The
P. E. R.
Michelson and Morely
The Speed Of Right
By Chatoyance
OPERATION ONE: CANDY ASS
"Across the vastness of the multiversal interstices, minds that are to our minds as ours are to those of the beasts that perish, intellects vast and warm and driven by the Magic of Friendship, regarded this earth with pitying eyes, and slowly and surely drew their plans to ponify us." - Horse G. Wells
It was the fourth year since the emergence of Equestria in the North Pacific, three years from the day the Worldgovernment had initiated the most profound effort ever undertaken - the evacuation of the human species to another realm, the cosmos of Equestria.
Two universes were in collision, Equestria and Mundis, and the Earth had been caught in the middle. The ever-expanding, shimmering sphere in the Pacific would engulf the entire planet before shrinking and vanishing forever into the interstices between realities. Within that time, a space of only five to seven years, humanity would need to emigrate as a whole, or perish when their world utterly ceased to be.
But the price of escape to the green and welcoming new universe was absolute. Only native Equestrians could exist within the strange physics of the invading cosmos, and so for humanity to survive, Man must become Newfoal - Homo Sapiens transformed to become Equus Sapiens. Thus it was that the Conversion Bureaus were created, where a serum made of nanotechnology and the very stuff of magic could offer three ounces of freely given salvation to any soul who desired it.
But for some among Man's ranks, this free choice of survival was insufficient. The spirit of Humanity was too precious to gamble on personal whim or even conviction. Humanity must be rescued whatever the cost, from all threat, even from himself. So it was that the Ponification for the Earth's Rebirth took up a sacred crusade, to convert the whole of humanity, with, or without consent.
For those belonging to the P.E.R., Mankind - that pretentious, foolish, hairless ape - could not possibly be trusted to choose survival for himself. That they themselves were, or had started as human, was a fact pretentiously, foolishly, hairlessly lost on them.
The piñata hung from the bleached branches of the long-dead tree. The papier-mâché creation was large and colorful, festooned with bright ribbons and a vibrant purple coat of polypaper strips that resembled coarse fur. It had been made in the shape of a burro.
The dead tree with the piñata stood in a courtyard of sorts, around it, from the ruins, had been built a city of large shipping containers, conglomerations of metal sheet and the remains of plywood, glassine panels and even sections of plascrete clearly taken from sidewalks. Snaking through the favela-town, above the narrow paths between the buildings, hung long stretches of bound cable and wires that provided the two hours of electrical power that Little Aztlán enjoyed.
A mariachi band played Las Mañanitas as the crowd happily watched the children led in to surround the piñata like a small pack of candy-hunting wolves. It had been a very long time since anyone in Little Aztlán had even seen candy, much less such a large and marvelous piñata, and it was all because of the clowns.
The tall, thin clown wore a red nose and a wide, ruffled collar. He also wore a tight, short, yellow, polka-dotted dress with balloons filling out the bosom, and cheap, fake jewelry adorning his legs, wrists, fingers, neck, and of course, his pierced ears. A faint morning stubble contrasted with the light orange wig, and a conical hat somehow completed his absurd costume. His face was painted white with far too much lipstick and red dots for cheeks. Long, fake eyelashes stuck out like someone had implanted hedgehogs in his eye-sockets. Strangely, the entirety worked, a little too well. Some called him 'El payaso de puta', and it truly was disturbing how well he looked, despite the stubble. It just wasn't right, but... candy is candy.
The short, squat clown was dressed like a pirate, albeit one from a circus. A green curled wig, bright violet pantaloons, a loosely buckled swash and army boots strongly suggested that it must have not been a very good circus. In her crude belt a polyboard sword was stashed, covered in glue and sparkles. Apparently it was a budget circus as well. She sweat a great deal, wrung her hands and looked worried. Meanwhile, the tall clown minced and giggled at the crowd in a performance that had made at least one child cry, an elder señora need to suddenly leave, and which required one of the mariachi to adjust his paquete privado.
The two clowns had made quite a show, thus far, with some truly terrible magic acts, and a rather suspect balloon animal bit that included far too many colorless balloons with what appeared to be reservoir tips. There had also been the incident with the musical number - though it was forgiven on the grounds that the gringo clowns could not possibly have understood what they were singing. That said, after the third chorus of "¡Mierda, Joder, Cabrón!”, one of the favela elders had suggested that perhaps it was time for the piñata now.
The children of the favela were clustered around the papier-mâché burro, one child had been selected to be blindfolded and had been given a stick. The band began to play a happy tune as the child was spun in place.
"You didn't say there'd be this many humans!" harshly whispered the short, squat pirate clown. "This isn't going to work!" She continued with a panicky edge "We're going to end up as glue and gelatin desserts, and I hate Jello!"
"Oh, Nutmeg, you silly, silly pony. We're doing it all... for the foals!" The tall clown smiled beatifically, a pleased pierrot of precious, pretty perfection. Or so he imagined, anyway.
"We aren't ponies yet, and we aren't going to be unless we leave NOW!" The short clown wasn't whispering anymore "We should have left the moment we saw how many humans were here! Lets. Go. NOW!"
"Nutmeg... Nut-meh-he-he-heg...we CAN'T leave now, we simply MUST see the happy smiles on all the precious little muzzles!" The tall clown batted his overly long lashes, beaming like an expectant mother.
"You are FUCKING INSANE!" The short woman glared at her partner clown.
"Nutmeg! Now that's just not pony in the least! Shame on you. And in front of the..." The tall clown looked over at the scene suddenly unfolding. Shrieks and screams had filled the air just after the piñata had been struck - as soon as the impact had registered, the device had immediately begun spinning rapidly spewing a glittering purple fluid over the gathered children, dousing them completely. "... ah, yes... foals." A wide, red, lipstick smile spread across the tall clown's face as the children, as one, fell to the ground blanched white as dough, their limbs already swelling into the stubby bulbs from which Equestrian hooves would soon sprout.
The squat clown was dragging the tall one by the neck, her fingers clutching multiple necklaces of beads in a death grip. "Ow! You're hurting me, and you're totally ruining my couture!"
"RUINING YOUR COUTURE?" the short clown tore off her green fright wig, tossing it down a side passage in the hopes of misguiding their fairly upset pursuers. "That'll be the least of your worries when..." she was panting now "... the entire favela... gets their hooves on us!"
The two clowns ducked down an alley and through a maze of crates and pottery. Angry voices, some in English, more in Spanish, shouted very un-pony things, mostly involving which parts of the clowns should be torn off and shoved down which orifices. On the whole, none of it was particularly genteel. The pair crouched between crates as a crazed mob ran past screaming and yelling like scalded, rabid, speared baboons who had finally decided that the hunter in the short pants and the pith helmet was Probably Responsible.
"Oh, how I wish I could have played with the little darlings, seen them take their first happy trots!" The tall clown sighed delicately, wistfully.
"You smell that?" The short clown, Nutmeg, grabbed her companion's necklace and gave it a sharp jerk "That's the trots, and I'm having them right now, and they are NOT happy!" The look in her eyes was somewhere between Slow Dissection and Burning Alive, but there was no doubt that it was intended to kill, if just a teensiest bit horribly. "What in Equestria possibly brought you to imagine this plan was a good idea?" Nutmeg was hissing now, a form of speech normally left to snakes and the very pissed.
"You, actually. You mentioned that the 'hoof that rocks the cradle rules the world' and my mind naturally went straight to piñata's bursting with Potion. Anypony would have come to the same conclusion!" The completely earnest look was not the least amusing. Well, maybe a little. Under circumstances involving less chance of being chopped into chorizo, it might have been endearing. In a 'I am completely doomed to a life of utter failure' sort of way.
"Come on!" Nutmeg grabbed her partner and dragged him, stumbling, out of their hiding spot. Instantly she began to pull him down the same path the mob had taken. After a few dozen feet, she veered them away and down a staircase into the underground maglev tunnels where they had previously stored their gear. Nutmeg used her thumb and the codeword 'Horseapples' to cause the Intelligent Lock she had placed on a rusted locker to open. Immediately, she began tearing her costume off, while pulling forth her fatigues and boots.
"Oh, such a shame, really..." her partner was sighing "...back to being a drab little pony again." He reluctantly took off the yellow, clinging dress and put on his own fatigues and boots. "I counted fifteen of the little darlings. That's fifteen more foals in the world for Celestia! Oh, dear..." the makeup was hard to remove, but he was making a valiant effort.
"What? What is it?" Nutmeg was worried, and rolled out on her back, in the middle of pulling a boot on, to scan up the stairs for pursuers.
"Fifteen, Nutmeg. That's an odd number. I don't mean the number is strange, I mean that it isn't even. How will we divide the score between us?" Nutmeg stared up at her partner. He was worrying about the count now?
"The bloody score isn't what I am worried about being divided!" Nutmeg finally had her boot on and was busy snapping the autogrip laces in place. "You do understand that human parents can become just a tiny bit... oooh... murdery... when you forcibly change all their children into ponies without their permission? You do get that don't you?"
"Oh, you're right..." by now her partner had managed to get all the makeup off, and had his favorite pink tanktop on. "...you should get the extra point. It's only fair, you did end up stuck with the pirate costume. It wasn't that good, really. Sorry about that. It just happened to fit."
"The only fit is the one I'm going to have if you don't get a move on!" Nutmeg threw a boot at her partner. "Now put that on and let's get the muffin out of here!"
"No need to be shirty with me. I was only trying to be generous." He began pulling on his boots.
"And take off that stupid wig, Ginger!"
The sound of running feet and angry men echoed down the stairwell, the sounds of a mob insane with rage. It was almost certain they would be killed in the most horrible of ways the moment they exited the underground, and their plan had been the nearest thing to a complete failure, scoring only fifteen new conversions towards the goal that would permit their own. They had lost a valuable potion sprayer, had made total idiots of themselves in front of an entire favela, and Nutmeg's underwear would never be the same.
Still, there was no denying the fact that for Fifth Column Knight Ginger Michelson and his Squire, Nutmeg Morely, this had been their most successful effort yet. It was, in fact, their only successful effort, not counting the day they were first sworn in to the P.E.R. and Ginger had accidentally knocked potion all over another recruit. Sadly, that hadn't counted as score.
Somehow, some way, they would earn their conversions. One day, they would be hailed as Celestia's secret agents of ponification, and enter Equestria in triumph! One hundred points each, and they would be granted full ponyhood with honors! They were true-hearted warriors of friendship, Knight and Squire of the Ponification for the Earth's Rebirth, and they were absolutely going to save the muffin' world.
Michelson, Ginger: 007 Morely, Nutmeg: 008
First! Real comment later. can't wait!
I love it, Chat!
Great work! I also loved the little... page breaks. Those were awesome!
Finally some PER action! Loved this first chapter, can't wait for more!
oh boy! a new story to read!
i love new stories!
Love it! The one-shot story I published earlier today ties into this perfectly!
...that title
Hmm, I thought if you spill potion on a human it partially transforms them before killing them. Although, this takes place 4 years after contact so I'm guessing PER has worked up a variant that works through the skin? Am I on the right path? I'd hate to think the alternative, as potion has been shown to horribly transfigure before killing those exposed to it through skin contact.
I hate, writing from a TERRORISTS POINT OF VEIW, I will only read this story to see these two die horribly.
Aaaaaawwwwwwwwwwwww YEAH!
I can only see good things for these two wackos. What could POSSIBLY go wrong?!
I don't understand one thing
How the buck do they hope all the 'potion-drowned' humans would turn up as a full pony, when the PER actually never do anything other than spewing potions randomly all over the place? You know, in the 27 ounces, that bad guy who got killed by a half-done transformation?
Michelson: Prepare for trouble!
Morely: Make it double!
Michelson: To protect the world from devastation!
Morely: To unite all peoples within our nation!
Michelson: To denounce the evils of truth and love!
Morely: To extend our reach to the stars above!
MICHELSON!
MORELY!
P.E.R. blast off at the speed of....
no. we are not doing this.
Interesting way to introduce the first PER point ofview story I ever read.....
TRACKING(in a singsong voice)
510574 even though it looks like it'll be more comedic than anything else.... and I can already predict they'll at LEAST reach 99 points.... will they go past, I don't know....
A new story by Chatoyance? Track and Favorite!
Shenanigans abound
And frankly, who doesn't like shenanigans...
OMFG ARE YOU SERIOUS......
Michelson And Morley..... THE AETHER EXISTS!
All my yes. All the winning.
510572
510686
The key to transformation versus death is the same as it is for all drugs: dosage. The difference between a drug and a poison.
Dr. Pastern deliberately half-splashed the HLF man. She knew what would happen - she'd seen it before, back when she had assisted with the development of the stuff. He had shot Alexi, he was going to kill them all, and she... murdered him with cold-ass intent. She was... afraid, and angry. Very, very angry.
She had a moment, one little moment, where she acted in vengeance. That was why she was so upset. She'd been forced to cause failed transformations by the Worldgovernment, but this time, this time she did it herself. She did it to stop the man, certainly, to deform his arm and hand so much he could not use the frag grenade. But... she understood what that would mean. She wasn't willing to splash him in the head, cover him, douse him, turn him pony, because she was afraid he would use the grenade during his change.
By only splashing his hand and part of his face, these things changed first, and everyone was saved... but she knew what it would do.
The children at the party would be entirely converted into happy, healthy ponies. Why? Because they would be doused with a lot more than three ounces each, and it would cover a great portion of their bodies, and yes, it is an advanced form of the potion too, in year four. I will be explaining that, because I will be referencing the way the PER get their potion... and how they can customize it. I think some might find that aspect interesting - the PER hack potion.
But the focus here is on comedy. This is my first pure comedy story, so... take it with a small Siberian Salt mine, please. My natural tendency to go for accuracy and continuity work against being wacky, and... I need to try to control that. If I can. If this turns into a regular dramatic story, you'll know I failed my stated goals.
510693
Team Rocket was, I freely admit, an inspiration for Ginger and Nutmeg. Two of my own characters, Virtue Kazemahou and Wailan Ngo are another inspiration, but most will not know of them. I think it is cool you caught the Pokemon connection. I loved Team Rocket.
I foresee something that's not pretty at all
For Luna's sunless sky, they better not alter the potions too far from it's intended purpose
Yay it's my favorite group! Now my life is some what complete. Love ya Chat.
I was having such a ruff morning until I read this
511019
You can always relax rules otherwise untouchable for the Rule of Funny
I love these two, they're just daft as a brush...
I like the "Wise guy and Straight man" routine these two have going on, and I can't wait to see what kind of miscommunication-based shenanigans they'll end up in.
faved, and following.
I'm actually getting kind of a creepy vibe from it so far, like these two are seriously not right in the head. Any humor that may have been intended in the piece has been drowned out by that, at least for me. I think what makes it seem creepy to me is this: the PER folks have always seemed pretty nutty to me, but nobody to my knowledge has ever tried to portray what they do as whimsical misadventures. It's because of the way the PER's MO is usually shown: they tag a bunch of humans, then immediately get out of Dodge—being condemned by both humans and Celestia sort of necessitates that. There's serious consequences to what they do, however. The people who have been ponified against their will are left alone, disoriented, and in unfamiliar bodies, without the support system or nurturing environment that comes along with the "official" ponification process. Perhaps they're now ponies in the last place a pony would want to be, or amongst people who are not quite sympathetic to the whole ponification thing to begin with. That's not the PER's problem, though, nope! Their job is done, another soul saved, no no, no need to thank us, it's what we do. The road to hell and all that.
It's the flipside of this crapsacked version of the human world you've set up in your stories, Chatoyance. You haven't left much room for wacky hijinks—the setting is too crushingly depressing and it's hard to try a tone like this while keeping true to that. I know you said you'd consider a dramatic story a failure, but in all honesty a dramatic story would probably work out better.
512564 I agree, Chatoyance. You have something really wrong in your head if you think ponies are better than mankind.
oooo! yay! new Chatoyance fic to read! <3 i will have to add this to my watch list for later on this evening when i have to opertunity to sit down and enjoy my tea and detox from the days stress. Chaty, your stories are the BEST for relaxing with.
512930 How can you relax to this BFHS terrorism
512965
because reading a well written story is in and of itself a relaxation for me. i read at a voracious rate. anywhere from 4-5 books a week. thick 'register this as a deadly weapon' books. i have three HUGE book cases filled with books, and i ahve read each and every one of them many times over.
512920
You're agreeing with something I didn't say. I was only saying that the story's intended tone might be hard to pull off with the setting that's being used for it.
512920
YAAAY! There's something wrong with me inside my head... could it be... my BRAIN? You never really think about your brain, you know, but you should. It's just sitting there, all veiny and wet, right inside your skull, lurking... plotting.... scheming. But not thinking, not for a lot of people. Pity that.
Beware of your brain. It's where all the weird stuff comes from! Why... I'm making ideas with my brain right now.
And they're weird. Guaranteed.
So this is supposed to be comedy, right? Because I can't really laugh at the fact that our main characters are two obvious psychopaths who make others bodies change completely and irrevocably (In this case, children who the two have no right to force any sort of decision like this upon without coming off like maniacs), are hated by everyone on both sides (Their insane actions alone probably do more harm to the Conversion cause than good, no matter what way you spin), and have no likeable qualities at all as far as I can see. Also it doesn't really help that if this line is anything to go by;
>They were true-hearted warriors of friendship, Knight and Squire of the Ponification for the Earth's Rebirth, and they were absolutely going to save the muffin' world.
The narrator seems to be about five years or so.
Also, Knight and Squire? Do these fucks have the same ranking system as the KKK? Because if there's a GRAND IMPERIAL WIZARD, I might actually laugh.
Man, it feels not to long ago I was tossing about acronyms and names for the PER. Now... its a bit of an indescribable feeling. They went from an idea to having a full stop story of their own.
Thank you Chay.
PS: Pony Camouflage pattern is win, as is the PER logo.
513178
I take it you hate Monty Python. That's OK. Not every form of comedy is for every person.
_________________________________________________________________________
Man (John Cleese): (entering a shop) Um, excuse me, is this the undertaker's?
Undertaker (Graham Chapman): Yup, that's right, what can I do for you, squire?
Man: Um, well, I wonder if you can help me. My mother has just died and I'm not quite sure what I should do.
Undertaker: Ah, well, we can 'elp you. We deal with stiffs.
Man: Stiffs?
Undertaker: Yea. Now there's three things we can do with your mum. We can bury her, burn her, or dump her.
Man: Dump her?
Undertaker: Dump her in the Thames.
Man: What?
Undertaker: Oh, did you like her?
Man: Yes!
Undertaker: Oh well, we won't dump her, then. Well, what do you think: burn her, or bury her?
Man: Um, well, um, which would you recommend?
Undertaker: Well they're both nasty. If we burn her, she gets stuffed in the flames, crackle, crackle, crackle, which is a bit of a shock if she's not quite dead. But quick. And then you get a box of ashes, which you can pretend are hers.
Man: Oh.
Undertaker: Or, if you don't wanna fry her, you can bury her. And then she'll get eaten up by maggots and weevils, nibble, nibble, nibble, which isn't so hot if, as I said, she's not quite dead.
Man: I see. Um. Well, I.. I'm not very sure. She's definitely dead.
Undertaker: Where is she?
Man: In this sack.
Undertaker: Let's 'ave a look.
Umm, she looks quite young.
Man: Yes, she was.
Undertaker: (over his shoulder) FRED!
Fred (Eric Idle): (offstage) Yeah?
Undertaker: I THINK WE'VE GOT AN EATER!
Fred: I'll get the oven on!
Man: Um, er...excuse me, um, are you... are you suggesting we should eat my mother?
(pause)
Undertaker: Yeah. Not raw, not raw. We cook her. She'd be delicious with a few french fries, a bit of stuffing. Delicious! (smacks his lips)
Man: What!?
(pause)
Man: Actually, I do feel a bit peckish - No! NO, I can't!
Undertaker: Look, we'll eat your mum. Then, if you feel a bit guilty about it afterwards, we can dig a grave and you can throw up into it.
513178
the ranks in order are: Squire Knight, High Knight, Grand Knigh, And Grand master. There is also The Knights of the Nine, all of whom are grand knights and in charge of one of the aspects of PER. They are losely based off the rank structure of the christian crusades. I have a blog dedicated to the subject.
513199
I love Monty Python, mainly Life of Brian, because it's terrific. Though I am annoyed by all the people who seek to quote it constantly. I wouldn't exactly call this Monty Python though; I didn't see much humor at all here. It's not like Monty Python where there's a set-up for a joke, that espoused through dialogue. There's just... nothing here.
I'm rereading your story again as I type this, trying to find anything that would silence my point and failing. I can't find any actual joke here. I mean, there's some shouting. Some emphasized words. But nothing actually funny. I honestly wouldn't have known this was a comedy if not for the blatant tag. When you have segments like this:
>For those belonging to the P.E.R., Mankind - that pretentious, foolish, hairless ape - could not possibly be trusted to choose survival for himself. That they themselves were, or had started as human, was a fact pretentiously, foolishly, hairlessly lost on them.
Where it's obvious your own bias is once again rearing its head, sucking any fun that could be found out of this, it's not humorous. The plot of this is a bunch of terrorists basically mind raping and mutating children for no reason other than that it's 'right' it doesn't make them funny. It makes them goddamn insane assholes. They didn't make any witty observations, no cracks, just some shouting and running. I'm honestly hurting my head trying to find out where you wanted me to laugh. Was this just a build-up chapter? Some clarification might help, but as it stands I can't really say that this is comedy.
As that one guy above said, I could actually see this working as a dramatic story. Even though I hate TCB, the idea of a bunch of hateful, misanthropic terrorists against both sides trying to force change upon the world for their own biased reasons sounds interesting. In the context of a comedy though, it's both too stark a contrast, and too much fridge horror to get over so we can actually laugh. It's nothing to due with sense of humor; it's the idea of overcoming such a conjoined premise that doesn't work for this genre, which will not work unless you're some literary god that could derive a certain humor from it. I'd honestly recommend either making it lighter, or even ratcheting up the gallows humor, in order to shock some laughs out of people. Then again, I was once sent to jail for trying to make a joke in court about that Korean family I murdered, something about dog eating and shit. It didn't turn out well is what I'm trying to say.
513216
Ah, well I have two things to say to that. Let me get on my Mr. Plinkett voice to explain.
1) You can tell me more on the subject and your blog by e-mailing me at idontgiveashit@gmail.com
2) Those rankings don't make no sense, and sound a little silly.
3) Knights of the Nine? I smell lawsuit from Bethesda.
4) Doesn't the whole based off Crusades thing only add fire against these guys? I mean, when they're obviously a fundamentalist terrorist group, it's hard to laugh at them when so far all we've seen from them is them ambushing a bunch of children and forcing them to become ponies. Now I may not be a smart man, but I do know that's kind of evil.
All I've seen is the cover, and I can already tell this is going to be great.
513248
I think you'd be better off reading anything else at this point. I can't teach you the Relativity of Funny. Suffice it to say, that Ginger and Nutmeg are our heroes, they utterly believe in the crusade, and they are, from their own viewpoint, totally honorable and doing good. They just aren't that competent at it.
If you can't laugh at something because you object politically to the beliefs of the silly fools engaging in ridiculous efforts for questionable causes, well... maybe this story isn't going to be fun for you. Just sayin'.
For everypony else, Ginger's next scheme is absolutely, positively, completely guaranteed to work without a flaw, and with every variable accounted for. He is totally confident about that. Totally, completely confident. It's in the feedbag, as they say. Nothing could possibly go wrong. So stay tuned for Operation Two: The Horsie Challenge.
514094
That's the thing. They seem competent enough. They just act like horrible people from what we've seen of them so far.
These aren't silly fools. They seem like assholes who object to anyone disagreeing with their viewpoints and literally try and force it on others. That's not funny. I don't see how it can be funny. And I pointed out several reasons and quotes as to why it's not, but you're not really refuting any of them. You're just saying 'Well that's your opinion. Go away and stop criticizing me.' That's what's making me annoyed right now, not the fact that the main characters are Jessie and James from Pokemon without any of the likeability in those two, not the definition of Equus Sapiens (Which I'm honestly a little impressed at. Did you make that up, or did you get the idea from someone else? I'm honestly curious here) or the fact that your trademark misanthropy seeps through into this comic as well.
But whatever. This discussion won't change shit about either of us, as with the last.... 2 or 3 conversations we had? Goddammit I need a hobby. Or focus to work on my actual projects. Or time to milk my cat.
i believe it would be best to say that this is a case of 'to each their own'. i found parts of it to be humorous but i can fully understand why others would be appalled at making light of such events.
after finishing this, it felt to me like something that would normally be in comic strip form.
This promises to be most enjoyable. I look forward to transmutative shenanigans.
I hope I can offer you an unbiased opinion on your work. I haven't as of yet read any of your other works (I tend to avoid the Tragedy Tag) and only just found The Conversion Bureau sub genre earlier this day, so this is about the third story I've come across as a whole.
First off, I did in fact find this hilarious. Lines I particularly liked and laughed out loud to?
Under circumstances involving less chance of being chopped into chorizo, it might have been endearing. In a 'I am completely doomed to a life of utter failure' sort of way.
"You do understand that human parents can become just a tiny bit... oooh... murdery... when you forcibly change all their children into ponies without their permission? You do get that don't you?" Gods, "murdery"? Given the speaker and context, just awesome.
"The only fit is the one I'm going to have if you don't get a move on!" This one was terribly clever, I don't think I've heard the word “fit” used in this way before now.
It was, in fact, their only successful effort, not counting the day they were first sworn in to the P.E.R. and Ginger had accidentally knocked potion all over another recruit. Sadly, that hadn't counted as score. I was laughing for a good minute when this one snuck itself into the end of the paragraph there.
I wanted to list a bunch more but decided to just say every paragraph pretty much had an awesome one liner ,or funny thought, plopped in there some where. Brilliant, I loved the wit and the slap stick humor.
Anyway, I wanted to put this out there so you know that you did in fact write a funny story for some folks. I think your regular readers have formed a preconceived bias for your particular tone, and world, based on how your other stories end up being very realistically sad. So they're having all those memories and tales of grief resurface during this story. I think someone mentioned it already actually, I just wanted to give you some confirmation as a third party so to speak.
I'm going to favorite this one. I can't promise to read some of your darker stories, but know this at least: to a random wit/comedy/light story lover, you made the grade.
Oh god, I only just noticed that stealth pun.
The piñata was a conversion burro!
I love this. Those two are completely nuts!
I think this is a little more my speed right now. Something light and comedic to get the giggles flowing again. It has already produced many a therapeutic chuckle with just the first chapter. Also, I am really liking what you did with the dividers in this one. Lots of great graphics all over the place.