The stallion awoke with a start.

Jolting up in bed, he nipped loudly, brown eyes scanning his bedroom before sleepily raising his fore hooves to his eyes, wiping them vigorously before placing the appendages back onto the bed sheets. Sighing with a mixture of content and joy, the stallion smiled deeply, slapped his hooves together, and quickly scrambled out of bed, intent on retrieving a bite to eat before getting to work.

Walking into his kitchen with a gaping, wide-mouthed yawn, he licked his lips idly and swept his sight around the room, brain searching for any kind of breakfast foods. Suddenly thinking correctly, he turned tail to look at the clock behind him, and noticed that it was in fact lunch time. Turning his head back to the brown cabinets, he grumbled lightly and cursed his luck. Now that he thought about it, he had a box of Cheerilee-o's waiting for just this occasion.

Or, well, an occasion that was not to be, as it was lunch time and not breakfast time.

Blowing a raspberry, he looked to his right and eyed his refrigerator with a slight look of disgust.

He was really in the mood for cereal, but the fact that it was about midday stopped him.

Sitting on his haunches, he placed a hoof on his bearded chin and began to think.

Sure, it was lunch time, and cereal was generally considered lunch time food, but on the other hoof, rules were rules! They were meant to be broken, slandered, destroyed like the ambitions of a prepubescent teenager finding out what was in his hamburger at Hay Burger's! After all, ponies not eating meat was just a myth, and besides, meat was good, and good for you. And then again, back to the cereal, it would be kind of wrong to eat cereal for lunch. I mean, seriously, who ate cereal for lunch and actually felt good about their lives? It probably didn't even have the right amount of vitamins and minerals for the stallion's busy lifestyle!

A hoof still on his chin, he raised the other to pat himself on the head, thinking like a red-shirted yellow grizzly bear ignoring his pink piglet asshole friend. He sat this way for hours, thinking on the difficult, life-altering decision. Suddenly, he went wide-eyed, sweat pouring down his brow as he placed his hoof over his mouth in shock. What if he was late for work just for thinking about all this? What if he suddenly fell asleep during a board meeting? What if Mrs. Punch finally found him jerking off to birds in the worker's lounge?

He thought.

And he sat.

He was not a depressed blue prick, so he did not stay like this for long, and suddenly, finally, raised a single hoof into the air, arched his brow, and grinned to the sky.

"Fuck it."

And, as suddenly as was proclaimed, he reached for the cereal box in the cabinet above him, retreated to his fridge and grabbed a few eggs, and picked a moldy apple from his bird's cage, fresh of course. Wait. Moldy app-

Thinking quickly, he threw all three food items into a frying pan, turned the heat up on his stove, cranked that shit up to eleven, and watched as the beautiful masterpiece came to fruition. Getting an idea, he returned to his refrigerator and grabbed a jug of milk his friend Ross had left behind. Holding it to eye level, he grumbled, "Shhhit," noticing the jug's almost-empty state.

Rolling his eyes, he half-shrugged and went back to his sizzling, crackling, and practically burning frying pan. Hit with inspiration, he remembered something, turned tail once again, and reached for the cabinet above his head. Flinging the door open, he swiftly grabbed the plastic jar of nuts and threw them into his concoction as well, smiling deeply as he grabbed a nearby pepper shaker and tapped it against the metallic rim of the pan, coughing lightly as some immediately popped out in response, a small mess suddenly appearing around his stove top.

Staring, he didn't realize until all too late the large amount of liquid in his pan, and only noticed once the boiling egg yolks threatened to scald his hoof. Looking back to the victimized appendage in silence, he flung his hoof as if he had a hangnail with a barely-into-it, "Eh, whatever."

Looking into the pan, he found a horrible disfigurement of yellow, gold, white, brown, and red staring back at him, looking like something straight out of Moosebumps. Like a goblin-

Ech, ew. He didn't like goblins.

Eugh, fuck that.

Something else then.

Like, a monster. Sure. Glancing down again, he finalized his thought and proclaimed to his silent household.

"This shit looks fuckin' scrumptious." Raising his hoof to his lips, he kissed it sloppily with a loud mwah, continuing as he picked the pan off the stove, "'f I fuckin' took this... took this shit to fuckin'... Marester Chef or somethin', I'd get first prize. One million, one billion, infinite whole bits. I'd be, well, I'd be set for life."

Walking calmly over to his kitchen table, he dropped the frying pan onto the wooden surface, not a care in the world as the area around it smoldered black from heat. Waving a yellow hoof around under his nose, he smiled and clenched his eyes shut. "Goddamn beautiful."

Taking a seat, he looked around for a fork, finally spotting one in the living room, atop his brown coffee table where he had left it earlier. A single slice of ham sat next to it, a large brown revolver holster sitting close by. Chortling, he got up and walked into the room. Feeling a different atmosphere, he stopped mid-step, looking around with a feeling of oddity. A large TV sat to his left, a large assortment of video game consoles gathered around it like Romans and a Pope. Looking to the floor near the large couch in the middle of the room, he found a blue controller, completely obliterated and smashed to pieces, the culprit possibly located on the floor a foot away from it, the controller itself almost entirely tucked beneath the couch like sawdust.

Last week's, to be exact.

Narrowing his brown eyes in suspicion, the stallion slowly inched toward the fork on the coffee table, lips trembling this way and that as sweat drenched his entire brow, and then his entire face, reminiscent of an Amish man in his own paradise. Quickly, he grabbed the fork, clutching it close to his chest, eyes scrambling the area, from the TV, to the table, and to the plushies sitting atop his shelf to his right. One in particular stared at him as he noticed it, a very grumpy expression on its face.

Frowning slightly, he bowed his head and sighed, before coughing into a hoof and trotting back to his meal. Taking the fork out to the light, he examined it with a look of expectations unmet, but nodded lightly, ready to take whatever the tool was about to present him. Slowly inching it toward the pan's contents, he bit his bottom lip and looked away, eyes shut. Feeling it stab the grotesque cuisine, he gave a small, "Ooh!" of wariness, before slowly facing forward once again.

Raising a brow, he hummed, prodding the liquid/solid all the while. Swirling the contents, he watched as a single Cheerilee-o floated into view, phasing completely into the bubble of an egg yolk, a nut slowly popping into view from underneath the dark denizens of the disgusting soup encompassing the whole pan.

Tilting his head, he stabbed the side of the egg yolk, letting in a small group of pepper that merged with the Cheerilee-o. Withdrawing quickly, he sucked in a breath, expecting something to happen. When nothing came, he ran a hoof through his dark brown hair, mouth forming an O as he blew out a breath he didn't realize he was holding. Likewise, he suddenly swallowed a lump he didn't know he bore prior.

Staring back down into the frying pan, he dropped the fork into the black soup, throwing both hooves onto the table as he got out of his seat, cracking an eye wide open and clamping the other completely shut, glaring suspicious daggers at the container.

The silence of his abode met him. Opening his one eye even wider, he leaned even further toward the frying pan.

Suddenly, a bubble sprang up. A brown iris sprang to life, switching to its right side as the bubble grew larger and larger. The stallion leaned in further. And the bubble popped like its cousin in a magma pool.

And nothing happened.

"Welllll I think that's enough stalling. Let's do this hoopascotch."

Grabbing the fork by his side, he stabbed it into the egg yolk.

Suddenly, a loud explosion erupted in his world, knocking him backward into the white wall behind him. Grimacing, he stretched his limbs, listening to the sound of his smoke detector going off in the form of ear-piercing screeches. Groaning loudly, he grabbed hold of the wall around him and pulled himself free, his skull smacking into the floor before he even realized he was falling. Rising to his hooves, he shook his head as he heard another sound reverberate through his head.

"Holy shit. Jon. What the fuck are you doing?"

"Fuck off, bird," Jon replied, gritting his teeth as he held his head. Cracking his eyes open, he found the green conure hovering in front of him. Waving a hoof, he turned his head and found a black-crested crater in the form of himself. Suddenly self-aware, he looked downward, feeling all over his body, his yellow fur and brown mane still the same as usual. Scratching his beard, he looked at the bird still hovering next to him. "You fuckin'- you fuckin' staring at me while I look at myself? Fuckin' weirdo."

"Jon. You really need to go outside-"

Jon raised a hoof, sucking in his lips, "Now listen Jacques, I don't go around telling you to stop doing seed."

Just as he said so, a small bag fell from his companion's feathers.

The two stared at one another for what seemed like hours before the bird broke the silence.

"Shit."

"Didn't think so."

Jacques remained mid-air, turning his head to survey the damage in the house. The wall and the table were not in the best of shape, and the same most certainly couldn't be said for the poor frying pan, the cookware having disappeared out the now broken window, the glass completely and utterly shattered, fragments both on the carpet inside and outside in the sunlight. Flapping his wings, Jacques flew up to the window, tilting his head.

"Jesus Christ." Turning his head, he asked, "Did you decide to make some disgusting breakfast again?"

"No, it's lunch time you asshole."

"Whatever," he replied, rolling his red eyes and turning back to the window. Perking up, he took notice of a sound far off in the distance. Craning his neck, he heard the sound of hoofsteps behind him, not even paying attention as his Earth pony owner called.

"What is it, man?" He asked in a hushed voice, "Little Timmy fall down the well again?"

Jacques ignored him, hovering closer to the window as he listened intently to the sounds still playing deeper into the town. Jacques hummed, and flew up to look outside.

All seemed normal in Ponyville. Through the cracks of the various rooftops, he saw ponies continuing their daily toil in the marketplace, a red Earth pony catching the bird's eye, yelling words he couldn't hear with bushels of bananas in hoof. Turning back to the view of the whole town, his vision was suddenly filled with fire. Behind a set of houses, less than ten blocks down, erupted a large explosion, the likes of which Jacques had never seen in his entire life.

Moving to the right slightly, he was joined by Jon, who screwed his face up and asked simply, "The fuck's goin' on out there?"

No answer came, the sudden appearance of a blue Pegasus halting any answer that could have came, a new hole marking his entrance in the side of Jon's house. Jon turned, brow raised in both surprise and fear for the Pegasus' safety. Taking a single step, he stopped as the masked stallion rose, bits of paint and wood sliding off his yolk-and-dung-covered coat as he shook his body. Growling, he reached to the floor, retrieving a frying pan, its interior coated black from crisp delivery.

"Hey man, that's my frying pan-"

The masked Pegasus turned, bearing his teeth as he breathed heavily out of his nostrils, blue eyes narrowed to almost impossible levels as he menacingly hissed.

"Fuck off, bitch."

Jon lowered his hoof, watching as the Pegasus' frown turned into a smile for a brief second, before returning to its previous state as his head turned back toward the large hole in the side of the house like a hawk. Grasping the frying pan, he slid his hoof down its side, not even noticing as a piece of bird dung slid off his cheek and onto the floor below.

Flaring his wings, he yelled at the top of his lungs, "Don't think you took me out motherfucker! I'm comin', and you're gonna fuckin' give me my fucking fries you fuckin' bitch!"

And with that, he flew out the door, screaming a war cry all the while. Jon and Jacques watched him go, leaning to the side to peer through the hole, the blue Pegasus flying upward into the sky before stopping midair above the previous explosion's location, suddenly dodging what appeared to be knives before yelling once more, both having to crane their necks to hear it correctly.

"I'm serving up some motherfuckin' ass beatings, bitch!"

Jon, the Earth pony, looked to the bird, Jacques, who looked back in kind.

The tension in the room was almost impossible to bear.

And suddenly, Jacques went wide-eyed, frowning slightly as he felt a sensation run through his body. And immediately, he felt relaxed. Looking back to Jon to see what exactly had happened, he found the pony looking at him in disgust.

Gazing downward, the bird found a small puddle of white bird poop. Peering back up to his owner, Jacques watched as he frowned deeply and crossed his forelegs, falling to his haunches.

"Oopsies."

"Yeah that's what I fuckin' thought."

Author's Notes:

Aaaaaand we're back, ladies and gentlemen! Thanks for sticking with me through all my bullshit! Hope you enjoyed!

EDIT: Fun fact, I had three different versions of this chapter I had planned, and wrote for on separate writing times. One got to 489 words, the other only got to 132.