//------------------------------//
// Prologue A 
// Story: Ponies Don't Think the Apple Be Like It Is But It Do 
// by shortskirtsandexplosions 
//------------------------------//


THE EQUESTRIAN AGRICULTURAL UNION PRESENTS







AN EDUCATIONAL PROGRAMME BROUGHT TO YOU BY THE APPLE EDUCATION COUNCIL







IN ASSOCIATION WITH THE PONY PUBLIC BROADCASTING SYSTEM







AND MADE POSSIBLE IN PART WITH THE PATIENT SUPPORT OF APPLES LIKE YOU






We slowly fade in to a tranquil shot of the verdant Equestrian countryside.  Emerald blades of grass and purple flowers flounce in the breeze while soft brass instruments play in some ethereal background.

In the distance, the windmill of a quaint earth pony farm town lazily rotates in the warm summer air.

“Look around y'all.”

Foals play and perform cartwheels on the hillsides.

Happy couples rollerblade along park pathways together.

Two old stallions sit hunched over at a table, aggressively playing chess.

“Look around y'all.”

A filly chases a puppy through a garden while butterflies and bees buzz around them.

Stallions pack the backs of wagons with trade goods and wares.

A zebra is dragged—kicking and screaming—to the local police department.

“Just... look around y'all.”

A pastel-colored unicorn flies a kite, grinning with twitching eyes.

Overhead, a winged lesbian skywrites a typo with clouds.

Meanwhile, two teenage stallions toss a frisbee over a duck pond.

“There.  Now take a closer look.”

The camera pans to the left of the pond as we focus on a patch of bushes between two oak trees.  A squirrel descends the trunk and squats on dry soil, munching on an acorn.

“Have y'all worked out what we're looking for?”

The squirrel's beady eyes lock in place.  Suddenly, it lurches forward.  A gigantic lump forms in its throat, rising up and culminating in a gigantic blob of bright red pomaceous fruit that lands neatly in front of it, stem up.  Unaffected, the bored rodent sniffs at the fruit, shrugs, and scampers off.

“Correct.  The answer is... apples.”

We zoom in uncomfortably close, which accidentally reveals the cameraponies and film crew reflected in the glossy surface of the apple.  Nevertheless, a few seconds later, the title cards flickers into being, accompanied by an enthusiastic orchestral score:


APPLES!


The director's figure flails, as if the soul behind him recognizes the fact that his reflection has been caught in the shot.  There's a tackling motion, and the camera footage abrubtly cuts to black, lopping off the music score before it has a chance to reach a jubilant finish.