[“Then it is settled,” Pam said. “We follow that fucking cat and descend into hell together. Then we find Acorn, free him from the eternal damnation that he is surely suffering at this very moment, and lead him back with us, where he will live out the rest of his sinful days haunted by the knowledge of what awaits him when he inevitably is pulled back into the pit.” “And then we can all ride our ponies down the Pony Pal Trail!” Pawnee blubbered excitedly.] Anna smiled at her friends. “Thank you.” “Pony Pals stick together,” said Pam. [——— Acorn seethed as he watched Minos smugly shit off the edge of the lone tree stump in the middle of the dead clearing. Acorn wasn’t sure what it was with which he was seething — rage? self-loathing? jealousy? — but seething he surely was. “When will the other two judges fucking get here?” Acorn snapped. “But Acorn,” said a voice from behind the pony, “we’ve been here all along.” Acorn spun around and saw two figures standing on — or were they slightly hovering above? — the grey marshy ground. One was a tall middle-aged woman in a plum crushed-velvet pantsuit, whose glasses did nothing to hide the keen glimmer of her brown eyes. There were a few streaks of silver in her wavy brown hair, and they imbued her with a sense of dignity, like— Fuck it, here’s a picture of her. https://dyslexia.yale.edu/wp-content/uploads/2017/06/Jeanneheadshot.jpg Over there to the right. She looked pretty much exactly like that. Much more efficient to do it this way. The other person was a really rad dude with really rad shades who needs no introduction. “Who are these douchebags?” Acorn whinnied. The rad dude spoke again: “We’re the douchebags who wrote you.” “Wrote me?” Acorn said. “What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” “I means that you’re a fictional character,” the woman said. “That’s right,” said Dirk Strider. (He hadn’t introduced himself as Dirk Strider yet, but it should be totally obvious who he is. No need to be coy. And the woman’s Jeanne Betancourt. Let’s not pretend this was any sort of dramatic revelation.) “You’re a text, Acorn,” Dirk continued, “and I’m going to fucking deconstruct you.” “You wouldn’t dare to… That’s a daring proposi… I dare you… to try…” Acorn said falteringly. “Couldn’t get that Derrida pun to work, huh?” Minos observed dryly. “Fuck you, cat. I’ll keep working on it.” “All puns aside, Acorn,” Jeanne Betancourt said, “yes, you are a character from a book that I wrote. And Dirk… well, I’m not sure exactly how he’s involved in all of this, but apparently he wrote it too?” Dirk waved his hand dismissively. “Don’t worry about it, Jeanne Betancourt. Doesn’t matter.” “If you say so, Dirk.” (There, they’ve introduced each other. So now everyone knows everyone else’s name and can refer to each other accordingly.)] #DetectivePony @beatboxingHeart @justDirk @numberoneRainbowdashfan @plushrumpdotGay @tempestuousTestimonium @timaeusTested @timaeusTestified @timaeusTestified#0414 @timaeusTestified#2840 @timaeusTestified#3765 @timaeusTestified#4199 @timaeusTestified#7269 @timaeusTxstified
