HE wasn’t serious, was HE?
HE was only a COLT. And yet HE was…
“What are you doing again, kid?” I asked.
The little COLT looked at me and with a deep (much deeper than I would have thought) drawl, replied, “I’m challenging you to a rap battle.”
“What?”
What.
“A rap battle,” Apple Bloom repeated, pushing HIS insanely large hat up HIS insanely tiny head.
I hate kids.
“Fine,” I groaned, if only to make this… Apple Bloom leave. “Fine. I’ll start.” I cleared my throat and picked up a nearby microphone. Thankfully, I was wearing my coolest rapping outfit.
“Hey little Apple Bloom, wouldn’t you agree?
Your silly little rhymes have nothing on me.
I’m impeccable at speech and no, I don’t linger.
I did well in school, every test a ringer.
More successful than your daddy in a fraction of the time,
Try to come back at me with more than a nursery rhyme.”
I smirked as I stared at HIM, daring HIM to fight back. I was oddly curious to see what HE’d say.
Standing up on magnificent cowboy boots, Apple Bloom put his hooves up and began to rap in the same, deep drawl.
“Spitfire, ey, what you got?
I’ve had better rap battles at the farmer’s shop.
You say ya did better at school? What a lie
I’m draggin’ your behind, as easy as pie.
The rhymes you speak are so childish and simple
I thought I was the foal, but you’re smaller than my dimple.”
The crowd of ponies that gathered around us all jeered at Apple Bloom’s comeback as the aggressively Southern pony toyed with HIS chaps. Why HE’d have any was beyond me. Nevermind that. I tilted my head and felt my neck crack. So HE wanted to play? Let’s play.
“I didn’t realize it was amateur hour at school
You really thought you could beat me? Pre-pubescent fool.
I got more words in my vocabulary than you can count
You’re still learning the alphabet, without a doubt
For your sake, little Bloom, I recommend you just leave
You don’t wanna end up with a third-degree.”
Apple Bloom scoffed and stuck HIS tongue out at me. “Yer real funny, Spitfire, but I was just getting warmed up.
“Third-degree? I bet you wish ya had just one
I looked you up? Drop-out? Yikes, that’s no fun
I guess the ‘Bolts don’t really care about your grades
Your blank gaze can’t always hide behind those shades.”
HE was good. I had to admit it. But HE wasn’t as good as me, not even by a bit. Hey, I didn’t mean to rhyme that time. Oh. There I go again.
“Rhyming comes naturally to me, I’ve been doing it since before you were alive
You’ve got nothing on me, I mean, what, you’re only like, five?
Only dropped out ‘cause I knew it was worth it
Stay in school, kid, you would never make it.
Snorting, Apple Bloom scowled at me.
“I guess you bumped your head a few times
You seem to have forgotten all the good rhymes
Rhyming it with it? Wow, that was a reach
Hey, Spitfire? You know somethin’? You’re a real b—”
“—APPLE BLOOM!”
The COLT, and admittedly, myself, jumped, falling back on all fours as another voice cut into our awesome rap battle. Apple Bloom squeaked, still with that low, low, drawl. “Uh… Applejack?”
Applejack (ah, so this is Applejack. Gotta admit, Dash, I get it. She fine) all but stomped up to Apple Bloom. “You silly filly, you were about to say a bad word!”
Apple Bloom shook in HIS boots. “N-no!”
“Yes.”
I smirked.
“NOOOOO BUT I WAS GONNA KICK HER BUT, SIS!”
“But what?” Applejack quipped.
“BUTT* I MEANT BUTT. HOW DO YOU DO THAT?”
Applejack looked at me, then at you. “I just can, sugarcube.”
I shivered. “So who won?”
Applejack hummed and lifted Apple Bloom over her shoulder, staring right at you. “I dunno. You tell me.”