DMX busted through the doors of the first place he saw with glass windows which usually meant a liquor store. With a name like Sugarcube Corner, he could only assume one of two things of the building and hoped that horses liked beer over the other option. So he walks up to the counter and the stout proprietor notices the familiar face.

“Oh, Rarity, lovely to see you dear. What can I get for you?”

“A’ight bitch nigga, get me a bottle of Jeremiah Weed.”

The pony’s mouth hung open for a moment at the terrifying language from such an unlikely source. “Bitch what?! Rarity, what’s gotten into you?”

“Sobriety, nigga! Now shut yo’ bitch ass up and get me my drink!”

The pony then crossed her front legs and shook her head. “No. Not until you act like a decent pony. If you are thirsty you are free to visit your friend Applejack. Maybe she will have more patience for your talk.”

So DMX picked up a nearby chair, cracked it over the pony’s head and raided the register, as DMX is one to do. He then left the building and immediately headed to where ever this Applejack pony was, guided only by his sheer knowledge of any dealer of alcoholic beverages that comes with living on the streets.

Where he was led was just a bunch more garbage that he was not willing to put up with, as he came up to a stupid tree farm with those red and green things that hippies eat. So now he was starting to think that bitch nigga horse back at Sugarcube Corner was probably talking about a tree. So he went up to a nearby orange pony who was kicking at the trees.

“Yo! You know a nigga named Applejack?”

The pony then turned around and was startled by who said that phrase. “Rarity? What in tarnation are you going on about?” She then went up to DMX. “I’m Applejack! You been conked on the head or somethin’?”

“My bad, good to see you my nigga.” DMX then forcibly wrapped a hoove around Applejack’s and pulled applejack into a one-hooved hug/handshake and broke it off quickly before it turned gay. “So I got a beef with the bitch-ass nigga at Sugarcube Corner, and she ain’t gonna give me no more liquor, you feel me?”

“Well Rarity, I mean this as a friend, but you can come off as a little high and mighty at times and that can put folks off. But don’t worry, I got some cider you can buy from me until you get things settled.”

“Now that’s my nigga!” DMX slapped one of Applejack’s hooves in appreciation.

“Well shoot, you seem to be a lot more on the kind side.” Applejack smiled at the new Rarity and led her over to the nearby barn. Once inside, Applejack pointed out the many barrels stacked, all filled with delicious golden apple cider.

DMX looked upon the big pile of cider barrels and then turned to Applejack. “A’ight, this’ll get me through the day.” And then he shoved all the coins he had at Applejack and piggybacked a barrel. “I’ll be back for the rest every half hour or so.”

Applejack was dumbstruck at this proposition. “Pardon? Rarity, now I know my stuff is alright for the kids but you oughtta know that it ain’t kids stuff. There’s about fifteen barrels here!”

“That ain’t a problem. I’mma still be back, a’ight?”

Applejack took off her hat briefely to scratch at her head in confusion as DMX left the barn. “Alright then?”

Author's Note

For the small price of a forty of King Kobra malt liquor, you too can fuel your DMX for a few minutes at a time.

But seriously, don't drink and drive, kids. In fact, if you're a kid just don't drive. And don't drink too!