Author note: School's starting, so this one is a little shorter than the others, and it will probably take longer to make the next chapters. Now that that's out of the way, order up!
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Rarity usually awoke earlier than 11AM like she was today. Then again, she doesn’t usually sneak into someponys’ home through the window and sleep in their room under their identity, either. Nor did she normally wear her purple mane down like Fluttershy, wear wings she never used like Fluttershy, or tended to animals like Fluttershy. She rose slowly, still somewhat tired. “Hmm!” Rarity, as Fluttershy, thought to herself. “I should probably go pay my darli-um, cute widdwe babies a visit.” The pony that was typically a fashion enchantress was, today, an unassuming, meek, perhaps shy, Pegasus, one which was more suited to care for a myriad of animals, all domesticated from various states of the wild. Not that imposter with fake wings tied around her waist would know of if she visited Fluttershys’ abode without her.
As she trotted downstairs to tend to another mares’ house, and her animals, and her own acting abilities, she was met with a flurry of irate animals.
“Um, hi my darli-” muttered Fake-Fluttershy, with only the increased volume of angry animals thrown her way as a response. “Well, uh, mamma is here to tend to-” More animal noises, boos, if the fraudulent Fluttershy was going to hazard a guess. “Can I at least fee-” An object thrown right at her face said no. Sliding off her static, yet mortified, face, was a ghastly substance, unmistakably an overripe tomato from the compost heap! “Um, I’ll just come back later,” said Not-Fluttershy, through a mix of anger and rejection.
Rarity, distraught with her poor reception from Real Fluttershys’ pets, decided to familiarize herself with ‘Raritys’ Carousel Boutique, which Pinkie Pie was managing. No matter how unnerved Rarity was by the prospect of Pinkie Pie tending to her workshop, she still would not be prepared for what Pinkie was doing.
The shock of eighty pounds of bricks struck her clean in the face as she opened “her” door. “AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHH!” was the most suppressed reaction Rarity-posing-as-Fluttershy could muster.
“Oh, salutations, Rari-er, I mean Fluttershy!” greeted the ever-cheery Pinkie Pie, or pink Rarity in a stovepipe hat & monocle, as the case was. She greeted the aghast fashionista as if they both met up at a highly anticipated, highly classy, highly British party, rather than in the batter-stained ruins of Raritys’ home that once sold designer clothes. “Would you care for some salad dressing, Fluttershy,” the clothing-cooking mare offered, extending a dress rendered unrecognizable by the salad sticking to it via ranch dressing towards the revolted faux-alicorn, “or perhaps you’d like a wool parka, a la mode?” She held out a parka dripping with vanilla bean ice cream.
The imposter Raritys’ offers were burrowing further into Real Raritys’ brain as a great injustice to her once-proud Boutique, now full of broken mannequins and stains of failed culinary concoctions coating the walls and floor. “Um, Ra-Rarity?” False Fluttershy started to argue. “May-maybe you should, uh make clothes, you know, that, um, aren’t edible?”
“Not edible?!” patronized Not-Rarity “My good Fluttershy, I’m afraid you’re coming off as quite dahft!”
“But, but, this, I mean…” Fake-Fluttershy tried to put it through barred teeth. “Don’t boutiques usually, um sell clothes?”
Imposter Rarity suppressed, then released, a short, hearty laugh.
Then, she inquired, “Wait, why would we sell clothes at the Carousel Pancake House?” Actual Raritys’ face was crimson. Her blessed boutique, once a candidate for Fashion capital of Equestria, or at least Ponyville, was now a cheap, gimmicky diner!
“Um, well, maybe, you know, last time I, well, checked,” Fake Fluttershy started, a deep scowl crawling over her face,
“Carousel Boutique was kind of a fashion store of, well, class and not a”- her rant stopped cold as she saw a furry beige batter ball roll across the floor meowing in discomfort. “OPALESCENCE!”
“Oh, dear!” the pink Rarity imposter said in her fake British accent. “It was not me, Rar-I mean, Fluttershy!”
If the white, horned, fake-winged Fluttershys’ face was crimson before, it had elevated to scarlet at that moment. “Well, ‘Rarity,’” the fierce, fraudulent Fluttershy said through ground teeth, a body quaking with rage, and no attempt at impressions, “this just proves my point. That point being, that this Boutique is a fashion store or prestige, not a battleground between your KITCHEN PANTRY AND YOUR EMPTY HEAD!!!” At this, real Rarity pounced at fake Rarity, and a truly unladylike scuffle ensued inside the Carousel Pancake House/Boutique.