On the day that Twilight Sparkle shat out 500 words, I was polishing a ceremonial breast plate unearthed from the Etuskan period in an expedition undertaken last summer by the Oblate and Sourful Trixie and yours truly, Sunlight Glammer. Suddenly, my workspace door slammed open, dislodging a shelf full of souvenir hoof spoons that clattered to the floor like a Greek chorus of tinny junk.

"Gluelike Stammer!" yelled out Spike. "Trimset Stutter! Help! Twilight's...  in a bad way." He snorted in excitement and the green flame sent a couple of my spoons across the ether just in time to splash-land in Celestia's afternoon teacup.

"Just a moment, Spork... er, Sport." I set the breastplate down over some of the racier items of Etuskan sculpture that I am privileged to have in my collection. "What's all this, then?"

The tiny magic dragon puffed, then shivered. "I made breakfast for Twilight this morning. She was reading as she ate, something she'd written. A loose page fell onto her plate and got stuck on her fork and went into her mouth!" He gagged. "I heard the crackling sound as she chewed the thick paper. I tried to yank it away but it was like a goat eating a tin can. She ate it all!"

"I wish I'd been there to see her eating her words," I said. "But what's the problem? It's just paper. I used to eat my books all the time as a filly."

"Well, she says it's really important for her to finish it, and it's hurting her, and... well, I wish you would come and help!"

We raced out to the back garden, where all right-thinking ponies deposit their leavings, and saw Twilight with her posterior firmly planted in a quivering rhododendron. I could see the veins pulsing on her forehead as she strained and grunted.

"Can't leave it there…" she groaned through gritted teeth. "That summation stuck in my craw… just couldn't stomach that conclusion. Need to wrap it up!"

"What was the paper about?" I asked Spire.

"She's in some sort of competition - a rub-off or a toss-off or something - and this was her submission," he said, holding his nose. "I've never seen her so determined to finish something in the last possible minute!"

Suddenly she grunted, and ululated in a piercing cry as the rhododendron flowers started to wither and fall from the bush. There was no doubt that the 500 words were being excreted in a prodigious rush! The fertile sentences were streaming out in coils, with one turn of phrase after another. Soon, her colon reached a full stop, with thunderous punctuation.

"Whew!" she cried, holding forth a chamberpot with a lump of steaming pulp. "I technically still have five minutes to submit this! Maybe I can get a bronze. I gotta go!" With a flash she shot off into the aether, leaving Spock and I to look at each other in dismay.

"Let it go," I said. "It's just another crockfic."