Pinkie Pie POV
I used to laugh. I am sure of that now, though I cannot remember the last time laughter escaped my ponyish lips. Alas, now I sit here alone in my final home, a dank and barren cell, with two of my hooves in manacles and the laughing, taunting enemy outside screaming for my blood.
Where did things go so wrong?
Perhaps it began years ago, when I was happy. Oh, but I was a happy pony once. I would gallop and laugh all day long, and sometimes, I could even make Twilight Sparkle laugh along with me, like she had no cares. That was ages ago, long before sorrow carved a heavy crown of frown lines into her ponylike face. Oh, I miss you, Twilight Sparkle. You were once a friend to me, one upon whom I could rely in times of terrible distress.
We romped together through trumpet filled halls, the sunlight streaming from the high windows, and all was beautiful and light. I never knew what it was to awake with tears fresh on my cheeks, and the whispers of the names of my lost loved ones trapped in my throat.
Oh, how awful it is, to have the entire world and then simply lose it all again.
It really began when the man slaves escaped. We all knew male ponies were only good for breeding purposes. They could barely even articulate their consonants. Mostly it was because we beat them, but it was partly because they were not very intelligent. I remember those days of laughter, stomping on their heads over and over again, and just giggling with Rainbow Dash, seeing her pummel the man pony slave while I pummeled mine. Blood spattered like glorious paint all over our outfits. Indeed, Rarity loved to join us and stomp her many man slaves, because the vibrant red of their blood looked like the most gorgeous dye for her many gowns and ribbons.
I also recall how once upon a time, Apple Jack happily tore out the heart of a man slave, her adorable southern accent going so well with all the blood and gore we tromped upon together as we tortured our man pony slaves.
Alas, this was always the point where we needed to go somewhere else, so we would drag the man pony slaves into halters and then make them haul us places. The moans of pain they'd give as we did so made us so, so happy. It was like a chorus of angels.
But good times never last long. After the asteroid hit, and decimated civilization, the hyperintelligent snails forced us ALL to be man pony slaves, even us girl ponies. It was not fair.
And now that I am no use as a girl pony slave, my final hour ticks down. I look towards the wall sadly, seeing the clock creep the last seconds my life into oblivion, and wish – just once, just once – that I could see my friends again, and together stomp the man pony slaves into bloody messes on the floor and just one last time, hear their ponylike screams of agony.
The hyperintelligent snails are bursting in here now, ready to drag me to my death.
Life was good once.
Now, I welcome my end.
THE END