//------------------------------// // Chapter 5: Crusading // Story: Clean Slate // by Alaborn //------------------------------// Clean Slate By Alaborn Standard disclaimer: This is a not for profit fan work. My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic is copyright Hasbro, Inc. I make no claim to any copyrighted material mentioned herein. Chapter 5: Crusading The brush fell from my mouth. I turned off the tap and stepped out of the shower. Cleaning myself was one task I was fortunately able to handle on my own, but all the twisting and scrubbing was surprisingly tiring. As I toweled off, I heard conversation drifting up the stairs. “But I promised we’d go crusading today!” Apple Bloom said. Applejack’s reply was harder to hear, but didn’t sound positive. “But it’s been two weeks!” Apple Bloom’s voice, with just a hint of whining, was much easier to pick up. I headed downstairs, stopping halfway down as Applejack replied to Apple Bloom. “The apple cellar has to be swept out, or we’ll have no place to store the harvest safely,” she said. “That can’t be put off any longer.” Apple Bloom pouted, her big eyes watering adorably. It must be hard for any adult to turn her down after seeing that. “Okay, you can go this afternoon, on two conditions,” Applejack said. “First, you get the cellar swept, and second, you take Diamond Tiara with you.” It looked like Apple Bloom saw this as a bad idea. “But the other girls....” “No buts,” Applejack interrupted. She glanced up the stairs, acknowledging my presence. “If you haven’t noticed, Diamond Tiara also needs to discover her special talent.” I finished my descent. “Maybe I can help you with the sweeping,” I offered. Apple Bloom let out a surprised gasp, realizing I must have heard something. “Uh, okay,” she said. “The brooms are over here.” We walked over to a cluttered closet. Apple Bloom pulled out one broom, and then rummaged deeper in the closet. “What are you worried about?” I said softly. “Sweetie Belle and Scootaloo... you treated them as bad as you treated me,” she said. I hung my head. I was afraid of that. “But they’re students, right? I’ll eventually go back to school, so it’s not like I can’t not see them.” “But it would have been nice to talk to them about... this,” Apple Bloom replied. “You know, soften the blow, or something.” The sound of things falling over came from the closet before Apple Bloom emerged triumphant, an older broom in her mouth. I compared the two brooms. The first one she found had a fan of even bristles in a trapezoidal shape. The second broom was more conical, the bristles a bit more varied. “I knew there’d be another broom in here!” Apple Bloom said, holding the older broom. “I wonder if Granny Smith made that one?” “Who made the newer one?” I asked. “I think we bought it at the store,” she replied. “So which one is better?” “Well, there’s a reason the old broom was buried in the closet.” The cellar had two entrances. A larger outside entrance, double doors nearly parallel with the ground, served to bring in the bounty of the farm. But a narrow set of stairs connected the kitchen with the cellar, enabling the family to access the stored food without setting hoof outside. It was those stairs Apple Bloom led me down. A faint musty smell greeted me as I entered the cellar. Shelves held jars of preserved foods. One alcove held a variety of household items in storage, suggesting a family that didn’t waste anything. But beyond that, the cellar looked unused. Empty bushel baskets were all that occupied the empty space. “Let’s start by cleaning up that area. Then we can move the baskets, and sweep up there,” Apple Bloom suggested. I took the old broom in my mouth, balancing it against my foreleg, and started at one corner of the flagstone basement floor. Fine gray dust was pushed with each turn of my neck, leaving a telltale trail of dust that required a second or third push. With our mouths thus occupied, we didn’t talk much. After a surprisingly short amount of time, we had swept half the cellar. “Shoot,” Apple Bloom said after dropping the broom from her mouth. “I forgot the dust pan.” I spit out the broom and rested it against the wall. “Do you want me to start moving baskets?” I asked. “Sure. Just keep them away from both entrances,” she replied. I stretched, trying to work out the kinks in my neck. I began the process of moving the baskets. Apple Bloom soon returned, tackling the mount of dirt our efforts had collected. Behind one of the baskets, I found an old apple. Very old. Its skin was wrinkled, as if it had been desiccated by the passage of time. “Ew,” I uttered, although it didn’t smell or anything. Apple Bloom came over to check out what I had found. “I don’t think I’d even feed that to the pigs,” she assessed. “Put it by the stairs, and we’ll add it to the compost heap.” It was hard to gauge the passage of time, with the only light coming from small windows near the ceiling of the cellar, but we finished our chore fairly quickly. Apple Bloom was definitely motivated. “We’re done. Now, let’s get to crusading!” Apple Bloom said cheerily. I followed Apple Bloom into the orchard. This path we took didn’t make any sense, until I spied a small tree house built in the branches of a particularly large tree. “Scootaloo and Sweetie Belle are probably already there, waiting for me,” Apple Bloom explained. She walked up the wooden ramp. I followed, cautiously. The fillies inside the tree house greeted Apple Bloom warmly. But their happy expressions disappeared when I followed her in. I cast my eyes away from their disapproving gaze, choosing to focus on the walls. A couple of posters, some memorabilia, and a hoof-drawn map, inanimate objects all, were more welcoming than the two fillies. The awkward silence was broken by the white unicorn. “What is she doing here?” she asked Apple Bloom. That didn’t make me feel any less awkward. “Girls, Diamond Tiara is here because... because she needs to discover her special talent too,” Apple Bloom replied. When she paused, I suspected she was thinking about saying “Because Applejack said so.” “We already know her talent is being a pain in the flank!” the orange pegasus retorted. “Actually, I don’t know anything about myself anymore,” I said. “Are you serious?” the unicorn replied. “She can’t be serious,” she said to Apple Bloom. “That’s what I told you at school,” Apple Bloom replied. “What if she’s faking?” the pegasus said. She approached me, bringing her muzzle near mine. Her tiny wings were raised, probably an attempt to make herself look more intimidating. “Is this some big prank?” “No! I... I....” I backed into the corner, covering my eyes with my foreleg. “I’m sorry!” I yelled. I fought it, but the tears flowed. “Scootaloo! Stop that!” Apple Bloom screamed. Calmly, she continued. “Diamond Tiara has been through something that I... that a good pony wouldn’t wish on anypony! Right now, she’s scared, and needs to find out who she is. And that’s best done with good friends. Right?” The other two didn’t look convinced, but they both said “Yeah.” Apple Bloom turned to me. “Diamond Tiara, do you remember my friends?” she asked. I wiped away the tears with my fetlock. “No,” I replied. She turned to her friends. “Then let’s treat this like you’re meeting a brand new crusader, so introduce yourselves.” “Do I need to pull out the bongos?” the pegasus asked. “Let’s just do the introductions,” Apple Bloom said. Again, the two fillies were hesitant, so I spoke first. “I’m Diamond Tiara, and I guess I’m starting over here at Sweet Apple Acres.” I extended my hoof. The unicorn was the first to approach. She bumped my hoof and introduced herself. “Sweetie Belle. I live with my parents at the edge of town, but spend a lot of time with my sister at Carousel Boutique.” The pegasus then approached, her wings relaxed at her sides. “Scootaloo. I live not too far from Sweetie Belle.” “How did you three meet?” I asked. “Well, Scootaloo and I have been friends for a long time, being almost neighbors,” Sweetie Belle said. “We didn’t know Apple Bloom well, but we stuck up for her at a party, and now we’re the Cutie Mark Crusaders!” “And we’re never going to separate until we all earn our Cutie Marks!” Scootaloo added. “So did you think of anything before we got here?” Apple Bloom asked hopefully. The other fillies’ smiles dropped. “Nothing,” Sweetie Belle said. “I still think we should try hot air ballooning!” Scootaloo said. “Maybe Twilight Sparkle can lend us her balloon!” “I don’t even know if that’s real!” Apple Bloom said. “I think she just conjures one when she needs to fly to Cloudsdale.” “I guess balloons aren’t common here?” I asked. “No,” Apple Bloom said. “But what about Summer Breeze?” “Yeah! She does hot air balloon rides!” Sweetie Belle said. “We’ll borrow her balloon!” Scootaloo said. “Cutie Mark Crusader balloonists, yay!” the trio shouted, raising their hooves together. That didn’t sound right to me. A pony giving up control over the source of her livelihood? “I don’t think she’d let fillies like us take her balloon,” I said. “Our best bet would be to go for a ride, and maybe she’d let us work the controls for a little bit, under her supervision.” I paused. “But I don’t have any bits to pay for it.” I don’t know why, but that felt very strange to say. At the same time, I realized the tree house had fallen silent. “That’s not how crusading works!” Sweetie Belle said. “Yeah, way to be a downer, Diamond Tiara,” Scootaloo added. Apple Bloom stepped between me and the others. “I think Diamond Tiara’s right. I don’t think we should be trying to fly a balloon on our own. Now, my sister helped retrieve Summer Breeze’s balloon one time from the Everfree Forest, so maybe she’d let us ride for free, but there’s another problem. I think she’s closed for the season. It’s a little cold out there.” To punctuate her statement, the wind rattled the tree house. A wisp of chill air blew through the doorway, and I shivered. “I don’t get it. Why are you trying to find your talents with such strange activities?” I asked. “Why not more normal things, like cooking?” Scootaloo and Sweetie Belle rolled their eyes. “We’ve tried everything!” Scootaloo exclaimed. “I tried making breakfast for my sister, and nearly burned down her house,” Sweetie Belle said. “I tried selling apples, just like my sister. I cost us a week’s worth of profits with my mistakes,” Apple Bloom said. “I tried making a ramp, to use with my scooter, and ended up with kindling and a dozen splinters,” Scootaloo admitted. “We all tried making taffy. We were picking out dried candy from our tails for a week,” Sweetie Belle added. “We’ve been doing this for a while,” Apple Bloom said. “And all we’ve accomplished is one mistake after another. And you just laughed at us!” Scootaloo said. There it was. Another reminder of my past, hitting me like a kick to the barrel. “I’m sorry,” I said quietly. “If you try again, I won’t laugh at you.” The three fillies looked at me like I was speaking Prench. “Try again?” they said in unison. “Why would we do something we know isn’t our special talent?” Sweetie Belle said. Now it was my turn to be confused. “It’s normal to get everything right your first try?” “Yeah!” Scootaloo said. “Rainbow Dash got her cutie mark in her first race, and did a Sonic Rainboom too!” “Applejack got her mark the instant she decided home would be Sweet Apple Acres,” Apple Bloom said. “And my sister discovered her talent for finding gems and her talent for fashion on the same day!” Sweetie Belle said. “Didn’t Rarity say she struggled with those costumes until she found those gems?” Apple Bloom asked. “Maybe, but.... Hey! We could go gem hunting!” Sweetie Belle said. Apple Bloom looked at me, then at the others. “I don’t think that’s a good idea for today. Diamond Tiara just got rid of her walker yesterday,” she explained. Awkward silence followed this statement. “When I woke up, I could barely move my legs. I couldn’t stand, I couldn’t walk, I couldn’t feed myself,” I said. “The first time I took a step, I fell. I didn’t get it right on my first try. It took a lot of practice. “I guess what I’m saying is that trying again has been my life ever since I woke up. It hasn’t given me a cutie mark, but it’s given me the ability to walk again.” “Let’s go into town, and find something to do,” Scootaloo suggested. “Even if it’s something we’ve done before.” We all nodded in agreement. I was afraid my recovering strength would be unable to handle the walk to Ponyville and back. Fortunately, we had a better way to get there. Scootaloo had a scooter, with a wagon attached to it. The rest of us sat in the wagon, which I found to be a bit of a tight fit. Scootaloo donned a helmet, as did Sweetie Belle. Apple Bloom had a helmet as well, but she put it on my head. “We’ll need to get you one soon,” she said. The pegasus kicked with a hind leg, and at the same time flapped her wings. They didn’t look like much, but her wings were able to move the scooter and wagon at a rapid speed. We bounced along the dirt road as we headed to Ponyville. This mode of travel was a lot more fun than walking! Apple Bloom pointed out buildings as we went. She identified homes of ponies I didn’t recognize and businesses I may or may not have frequented in the past. Still, I was happy for the information. I would have to relearn it eventually. As we neared the center of Ponyville, the other three fillies shouted suggestions at each other. They must have reached an understanding, as we stopped at one of the few buildings I recognized, Sugarcube Corner. The blue mare from yesterday was absent. Instead, a younger pink mare was behind the counter. As the four of us entered, she smiled widely, inhaling for a long time. And then…. “Ohmygosh! You’re out of the hospital! And that means we need to throw you a ‘You’re out of the hospital and you’re all better and you have new friends’ party! And everypony will be there! We’ll have cake and punch and music and….” I instinctually stepped back in response to the mare’s verbal assault. “Actually, I…” I started. I wanted to say that no, nopony would be there, if my interaction with these three fillies was any indication. “I’m not all better. I still have a lot of work to do,” I said. The hyperactive mare stopped mid-word. “Oh,” she said. I thought I heard a hiss of air, like a balloon deflating. But she smiled again, and rushed into the kitchen. Before I could blink, she returned, cupcake in hoof. “At least I can give you this ‘you’re out of the hospital’ cupcake I just made for you!” I blinked. There’s no way she just made that. But the other fillies seemed to treat this occurrence as perfectly normal. “Thank you,” I told the friendly mare. I bit into the cupcake. It was still slightly warm, but not warm enough to melt the impressive mound of frosting. And it was delicious. It was nice to know I had one friend here. I guessed that she was friends with everypony, though. “Actually, Pinkie Pie, we were hoping you could try teaching us to bake again,” Sweetie Belle said. Pinkie Pie’s smile got even bigger somehow. “That sounds super duper fun!” The moment I put the last bite of cupcake into my mouth, she wrapped the four of us in her forelegs and pushed us into the kitchen. With a blur of activity, she brought out bowls, utensils, and ingredients. “Now, I told you how to make cupcakes, Apple Bloom, so this will be a refresher, but for the rest of you, here’s my super sweet lesson!” Pinkie Pie danced around the kitchen as she started to sing. All you have to do is take a cup of flour! Add it to the mix! Now just take a little something sweet, not sour! A bit of salt, just a pinch! Baking these treats is such a cinch! Add a teaspoon of vanilla! Add a little more, and you count to four, And you never get your fill of... Cupcakes! So sweet and tasty! Cupcakes! Don't be too hasty! Cupcakes! Cupcakes, cupcakes, CUPCAKES! The others followed Pinkie Pie’s moves, joining her singing and dancing. It was catchy, and I tried to join in, but she was dancing around on her hind legs. My legs protested as I reared up, and I dropped back to my normal posture. Without being able to dance, I focused on the words. Wow. There’s actually a recipe in that song, and Pinkie Pie was making the batter according to that recipe. The lyrics weren’t the complete recipe, of course. I needed to watch what Pinkie Pie was doing as well. For example, that mix was butter and eggs and sugar. Add flour, add anything sweet, then there was milk and vanilla, then more flour, then more milk. The song finished, and Pinkie Pie, Apple Bloom, Sweetie Belle, and Scootaloo were all standing on their hind legs, their forelegs outstretched in silly poses. Each had some cooking utensil held in her pastern. “Well, let’s get baking!” Pinkie Pie exclaimed. The other fillies fell to their hooves and looked at each other. “So, where do we start?” asked Scootaloo. “Oh, you want to hear the song again? ‘All you have to do….’” Pinkie Pie started. I held up a hoof. “Do you have a written recipe?” I asked. Pinkie Pie looked at me as if I were crazy. “Who needs a recipe?” she asked. “I do,” I said. The others murmured in agreement. “You silly fillies! If I used a recipe, I never would have discovered chocolate hot sauce cupcakes or raspberry jalapeño filling!” I shuddered. “Was that your first attempt at baking?” Apple Bloom asked. “Of course not!” Pinkie Pie replied happily. “Then what was your first cupcake?” Sweetie Belle asked. “Well, when I baked all those treats for my family that time I saw the rainbow and threw a party and got my cutie mark, I was a mare possessed! But I got better.” Pinkie Pie actually paused to think. “Now, the Cakes have a really popular vanilla cake! I could teach you that, before you try baking with kumquat marmalade and durian fruit!” Something about those ingredients made me queasy. But I focused on the crusade at hoof. “Can you tell us about the mix? Butter, then eggs, then sugar?” I watched as Pinkie Pie threw a cup and a half of butter into the mixer. The magical crystal glowed as the mixer creamed the butter. “Nope, butter, then sugar, then eggs!” She had a real affinity for the kitchen, measuring each ingredient effortlessly. I counted three cups of sugar, then six eggs. Then, four cups of flour, mixed with two teaspoons of baking powder, went into one bowl, while a large mixing cup with a cup and a half of milk had a little more than a teaspoon of vanilla added to it. Again, without trying, she alternated the dry and wet ingredients, ending up with a perfectly smooth batter in the end. With a kick, the mixing bowl flew into the air, dropping the batter evenly into muffin tins. She then popped the tray into the oven. “Cupcakes!” she sung. Pinkie Pie grabbed us and placed us in a line, next to the island, and gave us each a bowl. “Now why don’t you all try it?” Pinkie Pie urged. “Make a batch of cupcakes one-third the size of mine, and you’ll have a nice treat to take home! And who knows? Maybe you’ll find the inspiration to create the next pickle and watermelon cupcake sensation!” “I think I’ll stick with vanilla,” Sweetie Belle said. Pinkie Pie departed, heading to the front to greet a customer. I went to collect my dry ingredients. Coming back with the bowl of flour in my mouth, I saw a problem. “That’s too much butter, Scootaloo,” I said after spitting out the bowl. “Huh?” she said. Sweetie Belle peered into Scootaloo’s bowl. “She’s right. That’s enough for all of us!” Apple Bloom fetched a spoon, and divided the butter into portions for all of us. Then we continued our work. “Okay, it was butter, then sugar, then eggs,” I recalled. “I think I saw Pinkie Pie adding the eggs one at a time. “What was that?” Apple Bloom asked, as she added all her eggs at once. She was rewarded with a splatter of egg yolk in her mane. After some more mixing, we each had a bowl of batter. “Now how long do we bake it?” Sweetie Belle asked. “I don’t think Pinkie Pie told us,” I said. “These ovens are heated already,” Apple Bloom said. “Let’s just use them.” And then, we all sat there, off white batter in metal tins baking, four sets of six future cupcakes. “This is taking too long,” Scootaloo complained, after little more than a minute had passed. She turned up the heat on her oven. “I wonder where the frosting is,” Sweetie Belle said, opening some jars. Pinkie Pie poked her head out of one of the jars. “Did somepony say frosting?” I jumped backwards in surprise, bumping the island. One of our dirty bowls landed on my head. “Silly Diamond Tiara! That’s not a helmet!” She extracted herself from the jar cleanly, with no visible sign that she entered the kitchen via a jar of flour or sugar. From somewhere, she pulled out a royal guardspony’s helmet, and placed it on her head. “This is a helmet!” I moved the bowl from my head to the sink. I looked at the others. Egg was in Apple Bloom’s mane, flour covered Scootaloo’s wings, and food coloring somehow stained Sweetie Belle’s rump. “We look terrible,” I said. “At least it’s not tree sap!” the others said in unison, then laughed. I couldn’t help but join in. Pinkie Pie wasn’t distracted by our conversation. She had a bowl filled with butter, and was balancing a huge bag of powdered sugar on her head. “And here’s the simplest frosting ever!” With the mixer running, she creamed the butter, and then slowly poured the sugar in. I couldn’t believe how much sugar was absorbed by the much smaller amount of butter! We pulled our cupcakes out of the oven. They were golden brown, except for Scootaloo’s, which were more of a dark brown. Once they cooled, Pinkie Pie helped us frost them. “And now for the final touch!” she chirped. Pinkie Pie brought out decorations. All sorts of colored sugars, candies, and fondant were placed in front of us. Our hooves reached for the colorful decorations, and we each focused on our own cupcakes. Ten minutes later, we stood back and admired our work. The others turned and checked their flanks, disappointed to find them still blank. I followed their lead, even though I wasn’t expecting anything to happen. I was just happy to spend time with these fillies, even though I felt like an outsider. Plus, I learned something a lot more interesting than a teacher’s lesson. “Well, that was a bust,” Apple Bloom said. “We got cupcakes, though,” Sweetie Belle responded. “So what are we doing tomorrow?” Scootaloo asked. Again, the group fell silent. “Come on, let’s go home,” Apple Bloom said. After we, and our cupcakes, made it safely home, Scootaloo and Sweetie Belle waved goodbye, the pegasus taking her friend home. “That went better than I expected,” Apple Bloom said. I shook my head. “I felt like they still don’t like me,” I said. “They have lots of reason not to like you,” Apple Bloom replied. “What did I do?” I didn’t know if I wanted to hear the answer to that, but I asked anyway. “Same things you did to me, more or less,” Apple Bloom responded noncommittally. “Do you remember what Sweetie Belle said about how we met?” I tried to recall. “A party?” Apple Bloom nodded. “It was your party, the party celebrating you earning your cutie mark. Even though you should have been happy, and could have just enjoyed the party, you still took the time to make fun of me. But Sweetie Belle and Scootaloo stood up for me, stood up for all blank flanks. And the adults at the party supported them. Suddenly, all the attention was on us, and not on you. Ever since then, you’ve had a special dislike of us.” The good feelings from today were gone. I had another reminder of the kind of pony I was. If only I could make things up to them, show them I was throwing away the detritus of my past. Wait. “I have an idea of what we could do tomorrow,” I said. “Like a crusading idea?” Apple Bloom said hopefully. “Something like that. So, could you teach me a little about woodworking after dinner?” “What? I mean, sure, but what does that have to do with anything?” Apple Bloom wondered. “You’ll see.” After dinner, Apple Bloom took me to a shed near the barn. It was cluttered, much like the farmhouse. But there was a clear area set up for work, with a sawpony at its center. A number of tools hung on the wall above a work bench. “I’m happy to help, Diamond Tiara, but I need some idea of what’s going on,” Apple Bloom said. Fortunately, I had some time over dinner to think about what I would say. “I want to build something, just out of scrap wood, for tomorrow. Nothing permanent; we can put it in the fireplace later. So I want you to teach me about sawing and nailing and all that.” “Well, we’ve got plenty of wood scraps,” Apple Bloom said, pointing to the leftover wood from some past project. “And if it’s just going to be kindling later, we’ve got plenty of firewood.” Apple Bloom showed me how to use the saws safely. She introduced me to various kinds of hammers, and tools for shaping wood, like planes and rasps. When she started talking about mortise and tenon joints, I finally stopped her. “This isn’t permanent, remember?” “Oh, yeah,” Apple Bloom said. “Do you need anything else?” “Do you have any paint?” I asked. “We have plenty of paint, if you want barn red!” Apple Bloom said, smiling. “There might be some white paint from painting the house, and maybe some watercolors in my closet, from school art projects.” “Anything you could find would be wonderful,” I said reassuringly. I got to work. I was feeling tired from a day of baking and listening to Pinkie Pie, but I was determined to complete my project. Apple Bloom came through with the paint, and also brought brushes ranging from big ones for painting barns to little ones for painting on canvas. Meanwhile, I struggled to form a large log, some fallen branches, and other scrap wood into the shape in my mind. It was rather late when I returned to the house. I scraped paint and sawdust out of my coat as I washed up in the kitchen sink. Following that, I crawled into bed, wishing Apple Bloom a good night. The next thing I knew, it was morning. I was up in time for breakfast, and then helped with the chores as best I could. Later in the morning, we heard a knock at the door. “I bet that’s Sweetie Belle and Scootaloo!” Apple Bloom said. I followed Apple Bloom to the door. Her assessment was correct; her friends were there. “Come in!” she said. “Got any crusading ideas?” Sweetie Belle asked as they entered. “No, but...” Apple Bloom said, glancing back at me. “I have an idea,” I said. I remembered that I forgot something, and started upstairs. “Meet me out by the barn, but give me five minutes.” Confused, the three fillies headed outside. I smiled as the Cutie Mark Crusaders found me, standing by my creation. A canvas tarp covered the fruits of last night’s labor. “What kind of crusading idea is this?” Scootaloo asked. “Nothing much. I thought we could try throwing. You know, maybe discover a talent in athletics?” I said. “But why’d you come out here?” Sweetie Belle asked, pressing her fetlock against her muzzle. The smell from the nearby compost heap wasn’t pleasant. “Last night, I made a target, to encourage your accuracy,” I said. And with that, I slowly lifted the tarp. I knew woodworking wasn’t my special talent. The crude creation, about half my height, was vaguely pony-shaped. The log at its center had been roughly sanded, the four legs were unnaturally straight, the tail was a motley assortment of wood scraps, and the head was particularly crude, with minimal shaping. The others all gasped. While the shape didn’t provide much evidence as to what I had made, the paint made it obvious. Sure, the mixture of white and red paints created a color that lacked a slight blue tint, and the purple watercolor was scarcely visible on top of the white oil paint, but the coloration was unique. And if the paint didn’t give it away, the diamond tiara I had placed on the figure’s head was unmistakable. “Is this a good target to practice throwing?” I asked. The other fillies seemed hesitant, so I took something from the compost heap—that ancient apple I had found while cleaning the basement—and threw it at the wooden effigy. Pulverized apple painted the log making up its barrel. Sweetie Belle and Scootaloo grinned, grinned as wide as Pinkie Pie, and trotted over to the compost heap, looking for their own rotten fruit. Apple Bloom gave me this look, an “Are you crazy?” look, but decided to join in. Cheers rang out among the Cutie Mark Crusaders as rotten fruits and vegetables splattered on the wooden effigy. Repressed feelings flowed to the surface as they did something they had always wanted to do. I made a few throws of my own, my way of saying that I, too, wanted to punish these past transgressions. Scootaloo whooped as a rotten turnip knocked the tiara into the mud. I don’t remember who came up with the idea to throw garbage at one another. But once that happened, a full scale rotten food fight broke out. No one could stop laughing, even as filth covered us. In the end, we all lay on our backs, trying to catch our breath, garbage and mud caking our coats. “Think we got our cutie marks?” Apple Bloom asked. “Who cares?” Scootaloo said. “I was supposed to see Rarity today. She’s going to kill me!” Sweetie Belle mentioned. “Thanks, everypony,” I said. Apple Bloom and I were still laughing as we headed in for lunch, my muddy tiara stuck in my mane. Applejack took one look at us, and then recoiled as the stench reached her nostrils. “You two, bath, now!” she ordered. I know I didn’t get a cutie mark today. But I think I gained two friends.