Once upon a time there was a sickening purple horse-thing called Twilight Sparkle.

It was an unfortunate name, to be sure, and even more unfortunate for our poor heroine to be a saccharine-sweet pony who preached about rainbows, harmony, and other things that make me gag. Honestly, if I could tell you some of the things that came out of her mouth on a routine basis, it would—

Ahem.

At any rate, our dear Twilight Sparkle was sitting at home, alone, in her little library. She was reading about... oh, something terribly boring, I’m sure. We’ll say advanced magical theory on the transmutation of sapient life forms, for simplicity’s sake. Whatever it was, she was reading it quite intently. Her eyes were figuratively glued to the pages, scanning every last letter of the text and absorbing as much concentrated academic drivel as they could manage.

It was—let me be frank—a normal, usual, and exceedingly dull Saturday morning for her.

Suddenly, though, she looked up from her reading—startled, as if by an unexpected noise. “Hello?” she asked, setting her book down. “Is someone else there?”

But it was silly for her to be hearing things, because there was absolutely no one else in the library—no, not even Spike. Spike had been incapacitated earlier for narrative convenience, assisted by a large herd of elephants falling on him without warning. Twilight Sparkle was, as aforementioned, completely and utterly alone. There was simply no one else but her present, and in all likelihood she had simply imagined the sound anyway.

“Discord?” she asked, quite stupidly. “Is that you?”

It should be noted that our good friend, Twilight Sparkle, suffered from the occasional delusion. Small wonder, really, considering how often she raved about the power of friendship and the importance of orderly conduct. The evidence of her madness was everywhere, such as just now in the story, and it seemed she was growing increasingly deranged.

One might argue that conclusive proof of her insanity had surfaced only just before she’d started hearing voices that weren’t there... but that's another story.

Twilight slammed the book shut and turned around, searching angrily for... goodness knows what she might have been looking for in an empty libray. “Discord, stop it!” she growled, refusing to take a hint. “Don’t make me bring Fluttershy into this.”

It seemed now that Twilight had reduced herself to hurling empty and undeserved threats against your humble narrator. Why she had so suddenly decided to scheme against me, I cannot say, for I had done her no wrong within the past four hours and I was not, at the time, present in the library. Though I don't wish to color this story with my own bias, I must say that I'm disappointed in our young protagonist for stooping to such an unheroic act.

“All right, buster,” said Twilight. She turned toward the door and stomped angrily toward it. “Don't say I didn't warn you. Fluttershy is going to hear about this one. When she does, she's going to be so disappointed in you, she'll... do... whatever she normally does when she's disappointed in you.”

And so Twilight Sparkle set out upon her journey to Fluttershy's cottage, with her mind made up and her motives questionable. As with most of her adventures, though, she would encounter many unexpected difficulties and delays. The path before her was fraught with peril. For instance: the banana peel lying on the library floor, upon which she was about to slip.

Twilight snorted. “What're you talking about now, Discord? There aren't any banana peels on the floor. I had a long and in-depth discussion with Spike about that, and he hasn't left a single peel lying around since.” She smiled to herself, extremely pleased that she'd argued with no one in particular. “Guess your story isn't going the way you wanted it to, is it, Discord?”

So self-assured and snotty was she about this that she failed to notice the banana peel lying on the library floor. I hardly need to describe what happened next, but I think I will anyway: she slipped and fell flat on her face, having learned an important new lesson about listening to the voices in her head.

“Okay, okay,” she said, picking herself up. “So maybe Spike forgot to clean up after himself today. The more you rub it in, the more I'll have to tell Fluttershy.” She stumbled confidently to the library door and stepped outside, undeterred by the dangers that lay before her. A wiser pony than Twilight Sparkle might have called it quits and decided to go to the movies instead of snitching to Fluttershy... but every hero has a flaw, and Twilight's was a lack of good common sense.

“Raggin' fraggin' Discord,” Twilight muttered as she walked the sunny streets of Ponyville. “Why here? Why now? Why me?”

It was supposed to have been a relaxing Saturday morning for—

“Yes, it was supposed to have been a relaxing Saturday morning,” said Twilight, for no reason whatsoever. “Now I have to deal with you instead.”

—Twilight Sparkle. But alas, she simply didn't deserve a relaxing Saturday morning. Perhaps because of her entirely rude habit of interrupting narratives. There was still some hope of redemption for her, if she could only make it to Fluttershy's cottage, but that was a long ways off, and she had little hope she'd ever make it there.

“It's a fifteen-minute walk at best,” said Twilight. “I can be there and back in time for mid-morning notecard-copying.” She let out an impressively audible laugh. “So there! You’ve hardly made a dent in my Saturday.”

A few ponies began to stare at her as she passed them by, evidently curious as to why Twilight Sparkle would be talking to herself. They whispered amongst themselves in concern, wondering what might be wrong with her. Of course, some of them had always thought Twilight to be a little odd...

“What?” shouted Twilight, her cheeks glowing red. She looked around in a clearly self-conscious manner. “They do not! And they are not whispering!”

At this sudden and inexplicable outburst, everypony in the vicinity began to stare at her. And, if they had not been before, they were certainly whispering now.

“Um... Twilight?” asked Miss Cheerilee, the school-teacher. “Are you... feeling all right? Do you need to lie down?”

“Oh!” said Twilight, her cheeks now the color of sweet cherry pie filling. “I’m, uh... I’m fine, Cheerilee. It’s nothing. Just going down to Fluttershy’s to deal with a, um... some pests that’ve been bothering me lately.”

“Well, if you say so...” said Miss Cheerilee, looking quite unconvinced.

“She does not,” Twilight whispered harshly—to herself.

“What was that, Twilight?”

“Nothing, nothing,” said Twilight quickly. “Just... thinking aloud, like I always do.” She faked a smile, tiny veins twitching on her forehead. “Some studies in Canterlot have found evidence that verbalizing your thoughts helps your memory.”

“Is that so?” said Cheerilee. “Well, perhaps I ought to try that in class, then.” She smiled rather worriedly and turned to leave. “Have a nice day, Twilight! And please—do be sure you get some rest.”

“I’ll be sure to,” said Twilight, her smile stretching just a bit wider. “Right after I talk to Fluttershy.” She turned, unblinking, and promptly slipped on an errant banana peel, which had hitherto gone unnoticed. It was the third time that day and the second time in this very story.

You would think that she’d have learned to watch her step by that point.

“Discord!” she shouted to the heavens, shaking her hoof at the bright blue sky. “You’ll pay for this!”

It was about this time that most ponies in the area decided it would be a good idea to stay away from Twilight Sparkle today.

“No!” said Twilight, pleading desperately with the crowd. “It’s not me! It’s Discord! He’s in my head somehow and he’s trying to narrate some kind of story with me in it, and... and—”

At precisely that moment it struck Twilight that she was sounding ridiculous. More than she usually did, even. Seeing that the crowd was looking increasingly wary of her, she decided to do what she always did to resolve awkward social situations: run away.

“I’m going to run,” Twilight muttered, “but not because you said I would.”

And with that snotty remark, she bolted, galloping through Ponyville as only a pony could. She gathered speed, the wind whipping through her mane as she raced to Fluttershy’s house. At such a breakneck pace, she would get there in record time—provided, of course, that she didn’t happen to slip on a banana peel at record velocity.

Twilight wisely skid to a stop. “Not going to risk that again,” she muttered. She looked about, searching for an alternative. “Aha!” she said, spying an oversized stetson hat in the crowd. “That’s it!”

She trotted carefully toward the ridiculous hat, making sure that there were no wayward banana peels in her path. Soon enough, she found herself face-to-face with the one pony who would wear such an absurd head-topper: Applejack.

“Well, howdy, Twilight!” said Applejack, in her usual awkward drawl. “What brings you ‘round these parts?”

“Discord,” Twilight hissed. “He’s been messing with me all morning, and he’s trying to keep me from telling Fluttershy. I need you to run to tell her that he’s acting up again. He can’t stop both of us.”

Applejack nodded and tipped her oversized hat. “Can do, partner. Ah’ll be there faster than a greased lightning bolt on the slipperiest—”

But Applejack never managed to finish her absurdly elaborate analogy, as she was suddenly and unexpectedly called to serve as the protagonist in a narrative of her very own. Just as well, really, since all she’d have been in this tale is an irritating secondary character, and I’ve never had much patience for those.

Twilight rubbed her eyes, hardly daring to believe that Applejack had vanished just in front of them. “Where did you send her Discord? If you hurt her, I swear—”

There was no cause for alarm on Twilight’s part, though, as Applejack was in no great danger... for certain values of great, anyway.

“If you think Fluttershy’s going to be happy about this—”

The concern would have been better spent on herself, for she was so close now to Fluttershy’s cottage, and the final part of her journey would be the most harrowing by far. She could only imagine what lay in store for her now: another banana peel? Two banana peels? Three, even? The possibilities were limitless, and even Twilight Sparkle knew she would have to move carefully in the face of the unknown. Applejack’s fate had proven that much.

“Don’t push me, Discord,” she said, steeling herself to continue onwards. “If you keep up with this, I’m going to give some serious thought to bringing the Elements of Harmony out.”

It was at about this time that a large box of industrial-grade banana peels appeared in mid-air and spontaneously exploded. For what reason this might have happened, we may never know, but happen it did, and the path to Fluttershy’s cottage was suddenly covered in banana peels.

Which, traditionally, had always been something of a problem for our good friend, Twilight Sparkle.

“Not if I’m actually watching my step,” Twilight muttered, deftly maneuvering past each and every banana peel in her path—and at least one orange peel that had managed to find its way into the pile. It took a minute or two of careful hoofwork, but soon enough she found herself past them all. And she’d hardly even slipped once!

A moment later, though, she realized that she could have simply used magic to get rid of the peels, and she felt quite stupid for that. As she deserved to.

“Hardy har har,” laughed Twilight, with the distinct tone of obnoxious sarcasm. She cast a spell, and most of the banana peels disappeared into thin air. “You might want to quit while you’re ahead. I wouldn’t mind getting a nice statue to liven up the library.”

But this was more idle posturing, for Discord could hardly be proven to have done anything wrong. Not to mention that Twilight threatened to use the Elements on him at least twice a week anyway. More substantially concerning to Discord—who was not, I must reiterate, anywhere in the vicinity at the time—would have been the threat of telling on Fluttershy.

And, on that count, Twilight was getting somewhat uncomfortably close to Fluttershy’s cottage.

“It’s within sight!” she exclaimed in relief, once she was within sight of it. “You’re in for it now, Discord!”

It was true—primarily because Twilight had only stated the obvious. There were few obstacles left which could keep her from reaching Fluttershy’s cottage. Though there might have been a few more if dear Fluttershy hadn’t forced the handsome draconequus, Discord, to make some promises concerning the use of his powers.

“You’re going to be making a few more of those after this,” said Twilight, finally at Fluttershy’s door. She knocked her hoof on the door and grinned in triumph. “Any last words before she hears about what you’ve been up to, Discord?”

Make no mistake about it, there were still ways to keep Twilight from blabbering to Fluttershy about some supposed wrongdoings—don't think I haven't thought about them—but that would hardly have been a satisfying way to end things. Twilight Sparkle had faced many trials and tribulations to reach Fluttershy’s cottage, and I suppose one could argue that she deserved a happy ending for all her suffering... just this once.

The door opened.

“Oh, hello there, Twilight!” said Fluttershy, in her usual lovely tone. “What brings you here?”

“Discord,” Twilight huffed, stepping inside without invitation. “He’s ruined a perfectly good Saturday morning for me, and I want you to talk to him about it.”

“Oh dear!” said Fluttershy. Like a true friend, she could hardly believe that Discord would have done such a thing. “But how could he have done that? He’s been outside reading stories to the little bunny rabbits all day.”

“Has he?” said Twilight, rubbing her hooves together. A sinister twinkle shone in her eyes. “Well, then, why don’t we go outside and see what kind of stories he’s been telling?”

And, together with Fluttershy, she set out through the backdoor, ready at last to take "revenge" upon poor, innocent Discord. It had been a long journey indeed, and she was ready now to do what she did best: persecute those who didn't deserve it. Hardly a fitting way for the heroine of our tale to act, but if Twilight preferred to be a villain instead, there was nothing that could be—

“There he is!” said Twilight, pointing out to a patch in the distant green meadows, upon which Discord was reading from an old brown storybook. “Discord! Get over here!”

“Upon hearing his name,” said Discord, “Discord shut his book and turned to face Twilight Sparkle. The accusations levied against him were many—enough to make lesser beings cower and quail—but he merely grinned. He was quite confident that he had done nothing wrong, and that he could prove it to Fluttershy with the greatest of ease. After all: everypony has a story to tell, and it’s important that these stories be recorded so that they can be remembered—especially when it’s Twilight Sparkle’s.”