Bad Mouth was an unpleasant man, to say the least.  With a hair trigger temper, a complete lack of respect for anyone or anything, and a vocabulary that could make even the saltiest of sailors shove a bar of soap into his mouth, he could burn a person’s ears off with a stream of profane insults as easily as anyone else would say hello to them.  This attitude had taken a toll on his social life, leaving him without any friends, family, or even neighbors.  The last people to live in the house next to his had only stayed there for about a week before moving to another neighborhood just so that they wouldn’t have to put up with him anymore.

Of course, if you were to talk to him about it, Bad Mouth would insist that the real problem was that everyone around him was a complete moron who was constantly making his life difficult.  This went double for all of his coworkers at the warehouse he worked at.  Every time he turned around they were always getting in his way, leaving junk lying around, and parking the machines at odd angles.  Who could blame him for venting his frustrations on those responsible?  Back before he was kicked out of his support group for anger management, his therapist kept telling him that everyone else had to deal with the same things he did, and that he was simply overreacting with his violent outbursts.  But what did that guy know?  The way Bad Words saw it, if someone was such a pussy that they couldn’t handle a little criticism, than that was their own problem.

Unfortunately, his boss didn’t see it that way, and after he sent yet another coworker running away in tears, Bad Mouth was called into his office where he was informed that he had used up his final chance and was fired.

After the initial shock had passed, Bad Mouth responded in his usual fashion:

“YOU ARROGANT, UNGRATEFUL, SMUG LITTLE CRETEING!” he bellowed.  “I SPENT YEARS BREAKING MY BACK AT THIS JOB, PULLING EVERYBODY ELSE’S WEIGHT FOR THEM, PUTTING UP WITH YOUR INCOMPATANCE, AND NOW YOU HAVE THE NERVE TO FIRE ME JUST BECAUSE A COUPLE OF PUSSIES COME RUNINNG AND BOO-HOOING TO YOU?!  WITHOUT ME, YOU AND ALL THE OTHER IDIOTS HERE WILL RUN THIS PLACE INTO THE GROUND IN LESS THAN A MONTH!  YOU’RE NOTHING BUT A JOKE, YOU HEAR ME?  A JOKE!”

Finished with his rant, Bad Mouth glared at his boss-his FORMER boss.  The other man simply took his glasses off, wiped off the spit that had accumulated on the lens, replaced them on his face, and continued to gaze at Bad Mouth with the same cool, unimpressed air as before.

“Like I said, Bad Mouth,” he said calmly.  “You have long worn out your welcome here.  Quite frankly, the only reason we put up with you for this long was because, until recently, certain people who are of great importance to this company had insisted that we continue to give you yet another chance.  Why is well beyond me, but now even they have had enough of your attitude.  You’re done here.  Now kindly remove yourself from the building.”

Bad Mouth crossed his arms and dug his heels into the floor.  “I’m not going anywhere, and I’d like to see a pussy like you make me,” he sneered.

The boss simply sighed and made a phone call.  A few minutes later, several employees literally threw Bad Mouth out the door so that he landed flat on his face.  The last thing he heard from his former coworkers was their mocking laughter before it was cut off by the door slamming shut.

Hours later, Bad Mouth sat in his favorite bar drowning his sorrows in alcohol.  His life was over and he knew it.  That job had simply been the latest in a long line that he had been fired from.  By now, there wasn’t any place left in Canterlot City that would hire him.  He had no one he could turn to; he had no friends and his parents hadn’t spoken to him in years.  His only consolation was the knowledge that none of it was his own fault.  So what if he was always insulting people and yelling at them?  They deserved it for being idiots.

It was well into the night before Bad Mouth finally decided that he had had enough and was ready to go home.  Although the bartender offered, even insisted that he call him a cab, Bad Mouth roughly brushed him off.  He had had his fill of people telling him what he could or couldn’t do for the day.  Nobody was going to tell him that he couldn’t drive his own car.

It was a struggle for him just to get into the driver’s seat, as well as to insert the key into the ignition, but after several minutes, he finally managed to get his car started.  Backing out of his parking spot, he grimaced when he heard a loud crunching sound, but didn’t bother to glance back to see if he had hit a trash can or another car, and simply drove forward before something blocked his path.

Although his vision was blurred from the alcohol, Bad Mouth could make out a guy dressed in denim jeans and a dark black jacket with its hood pulled up.  The man made no move to get out of the way even when Bad Mouth began laying on the car horn.  Instead he simply seemed to be gazing at him, although it was hard to tell with his face hidden under the shadow of his hood.

Rolling down his window, Bad Mouth leaned out to yell at him.

“Get out of the way you pinhead!  What’s the matter with you, you have a death wish or something?  Move it before I run you over!”

The figure still didn’t move.  Bad Mouth started to wonder if he should just get out of his car and kick the punk’s butt.  Although his features were hidden by his clothes, he was short enough to be in his mid-teens.  Bad Mouth was confident that he could handle him easily.

The figure reached into the neck of his jacket and began pulling at a length of chain looped around his neck until he pulled out what looked like an large, old medal with a blood-red ruby embedded in the center.  It may have just been a trick of Bad Mouth’s alcohol-befuddled mind, but it almost seemed to be glowing with its own light in the dimly lit street.

Grasping the medal in his hand, the figure held it up.  Bad Mouth was surprised when a long ribbon of flame erupted from it and began to dance erratically in the air.

“What are you, some kind of street magician?” Bad Mouth demanded.  “I’m not giving you any money, so take your act somewhere else!”

The flame suddenly shot down and sank into the concrete.  A moment later a bubbling, pitch black substance began to seep up.  It grew and grew until it became a man-sized blob.

Then, in the blink of an eye, it transformed into a living nightmare.

The creature stood nearly eight feet tall with a vaguely bat-like shape and a hairless body that almost seemed to be made out of tar.  It stood on two long, spindly legs and had leathery wings that ended in four long talons.  Its face was a grotesque mask of primal fury.

With a screeching roar like nails on a chalkboard, the creature jumped onto the hood of Bad Mouth’s car, denting it under its weight.  Digging its talons into the windshield and roof, it ripped them both clean off, leaving Bad Words completely unprotected.

Screaming in terror, Bad Mouth threw his car into reverse and stomped on the gas.  The creature tumbled head over heels when its footing was pulled out from under it.  Twisting the steering wheel violently, Bad Mouth managed to turn his car around, change the gear to drive, and sped away from the horror he had just witnessed.

As he drove as fast as his car would allow, his mind tried to process what he had just saw.  Of course, none of it had been real, he realized.  Obviously all the alcohol he drank had caused him to have some sort of waking nightmare or something.  That was it, he had simply been hallucinating, and there was nothing to fear…

Several sharp claws dug into his shoulders and yanked him up into the air.  Without a driver, his car swerved and quickly crashed into a streetlamp with a sickening crunch.  Looking up, Bad Mouth saw the creature holding him in its talons as flew through the air.  Screaming again, he began to thrash around until he finally shook himself lose.  Fortunately, he landed in a pile of full garbage bags that cushioned his fall.  Getting up, he started running.  He didn’t pay any attention to where he was going; he just knew that he had to get away from that monster.

After running for what felt like hours, Bad Mouth ducked into an alleyway.  Peeking around the corner, he saw no sign of the creature or the guy who summoned it anywhere.  Sighing in relief, he leaned back against the wall as he took a moment to catch his breath.  Once he had calmed down a bit, he started walking down the alley.  He was tired enough to fall asleep in one of the dumpsters, and it wasn’t like he’d be able to find his way home before morning anyways…

A streak of fire struck the ground like a lightning bolt right in front of him.  Bad Mouth shrieked and turned to run again, only to be caught by another creature; this one seemed to be made out of tentacles that wrapped tightly around him, pinning his arms to his side.  He struggled, but this time he wasn’t getting loose.

His terror grew as the bat-creature landed on the ground with its creator riding on its back.  Dismounting his nightmarish steed, the figure lowered his head to remove his medal, keeping his face hidden from sight.  Holding the horrid object between out at arm’s length, he began to approach Bad Mouth at a slow, deliberate pace, almost like he was mocking his prisoner’s helpless state.

“Hey, back off buster!” Bad Mouth blustered.  “I’m warning you!  You won’t get away with this!  I’ll tell the police on you!  I’ll…I’ll…oh god, please don’t hurt me!  Take whatever you want, I won’t tell!  Just please, let me go!  I’ll do anything, ANYTHING!”

Taking one last step, the figure smoothly pressed his medal into Bad Word’s forehead.  His hysterical pleas were cut off as something utterly alien worm its way into his mind.  The insides of his head felt like they were being skewered by white-hot iron rods, yet he was somehow unable to register the pain.  In fact, he could no longer feel the terror that had gripped him since this nightmare began, or anything else for that matter.  All of his thoughts, memories and emotions were tumbling around in his head as if whatever had a grip on his mind was a child rummaging through a toy bin.  The only thing he was even faintly aware of was the sensation of some essential part of his very being was being torn away from him.

Just as swiftly as it had begun, it ended as the figure pulled the medal away while Bad Mouth’s mind collapsed into a blank, numb state.  When the newest monster released him, his body simply crumpled in a heap like a ragdoll.  As his vision faded to black, the last thing he heard was a laugh and a declaration from the figure:

“All the pieces are coming together, and soon both this world and Equestria will burn in his flames.”