Commentator Anon (retarded)

>"Wait, what are we doing?"
"Just, just say something -anything!"
>"But I've never been on TV before!  Until three minutes ago I didn't even know you had tv in this place!"  Oh jesus, you're sweating.  They just handed you a microphone.  "What is this thing for?"
"It's the Grand Design Deluge!  It's when designers from all over equestria come to show off th latest fashions!"
>Derpy sounded way too excited about this. "Why don't you just report on it, I'll hold the camera instead."  She shook her nead.
"Nope can do, Anon.  You don't have the proper training.  You'll just break the camera or something."
>Apparently Derpy was the best one-mare camera crew this side of the kingdom.  Something about her multi-angled vision made her an ace at spotting out the best perspectives for filming.  At least she knew how to play her cards.
>You run your hands through your hair, which was just hastily fixed up moments ago.  "Pinkie, please, Pinks, don't make me do this, I get nervous when I'm in front of a camera, or people.  Things in general."  Pinkie made a short, high-pitched sneeze, making her hair balloon out and squeek.
"Sorry, but I've got the freeziest kinda cold ever!  You'll be great, stop being so silly."
>She was supposed to cover this event.  But now she's sick.  So she asked you at the last possible second to be the reporter.  You don't know why you're here.  You don't know why you agreed to this. You just tagged along to be supportive and steal the subway sandwiches and bowlfuls of Hawaiian punch when nop0ny was looking.
"I know my kazoo can do this.  And if you do a good job I'll make you some of my special cupcakes tonight..."
>She winked.  You wink back in defeat.
>That's right, it's because you've had sex with her and now you can't stop.
>WHY IS SHE SO MUCH FUN TO HAVE SEX WITH?
>Because you're a sick depraved monster with the will of a plastic baggie.
>GOD DAMMIT WHY COULDN'T YOU JUST CHARGE YOUR PHONE?
>You blame your dick.  You blame your dick for everything.
>You sigh.  The evening is setting in.  The townsquare is concord-grape jammed with p0nies, chairs, and hot spotlights.  You're not used to being in such a loud, hectic environment.  You're sweating like a hog in a slaughterhouse.  They gave you a bottle of water, but you drained the lifeforce from that thing long ago.  Your tongue is parched, your head feels light.
>What time is it?  Seven thirty?  You should be in bed, masturbating your worries away until the black totality of sleep took ahold of you.  But there will be no sleep tonight, only embarrassment.
>The lights go off.  Fog effects begin to leak onto the stage as the runway lights up with neon blue lights.
>Bad dubstep music begins to play over the speakers.  That one super dyke dj is around here somewhere.  You can smell her.
>Derpy gives you a hooves up as your own personal light shines on you.
"Get ready Anon!  Just say whatever comes to mind!  Keep it interesting!  You'll do great!"
>You gulp.  Okay...okay...just say whatever comes to mind.  You've watched a lot of tv.  You can totally wing this.  Derpy mouthes silently, counting backwards from three.  You take a deep breathe.
>Three...two...one...
>the little light on her camera turns green.
>"Hi, I'm Anon and tonight we're here at the P0nyville's Grand Design Deluge, the gayest festival to ever grace a town already blighted by terminal gayness.  Seriously, shit's so homo it charges through the wall with the speed of rainbows and winds up on the otherside in straightsville."
>Derpy frowns on the otherside of the camera.  The bass kicks in, sending strong vibrations up through the soles of your shoes.
>"Looks like they're about to get started.  I can tell because they're playing crappy music in order to drum up some fucks from the audience.  Let's get a shot of the audience, wait, no, don't do that, let's just get a shot of tequila instead, that sounds way more fun."
>Pinkie goes off to find a bottle of Horse Cuervo. The audience starts to cheer and clap wildly as the laser lights kick on.  "As you can tell, the audience is growing restless, we must perform the virgin sacrifice soon, or the blood goddess of the moon will descend and devour us all."  The curtain on the stage pull apart, and out struts a tall mare wearing a dress that's apprently made entirely of angles and the color orange. "Here we have our first victim, her body is already succumbing to the dark energies of the Plane that Lies Beyond.  For those of you watching at home, sing, sing loud, and hope the deity above will suffer us for another moon's turning."  The model stops, balancing unnaturally on her hooves. Her tail flicks, looking like a whip made of glitter and shrapnel.  The crowd is loving it.  She twirls, and struts back offstage.
>"And it looks like she didn't quite pass muster.  The forces of darkness must want something with a little more meat on the bones.  And...and..." Derpy is giving a cut off signal.  "Okay, I guess we're going to have word from our sponsor, I hope you like the shit they're sellin', cus god knows I can't afford it."  Derpy lowers the camera.
"Anon, what on earth are you doing?!?"
>Her eyes are wide and zig-zagging everywhere.   "I-I-I don't know!  I can't shut up!  I'm so nervous!"  She looks around for help that simply isn't there.  Her wings lowers as she tries to calm you.
"Just try to say nice thing!  Or just...talk less!"
>"Why aren't you cutting me off!?!"  She indicates her headset.
"I can only cut it off when I get a message from the studio!  They haven't said anything yet!"
>Your mouth drops  "WHAT?  Are they crazy?!"
"Are you crazy?!?"
>"IM SCARED!"  Derpy waves her hooves, telling you to shut up.  She raises the camera again.  The lights turn green.  "And welcome back to the abstract-art-in-motion parade.  You don't have to go to a museum to be bored out of your skull.  Just turn in on to channel twenty-three and you'll be reaching for a gun to blow your brains out in the comfort of your own fucking love-seat."  Purple lights twirl around stage as white circles flitter around through the air.
>"Oh woop-de-doo, here we go again.  Hey, let's make this fun, I'm gonna pour punch and dish soap on the runway and turn this into the most expensive slip-n-slide in the kingdom.  How's that sound?  Those at home can take bets to see who's designs catches the best speed.  My money's on Foto-Finish.  That bitch's dresses are about as slick as her vagina is dry.  Hell, rub that thing down in crisco and we'll reach light speed by morning.  Hey!"  Derpy taps her headphones to make sure they're working.
>More mares come out.  More photos are taken.  A skinny slip of a thing comes out trailing behind a long train dress with pink highlights and purple undertones.  It loops and curves around her gracefully, and catches and tugs off of her gracefully as another model steps on a ribbon.
>The crowd gasps as she trots onward, completely naked and completely oblivious.  Pictures are taken so fast that the camera flashes make everything look like daylight.  The model realizes her sudden case of total nudeness and covers herself, screaming like a filly and running away in tears.  You laugh heartily, "And just like that horny teenage colts become our target audience.  Hey derps, mark that on the tape, we'll sell the recording for ten bits a pop.  I'd say fifteen, but she had a flank so bony I could play it like a xylophone.  Save a copy for me, I'm gonna need a jerk later."
>Derpy nearly throws the camera down as anothe commercial break took over.
"ANON!  You have to stop it!  You're going to make this channel look like some...some cheap radio talk show they broadcast out of Las Pegasus!"
>She was becoming very distressed.  The poor girl feared her job may be on the lie.  "I can't stop it!  There is a beast inside me and he cannot be quelled!"  Her lazy eye was getting worse by the second.
"WHAT ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT!?"
>"I DON'T KNOW, JUST LET ME STEAL THE FINGER FOODS AND GO HOME!"
"Look, it's nearly over.  Just...just...I don't know!"
>She groaned loudly and raised the camera once more.  "Guys, I'm not gonna lie, I really need to take a leak, so I just might let one loose onto one of our starlets tonight. God knows the dresses already look like piss.  Check this number out,"  another mare breezes through the curtains as some techno orcehstral beep-boop crap echoes throughout the air.  The underlayment of her gown is blue, and adorned with the shapes of stars, moons, and lined with flowers.
>"And here we have a girl made out of lucky charms.  God damn, I'm getting hungry.  I don't know whether I should clap or throw a spoon at her.  Anyone have a gallon of mik?  What is this, the ceral designer line?  Do we have Count Chocula doing touch ups on the bitches backstage?  Next up we should have some mares looking like scrambled eggs, a piece of toast and some OJ, as part of this balanced breakfast."
>Pinkie Pie trots up next to you and hands you a shot of tequila.  You one-shot it like a boss of bosses.  "Thanks babe."  You throw the glass behind you, hitting a p0ny much richer than you.  You shiver.  "Damn, you p0ny's know how to make some hot shit.  Why the  hell aren't we having an alcohol festival?  I say we take the camera to the party room and just get some sexy shots of all the bottles lined up."
>"How does that sound, derps?  We go get blazed to hell and everyone's gonna be cross-eyed by morning."  The normally very kind mary begins to seethe behind the camera lens.  "You know I'm joking girl.  Don't be hating on me like that, you're too beautiful."  You throw a thumb behind you "Unlike these silicone merry-go-round bobbleheads."
>The lights dim again.  The music stops.  In its place a distant drumbeat is heard.  It grows.  Grows.
Thump.          Thump.            Thump.
THUMP.  THUMP.
>"And here it is folks, soon the trumpets will sound.  Remember folks, the angels will sound them seven times before we all get sent to hell.
>The crowd goes insane, clapping, cheering and jumping as the final mare marches out towards the crowd.  She is tall, and dressed in a vertically minded outfit that looked more sculptured than sewn.  It was silver and metallic, made of sharp edges and jags.
>"And holy shit, we have the Iron Throne as tonight's headliner and grand finale.  History lesson for those at home, the Iron Throne was forged by the swords of the fallen enemies of Aegon Targaryen when he fucked the seven kingdoms into submission, and now it is walking downstage like a seven million dollar prostitute.  I've been talking a lot of crap tonight, but goddamn, I got a boner that can cow mountains right now."  You wipe your forehead.
>The girl turns around and leaves the stage.  The lights turn red and fire and flames shoot out of the stage as sparkles zip through the air and dangerously close to your head.  You freak out and scream, waving your microphone wildly  "I AM HE THAT LIVETH, AND WAS DEAD!  BEHOLD I AM ALIVE FOR EVER MORE, AMEN; AND HAVE THE KEYS OF HELL AND OF DEATH!"  You breathe deep: "THE END IS UPON US!  FLEE!  FLEE FROM YOUR HOMES AND TV SCREENS, THE HOUR OF JUDGEMENT IS CAME, AND WE ARE DEEMED UNWORTHY!  PRAY AND REPENT, PRAY AND REPENT!"
>The lights die down, everyone begins to leave calmly.
>"Oh...well, okay then.  Guess this donkey-in-a-dress fest is done for.  Hot damn, I gotta go home and bump my uglies into some sweet pink p0ny poon-tang.  Fuck the knicks.  Smell ya later, stay chillie free willies."  You drop the microphone.  Derpy throws the camera aside and slaps you.
"You are the dumbest thing.  Just the dumbest thing."
>You fall to your knees and start bawling. "I COULDNT HELP IT!  IM SORRY IM SORRY OH GOD!"  Pinkie comes up beside you and wraps her hooves around your back, shushing you.
"Come on, kazoo, let's get you home and I'll put a nice little smile on your face."
>Your boner tells you to calm down and listen to her.  Derpy takes a sharp breathe as she's about to unleash her rage.
"DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA WHAT THIS IS GOING TO DO TO THE CHANNEL?  WE'RE GONNA GET SHUTDOWN AND...and..."
>Her head tilts as little lights on her headset go off.
"Um...uh-huh.  Yeah boss.  Sure.  I'll ask him.  I think he's crazy, yeah.  Uh-huh.  Hazard pay, gotcha."
>She lowers her head and counts to ten silently.
"They want to know if you can cover Trottingham Track-Trot next Tuesday."
>"NO, I DONT WANT TO DO THIS EVER AGAIN!"
"They'll pay you thirty bits."
>"I'LL DO THIS AS MUCH AS YOU WANT ME TO!"
>Pinkie hugs you as you find steady and gainful employment.
>The two of you go home and have wild, crazy, loud sex.
>Today was a good day.