Apple Milk

Among the average fanfair that comes with the changing of the seasons from Summer to Autumn there comes about an event that everypony looks forward to which ushers in a great celebration throughout the entire town: Pinkie Pie loses consciousness. Of course, this is all thanks to the wondrous efforts of the Apple family who happen to supply the gallons upon gallons of cider that is necessary to nearly euthanize the pink pony, like a tribute to their insidiously malevolent overlord. With their crownless queen incapacitated, the other ponies who were aware of the occasion formed a line that spanned from the farm to the four corners of Equestria, which recently underwent remodeling so as to be a more cube shape than usual.

However, no line was formed next to the stall that sold the drinks of eviscerated apple flesh. After all, who would dare to even glance at the small booth with a sign over it which read “Apple Milk!” with all the letters spelled backwards, especially the A, l, and M. The lettering on the sign was so crude that it could have been written by a creature with down syndrome but is impressive for an animal with hooves, the same hoofed creature which also managed the booth. It was young Applebloom who was peddling her own wares out of the ramshackle construction, but “wares” is a tad generous as all she had next to her was two large clear jugs filled to the brim with some substance that smelled, looked, and had a similar consistency as glue. All seemed to be as lost as the third game in any Valve series, but not for long as who else should approach but Miss Cheerilee, the local educator.

“Well hello Applebloom, today’s certainly a fine day for cider, isn’t it?” Cheerilee stated.

Applebloom did not seem as optimistic, and that if she hadn’t lived in a world of nudists she probably would have taken up wearing black and listening to awful music. “I suppose.”

“Is something a matter?”

The young pony sighed. “I just haven’t had a customer all day. I don’t get it, I worked all night making this Apple milk and haven’t seen a bit all morning!”

Always encouraging, which may explain Berry Punch’s “not an addiction”ism, Cheerilee made a terrifying decision. “I tell you what, how about I be your first customer?”

“Really? Alrighty, one Apple Milk coming right up!” And in a short moment she lifted one of the jugs and filled a cup with the viscous liquid. Apprehensive, though continually supporting, Cheerilee closed her eyes and gulped it down.

“This tastes, well, unique. And also familiar.” Said Cheerilee who was resisting the urge to retch

“Oh, well that’d have to be the food coloring. It wasn’t white enough so I added a bit of color to it.”

“Oh, okay. By the way, how did you get this? I don’t remember your farm being a dairy.”

“Sorry Miss, but that’s a trade secret. Not even my big sis knows!”

“I see. Very well then, I suppose I’ll hurry along now. Don’t give up, business will improve eventually.”

“Alright, I will!”

And with that, Cheerilee took her leave, root, and the whole dang tree as she sped the other way and into some bushes to empty the contents of her stomach. She emerged back onto the road afterwards, going into a state of thought as she walked, trying to place where she tasted the drink before.