//------------------------------// // I. Rarity's Problem // Story: Equestria Girls: It's Showtime--Imagination Movers: The Curse of the Creative Block // by PlymouthFury58 //------------------------------// It was the Memorial Day weekend in the city of Canterlot.  The sun was beating down a reasonable warmth of a temperature with just the right hint of a breeze.  The air outside was just the right combo for a perfect weekend of relaxing. “No no no no no! That is just not it!” Well, if you were anyone else besides one Rarity Belle that is. Sweetie Belle was reading a book in the living room while her older sister was in the study.  She noticed how her sister sounded frustrated and was throwing out crumpled scraps of paper. “Yes, there it is, there it is…there it isn’t!” That particular rejected idea was thrown right out the doorway and onto Sweetie’s face, lightly hitting her in the nose.  At last, she put down her bookmarked reading and got up into the study room.  There were mannequins with completed outfits, all matching a recurring theme of high society America, except one was completely bare compared to all the rest.  Strewn along the floor was a growing pile of crumpled paper and broken pencils. There was a snap. “Oh, darn it,” Rarity moaned, discarding a broken pen that leaked out its remaining ink.  She took a sip from her coffee mug before plunging back into the fray of her work. “Uh, Rarity?” Sweetie asked. “AAH!!”  In an instant, she flung her arms across the desk, sending a stack of clean papers into a pile while Rarity lost her balance and fell into said pile, legs spread in the air until they plopped onto the floor.  “Oh, Sweetie Belle.” “You alright, Rarity?” “Oh, I am not alright,” Rarity whimpered.  “Of all the worst possible things that could happen today, this is the. Worst. Possible. Thing.” Already something was up; somehow her older sister was lacking her iconic dramatic flair, and appeared to be generally out of it. “Since when do you drink so much coffee at 4 o’clock in the afternoon on a Saturday?” Sweetie asked. “I am working to complete my deadline for the newest line of clothing in wake of Memorial Day,” Rarity answered, getting up.  “It has never been done before and I jumped at the challenge!  Oh, if only I knew just how taxing it would truly be.” “Aren’t stores closed on Memorial Day?” Sweetie said, as if stating the obvious. “Of course they are, that’s why this line is a limited time offer!  The client put in an order that is to be shipped out tomorrow, and I have this one singular outfit that is haunting me to no end!” Finally, that wailing dramatic flair had returned, much to Sweetie’s annoyance.  Still, it was what made her sister stand out and different. “What’s the matter with it?” “The matter is that my mind is muddled with all sorts of ideas, except I haven’t the slightest idea on how to act on it!”  She fell to her knees.  “It is simply the worst thing that can happen to an artist.” She gulped, and screamed. “I’VE GOT A CREATIVE BLOCK!!!” It was lucky that the windows did not shatter from the high frequency, again.  Sweetie watched with sympathy at the sight of her sister wailing into her palms while ruining her mascara, she also noticed how much of a complete mess her hair was. “That…sounds bad,” Sweetie said. “It’s worse than bad,” Rarity cried.  “It’s worse than worse than bad!  Because I have a Creative Block…I can’t…I can’t…” Thanks to her sobbing, she could no longer form complete sentences. “You can’t…finish your order?” Sweetie offered. “And worse still: I don’t know what to make!  How can I become a star of the fashion world if I am stuck with a creative block all before Graduation?  People can’t see any potential in my abilities if I can’t make a simple dress!” Though Sweetie was worried for her sister’s well being, she did feel disgusted at the sight of an overturned coffee mug spilling its contents from the desk and onto the carpet. “Maybe…you should take a break,” she offered. “A break?” Rarity snapped up.  “But I can’t take a break, not when I’m this close to completing the client’s order and it’s this close to Memorial Day—!” “Good, that’s very good.” “Sweetie, darling, what are you doing?” “Why don’t you try visiting the spa?  I heard it’s quite relaxing.” “Sweetie Belle, I would very much appreciate it if you would stop pushing me—” “Why don’t you go visit your friends at the mall?  And make sure to RELAX!!!” And as soon as Sweetie Belle had finished shoving her older sister out the door of their home, she slammed it shut, locked it, chained it, covered the windows, and turned off all the lights before turning on some heavy metal music with a load of flashing colored spotlights and a vibrating bassline. Rarity stood still on the porch of her house in slight shock and surprise. Then she considered her sister’s words.  “Hmm, well I suppose I could visit the mall.  Maybe Applejack will be on her lunch break.” The mall was as crowded as it usually was, it being the Memorial Day weekend and all.  The stand that Applejack worked at had a modest busy day that was alright but not exactly thrilling either.  The upside was that she would have all day tomorrow to help out with setting up the annual Memorial Day barbeque at her family’s farm, leaving Monday free to…pay her respects. She took a longing sip from her smoothie.  Topics such as the dearly departed was never easy to dwell on, even after years of finding closure. Presently, she noticed her friend Rarity sitting on a bench in the relatively empty concourse. “Hiya, Rarity,” she greeted. “Hmm…” was the reply. Applejack went up to sit with her.  “Somethin’ wrong, Rares?” She was greeted with a stretched out grabby-hand, so she responded in kind  by offering her smoothie, which her downcast friend accepted and immediately brightened up from. “Feelin’ better?” “Much better.  Thank you,” Rarity smiled, then returned to frowning. “Ya’re lookin’ more dreary than a rainy day.” “Oh, I am, darling,” Rarity sighed.  “The truth is, I have got a problem.” “Well, tha’ doesn’t sound too bad.” “My problem is that I have yet to complete my deadline for a client ahead of Memorial Day, and I just happened to catch a severe case of a Creative Block.” Truth be told, Applejack had not had that much experience with a creative block.  She knew full well of its troubling effects, but as she focused more on her physical labor on the farm and at school, the present situation presented a puzzling conundrum. “Tha’ sounds…bad,” she offered. “It’s more worse!” Rarity cried. “My entire life is on the line, my dream of becoming a fashion star!  How am I to get over this Creative Block?!” “First of all, calm yerself!” Applejack affirmed.  “Secondly, Ah will admit, Ah don’ exactly have the best experience with…‘Creative Block’, but Ah will help ya the best Ah can.” She was immediately enveloped in a friendly crushing hug. “Oh, thank you so much, darling!” “Yeah uh…yer welcome, Rares.” Applejack gently moved out of the hug, not that she appreciated it.  Rarity looked like she desperately needed it. “Whatever ya need, we will work together to overcome it.” “I just don’t know what to do,” Rarity moaned.  “I feel like my situation…I don’t know.” “You got a situation that needs imagination?” “Why yes!” “Rarity, what’re ya lookin’ at?” Applejack asked. “Look over there!” She followed Rarity’s pointed finger over to a wall monitor that was playing an infomercial, and it could not have been more weirder than its bare concept.  It showed four guys in matching blue jumpsuits struggling to get a bucket off of one of their shoes, showing the many different ideas they tried to solve the problem, ending with a flying bucket. That was the weirdest part of it all, the very thing it was advertising: problem solving, as shown by the scrolling text “Imagination Movers Solve Problems.” “You got a situation that needs imagination?” All four of the guys in blue entered the frame, smiling big and brightly.  “Call us today!” The infomercial ended with a still frame on a logo that said, in the most wackiest and ridiculous of fonts, Applejack stared slack-jawed, frozen with utter bemusement.  “Wut…did Ah just watch?” “It’s perfect!” “Ah! What’ya do that for, Rarity?” “Don’t you understand?! This is the most perfect opportunity to solve my problem!  Quickly, I must find a phonebook!” In an instant, the young fashionista rushed out of sight as if she had forgotten to be mopey and depressed, leaving behind the cowgirl farmer at a loss for words. “Who uses a phonebook anymore?” was all she could say.