Author's notes: Okay, this is going to need an explanation.

There are certain things that one shouldn't do with stories. Certain tropes that shouldn't be used, certain clichés that shouldn't be utilized, certain ideas that should just be ignored. Good fiction avoids these pitfalls and seeks to create a well thought out story.

This is not good fiction.

An explanation: I work retail, and in the months leading up to Christmas my job naturally gets more intense and pressured. My job also entails working third shift stocking a certain store, so I often have time to think while my body moves on automatic. But over the build-up to the holidays, the pressure was really getting to me, and the time I normally spent thinking about good stories, ideas I have, ideas I want to get down, future chapters of stories I was writing, all of that became... Well, nearly impossible. Because good fiction requires work, effort, and planning. Because it requires that the author is paying attention. But I couldn't pay attention, yet my mind still demanded something to distract me from the tedium, the soul-crushing insanity of my work. And my mind was – and still is – infested with little ponies. So instead of good ideas, I had cheesy, terrible ones.

But hey, no biggie, right? Just ignore them and move on. Problem was, I couldn't; the story I'd begun weaving out of a simple desire to avoid my mind going catatonic kept growing, kept evolving, and became wider in scope than I ever wanted it to. I put new ideas into it, things I hadn't thought of doing before, things that the more I thought of it wouldn't fit into the other pony fanfic I am writing, Falling Stars, yet demanded pony related work. At least for now... oh, and of course, a lot of ideas that my mind basically ripped off from other, much better fanfictions, which I will name later so you can go read them and see the pale imitation that I am.

So it came to pass that my mind became so preoccupied with this big, terrible story, that I really couldn't put it out of my head, and I really couldn't concentrate on writing anything else. I was starting to get rather despondent, until Christmas morning, when I decided to just throw caution to the wind and decided to start writing this... thing. This abomination. This catharsis of the writer's soul. So far, it's been working; ideas for other stories are coming back, and I'm actually getting the inkling on working on them as opposed to this.

Still, this story has served a purpose so far that hasn't diminished in need yet. Working to getting things just right is an issue with me when I write (I know it doesn't look like it from the terrible grammar and such, but trust me on this) and so I start to feel pressure from writing even things like fanfiction, because I have this expectation of myself to get things perfect. But this story... This aforementioned abomination, I don't have to care. I don't have to go "but wait, I need to adjust this character's dialogue so that the subtle change of his/hers/its paradigm seems more natural, I need to make sure I'm describing everything perfectly, with not too little nor too much detail, I need to make sure there isn't mood whiplash or whatever.

This story is just me writing au natural, and not giving a crap. It's also about terrible wish fulfillment fantasies and other pathetic self-absorbed bullspit that makes 90% of fanfiction utter and complete trash. (Yes I know the original quote wasn't exactly about fanfiction per se but it fits here.) It's also about ripping off good ideas from other stories because I just wanted a break from the self-pressure of desperately trying to find something that hasn't been done before. And finally it's because Pinkie Pie invaded my mind and made me do it. SHE IS AN ELDRITCH ABOMINATION IN PONY FORM. She is a mind virus and if you read this story then I hope I can transmit it to you and revel in the glee of the tortured cries of the damned that feed that pink party machine and give her the boundless quanta of energies she utilizes on a daily basis. Zalgo has NOTHING on Pinkie Pie, and C'thulu would stay in R'lyeh another five hundred thousand years if he knew she had beat him here. It will be very surprising to him/it when she invades his mind and rewrites it.

...Oh God, I started talking about Pinkie Pie again. I told you she's a mind virus. But I digress, let me move on...

Okay, so, where was I? Oh, right, this rambling that is supposed to be an explanation, a warning, and a plea all in one. What, I didn't get to the plea part yet? Okay, that's next.

So, you might ask, "if it's so bad why are you bothering to put it up on fanfiction dot net?" That is a good question, and it has a three part answer:

First and foremost, I am an attention whore. Full stop.

I've found one of the biggest poisons to my creative outlet is apathy of any potential readers. I'm hoping that by putting this up here and getting ignored, or even hated on, will make the mental desire in my mind to write this story shrivel up and die and I can concentrate on better things.

Finally... Well, I am trying to be an author. A published one that gets paid money for it, I mean. So I want to be good, really good. And it's said that a good author can make even old clichés and tired tropes sound fresh and new again. Lord knows David Weber has made that point by making his Honor Harrington series supremely awesome despite being little more than sailing ships IN SPAAAACE. So I guess this is a little test for myself, to see that if I can make even crap like this appealing and likable. A remote outcome, I know, and I don't have my hopes up. But still, it keeps me wondering and I'm curious.

So that's about it, really. The following story you are more than welcome to ignore, or write hate mail about. Provided, of course, you write legibly and use proper grammar and spelling. Stuff like "dood I h8 dis u suk" and its ilk shall be ignored like the inebriated scribblings of 12-year-olds and retarded adults that it is. I took the time to try to make this preamble and the story to follow legible and readable, the least you can do is man up and actually learn how to communicate like a civilized human being. Free lesson: the more erudite your insults, the more it stings the recipient. It's easy to get the hatred of morons, it's hard and takes unique suckage to get the hatred of intelligent people who have no good reason to hate you other than that stupid thing they don't like.

Finally, I'm going to say that this is pretty much inspired by, and completely, utterly rips off the story Through the Eyes of Another Pony by CardsLafter. It is a much better story and is infinitely funnier. I cry in shame to even sully the name of the story and its author by mentioning it in comparison to my drivel.

Okay, finally finally, as in really final, for those who are wanting to know about Falling Stars, I do plan on finishing it. I'll probably get back to it after I either finish this or abandon it in shame. So go ahead and fire the hate cannons, or ignore me completely. It wouldn't be the first time.

So, on with the fail.