Chapter Two

A Fricken Children’s Story

When Doctor Evil had woken up, he was incredibly uncomfortable. His back ached, and he didn’t know why. He felt the ground with his hands, and felt something move underneath them; it felt like loose grass shavings. This did not make him happy, as the last time he was in a dark room with grass shavings on the floor was his seventeenth birthday with his parents in Wales.

He immediately sat up and covered his groin. When nothing assaulted him immediately, he began observing his surroundings. He was in a barn; that much he could tell. The interior was dimly lit, and it took him a moment for his eyes to adjust. The substance under his hands was in fact hay, and the reason for his discomfort was the fact that he was sleeping on a pile of hay bales in a rather awkward position.

“Un-fricken-believable,” he muttered to himself as he stood up. He rubbed his eyes, and began walking towards the barn doors, when they suddenly opened. The bright light disoriented him for a moment, and when he came to, he was greeted by a large red horse with a straw of hay in its mouth. “You’ve gotta be fricken kidding me,” he said to himself.

“Eenope,” the horse replied.

He stared at the horse for a moment. Suddenly, the memories of the previous night crashed into his mind, and he became angry. “Goddamnit!” he yelled, stomping his foot on the ground. “You mean to tell me these fricken drugs are still making me see fricken horses?”

The horse shrugged. “Follow me please,” he said.

After a few seconds of light swearing and stomping, he settled down. When he realized that the horse was giving him a strange look, he nodded once and walked outside with the Clydesdale. “Is there any reason I slept in a barn last night?”

“It was all the room we could spare for ya,” replied the horse. He never looked at the Doctor, instead favoring to keep his eyes forward.

Doctor Evil sighed. “We are going to get something to eat, correct? Quite frankly being frozen in space for thirty years can peak one’s appetite.” The horse just nodded. “You don’t speak much, do you henchman?”

“Eenope,” he replied.

The Doctor nodded again. “That’s a respectable quality in a henchman. What is your name?”

“Big Macintosh.”

“Right,” he said slowly, wondering how any sane person could name their son something so ridiculous. As he finished dragging out the single-syllable word for a moment, they had arrived at the front of the farmhouse, when the door opened to reveal a familiar orange mare waiting for them inside. “Oh hello, I remember you from the conference meeting last night. You have a western drawl too, correct?”

“Well ah reckon so,” she stated proudly.

“Charming. Well, after breakfast I think I will check on Mustafa to see what new evil inventions his Arabian mind has concocted for me,” he said, stepping into the small house. He was guided into a small dining room, where an elderly green mare and a smaller yellow filly were sitting. He sat at the head of the table, whereas the others sat to either side. In front of each of them was a plate of various apple-based foods. The Doctor found the extreme use of apples unsettling, but he wasn’t about to question it until after he had eaten. “My, this reminds me of my childhood home in Belgium.”

“Interestin,” the orange henchman said. “Care t’ tell us some stories?”

“Oh I couldn’t possibly bother you with tales of my childhood,” Doctor Evil replied.

“Aw fiddlesticks!” the old one exclaimed. “Go right on ahead, sonny.”

“Well, if you say so,” he began, “but I must warn you that these stories are not for the faint of heart. Now where do I begin?” he pondered his life’s story for a moment, deciding to start with the beginning. “My father was a relentlessly self-improving boulangerie owner from Belgium with low-grade narcolepsy and a penchant for buggery.  My mother was a fifteen-year-old French prostitute named Chloe with webbed feet.” Though he didn’t realize it, the looks of curiosity that had donned on each of their faces had turned to that of horror and disgust.

“My father would womanize, he would drink, and he would make outrageous claims like he invented the question mark.  Sometimes he would accuse chestnuts of being lazy.  It was a sort of general malaise that only the genius possess, and the insane lament.”

“Um, ah don’t mean t’ interrupt, but-” the orange one was quickly silenced as the Doctor continued to speak.

“My childhood was typical; summers in Rangoon, luge lessons.  In the spring we'd make meat helmets.”

“Wait,” the orange one spoke again, “did y’all just say-”

“When I was insolent,” he continued, “I was placed in a burlap bag and beaten with reeds; pretty standard, really. At the age of twelve I received my first scribe. At the age of fifteen, a Zoroastrian named Vilma ritualistically shaved my testicles.” Big Mac gagged on the piece of apple he had tried to swallow. The orange mare covered the filly’s ears. “There really is nothing like a shorn scrotum; it’s breathtaking, I suggest you try it,” he directed to Big Mac, who was then choking on another piece of apple and clutching his throat.

“Alrighty, ah think we’ve heard enough,” the orange one said. “Uh, thank you fer enlightenin’ us with stories of yer past, but it really is time that you get going.”

“Are you sure?” he asked. “I still have many tales such as when I went to Germany and was circumcised by a Jewish hag-“

“We’re good!” she then shouted. The red one named Big Macintosh had fallen out of his chair, still choking. The orange one rushed to his side, and this is when the Doctor decided to take his leave, heading out the front door and to where he assumed he would find Mustafa.

-Insert Austin Powers Wipe Here-

It had taken him longer than he expected to reach the small outpost. He had decided to visit Mustafa first, and then check in with Frau to make sure that the workers were doing their thing. In fact, he didn’t know where Mustafa or Frau was. He would need to ask a henchman for the information. Although it would be rather uncomfortable if he had to speak to another strange deformed horse.

He had reached the Town Hall with much disgust; the crew still had yet to remove his space ship from the premises. Someone will have to be incinerated for this, he thought to himself. He ran into the small yellow winged horse from the previous night, and he called out to her, “Henchman!” The horse turned around with wide eyes at the Doctor, and froze in place. “Well don’t look at me like that, I feel like a fricken monster.” He had caught up with the mare, and looked down at her. “Tell me, where is Mister Bigglesworth?”

“Uh…” the timid horse said, “H-he’s at my home, if you want him.”

“There is no need,” he stated, “I just wanted to know where he was. I will however need you to bring him to the Conference Hall sometime later today for a meeting.” The henchman nodded fiercely. “Enthusiasm is an admirable trait in a henchman, keep up the good work.” He then ask, “Tell me, where is Mustafa currently?”

“Uh, I don’t know,” she said. “Why don’t you ask Twilight? She lives in the big tree, can’t miss it.”

He nodded. “That is a ridiculous name, but thank you henchman.” He then continued towards the large tree in the middle of the outpost. He had seen the tree before, but assumed it was just another plant. Upon closer inspection, he realized that it had windows and a door. He would have to commend the architect on the camouflage; perhaps he would have him build a submarine for him.

He entered the building to find Frau and a small purple dragon sorting through books. Frau turned around and jumped, startled by the sudden intrusion.

“Oh hello Frau,” he said, “I didn’t know you stayed here. Tell me, do you know Twilight?” He then looked down at the dragon, staring at him with wide eyes. “I assume you’re Twilight. That’s a ridiculous name, by the way.”

“Um, I’m not Twilight,” said the dragon. “She’s Twilight.”

“Finally, someone that sounds like a fricken male around here,” he mumbled. Then, to Frau, “Frau I didn’t know that you liked to be called Twilight. A lot must have happened while I was gone; tell me, have you joined any hippy communes during my departure?” He tried to hold back his laugh with a fist, but failed miserably.

Frau raised an eyebrow. “Why were you looking for me?”

He regained his composure quickly. “Well I was told that you know where to find Mustafa, I need to see his progress on his current invention.”

Frau gave the unnamed dragon avatar a strange look, and then he stepped forward. “Um, here I am! I am, um, Mustafa.” Frau seemed to do a facepalm, but with her hoof. It was quite entertaining to watch.

“Well at least my high is fricken creative,” he stated, glad that he would no longer have to talk to the small cream-colored horse. “So tell me Mustafa, what inventions do you have for me today?”

“Well I-“ Mustafa was cut off as a large flame erupted from his mouth and straight for Doctor Evil.

“Son of a-” he fell backwards to dodge the flames, which singed his eyebrows. He looked back up at Mustafa, who was smiling nervously. Frau was looking wide-eyed at him, most likely fearful of what he might do to Mustafa. He slowly got up, bearing over the small inebriation-induced avatar of Mustafa…

…And smiled. “That is an unusual invention, Mustafa, but it is most definitely evil enough. Tell me, how did you do it? A vocally-commanded flamethrower in your gullet?”

Mustafa stuck a proud stance. “Finally, someone who appreciates my fine talent!” he snuck a glance at Frau, who shook her head in annoyance. “Well I-“

“Wait,” Frau said. “There’s a message from Princess Celestia!” She was pointing at a rolled-up parchment on the floor.

“I’m sorry, Princess who?” Doctor Evil asked. “What is she a fricken hippy too?”

Frau’s eyes scanned the paper, and she seemed to gain some sort of relief. “Well, that was almost a problem,” she said. She then looked towards the Doctor. “Um, Celestia is our leader, and she’s coming here to-“

“You mean the President is a female?” he asked. “And a hippy too? Un-fricken-believable, if It’s so damn easy to become a fricken world leader, I could’ve waited a few years and become the fricken president of the goddamn states!”

“…Anyway…” Frau continued, “She’s coming here to negotiate your stay with us, Mister Evil.”

“That’s Doctor Evil,” he corrected. “I didn’t go to an evil medical school to be called a fricken mister. Then again, Frau, with your aging mind, I am not surprised that you got the two-”

“Alright, that’s enough!” Frau exclaimed. “I do not, look that old!”

He made a small wheezing gasp and covered his mouth with his fist. “Well throw me a fricken bone here for God’s sake! I’m tripping fricken balls here; I can’t tell how old you are because all I see are a bunch of fricken horses!”

“That’s because we are horses!” Frau exclaimed. She then quickly covered her mouth with her hooves, her pupils shrinking. He looked over to Mustafa, who simply shrugged.

“So you’re… you’re a real horse then?” Frau slowly nodded. He couldn’t take it any longer. “God Damnit!” he shouted, stomping his feet. “This is just my fricken luck that I come back too late!”

“What?” Frau questioned.

“Who did it, Frau?” he asked. “Who beat me to the punch, because whatever bastard did this is gonna get a piece of my mind.”

“…What?” she asked again.

“Well clearly some other evil genius acted while I was in space,” he began. “This evil genius must have used some sort of DNA-altering device aimed at a network of satellites to turn every human on the planet into horses, unless,” he put his pinkie to his lip again,” they pay him a rather large sum? Am I correct, Frau?”

“Wha- no!” Frau exclaimed. “We’ve always been horses! …Err, ponies. And stop calling me Frau! My name is Twilight Sparkle, and this is my assistant, Spike.” She gestured towards Mustafa, who simply waved unenthusiastically.

Doctor Evil looked between the two, when someone entered the library. He turned around to see Number Two looking happily at him. “Hiya Doctor Evil!”

“Oh Number Two,” he said, “please tell me that that is Frau and Mustafa in the room, because I am still tripping fricken balls here.”

“Hmm… Nope!” Number Two said. “That’s Twilight and Spike! And I’m Lyra!”

Doctor Evil did a lot of thinking in just a few short seconds, and he verbalized his top priority. “Fricken hell, then who did I give Mister Bigglesworth to?” In no time at all, he ran out the front door, screaming, “I’m coming Mister Bigglesworth!”

-Insert Austin Powers Wipe Here-

Fluttershy hummed a soft tune to herself as she poured chicken feed into the trough in her backyard. Around her, various hungry chickens patiently waited for her to finish, so that they could eat to their hearts content.

She was halfway done with her current bag when she heard something running behind her. When she turned around, she jumped back in surprise, the bag of seed emptying its contents everywhere in a shower of seeds.

“Where’s my fricken cat?!” the human yelled, sending her into full-on panic mode.

She dove behind the trough, covering her face with her hoof and using the other one to point towards her home. “I-Inside… Please don’t hurt me…” she pleaded softly. For a moment she heard nothing, and assumed he couldn’t hear her. But before she could say anything, she heard footsteps walking away from her position, and she heard her cottage door close.

She spared a quick glance over the trough, pulling her pink mane out of her vision. It took the human only a second to retrieve what he was looking for; a very agitated and angry cat. She saw that as he ran back to where he came from, the cat was trying –and failing miserably– at getting out of his owner’s hands.

When he was gone, she flew straight through her doorway and shut it, locking the door and leaning back on it. She was panting heavily –fear still fresh in her mind– when she caught Angel Bunny staring with a confused expression at her, as if to ask, what just happened?

-Insert Austin Powers Wipe Here-

Twilight was running all around town, trying to find the deranged Doctor. She searched everywhere, and asked various ponies if they had seen him. Oddly enough, no one seemed to have noticed him. She found it hard to believe that such a strange alien could run about town screaming and no one would notice it, but the absentmindedness of the townspeople was the least of her concerns.

She was now back at the large statue that had carried him, when she heard the flapping of wings and the thud of hooves on dirt behind her. She turned to find none other than the Princess Celestia herself.

“Oh thank goodness you’re here princess!” she said.

Celestia nodded regally. “Yes, well if your description of the creature was correct, he sounds like a very interesting being. Where is he? I wish to meet him.”

She dug into the dirt with her hoof idly, not meeting the princess’ gaze. “He, well, ran off. I’ve been all over trying to find him, but nopony seems to know where he went.”

The princess crinkled her nose, a motion so quick and small that Twilight wondered if she had even seen it in the first place. She then looked up past Twilight and smiled. “Is that him?”

She turned around quickly, and was relieved to see the Doctor trying to climb back into his pod with a rather annoyed cat. They both approached slowly, and Twilight picked up mumbled words spoken under his breath.

“Fricken horses… Wake me up in another thirty years, Mister Bigglesworth.” He was seated in the pod, and reached out to pull the hatches shut when he noticed their approach. He immediately closed the hatch doors, and Celestia knocked on the hatch twice.

“Hello? Doctor Evil, is it?” she asked not unkindly.

“Leave me alone,” he called out from inside, his voice muffled by the strange metal that composed the pod. “Can’t you see I’m trying to cryogenically freeze myself for another few decades?” Twilight saw the princess’ horn glow in a golden aura, and the hatch doors of the pod swung open. Inside, the Doctor was clutching a cat and staring at the alicorn. “Goddamnit Mustafa,” he said, “where the hell is the fricken instruction manual for this thing?”

“There’s no need to fear us,” Celestia said soothingly. “We mean you no harm.”

“Yes, well that’s just fricken peachy,” he replied. “But I’d much rather be in a world that makes sense, thank you very much.”

This time, Celestia used her magic to bring the Doctor out and onto his feet. Surprisingly, he did not resist; he only donned a very annoyed glare. When he was on his feet, he gave Celestia a look of confusion.

“What is the matter?” she asked.

“I was not under the impression that your species had a firm grasp of the,” yet again, he made a strange gesture with his hands, “tractor beam.”

“I’m sorry, tractor what?” Celestia asked. It was her turn to be confused.

“I myself am familiar with the device,” he stated. “In fact there are several evil schemes I have concocted that require such a machine. But I do not see any mechanical apparatus.” He looked her over once before continuing to speak. “How are you utilizing the beam’s effects without an apparatus?”

“Why, magic of course,” she replied, smiling.

The Doctor’s eyes twitched. “Right...”

“No, it’s true!” Twilight said, silent throughout the conversation. “All unicorns can use it.”

Doctor Evil placed his fist over his mouth and hunched over, groaning. She couldn’t tell if he was trying to suppress a laugh, or constipated. He eventually regained his composure, and began to respond. “Alright, I can believe that I’m in a world full of horses, I can believe that they have a firm grasp of technology and science, and I can even believe that what you call magic might really exist.

“But the moment,” he continued, “you convince me that fricken unicorns exist is the day I have a midget clone made from my DNA with a craving for chocolate and kittens.”

“Well then how do you explain the horn on my head?” Twilight inquired, pointing to said appendage with her hoof.

“Birth defect,” he stated plainly. “I didn’t want to point that out before, as it could easily have been a high-induced representation of your deformed old body.”

Twilight huffed through her nostrils. “Why do you keep implying that I’m old? I’m not that old yet!”

“Calm yourself Twilight,” Celestia said. Then, to Doctor Evil, “If you come with me, perhaps I can shed some light on your situation?”

The Doctor seemed to ponder this for a moment, before eventually shrugging. “Well unless Mustafa was competent enough to write a fricken instruction manual for this piece of garbage, which I highly doubt he was,” he said, kicking the pod doors closed, “I don’t really have much of a choice now do I?”

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