(Big) Mac and Me

Applejack put down the first three chapters and looked at me. “So, let me get this straight. You have me write a story about Big Macintosh boinking a human, then make it a story within a story, then have us commit incest, all the while I’m speaking in an accent way more than I usually use, and to top it all off, the story gets rejected by some outfit?”

“Um. . . yes?” I said.

“Just one more question, then. Can you give me one good reason why I shouldn’t buck you to high heaven?”

“Do you mean buck as in the misspelled euphemism for copulation?” I asked hopefully.

“No, buck as in kick your brains out, assuming you’ve got any.”

“Not really.”

“I thought not. You humans are always writing us way out of character, and you think it doesn’t matter. I’m going to give you a lesson you won’t soon forget.”

She turned around and kicked me in the face. I felt my jaw shatter. I probably had a concussion as well.

**

I crawled on my belly to my computer where I deleted all of the horrible things I'd written. Then through my aching face I apologized to the beautiful and brilliant earth pony—

“What are you doing? I didn’t write that!”

“You shut up and stay down or I’ll kick you again. ‘and I promised to never write clop fiction again.’ No, make that, ‘never write again, period.’”

Then she gave me another kick for good measure.