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Destroying the Evidence with Screw Loose [INCOMPLETE]

By Guest
Created: 2022-07-02 07:45:59
Expiry: Never
anoncomedyscrew loose

  1. >Be Anon.
  2. >Screwloose stands before you in the moonwashed living room of your abode, vibrant illuminated shards of glass littered around her hooves.
  3. >The nightly cricketsong substantially more audible through your now-breached window.
  4. >...As well as the distant sound of heavy, metallic clops --appropriate of federal armor, --graudually nearing.
  5. >The mare pants out a hasty explanation as
  6. >"ANON! *pant* THE- *pant* GUARDS'VE- *pant* FouND OUT- *pant* ABOUT THE- *pant*"
  7. "-C.P!?!?!"
  8. >You exclaim, now equally-panicked as the distressed, twitching azure mare before you.
  9. >She nods rapidly as her eyebrows droop into a helpless expression.
  10. >Holy shit.
  11. ...
  12. >A few months ago, the Princesses banned the commercial sale of chocolate pudding on the absurd pretense that, in the wake of a national sugar crisis, that only the production of "superior puddings" such as banana or butterscotch should be produced exclusively as a priority product.
  13. >A *purported, unfounded* national sugar crisis, as decreed by the Royals.
  14. >In a wet, miserably-hot year, perfectly ideal for the cultivation and harvest of cane sugar, mind you.
  15. >So suddenly dire that the Crown had to begin distrubuting rations of sugar and commandeer great portions of the stockpiles many ponies had already developed for themselves.
  16. >Naturally, you and Screwloose began to ponder and very soon saw through the whole thing.
  17. >There wasn't a shortage, and if pictured of Princess Celestia's newly-expanding chubby tummy cut from newspapers and strewn accross Screwball's bedroom wall was any indication of where it would be going, then it was clear there was some sort of massive federal sugar misappropriation going on.
  18. >Probably involving cake.
  19. >But what were you gonna do, confront the throne directly and demand that the truth be divulged, accompanied by a righteous convoy of your most devoted apostles in order to cast away the foul government and deliver all of ponykind from corruption and maltreatment and restore harmony to the land?
  20. >Nah.
  21. >But you could just exploit the public market deficit of chocolate pudding, sell some of the good stuff backhandedly easy-peasy and get absolutely loaded.
  22. >And so, together, you and Screwloose ran a pretty good operation for a while, utilizing her quite frankly freaky knowledge of investigation tactics and your barely-above-mediocre culinary skills in order to avoid detection and make a good product.
  23. >That is, until, the night you got busted.
  24. ...
  25. >The nutty mare quickly limps up to you, dropping a few dots of blood onto your carpet, and urges you into your main lab; the kitchen.
  26. >Poor filly probably got cut up invading your home like that.
  27. >"QUICK- *pant* ANON SMaSH ALL- *pant* THE EVIDENCE AND-"
  28. >KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK
  29. >Powerful banging at your front door cuts her off.
  30. >You hear the muffled, authoritative voice of a royal guardstallion call out:
  31. >"GUARDS OF THE CROWN. RESIDENT ANON Y. MOUS, WE KNOW YOU ARE IN THERE, ANSWER THE DOOR OR WE SHALL ENTER BY FORCE"
  32. >You and your mentally-unstable accomplice trade a glance with one another before indiscriminantly trashing everything that dare stand in the kitchen.
  33. >Pots, pans, half-full egg cartons, an innocent mug of coffee, a less-innocent recipe book for various now-illicit puddings, glass milk jugs; both empty and full, now-unwanted cut-up newspapers devoid of celestial gut shots, dirty plates of sundry lunch-breaks had together; really, anything in sight.
  34. >It would be a mixture of great fun, a terrible sight to see of your home, and marginally exhilarating trying to decide which one of the two you felt more of, were it not for the pressing danger of a prompt dungeon sentencing in your future the instant these guards arrive to crash your party.
  35. >In a frenzy, you grab your dearest butter dish and without much thought, fling it at the wall, shattering it into several large porcelain fragments.
  36. >A pang not too unlike the fate of the butter dish was felt in your heart.
  37. >Dammit, that was a really good butter dish, too...
  38. >Had served you so well over the years...
  39. >No time for mourning, however, as a fucktonne of silverware soars over your head from behind you and breaks through your moment of shock.
  40. >You swing around to see Screwloose with a tray that once contained silverware in her mouth, not large enough to conceal her ginormous grin.
  41. >She snaps out of her lust for destruction upon receiving your eye-contact, however, and strainingly articulates an apology in her usual fashion, looking only three-quarters-guilty as her adrenaline lingers a little longer.
  42. >"S-s-sorry, Anone- Anon. Anon."
  43. >With her forehoof, she gestures as she trails off, permitting you to more-or-less fill in the blanks as she then begins dumping bags of sugar into the stream of a plugged kitchen sink for later retrieval.
  44. >You roll your eyes and give her an understanding lopsided nod, accepting her apology.
  45. >You know how she has trouble getting words out sometimes, and you're long-since used to her many quirks from your time together.
  46. >Perhaps the guards were just trying to spook you by calling your name, not really knowing if you were *actually* in the house, but the instant your commotion began you could hear the civil, yet loud knocks instantly transition into appreciably less-civil kicks that made your front door bend and wobble, threatening to bust off its hinges at any moment.
  47. >A slender, sharp piece of painted-red wood tumbles down some distance behind you, undoubtedly from your front door.
  48. >"ANON Y. MOOSE, VACATE THE RESIDENCE IMMEDIATELY"
  49. >A few additional guardstallions then began to parrot the phrase, resulting in an incoherent rabble of orders, quickly increasing in volume as your front door falls apart.
  50. >You pull Screwloose back, who was snarling at a bag of oranges, and you both take a curt glance at your work.
  51. >It was an absolute mess, almost depressing to see of your otherwise well-kempt abode, but perfect for obfuscating a case for the initial investigators.
  52. >However, there was still a problem.
  53. >A big problem.
  54. >Somehow, you two had overlooked the most important, damning evidence to get rid of.
  55. >At the far end of the razed kitchen still stood your small dinette, relatively unscathed beyond stray debris scattered about its floor.
  56. >And atop the table, sat three large, sealed metal bowls of C.P, the single most condemning thing in your possession.
  57. >Your jaw drops as a thick lump inches up your throat.
  58. >BANG
  59. >You look at Screwloose, who looked like she was on the verge of tears.
  60. >BANG
  61. >Her eye began to twitch.
  62. >...
  63. >A lot.
  64. >Screwloose's expression shifts from that of helplessness to one with a tenebrous, opportunistic mad grin of somepony who's just engendered the mother-of-all insane ideas.
  65. >"F-fi-find a spoon... and... follow mih-. My. My lead"
  66. >She manages to stutter out, before charging forward, ripping the seran wrap off and plunging her muzzle deep into one of the bowls of pudding, scarfing it down to the best of her ability.
  67. BANG
  68. >Oh hell.
  69. >It seems you have no other option than to join her, although looking around your kitchen, and remembering Screwloose catapulting all of your silverware, you know you're not going to find any spoons anytime soon.
  70. >You sigh and skeptically rush up to the table she's seated at.
  71. >BANG
  72. >You heave up your own metal bowl with two hands and hold it to your chest.
  73. >Well, here goes nothing.
  74. >You stick your stubby ape face deep into the thick chocolate pudding, dredging all the way through it with your tongue.
  75. >Its not bad, actually. Not your finest batch, but easy enough to engorge oneself on.
  76. >Maybe getting by on your own supply isn't so bad after all.
  77. >BANG
  78. >Screwloose, with a primal, mad look in her eyes, was absolutely disposing of her own bowl, her facial anatomy lending itself much more to accelerated pudding predation than that of your own.
  79. >With each slurp and slightly-deranged giggle, you began to think that she was wanting to do this for some time now.
  80. >BANG
  81. >You thank Celestia that your door is holding up as well as it is, even if she's not exactly on your side here.
  82. >Four-fifths of the way through, you're starting to feel the slightest onset of sickness from eating so much of the pudding, but you tough through it for both of your sakes.
  83. >You look back once more at Screwloose right beside you licking her bowl clean, dragging her tongue along the smooth, rounded interior of the bowl with a deliberately prolonged stroke.
  84. >W-wew lass.
  85. >BANG
  86. >You snap out of your ogling and desperately lap up the last big heavy blobs of pudding in your bowl, trying to get this over with as soon as possible.
  87. >Your gut's starting to kill you for this.
  88. >Screwloose was doing well, but it was clear even she was slowing down a little.
  89. >Her pupils, once dilated, abated, and she's finally quit her manic giggling.
  90. >And despite her advantage, you caught up with her just in time to both completely finish licking your bowls clean.
  91. >...
  92. >You both eye the final bowl together.

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