The lights turn up amid soft strains of violin music, going from darkness to something gentle and intimate. A woman with an exotic aspect sets down her glass of luridly red wine and faces the camera. "Hello, human scum," she says as though it's a little inside joke, just between the two of you. "Welcome to the live premiere of 'This Is Your Fault,' where we'll review the laughable follies and shameful failures of your species from the present day back to when you were too stupid to stay in your trees, where you belonged.

"Our first topic is the typewriter." Her smile turns coy. "Now I know what's passing for thought in that woefully limited little brain of yours; Why the typewriter? After all, we could cover genocides, nuclear meltdowns, climate devastation that you're still doing." She shakes her head as though you confessed persisting a bad habit you've been trying to quit. She lifts the wineglass again and contemplates the contents as she swirls it. "Ocean acidification is no joke, my little monkeys. But the reason for today's topic is simple enough that even you can appreciate it." The glass comes to a halt as her lips tighten the slightest bit. "I got my hair caught in one of those infernal devices back in 1947 and I have no intention of forgiving any of you for that embarrassment."

"It was hilarious," says a voice from off-camera. "She shrieked like a beached dolphin the whole time."

"Quiet, Aria." The genial demeanor shows cracks, as does the hostess's voice. And the wineglass. The violin music continues unimpeded.

"The best part was how she wouldn't let us cut her hair at all."

The hostess throws the wine on the floor, earfins flared and fangs bared. "Shut it, Aria. You can get your own show."

"Come on, Adagio. I was actually impressed when you ran around the entire office with that thing trying to eat your scalp. And it never came out! Thing must have weighed, what, ten, twenty pounds? I figured it would've just torn a chunk out of your scalp, but no!" The offscreen voice turns thoughtful. "Pretty sure it's still in there somewhere. You still do the 'wash it every century whether it needs it or not' thing, right?"

Adagio screams and lunges just off to one side of the camera. As hellish screams ring out, the violin music finally comes to an end. Another girl, her instrument still in hand and a smile on her face, sits in Adagio's place.

"¡Hola, tacorinos! Welcome to Queso Corner, where we discuss only the finest cuisine in the tri-county area. And place bets on those two." She jerks a thumb at in the direction of the ongoing scuffle, audible mostly as snarls, shrieks, and the odd meaty thwack. "Who wins? Who dies? You, the viewer decide!"

Sunny Flare paused the stream. "They should probably just stick to Siren Spell Stories."

"Debatable," said Lemon Zest. "We should see what Aria does when she's hosting first."

Author's Notes:

This was typewritten at Bronycon 2019 and transferred here afterwards. See also the Unconventional Trilogy, either found at or linked from the linked story.