User blog:Aravis Tarkheena/LMPFF Part 1

I haven't made a blog for ages. But I've done this section of the story I promised to LMP, and I'll write the rest soon. As for Alemas', it will come later.

So read. And comment. Please.

'''WARNING: This content in this narrative deals with misanthropy, violence, walruses, and LEGOMessProductionses. If any of these things upset you or trigger unwelcome thoughts, go away and lick a llama.'''

LMPFF Part 1

LEGOMessProductions woke up. Before he opened his eyes, he decided it was a bad morning. Every morning was bad. Because… they’re mornings, which are naturally bad things. Every fool should know that. Actually, this was a horrible morning. It was Monday. Mondays, like mornings, were detestable, and the unpleasant coincidence that both happened on the same day (every week, too, how outrageous) made it horrible.

Thus, two seconds after rousing, LEGOMessProductions had analysed and forecasted his day. Not that he really needed to. Every day was the same; every day was bad, because every day involved those pesky nuisances he had to share the earth with: people. Ew. He unconditionally, wholeheartedly, and unyieldingly hated every single one of the seven-billion-and-more that were so rude as to be living.

We could stop this glorious narrative right here, having already summed up our victim’s subject’s cheerless life and the full range of his labyrinthine emotions, but this has only been half a page in the author’s scruffy purple notebook, which isn’t nearly long enough to be called a story. So give yourself a slap in the face and write on, author, and patch up this gaping hole in the fourth wall as you take your leave.

LEGOMessProductions opened his world-weary eyes. It was still a bad morning. Did you seriously expect it to have changed in the 6 seconds since he made up his mind. Limb by limb, he unhurriedly dragged himself out of bed and stalked out of his room, tripping over one of the dozen walruses lying languidly on the floor. He liked walruses. They were better than people. They didn’t talk or initiate contact. He was a good three centimetres out his door before realising he’d forgotten something, so he stalked back into his room, grabbed his headphones and phone, tripped over two more walruses, and commenced destroying his hearing ability with the glorious and beautiful strains of hardstyle. After a brave foray into the kitchen, he snatched a jar of Nutella and a utensil to convey it to his mouth with. It didn’t matter what utensil it was, as long as it wasn’t—blast it, the turkey baster. That was seriously the third time in a month. LEGOMessProductions grabbed a spoon instead, and cleaned out the jar in 4 minutes and 26 seconds. While he ate, he decided he’d limit himself to murdering only 5 people in his daily morning rage at the world, otherwise known as commuting. He’d had no qualms about killing more than that, like the seven from Thursday last week, but the bodies were getting hard to deal with. And so, he left for school.

We will assume he got dressed sometime in between waking up and leaving the house, unless he’s in the habit of sleeping in his clothes. As it would be a drastic and unforgivable mistake to assume he donned his daily attire before eating breakfast, if he actually does that after eating, that detail has been deliberately left out/excluded/omitted. If you really want to know, you can ask him yourself.

So, yes, LEGOMessProductions left the house on his bike to go to school, with his favorite walrus trotting along behind. On a leash, of course. It’s illegal and, moreover, impolite to walk one’s walrus off-leash. But having a walrus with him was a good way to distract people from noticing the dead bodies that often littered the trail behind him.

Actually, one small detail of this narrative is incorrect. LEGOMessProductions does not go to school. He only pretends to. His real destination every day is the temple of Cthulhu, where he offers unicorns and Cthul-aid as sacrifice to his beloved deity, in the hopes that one day the Elder God would wipe out humanity and grant eternal bliss to his loyal apostle.

However, before venturing to the temple of Cthulhu, LMP needed unicorns to sacrifice. Unicorns, being a rare commodity, are rather difficult to find, but LMP knew where he could find some. One does not simply purchase unicorns from the nearest pet shop. However, LMP knew a place. It’s just a place, nothing more, and nothing less. A place where one can find unicorns of the correct sort to sacrifice on the altar of Cthulhu. No other details about this place may be given. It’s not even known if there are people living in this place, but if you really want to know, you can ask them yourself if they exist. It’s also unknown how long it takes to reach the aforementioned Place Of The Unicorns, but I know that “a certain amount of time” is a sufficient answer. Even though it’s totally not sufficient. The popular conspiracy theory is that the Place Of The Unicorns is actually Equestria, and LEGOMessProductions, being an ex-brony, doesn’t wish anyone to know that, so he withholds any real information from nosy authors who attempt to write stories about him.

(If you’re wondering about the Cthul-aid, the walruses brew a fresh batch every night for their dear owner and friend. And no, you may not have the recipe. It’s secret.)

Anyway, LEGOMessProductions was still making his way through the streets of whatever-town-he-lives-in (or maybe it’s a city. It’s unknown, so just assume what you wish), with his trusty walrus in tow. He attempted to resolutely ignore the exceedingly bothersome people surrounding him, but a particular child persisted in chasing the walrus. After exchanging a meaningful glance with his dear friend on the bicycle, the walrus promptly leaned over and swallowed the child in one gulp. That was his breakfast, in a way. He didn’t like Nutella.

A few more people met their ignoble demise as boy and walrus passed them that morning, but none are worth noting. So, we move on. LEGOMessProductions was still on his way to The Place Of Unicorns, with headphones on and hearing ability being destroyed. He’d downloaded a few new songs the day before, and had intended to listen to them in a civilised and orderly manner, but he’d been in a slight hurry as he left the house that morning, and had to content himself with setting the music on shuffle.

He was actually starting to feel mildly happy, or at least indifferent to the world’s troubles, as he cycled down the road to the Various Lands Containing Unicorns with his trusty walrus (who kind of needs a name). All of this carefree semblance of bliss was shattered when suddenly, a wild big room house song appeared! Well, it didn’t appear. It came to life in all its despicable glory in LEGOMessProductions’ headphones, to his immense disgust and unspeakable horror. What generic filth! What vile mainstream junk! What- meh, maybe it’s best not to use profanity for a LMBW story, even though it’s about LEGOMessProductions. Anyway, he screeched to a halt (assuming his bicycle screeches) on the road shoulder and switched songs, livid/irate/fuming/apoplectic/infuriated. He must have accidentally downloaded that sewage yesterday. What an unforgivable sin. He’d shoot himself for it later. Now, he had to hunt a few unicorns. He set off again, in a blind rage.

It’s not best to go searching for lands unknown in a blind rage. After some time, LMP came out of his blind rage and looked around. He should have been deep into The Place Of The Unicorns by now, but he was in a dense and dark forest, riding along a muddy dirt path. The whole surroundings looked somewhat familiar, but LMP couldn’t place it until he passed a rather large, twisted tree, with roots exposed and various jars and bottles hanging from the gnarled and grasping branches, occasionally catching the slight breeze. LMP sighed. Cthulhu have mercy. He’d tried to get away from ponies, and everything to do with them, and now here he was, staring at Zecora’s hut in the middle of the Everfree Forest in Equestria.

This day was just getting more and more fantastic. Well, at least there were unicorns here. If he found a few, maybe he could even skip going to the real Place Of The Unicorns and get home early. Brushing off the tiny twinge of guilt that he was starting to feel, brought on by the thought of murdering sacrificing cute ponies, he made a quick compromise with himself to only take one unicorn. That would do, wouldn’t it? Cthulhu would have to be satisfied. And tomorrow maybe he’d hunt double the usual count in the real Place Of The Unicorns.

One can’t simply traipse through Equestria on a bike with a walrus, so LMP stashed his mode of locomotion in a random bush and posted the walrus as a guard, then set off on foot to catch a unicorn with his bare hands.

The Everfree Forest is a dangerous place, especially when alone, especially when not a pony, and especially when not being careful. LEGOMessProductions was all three of those. In addition, he was neglecting to be stealthy, and continued listening to music as he made his way through the shadows. Simply put, LMP was taking no pains to be careful. It wouldn’t have been a problem anywhere else, but this was the Everfree Forest. And, for a constellation, the resident Ursa Minor had good hearing.

Twigs crunched as the invading human scuffed his feet along the shadowy path, and his heavy breathing failed to drown out the tiny-but-audible noise leaking from his headphones. In his lair, the Ursa Minor stirred.

He was, as you might imagine, the same one that The Great and Powerful Trixie claimed to defeat, in some Season 1 MLP episode which the author can’t remember. To be exact, he was a bear pulled out of the night sky, who had settled in Equestria and recently gained citizenship. He was still dangerous when provoked, though, so he very thoughtfully kept himself out of the way in his forest cave.

He’d been taking a nap but LMP, trespassing in the forest a few miles kilometres away, woke him up. Twigs breaking. Ragged breathing that didn't breathe with an Equestrian accent. Music that the Ursa Minor frankly disliked. (He preferred Sapphire Shores.) No constellation worth his salt would ignore such an outrage, and so, the Ursa Minor woke up, lumbered out of his cave, and glared about. Nutella. Nothing was in sight, but he smelled Nutella. The poor bear hadn’t had any of that delightful food since immigrating to Equestria, so he followed his nose and soon found his prey.

LEGOMessProductions looked up boredly at the bear-like thing that had appeared in his path, which glared right back at him. The boy was about half the height of it. With a disdainful sniff, the Ursa Minor reached out a claw and relieved LMP of his headphones, and tossed them aside. Now the boy was the one glaring. With another claw-swipe, the bear knocked him down and pinned him to the deplorably muddy ground with a massive paw. Then LMP thought he heard the bear mutter: “Has he got Nutella in his pocketses?”

“What—” he attempted, then was silenced with a giant paw slapped on his face. “No—” he started, to be silenced again.

“Disgusting, insolent creature,” the Ursa Minor breathed, then none-too-gently picked up the boy in his mouth and trotted off toward his cave.

“Put me down,” whined LMP plaintively. “What do you even want from—” The bear slightly but deliberately bit down and the boy yelped. The Ursa Minor muttered something incomprehensible around his squirming mouthful, which the squirming mouthful really hoped meant “I’m totally not going to eat you; I just want some company, but don’t worry because I’m really not going to eat you.”

After reaching the cave, the Ursa Minor unceremoniously dropped dripping-wet LMP in the doorway (bears apparently drool a lot) and announced: “I said I was going to eat you.”

“But”—a splatter of bear slobber doused the next words of the boy huddled in the doorway— “but I don’t even have my music to—“

A paw caught him in the face again, but this time he felt the claws. “Why meeee,” he wailed, attempting to stoically ignore the blood dripping down his face. The Ursa Minor ignored the question, and pulled the boy inside the cave to dunk him in a large pot of water.

“Can’t cook him while he’s bloody,” the bear mumbled as he pulled LMP out and dropped him on the floor again.

“I don’t have what you want,” the battered child said stiffly from where he lay, pretending he wasn’t about to cry.

“All I want is Nutella, and you’ve got it on your breath,” the Ursa Minor said, stirring the fire.

LMP sniffed and wiped his face, which had resumed bleeding. “All that means is I didn’t brush my teeth after eating,” he said sulkily.

The bear glared at him savagely. “You annoy me,” he spat, before sinking his teeth into the boy’s arm and dragging him to the middle of the cave. “See, you taste like Nutella anyway.”

All this because of one mistake. All this because of bad music. LMP clutched his wounded arm as the dirt on the filthy cave floor seeped into the clawings in his face. It stung horribly and his arm was killing him. "You annoy me too,” he muttered.

“Then we shall do this the painful way!” the bear roared, launching himself at the tortured piece of humanity that was curled up on the floor, trying to hide tears.

The lethal claws sank into the boy’s back, eliciting a strangled scream. “You sadist,” he shrieked brokenly, burying his face in his arms as his back was being flayed. It felt like fire and ice ripping across his skin, but those elements wouldn’t cause as much blood as a single bear claw. “I never did anything to you,” he wailed, vainly struggling to twist away. The Ursa Minor sprang after him and snapped at his shoulder, burying his teeth in it. Bone made way for bear fangs, and a shriek tore itself from the throat of the victim, drowning out the crunch. “Stop,” LMP begged frantically, writhing in a pool of his own blood and Ursa Minor drool. “I’m going to die,” he sobbed.

“That is exactly my intent,” the bear snarled. He took a step away, then turned the limp and blood-soaked body onto its back. “You are going to die.”

With that, he lunged forward one final time to rip out his victim’s throat, and LMP only had time to mutter through his tears: “I want Peechin.” Then he died.

'''Comment. It's the best thing you can ever do for me. c: '''