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What Lies Beneath · FiM Minific ·
Organised by RogerDodger
Word limit 300–600
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Lasting Impression
Gushnor jumped from his throne with a spark, much to the protest of the slimy rolls that ever so adorned the putrid lord of all things gooey.

“Slave!” he bellowed.

An androgynous pony scurried about the sewer god’s lair, trying in vain to keep his orange coat clean as he made his approach.

“Yes, most abominable one?”

“The ponies violate every part of my being with their cleanliness. It burns me to the very core! You must go to the pony lands and do all you can to spread my teachings. Go! I command you!”

The doorbell chimed as Gushnor’s minion entered Carousel Boutique.

“Oh, hello there!” Rarity said. “I haven’t seen you around Ponyville before. Are you new here?”

He quickly looked to both sides. “Yes.” He surveyed the room, not paying her much attention.

“Well allow me to welcome you to our fine little town—not to mention my fabulous boutique!”

A kettle whistled in the background.

“And what perfect timing! Could I interest you in some tea?”

He scrambled from his stupor. “Oh, yes, please.”

Rarity left to attend the kettle.

The little orange pony plonked his plot by the tea table. Noticing it was littered with coasters, he saw an opportunity for mischief. Oh yes, this would please Gushnor.

Rarity returned soon after with both a pleasant demeanour and two tea cups. But her entry revealed to her a most dire travesty: The tea table was devoid of coasters.

“I’m so sorry. I must have lost my coasters.”

“I’m sure it will be fine,” The devious pony said, barely containing his smirk. “We can simply drink without the coasters.”

The thought caused a cataclysm of existential crises to ravage Rarity’s brain.

“I... all right.” She placed the cups on the naked tea table.

The sly orange pony took a sip from his cup, leaving behind a slight—but noticeable—hint of saliva on its rim. The spit travelled ever so slowly down the cup.

Rarity saw it and gnashed her teeth.

It continued travelling, further and further down until its warmth collided with the vulnerable tea table’s top.

Rarity twitched.

The crafty orange pony raised his cup for another sip.

“Enough!” she cried. “I must find you a coaster immediately!”

She raced about the boutique, emptying wardrobes and cupboards and drawers in the naive hope that she could find even just one coaster. Nothing. In passing a mirror the sight of her now frazzled mane almost caused her to faint. Then she turned back to her guest, and that sight did indeed cause her to lapse from the world of the conscious.

The devilish little pony had spilt his tea all over the pristine tea table. He whooped about it like a triumphant seagull, clacking his hooves together in mad fervour.

“Gushnor be praised! All hail the putrid one!”

He thrashed about the room, tossing spindles and pincushions all about the room in a psychotic reverie. He continued to desecrate the room in every which way until finally collapsing, his body incapable of sustaining the fury any longer.

The sneaky orange pony shot out of bed, sweating. He quickly jerked his head to each side, then breathed a sigh of relief.

“Oh, you’re awake?” a voice called, soon revealing itself as a mare. “You have some really weird dreams.”

He wiped his brow. “Tell me about it.”

“So”, the mare said, parking herself beside him with a wry look on her face, “who’s Gushnor?”
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