Twilight fell to the cold wooden floor of her libraries basement, exhausted. Smiling a smile weary from her hard work, she looked upon her glorious creation: A rocket ship shaped like her horn. (Which wasn't in any way, shape or form phallic.) Finally... after so many hours of working... putting her blood sweat and tears into it... even ripping out her own soul to fuel the engine... She had completed the first part of her plan. "What do you think, B.I.L.L.?" Twilight asked her assistant, B.I.L.L. C.L.I.N.T.O.N.

A mechanical replica of the former president, Bill Clinton, Twilight built C.L.I.N.T.O.N. when Spike -that little bitch- left to pursue his dream of becoming a ballerina.

"I did not have sexual relations with Rarity," C.L.I.N.T.O.N. said.

"Fair enough," Twilight relented. She then teleported into her rocket's cockpit and blasted off, leaving a hole in the building. As it left the planet's atmosphere, she relished the thought of achieving her goal: obtaining the Word of Faust and becoming a god. All she had to do was go to the center of the universe and rip it out of her creator's, cold, dead, hands.


Suddenly: pocky! Everything was pocky! Sexy time was never so horrid! Corn dog figs!

Then, Loren Fowst, Dark Lord of All, rended the soul of Nyarlathotep from him, and cast it into the Wal-Mart void!

Sitting in the throne room of her galaxy sized warship, Loren Fowst, Dark Lord of All drank a nice cup of tea as she did so. The willowy black cloak she wore fluttered in a beachily breeze. "Ah, what nice tea."

From the shadows, a twisted creature garbed in a black robe appeared from the shadows. She had a perky face and pretty blond hair. "THE COMBITION OF GOLD TURTOISE, MAN SHADOW, AND UNTHINKABLE KIND IS SURELY BALANCED," Tarah Strawng said.

"Indeed," replied Loren Fowst, Dark Lord of All.

And they blew up Unicron with a laser made of Nyan-Nyan-Nyan Katamari Damaci!


A/N: Yay, more stream-of-consciousness writing!