Hey! It looks like you're new here. You might want to check out the introduction.
Organised by
RogerDodger
Word limit
400–750
Unlimited Breadsticks*
The phone was ringing.
Which was odd because he didn’t remember having a phone, or why he knew it was ringing, or why it was on his desk, or why he knew it was called a phone in the first place.
Logistics lifted the phone with his hooves, unsure of what to do with it. He moved it up and down, shaking it as it continued to ring. Like most ponies with degrees in higher education, he did the most reasonable thing a pony of his clout and sophistication would do and chucked the contraption out the window.
He went back to his desk and stared back at the financial reports and ledgers, reviewing the numbers from the accounting department. He saw that both numbers on the bottom of the left and right side were the same and hoped that meant he didn’t need to do any more thinking on the subject. He hoofed through more of the reports, scrutinizing some of the spending in advertising from the marketing department, before something began to buzz on his mahogany desk.
The phone was ringing.
The CEO put down the reports, stood up and prodded at the object with a hoof. On the main rectangle, a comical picture of a strange creature was leaned up against the screen as if it was about to burst out of the glass.
Without warning the phone whispered menacingly, “unlimited breadsticksss.”
His eyes widened in horror as the phone started floating in the air and grew larger and larger, a dragon claw and a deer leg sprouting as a griffon talon and a lions paw erupted, the entire mass congealing into a strange antlered monster.
“Unlimited breadsticksssss,” the creature spoke, its eyes taut and glowing, mismatched appendages writhing.
He gulped before addressing the creature still amalgamating before him, taking courage in his position and authority.
“I’m sorry, but if you would like an appointment, you will have to go through my secretary.”
“Unlimited breadstickssssssssss…” hissed the creature.
“Sir,” Logistics assumed it was a he, “While I am proud of Equestria’s local demons advertising our restaurant chain, there are proper channels to go through before entering my office.”
“You… do not understand the magnitude of the offense your company has committed to the name of chaos.”
“And what offense is that?”
“Unlimited… “ the creature huffed as he twisted his neck closer at Logistics, “breadsticks.”
He frowned, “How about you take this up with Equine Resources? They can help you.”
The creature’s eyes furrowed, “I’ve already stepped on every wrung of the ladder, and it looks like you're on top.”
“You didn’t actually step on them, did you?”
“You tell me,” said the creature, producing a portal in front of him, a horrifying, delicious scene playing out among many of his employees.
His director of Equine Resources was absolutely drowning in—“LOGISTICS! IS THAT YOU!?” she screamed into the portal, “You have to save us! This,” she sniffed, “this is too much!” He looked closer and saw that her entire office had been stuffed to the brim. They were all over the desks, the floor, the walls, the ceiling, overflowing out of every single filing cabinet and nook and cranny: soft, pillowy, heavenly, chewy — smelling like they came fresh from the oven — garlic breadsticks.
“Please! Do something Logistics!” she cried, grabbing more breadsticks and chewing on them as more seemed to multiply before her. “They’re too good! If they don’t stop coming they’ll go straight to my thighs! I have a family, Logistics!”
“It doesn’t stop there,” said the cold voice, the portal shattering into a million pieces that became like stars all around the office. “Soon, the entire universe will be made of breadsticks: galaxies, planets, atoms, protons, up-quarks. Every scrap of existence will only be breadsticks in the end. All life will cease, all of chaos will be consumed into order because you made the monstrous mistake of trying to make your breadsticks ‘unlimited.’”
Logistics stared at the odd amalgam before him and sighed, reaching for a buzzer on his desk. "Hot Cocoa? Send in Filibuster from the legal department." He rubbed his eyes with his hooves. "I hope you're happy. Do you have any idea how much I hate asterisks?"
Discord smiled as he saw the new sign near the restaurant which had a smattering of legalese in fine print at the bottom and Unlimited Breadsticks* emblazoned on the top.
Which was odd because he didn’t remember having a phone, or why he knew it was ringing, or why it was on his desk, or why he knew it was called a phone in the first place.
Logistics lifted the phone with his hooves, unsure of what to do with it. He moved it up and down, shaking it as it continued to ring. Like most ponies with degrees in higher education, he did the most reasonable thing a pony of his clout and sophistication would do and chucked the contraption out the window.
He went back to his desk and stared back at the financial reports and ledgers, reviewing the numbers from the accounting department. He saw that both numbers on the bottom of the left and right side were the same and hoped that meant he didn’t need to do any more thinking on the subject. He hoofed through more of the reports, scrutinizing some of the spending in advertising from the marketing department, before something began to buzz on his mahogany desk.
The phone was ringing.
The CEO put down the reports, stood up and prodded at the object with a hoof. On the main rectangle, a comical picture of a strange creature was leaned up against the screen as if it was about to burst out of the glass.
Without warning the phone whispered menacingly, “unlimited breadsticksss.”
His eyes widened in horror as the phone started floating in the air and grew larger and larger, a dragon claw and a deer leg sprouting as a griffon talon and a lions paw erupted, the entire mass congealing into a strange antlered monster.
“Unlimited breadsticksssss,” the creature spoke, its eyes taut and glowing, mismatched appendages writhing.
He gulped before addressing the creature still amalgamating before him, taking courage in his position and authority.
“I’m sorry, but if you would like an appointment, you will have to go through my secretary.”
“Unlimited breadstickssssssssss…” hissed the creature.
“Sir,” Logistics assumed it was a he, “While I am proud of Equestria’s local demons advertising our restaurant chain, there are proper channels to go through before entering my office.”
“You… do not understand the magnitude of the offense your company has committed to the name of chaos.”
“And what offense is that?”
“Unlimited… “ the creature huffed as he twisted his neck closer at Logistics, “breadsticks.”
He frowned, “How about you take this up with Equine Resources? They can help you.”
The creature’s eyes furrowed, “I’ve already stepped on every wrung of the ladder, and it looks like you're on top.”
“You didn’t actually step on them, did you?”
“You tell me,” said the creature, producing a portal in front of him, a horrifying, delicious scene playing out among many of his employees.
His director of Equine Resources was absolutely drowning in—“LOGISTICS! IS THAT YOU!?” she screamed into the portal, “You have to save us! This,” she sniffed, “this is too much!” He looked closer and saw that her entire office had been stuffed to the brim. They were all over the desks, the floor, the walls, the ceiling, overflowing out of every single filing cabinet and nook and cranny: soft, pillowy, heavenly, chewy — smelling like they came fresh from the oven — garlic breadsticks.
“Please! Do something Logistics!” she cried, grabbing more breadsticks and chewing on them as more seemed to multiply before her. “They’re too good! If they don’t stop coming they’ll go straight to my thighs! I have a family, Logistics!”
“It doesn’t stop there,” said the cold voice, the portal shattering into a million pieces that became like stars all around the office. “Soon, the entire universe will be made of breadsticks: galaxies, planets, atoms, protons, up-quarks. Every scrap of existence will only be breadsticks in the end. All life will cease, all of chaos will be consumed into order because you made the monstrous mistake of trying to make your breadsticks ‘unlimited.’”
Logistics stared at the odd amalgam before him and sighed, reaching for a buzzer on his desk. "Hot Cocoa? Send in Filibuster from the legal department." He rubbed his eyes with his hooves. "I hope you're happy. Do you have any idea how much I hate asterisks?"
Discord smiled as he saw the new sign near the restaurant which had a smattering of legalese in fine print at the bottom and Unlimited Breadsticks* emblazoned on the top.