A/N: I love fanfiction, especially if it’s from one of my favorite shows of all time, MLP: FIM. But as I journey across the net for more, I am seeing a whole lot of bizarre-o pictures and dark, violent fics about Pinkie Pie. I am quickly discovering that this stuff is NOT my cup of cider, and while we have every right to make it for bronies who enjoy it, I also have the right to say my piece on it…and I’ll do it with a little story of my own.

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NO MORE MIDNIGHT SNACKS

Cayden Meyers giggled like a schoolgirl as he put the finishing touches on his latest fan fiction. The computer screen cast an eerie glow over his 16-year-old face while he scrolled back up and reviewed all 59 pages.

Barring some halfhearted editing, his masterwork was completed. It was a story about none other than Pinkie Pie--the beloved party animal, singer of silly songs and master of randomness in the cartoon show "My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic."

But this epic tale did not portray Pinkie just like the show did, all light and bubbly and full of sugary mischief. No, that would have been boring. Like many he had previously penned, this story explored the dark side of the pink pony. Or rather, it took a single episode of the series, assumed a dark side was there, and segued into a confused rehash of every "dark" TV show and video game Cayden had ever seen.

The gawky teenager was proud of it. Years of trolling My Little Pony fans on 4chan, becoming a grudging fan himself, and drawing reams of evil and gory Pinkie fanart had not been wasted. It had all been leading up to this. He couldn't wait to post the ultimate dark, crazy, murderous Pinkie story to FIMfiction and watch the rave reviews roll in.

Just as he opened the main page a blazing light shot through the bedroom, followed immediately by a crack of thunder that seemed to rattle his bones. Cayden nearly fell out of his chair from fright, and gazed wide-eyed around the suddenly dark room as heavy rain began to pound against the window.

Totally weird, he thought to himself. The weather was supposed to be perfect tonight. That was why his parents went out to visit some friends across town, leaving him alone in the house. But here he was with a sudden storm raging outside and a blank, unresponsive computer screen inside, suggesting that the power had just gone out.

"Oh crap," he whined. Now he would have to go to the fuse box in the basement. He hated walking down there in the dark, stumbling over boxes and soft fluffy things that could be mice. His mother was a clothing designer, and once when he was a kid he'd fallen asleep in the basement when she still had her creepy mannequins out, and when he woke up it was dark and they were all reaching for him and...

Well, Cayden just didn't like the basement.

He gulped as he grabbed a flashlight and made his reluctant journey. With every step he took, the house groaned and shivered under the assault of the storm. Hopefully this would blow over fast.

Finally he reached that door in the back hallway. Clicking the heavy-duty light on, he stabbed fearfully into the clinging shadows. No mice that he could see, just a lot of boxes and junk. And the fuse box at the the bottom of the stairs. They creaked hideously as he walked down and started fiddling with the fuses, trying to get it over with as soon as possible. He flipped the switches back and forth, back and forth, but none of the lights was coming back on. A power line must be down somewhere outside. He swore and shut the box.

The basement telephone rang.

Cayden yelped and dropped his flashlight. It went rolling across the dusty floor and he scrambled to pick it up. What the hell was going on here? How could he be getting a call in the middle of a blackout?

The phone shrilled in his ears. He reached out a shaking hand to his father's old desk and picked it up. "Um...hello?"

Silence. Could it be that no one was there, and the ringing was some weird side effect of the storm? Or had he just imagined it?

"Who’s calling?"

"Heyyyyyy," a sweet, airy voice came on the other end, making him jump. "Is this where the party is?"

"Um...what party? Who IS this? And how are you calling me when there's no--"

Nasty static exploded in his ear. Cayden jerked the phone away and slammed it down, breathing hard. The wavering light in the basement betrayed his shaking hands. His mind was playing tricks on him, that was it. No big deal. He would go back upstairs, surf some other sites on his phone for a while, then get some sleep and publish in the morning. Let his parents worry about the electricity when they got home.

The hapless boy didn't dare to breathe until he had shut and locked the bedroom door behind him. He sank down on his bed and tried texting his friends, many of whom loved writing dark MLP fics almost as much as he did. But all of them went unanswered, and soon he gave up and let his eyes begin to close.

They snapped open again a moment later.

He was probably imagining it. But for just a moment, over the incessant thunder and howling wind, he thought he heard...something. It must be some trash blowing around outside.

Once again his eyes started to close. And once again, there it was. He sat up slowly in bed. What WAS that? It was almost like a thudding or rustling noise coming from downstairs. Normally Cayden would suspect Ozzy, the family dog, but his parents had taken Ozzy with them when they left. Not that he needed them around cramping his style or anything, but he wouldn't mind if they came home soon.

Cayden threw the covers over his head and waited for the noises to stop, but they didn't. They seemed to grow louder and more consistent, until he thought he was going to go nuts. There was no way out. He picked up the flashlight in one hand and an aluminum bat in the other. He never did make the school softball team, but if some delinquint kid was trying to loot their house, maybe he could hit his first homer tonight with the guy's head.

He silently slid the lock back and opened the door, stepping back out into the upstairs hallway. He approached the shadowed landing and began to creep down the stairs.

The noises were clearer now. There was still the banging, like someone setting things down on a counter. And the rustling, like a bunch of packages being opened. And overlying it all, a quiet, wet, gleeful sound like...

...Chewing?

His hand tightened around the bat. His leaden feet carried him the rest of the way down, across the living room to the kitchen--and suddenly the sounds just stopped. It was like he'd imagined them. But just like the phone, he knew it wasn't possible.

Someone was in there.

Sweat poured down Cayden's forehead, and for a long moment he was too scared even to move. But he steeled himself, turned on the powerful light and jumped into the kitchen with his bat at the ready. "COME GET SOME, MOTHERBUCKER!"

Bucker? He must be reading too much fanfiction lately.

No matter. Nobody was there to hear him.

Cayden's mouth fell open as he shone the light around the empty kitchen. He found no intruder. What he did find was the biggest mess he had ever seen. The refrigerator, cupboards and drawers had all been thrown open and ransacked of anything resembling sweets. Boxes of ice cream lay empty at his feet, as though they had been licked clean. Uncooked cake mixes, a bag of M & M's, pouches of strawberry fruit snacks, bottles of soda pop, even a whole king-size bag of sugar were strewn all over the counters and the floor. A giant tin of what used to be cherry pie still wobbled near the edge of the dining room table.

If a thief had actually eaten this much sugar, the rush could be taking him all the way to the next county.

But he was still here, Cayden thought as his body trembled like a jackhammer. He had to be. Where was he?

"WHO'S THERE?" he shouted again in a trembling voice.

His only answer was the pie tin crashing to the floor. Less than a second later, another round of lightning and thunder rocked the house. The teen bolted out of the wrecked kitchen and back up the stairs, his breath coming in sobs. He didn't stop until his door was locked and he was back under the bedcovers.

"Oh shit. Oh God oh God, I'll never write another dark fic again," he whimpered. "Just please let me get through this night."

"Awww shucks! Why didn't you just SAY so, you phony pony?" a voice chirped.

Cayden's blood turned to ice. Slowly, slowly he turned to see who was lying next to him.

Her fluffy mane spread over the pillow. There were crumbs all over her soft pink coat, from neck to flank, where a cutie mark of three balloons peeked out from the sheets. Two huge sky-blue eyes reflected his face, twisted in horror.

The cartoon pony whose name he had sullied for so long was lounging in his bed.

"Hellooooo!" Pinkie Pie giggled. “Aren’t ya gonna sing me a welcome song??”

Cayden's mouth moved, but he found his vocal cords unresponsive.

"So I noticed that you've written, like, a LOT of bad stuff about me. And I was kinda wondering WHY. 'Cause all I ever do is throw parties and laugh and have fun and make sweets and eat sweets and make people feel good and party some more! At first I thought maybe he's just kidding and stuff, but you keep doing it over and over and over and over and THEN, I said okay maybe I'll just pay you a really friendly visit one night and ask you not to do that stuff anymore and you just promised, so YAY ME!"

He gurgled in reply.

"But you're still being a real party pooper tonight," she continued sweetly. Her coat looked almost blood-red in the darkness. "So I think I'll cheer you up with a little dessert."

In her other hoof, Pinkie held up an enormous hunk of the cherry pie she hadn't finished. Cayden held up his hands and wheezed, too frightened to run.

A final flash of lightning blinded him for a moment. When it faded, he saw that her mane had suddenly straightened. Her eyes had drifted apart, and a strange smile was frozen on her face.

"Open WIIIIIIIDE..."

Too late, as a hoof full of gooey sweetness descended on him, he finally screamed. “NOOOOOO!”

He threw up his hands in a vain attempt to shield himself from…

From…

From the morning sunlight streaming into the room.

Cayden blinked and slowly lowered his arms. He was alone. His computer sat sleeping, but on, across the bedroom.

“Oh Jesus,” he groaned in relief as he lay back. “Oh thank Celestia.”

His heart was still pounding like a jackhammer and he may never be able to watch My Little Pony again. But he was okay. It had all been a terrible nightmare. No more midnight snacks, he decided.

At least it was over. Now he could get around to posting his fanfic! Cayden snickered as he threw back the blankets.

And froze.

Pie stains and crumbs of graham cracker crust decorated the front of his t-shirt, trailing all the way under the covers and to the darkest corners of his mind.

THE END