Part I
Applebloom versus the Eighteenth Amendment
Part I
A FiM fic by (Insert Pen Name)
The things that stood out most on that warm, sunny evening were the smells. The strong scent of fermented apples permeated the air, complimented by the wholesome smell of aged oak, and the sharp funk of hard-worked sweat. In the midst of this aromatic nexus stood six exhausted ponies, who gazed proudly upon the great mountain of barrels piled high before them, their steel bands glinting red in the sunset.
“Whoo-iee, why didn’t we ever think to do this like a million years ago?” said Applejack, beaming beneath the brim of her battered old stetson. “All those years of cider-brewin’, and we never thought to just hire on a few extra hooves. I mean just look at that. Have y’all ever seen such a beautiful sight?”
“That depends on your definition of the word ‘beautiful’, Applejack,” said Rarity tartly. “But I will admit, I don’t think I’ve ever put in a more satisfying day’s work.”
“I’ll say,” nodded Twilight Sparkle. “I can’t wait to get home and take a nice long bubble bath.”
“Oooh, oooh, don’t forget to put in extra bubbles, Twilight!” piped Pinkie Pie. “There’s nothing better than extra bubbles... except maybe extra extra bubbles!”
“How about extra extra cider?” asked Rainbow Dash. “I mean look at all this; you could fill a swimming pool with all this booze! Heck, why don’t we do that right now?”
“Now, now, Rainbow, you know what they say about too much of a good thing...” said Fluttershy gently.
“Yeah, then it becomes an awesome thing!” said Rainbow with a grin.
“Heh, heh. Tell ya what, Rainbow,” offered Applejack. “How about y’all each get about... a half a keg’s worth of cider on the house. That sound like a fair recompense?”
The drooling slack-jawed expression plastered across the blue pegasus’ face seemed to indicate ‘yes’.
Sharing an obligatory laugh, the six friends parted from the towering mountain of cider and headed for the barn, where little Applebloom had just finished laying six wooden tankards of chilled cider on the picnic table. Lively country music from a nearby radio wafted soothingly over the barnyard and out into the orchard, where the treetops lit up with a brilliant orange as Celestia’s sun dipped ever deeper into the western hills.
“We sure got a good stock goin’ today, Sis!” chimed Applebloom as the gang took their places at the table. “We’re bound to make a whole heap o’ bits this year!”
“And we got these fine ponies to thank for it!” declared Applejack, beaming at her five friends.
“It was our pleasure, Applejack,” said Twilight. “We were just glad to help.”
“And get paid for it!” added Rainbow eagerly.
“All in due time, Rainbow,” laughed Applejack. “I can’t have you an’ Pinkie drinkin’ everything on me in one night now, can I?”
The two pranksters exchanged a conspiratorial glance, provoking a fresh wave of mirth from the rest of the gang. The giggles were finally silenced by the sound of Applejack pounding her hoof on the table.
“Now then,” announced the triumphant farmer, proudly brandishing her tankard in the air. “Here’s to another successful cider season! To hard work, to good friends, to Sweet Apple Cider!”
“To Sweet Apple Cider!” repeated the others.
The next few moments were spent in relative silence, as the six hard-working ponies drained their tankards with relish, while the music drew itself to a satisfying close.
“That was ‘Sweet Home Appleloosa’, a little present of mine for all you hard-working country ponies out there. For those of you just tuning in, I’m D.J. Pon-3, and I’m afraid we gotta break for the evening news. So let’s see what we got in here... Oh, here’s a good one. An honest-to-hay bank heist took place in Manehatten earlier today at the Equestrian Imperial Bank of Commerce. Apparently, a gang of stallions posing as a wastepaper basket repair crew was somehow able to get into the vault, load up with half a dozen bags of coin, and fight their way out the front door. Luckily, the robbers were soon forced to surrender after finding that their getaway carriage had been towed for double parking. Ha, morons. Also in the headlines, a-... wait, what?... I don’t get-... oh... really? ... really?? ... o-okay listen up ponies, we’re actually going live to Canterlot Palace right now; apparently Princess Celestia herself is about to make a big announcement...”
Twilight’s ears perked at the mention of her mentor’s name.
“Hey, turn it up, Princess Celestia’s about to say something!”
Applebloom quickly hurried over and spun the dial just as the Princess’ voice hit the airwaves. With bated breath, the seven ponies leaned in close so as not to miss a single word of what would undoubtedly be a momentous proclamation.
“...and so it is with considerable excitement that I announce the undertaking of a great and noble experiment in the administration of our fair society,” declared the serene voice of Princess Celestia, co-regent of Equestria. “From the stroke of midnight tonight, five sample towns throughout Equestria will be operating under a radical new policy of alcoholic prohibition; the production, distribution, and consumption of all alcoholic beverages will henceforth be declared illegal. The towns in question will be: Trottingham, Hoofington, Ritterberg, Ponyville, and-”
The rest of the Princess’ speech went unheard, as six frantic ponies hurried to the aid of their suddenly unconscious orange comrade.
* * *
Applejack awoke with a start, her mane slick with cold sweat.
“WHAT IN TARNATION?!”
“Shhh, easy Applejack. You gave us all a terrible fright,” soothed Fluttershy, who was sitting by the side of the earth pony’s bed.
“Yer darn right I did! What’s all this about ‘pro-hee-bition’? I mean, what kind of fancy new law is that?!”
“Actually, it’s not really a law yet, A.J.,” said Twilight, the only other pony in the room. “Not yet anyway. Right now it’s just an experiment; to see how it would hold up if it was a law.”
“What?! Now that’s a pretty weird way of doin’ things!” said Applejack hotly.
“Not really,” said Twilight. “In fact, many of our most cherished laws and policies have been brought about as the result of social experiments like this one.”
“Really? Name three.”
“Okay, well for starters there was the Unity Act of AE73, which officially ended the segregation of the three pony races. That was the result of a five year sociological trial.”
“Okay, that’s one,” conceded Applejack.
“Then there’s the Mayoral Act of 846, which imposed dramatic limits on the powers of the incompetent nobility, and led to creation of our current democratic system of municipal government.”
“...”
“And you didn’t get a word of that, did you?” muttered Twilight.
“Yeah, yeah, stuck-up rich folk got the boot, I get it. Is that all you got?”
“Well, how about the Universal Suffrage Ruling of 1917, which finally granted stallions equal voting rights with mares?” answered Twilight with a knowledgeable smirk.
“Okay, fine, whatever, point taken. But how in the hay is any good supposed to come from outlawin’ cider?” demanded Applejack.
For once, Twilight seemed at a loss for an immediate answer.
“Well... I suppose we might see a marked decrease in unemployment, domestic violence, public nudity-”
“But just takin’ away alcohol ain’t no way to solve them problems!”
“Perhaps not, but there’s nothing we can do about it, A.J. I’m sorry. I was looking forward to cider season too,” said Twilight softly.
With a defeated sigh, Applejack collapsed back into her pillow.
“Where’re the others anyway?” she asked after a while.
“Pinkie Pie’s downstairs comforting Rainbow Dash. She took the news pretty hard...” said Fluttershy. “Big Macintosh is helping Applebloom with her homework, and Rarity is doing the dishes with Granny Smith.”
“I wouldn’t worry about it too much, A.J.,” said Twilight. “I don’t see much logic in this prohibition thing myself. If you ask me, it’ll all blow over soon.”
“I hope you’re right, Twi,” murmured Applejack. “I hope you’re right...”
* * *
Mayor Mare was not having a good day. Not anymore. News of the Princess’ announcement had spread throughout the town like wildfire, and it wasn’t long before she found herself being accosted in the streets by hordes of panicked ponies, none of whom were particularly keen to hear the Mayor’s pleas that the matter was completely beyond her control, that she had not been actively involved in Ponyville’s selection as a sample town, and that she would very much appreciate if they were to put down those axe-hafts now, thank-you very much.
Eventually, the harangued official finally managed to escape the gibbering masses for the safety of Town Hall. With a relieved sigh, Mayor Mare strode into her office, deliberately ignored her secretary’s desperate attempts to get her attention, and slammed the door behind her.
“Good evening, Madame Mayor.”
With a surprised yelp, Mayor Mare wheeled around to face the midnight-blue pony who sat behind her desk, noting in particular her piercing teal eyes, her glittering starry mane, and her regal black lacquered vestments.
“Looking for this, perchance?” asked the Princess of the Night, magically holding up a clear bottle of murky amber-coloured liquid.
“P-princess Luna, I-I can explain, I-”
“Calm yourself, Mayor,” said Princess Luna, her voice notably bereft of the unrelenting volume that had so characterised her previous appearances. “The prohibition act does not actually take effect until midnight. I suggest we make the most of that fact.”
With a swift flash of magic, Luna deftly produced three crystal tumblers from hammerspace, and poured a small portion of the bottle’s contents into each. She then levitated one of the glasses to the Mayor, who received it with a polite bow.
“Er, thank-you, Princess. Pardon me for asking, but what are you doing here?” asked the Mayor with a trembling sip at her glass.
“Why, I have come to inform you, of course,” responded Luna as she idly swirled her own glass. “I imagine that this ‘noble experiment’ of ours has come as something of a shock to your little community.”
“That would be putting it mildly,” said the Mayor. “Cider season opens tomorrow, you see. Or at least it was supposed to open tomorrow.”
“Yes, we heard about that,” said Luna with a frown. “Most unfortunate. We had honestly hoped to implement this new policy without incident. Regardless, I am confident that you will be able to keep the peace in this town, and ensure that our experiment yields viable results.”
“That might be difficult,” said the Mayor stiffly. “I’m not exactly the most popular pony in town right now.”
“Rest assured, that will change,” said the Princess icily. “Even as we speak, rangers are being deployed to guard the roads and to patrol the skies against potential smugglers. We will also be deploying a section of our Royal Guard to Ponyville to help enforce the new policy. As cynical as it sounds, your constituents should have scapegoats aplenty to blame for their thirsts.”
Feeling slightly relieved, Mayor Mare took another sip of her drink. A thought suddenly struck her.
“Um, who’s the other glass for?” she asked.
“Go ahead and take it, I don’t drink,” said a deep voice that was certainly not Luna’s.
With a slight start, Mayor Mare turned to face the dull grey earth-stallion who had been quietly standing in the corner. He was dressed smartly in a large brown overcoat, and his chiseled features were shaded beneath the brim of a matching fedora. With piercing blue eyes, he shot a cursory glance at the Mayor, who responded with a look of her own that, were it a spoken statement, would probably go along the lines of “Why hello, handsome...”
“Madame Mayor, allow me to introduce Inspector Flex Bannister,” said Luna proudly. “He will be in charge of enforcing the prohibition laws in Ponyville.”
“Honoured to be at your service, ma’am,” said Bannister dryly.
“My, he certainly seems... able,” noted the Mayor as she cast an idle eye towards the inspector’s backside.
“Indeed, I am told Bannister was personally responsible for foiling the E.I.B.C. robbery in Manehatten earlier today. Am I right, Inspector?” chimed Luna.
“Aye, I was the one who ticketed their ride,” answered Bannister with a proud grin that deflated Luna’s own.
“Oh... I see... But you are up to the task at hoof, right?”
“Trust me, by the time I’m done, there won’t be nip of hooch to be found from here to Manehatten. That I can guarantee.”
“Splendid! Well then, Madame Mayor, let us enjoy one final drink, to our noble experiment.”
With an air of unmistakable irony, Luna swept the glass to her lips, took a long sip, ruminated it for a moment, then turned her attention to the bottle, which had been crudely labeled ‘Berry-Shine’.
“Madame Mayor... is this a... local brand?”
“Oh yes...” muttered the Mayor. “Very local.”
With a grimace, Princess Luna swallowed what she had, then casually leaned back and poured the remainder of her glass into a nearby planter.
* * *
Two days after Celestia’s harrowing announcement, Ponyville had gradually returned to some semblance of normalcy. True to his promises, Inspector Flex Bannister had led the Royal Guards under his command on a non-stop purge of the town’s liquor cabinets. Few ponies offered any resistance, and those that did were generally too inebriated to really make much of an impact. The ranger patrols and roadblocks were equally efficient, and many a traveller entering town was quick to testify to the tenacity of the rangers’ efforts, as well as the ‘thoroughness’ of their search methods. By the end of the first day, every pub and liquor store in Ponyville had been closed down and boarded up, their precious contents hauled away never to be seen, or imbibed, ever again. It was a grim spectacle, but a ripe source of conversation for ponies of all ages.
“It just ain’t fair!” cried young Applebloom as she paced restlessly across the floor of the Cutie-Mark Crusaders’ clubhouse. “Why’d they have to ban cider right before cider season? Couldn’t they’ve waited until after it was over?”
“Gee, Applebloom, you sure are worried about all this,” noted Sweetie Belle with a concerned look.
“Yeah, what’s with that? You can’t even drink cider yet,” added Scootaloo.
“Don’t ya get it?” cried Applebloom. “We need that cider money to support the farm through the winter. If we can’t sell our cider, we could lose the whole thing! We’d have no farm, no home, Granny might lose her new hip, Big Macintosh would have to eat his collar, and Applejack would... would just be plain ol’ ‘Jack’!”
“And you’d just be plain old ‘Bloom’!” cried Sweetie Belle in horror.
“That does it! Nopony takes away my best friend’s name and gets away with it! Not on my watch!” declared Scootaloo.
“But you don’t have a watch, Scootaloo,” said Sweetie Belle.
“Well, then I’m just gonna have to buy one!”
“And where’re you gonna get the money for a new watch?” asked Applebloom. “You don’t even have an allowance.”
“I’ll just make some money, that’s how!” said Scootaloo.
A curious expression suddenly crossed the young pegasus’ face. Then, with a shout of triumph, she suddenly launched herself into the air, missed an overhanging kerosene lamp, hit her head on a rafter instead, and landed roughly on the floor with a broad grin plastered clumsily across her face.
“That’s it!” shouted Scootaloo, reeling slightly from her rather painful epiphany. “We’ll make some money! Lots of money! For you, Applebloom! Then your family won’t have to lose the farm and you won’t have to change your name!”
Applebloom’s eyes lit up in excitement.
“Hey yeah, that’s a great idea! We could be ‘Cutie-Mark Crusader Money-Makers’!”
“We’ll be the richest ponies in Ponyville!” said Sweetie Belle.
“No, all of Equestria!” said Scootaloo.
“Chew on that, Diamond Tiara!” jeered Applebloom. “Right, let’s not waste any time, girls...”
“CUTIE-MARK CRUSADER MONEY-MAKERS, YAY!!!”
Of course, the Cutie-Mark Crusaders weren’t the only ponies in town looking to make a few bits. With the new prohibition policy in full swing, many of the villagers were already resorting to shadier means of slaking their thirsts, providing a prime situation for ponies of a more opportunistic disposition...
* * *
From the cover of a narrow alley, the mare carefully surveyed the street before her, scanning for potential threats, calculating her next move. Content that the coast was clear, she sprang silently from the shadows and slipped up the side of the street. Up ahead, an ailing streetlamp struggled to provide a respite from the darkness of the cloudy moonless night. The mare patiently waited just on the edge of the pool of yellow light, watching it flicker, waiting for an opportunity to slip past. With a soft ‘pop’, the light suddenly winked out, and the mare darted forward, reaching the other side just as the light sputtered back to life.
Silently praising herself for her cat-like antics, the mare slipped around another corner towards the rear of a nearby shop, where a single white lamp shone invitingly over a lovely green door. With a final cursory glance to ensure she wasn’t being watched, the mare slid along the wall up to the door, allowing the light to illuminate her mulberry mane and bulging saddlebags. After but a moment’s further hesitation, the mare swiftly pushed the door open, slipped fluidly inside, and descended down the darkened stairway that lay behind.
Seconds later, the mare arrived at another door, this one a large, steel bound affair with a narrow slot cut at around eye-level. Behind it came the thumping beats of loud music and the dull roar of revelling conversation. Smiling, the mulberry mare raised her hoof and pounded thrice on the mighty door.
The slot opened.
“Password?” inquired the heavily accented voice of a stallion.
The mare suddenly paused. This was a new development.
“Sorry, what?” she asked.
“Password. What is the password?” repeated the stallion.
“You gotta be kidding me, what password?”
“The password so we don’t let in the heat.”
“C’mon Horte, it’s me, Berry. Berry Punch?”
“Can’t let anypony in without the password. Boss’ orders.”
“But I don’t know the password.”
“Then I guess you’re out of luck,” said Horte smugly.
“But I-”
“Sorry, nothing I can do. Au revoir, mon-”
“Sacremain, Horte, ouvrez la porte!!!” hissed Berry Punch.
“...”
The slot was slid shut. Then the door opened.
“Bienvenue, Madame Punch.”
With a smug grin, Berry trotted past the cream-coloured stallion, who had traded his usual high-class waiter’s garb for a plain woollen sweater and a worn beret. He afforded her a nod of new-found respect as she passed, then returned to his duties. Careful not to lose the precious contents of her saddlebags, Berry wove through the crowd of ponies who occupied the shop basement, many of whom were sipping at mugs of peculiarly fragrant coffee, until she finally reached the newly installed bar at the far end, where she was greeted by a light brown earth-stallion with flaming orange hair.
“Ah, if it isn’t our dear friend, Miss Berry Punch!” chimed Mr. Breezy though his thick Celtic accent. “Come, sit down, enjoy yourself. Everypony else is.”
“I wanna ‘nother cup o’ coffee!” slurred a particularly inebriated stallion who was swaying about nearby.
“Yes, yes, of course sir. Beanie!” he shouted to the other young mare behind the bar. “Be a good lass and get this fellow another cup of coffee. Now, Miss Berry, what can I do for you?”
With a reserved smile, Berry pulled off her saddlebags and lifted them onto the bar, revealing the cargo contained within.
“Ah, of course, ‘Berry-Shine’, Ponyville’s guilty pleasure...” mused Breezy with a thinly-veiled grimace. “Great stuff that is, works wonders on my showerhead. How much?”
“Ten bits,” said Berry flatly. “Per bottle.”
“Ten bits apiece?! That’s outrageous!”
“What can I say?” said Berry with a smirk. “Demand is high, supply is low; it’s a sellers’ market. Besides, I think you’ll find this is my best batch yet.”
“Ha! I’ll be the judge of that!” said Breezy. “Your last batch nearly struck me blind!”
“Go ahead then,” smiled Berry. “Put me to the test.”
With an amused snort, the doubtful stallion promptly seized a bottle, poured its amber contents into a glass, took a reluctant sip, and was completely floored to find that it was actually palatable.
“I say, what have you done to this drain-cleaner of yours, Berry? I can actually swallow the stuff for once!”
“Well, I cleaned the tub out for one thing,” said Berry.
“Ah, that would explain the hints of citrus I’m getting.”
“And I added a bit of blackberry, a touch of honey, a little more grape...”
“Aye, keep doing all that. Especially the part where you clean the tub out first,” said Breezy as he drained the rest of his glass. “You keep this stuff drinkable, and I’ll gladly pay ten bits a bottle!”
“Pleasure doing business with you, Mr. Breezy,” smiled Berry as she extended a hoof to her partner in crime.
Before Breezy could extend his own hoof in turn, there was a loud crash from across the room, followed by the loudest shout anypony had ever heard since Princess Luna’s infamous attempt at public relations.
“BREEZY!!!”
A record scratch brought the party sounds to a halt as the crowd hurriedly parted to reveal a soft tan earth-mare with a brilliant forest-green mane and a thistle upon her flank. She might have been considered very beautiful if she weren’t currently the living embodiment of unbridled rage. Mr. Breezy gulped.
“G-Gale, m’love, what a surprise... uh, how did you get in here?”
“I let myself in,” seethed Gale.
“You’re wife has a very strong set of legs, Breezy,” said Horte, who was silently nursing a swollen jaw. “On that note, we’re going to need a new lock.”
“Forget the lock!” snapped Gale. “Tell me, Breezy, how do you think it feels to find out that your beloved spouse has been staying out at all hours, neglecting his marital duties, and worrying you to no end, just to run some two-bit speakeasy operation out of the basement of his blasted fan shop?!”
“Er, I suppose I’d feel pretty miffed about the whole thing,” answered Breezy meekly.
Gale flared her nostrils at her husband’s answer before she suddenly leapt forward with a primal roar and clamped her teeth upon Breezy’s ear. In horror the crowd looked on helplessly as the poor stallion was dragged screaming from the room by his fiery eyed wife.
“I’ll deal with the rest of you later!” snarled Gale through a mouthful of ear.
And she was gone.
When all was silent, Horte stepped up to the door and solemnly pushed it shut, only for it to burst wide open again, this time revealing the determined face of the last pony anypony wanted to see that night.
“Freeze! This is a raid!” declared Inspector Bannister.
“Tabarnac! C’est les boeufs!”
“EVERYPONY RUN!!!”
And everypony did so.
When the thundering of panicked hooves had died down, Bannister and his guards picked themselves off the floor, dusted the hoofprints from their backs and stepped into the room, which was now largely empty save for the flailing hindquarters of a bright purple pony who was struggling to fit through the basement window. With a derisive sigh, Bannister stepped forward, gripped the mare’s mulberry tail in his teeth, and pulled her back onto the floor.
“Aw, nuts...” swore Berry.
* * *
Meanwhile, in a farmhouse on the other side of Ponyville, a similar sentiment was being echoed by a frustrated young filly lying on her bed surrounded by discarded newspapers, specifically the ‘help wanted’ ads. Not that they were doing her any good. Over the course of the day, Applebloom, Sweetie Belle, and Scootaloo had traipsed from one end of Ponyville to the other, offering their services wherever odd jobs were to be found, and subsequently being turned down, partially because of their age, but mostly in light of past experiences with the mischievous trio.
“It just ain’t fair,” Applebloom said aloud to nopony in particular. “How’s a filly supposed to make any money in this town if nopony cooperates?”
Her question remained unanswered, so after a few more minutes of moping, Applebloom finally pulled herself out of bed and slunk downstairs to see what Applejack was doing. As it turned out, Applejack was entertaining a guest.
“...so apparently Mr. Breezy himself had nothing to do with it; it seems he was in bed with his wife at the time of the raid. Still, I find it hard to believe he wouldn’t notice a speakeasy in the cellar of his own shop,” gabbed the prim voice of Rarity.
“Huh. It’s only been three days and already ponies are gettin’ drastic,” mused Applejack. “Though I guess I can’t really blame ‘em. Cuttin’ in this prohibition thing right before cider season was a pretty low blow to all of us.”
“I’ve been meaning to ask, Applejack, but whatever did you do with all that cider we had brewed up?”
“We buried it. Out by the sheep pens. I just couldn’t stand to see all our hard work tossed away like that, so me and Big Macintosh went and got permission from the Mayor to just hide it all away instead.”
“Smart move, Applejack,” said Rarity brightly. “When this whole silly notion blows over, and I’m sure it will, you’ll be right back in business.”
“Until then, keep yer mouth shut about the cider,” hissed Applejack. “The last thing I need is some thirsty nag diggin’ up my orchards.”
“Rest assured, your secret is safe with me, darling,” piped Rarity. “Anyway, I must be going now. Goodnight, Applejack.”
“G’night, Rare.”
With Rarity gone, Applebloom left her hiding place on the stairs and crept into the kitchen where her sister sat forlornly at the table.
“Uh, hey Big Sis,” mumbled Applebloom.
“Hey there, kiddo,” answered Applejack without looking at her.
“Applejack. Do you think we’ll be able to sell our cider again soon?”
‘I don’t know,” sighed Applejack. “I do hope so, and everypony’s always tellin’ me this whole mess’s just a fad, but... I don’t know Applebloom. Best we can do now is just try and move on.”
Applebloom couldn’t stand to see her sister in such a mood, and so began to fish about for some way to change the subject.
“Hey Sis... what is a ‘speakeasy’ anyway?” she asked, genuinely curious.
“You heard that, huh?” said Applejack flatly. “Well, a speakeasy is kinda like an illegal bar. There’s probably gonna be a lot more of ‘em poppin’ up as time goes on; not too many ponies are keen on not bein’ allowed to hit the booze no more.”
Applebloom pondered this answer for a moment.
“So... a speakeasy sells drinks just like a normal bar, right?” she asked cautiously.
“Exactly like a normal bar, only in this case, everypony inside’d be arrested if the guards ever showed up.”
“But they’d sell normal drinks right? Like cider maybe?”
Applejack cocked a narrowed eye at her little sister.
“I know what you’re thinkin’, and the answer is ‘no’!”
“C’mon Sis, we need that money! For the farm!” protested Applebloom. “And besides, we worked hard to make that cider! Why shouldn’t we get somethin’ for it?”
“I don’t like it any more than you do, Applebloom, but the law is still the law,” explained Applejack.
“But it’s a stupid law! Can’t we break the rules just this once?”
“This ain’t a game, Applebloom. Breakin’ the law is serious business; we could get into a whole heap o’ trouble if we did somethin’ like that. And even if we didn’t, I still wouldn’t do it.”
“Why not?” pleaded Applebloom
“Because it’d be dishonest, that’s why.”
That was it. Done. Once Applejack had said the ‘DH’ word, Applebloom knew the argument was a lost cause.
With a pout, the frustrated farm filly slumped out of the kitchen back towards the stairs, ignoring her sister’s calls of “goodnight”, and made her way to her bed. Tomorrow she would regroup with her fellow Crusaders and continue their search anew for ways of making money. As Applebloom lay drowsily upon her pillow, half-formed ideas and fanciful schemes swirled and coalesced within her tired mind. One dream in particular stood out from the others; the image of herself standing proud beside an enormous keg of cider, with an endless line of thirsty ponies stretched out before her...
To be continued...
AE: Anno Equestria
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I want to read this purely based on the premise. This promises to be highly amusing.
I gotta say
This is pretty awesome
YOU!
If you need help with french slang, i can help, especially with Québec french slang.
i strongly suggest you switch "Gendarmes" with "les boeufs"
It would give a line like this "Tabarnac, c'est les boeufs!"
trust me, the french would be much more closer to the common québec and france slang
I love this idea, and I love its delivery.
Fantastic
636160 I might just do that, thanks. On that note, how did Horte go from being a high-class waiter to an angry French-Canadian? Headcanon is a weird thing...
636471
who gives a crud. its funnier that way XD
This is really funny, on to chapter 2!
Bwahaha love the references to America's prohibition such as the alcohol causing blindness and bathtub booze, speakeasys and such.
Public nudity?! They don't wear clothes!
Good one.
Why do I get the feeling that this is referencing Bugys Malone