimes.”
Wait, you can hear me?
“Of course, Angel Bunny! I always... Oh my... He was right?” The butter-yellow mare cowers behind her pink mane, legs shaking. “So, um... I’ll just start then.”
Wait! You know I’m not a jerk, right?
Hah! the voice guffaws. You? Nice? Never.
“Mr. Silver!” Fluttershy yells, coming to your defense. You notice her blushing. “You’re the one who taught me to never alienate the characters. Aren’t you doing the same thing?”
Difference one: I am the writer. Difference two: Angel can go die. Need I continue?
I resent that, you think, resolving to ignore the strange, potentially-schizophrenia-based, voice. Now where am I?
Fluttershy seems to relax a little at your comment. It almost seems as if she was reading a script before, but now she talks more openly. “Well, this is where it all goes down,” she states. “We have the cameras over there, and behind that wall we have our team of unicorn transcriptors. They do a really good job, for such a low budget.”
Transcriptors? Budget???
Fluttershy sighs. “I almost forgot that you aren’t a pony. Look, around here, we do pretty much the same thing as your Hollywood. We hire a writer to make a script, have actors put their own flare on it, and transcriptors embellish it. In the end we have a very well-written story that we put onto your internet. Unfortunately, some people try to make rip-offs. They drag our names down... a lot...”
I guess that makes sense, you think skeptically. But how did I get here, and why am I a rabbit?
You’d have to ask Mr. Silver that one,” the mare responds, a shudder rolling down her spine, “but I wouldn’t. He doesn’t take too well to criticisms.”
LIES! How many times must I tell you that the actors should not question me. I want the viewers to. Besides, that rabbit there technically is a viewer. Don’t scare him.
“Yes, Your Lustrousness,” Fluttershy quickly responds.
You quickly leap in front of the mare, trying to catch her attention. But why did you take me here?
“You see,” Fluttershy begins, “for a while now, the people of Ponyville have been making stories for you. You’ve read through them, good and bad. You enjoyed ‘My Little Dashie’, crying at its tragic end. You made fun of ‘Cupcakes’, and shunned it for its nastiness. Some even enjoyed the more... disturbing side of our business. But, as a famous human once said, ‘It’s understood that Hollywood sells californication.’ The point is, through good and bad, you stuck through. That isn’t enough.”
Fluttershy! Why are you alienating the reader?
“Why are you interrupting my monologue?” she quips back, staring at the ceiling. “Do you want feedback or not?”
Of course I do, but you went off script.
“Well some of the best scenes are improvised! I mean really, do you think that Discord was actually supposed to say ‘Friendship is magic’? No! There’s just no controlling that guy!”
Point taken, but even so, take it from the top. Let them say what they like better. That is the point of this exercise, after all.
“Anyhow,” Fluttershy sighs, ignoring any further interruptions, “ponies all around here have been working their plots off for no recognition, myself included. A lot of people have felt your lack of effort lately, and pretty soon they’re going to leave. I’m rather surprised that Rainbow Dash has stayed this long.”
I resent that, too, you think back.
“Well it’s the truth. Have you ever known her to stay in one place?” she asks.
When you remain silent, she says, “Exactly. Anyway, a change needs to happen soon. If it doesn’t, we may have to resort to a strike. Do you really think you can deal with only reading our ripoffs?”
You feel a shudder run down your spine as you imagine the horrors of a world full of ‘Cupcakes’ sequels.
“The sad part is, Mr. Silver is doing one of those ripoffs ri—”
STOP. That is enough, Fluttershy, the voice yells, causing the building to tremble in its awesome wrath. When did you get so rebellious anyways?
“Maybe when you had me faint in every other scene. Who do you think I am, Rarity?”
I don’t care. You are doing the script, you are starting from the top, and it is starting NOW.
Suddenly, that same flash of light takes hold of you, and you find yourself looking up at Fluttershy, from exactly the same position that you had started at.
“Oh, um... hi there,” mumbles Fluttershy. “I know that you must be confused right now, but Mr. Silver asked me to talk to you... I think.” Fluttershy looks at you questioningly, as if expecting you to answer. When you merely cock your head to the side, she continues, “I, um... don’t really know what’s going on... I mean, you still look like Angel Bunny, so why do I need to say these things, again?”
Haven’t we done this already?
“Don’t tell Silver that,” she whispers quickly. “We don’t want to break script now. I went too far.”
Continuing in a louder voice, Fluttershy said, “Well, first we’d like to, uh... to say that you, I mean, not all of you, but um... people haven’t been commenting, and, we did ask very nicely... It’s just, Mr. Silver isn’t – do I have to say it that way?”
Yes. That’s why it’s scripted, dear, the voice says sarcastically.
“Well, Mr. Silver isn’t ‘feeling the love’, and... I think that’s kind of strange, I mean, a lot of people are reading, but nopony is saying much, so... What’s an ee-moh-teh-cahn?”
It’s a symbol used to express emotions more quickly than through ordinary text.
“Oh, that makes sense. Well, even if it’s just an ee-moh-teh-cahn, it still means a lot to Mr. Silver, and all of us. Just to know that somepony cares is amazing in itself.”
So why are you telling me?
“Because we need to get the message out. If we start with one person, no matter how inactive, then eventually they can spread the message.”
I suppose I can help with that.
“Anyhow, I’d just like to thank our camera crew – ”
“CUTIE MARK CRUSADERS, MOVIE MAKERS!”
“ – and our transcriptors: JP and Cleon. Their continued patronage has allowed our stories to stay on the internet.”
But remember, it’s your feedback that keeps these stories alive.
“Oh no, Silver. You are not getting the last word!” you hear Fluttershy yell, as sound starts to fade out.
Yes, I –
Suddenly the lights go dark, and you find yourself staring at a screen, with mere words peering back at you. You can see the ironic phrase “Feel free to comment! Feel very, very free... Or else...”
You can’t help but wonder: what happened? Did they just break the Fourth Wall?
The answer is yes, and those things are bloody expensive, so don’t expect this to happen again anytime soon. Besides, who wants to be Angel? This author does not (out loud, anyways).
Author's Note
Feel free to comment! Feel very very free... Or else...
