Big Mac farted. Then he farted again. Then again. Then two more farts. Then one more. Then he burped.
"Wut." He said happily.
"Big Mac!" Applejack scolded. "How many times do I have to tell you: You do not wear my dresses!"
"You mean dress."
"Oh, whatever!" She paused. "Besides, isn't that a little bit too red for you? Seeing as your coat is red, I don't think-"
"When did you learn all that?" Big Mac asked.
"Well, I, uh, of course I wasn't looking at Rarity's fashion books! I mean, I hate fashion!" She sported the trademark Apple 'poker face.' Big Mac could easily tell she was lying.
"If you say so."
"No, Big Mac! That's not how we'll get our cutie marks!" Apple Bloom cried, squirming around. "It hurts!"
Big Mac had kindly volunteered to help the CMC get their cutie marks. Unfortunately, it didn't go as planned.
"It's how I got mine."
"Not me! I could die!" Sweetie Belle screamed. Blood was rushing to her head, and her face was turning purple.
"Get us out!" Scootaloo demanded. Her was was bright red.
"Nope." Big Mac said. The fillies whined. They were strapped to a tree upside down. The branches had bent, so their heads were touching the floor.
"Please get us out!"
"Nope."
