Chapter 1
“Apples! These are apples. They're red and organic and can be damaged by worms, vampire fruit bats, and birds. That makes them apples. Come buy some apples.”
Apple Bloom let out a whoop and waved a sign that read “Sweet Apple Acres Apples! 4 bits a bushel.” Ponies walking by diverted to the other side of the sidewalk, trying to avoid eye contact. That didn't always help. Mrs. Cake strolled by, looking busy with her shopping list, but Apple Bloom darted in front of her.
“Howdy, Missus Cake,” said Apple Bloom, leaning on her sign which also served as a barrier. “Grocery shopping? Say, don't you need some apples? Can't have good pies without apples. I mean, lest of course you're cooking coconut. Chocolate. Blueberry. Raspberry. Boysenberry. Blackberry. Mixed berry. Key lime. Lemon meringue. Lemon meringue with lime and berry. Cherry. Cherry berry.”
As Apple Bloom listed the various styles of pies to a fidgety Mrs. Cake, Applejack turned to Big Mac, who had just finished loading a pony's cart with three bushels from the stand. She said, “I know we need to offload a whole crop right fast, but I tell you, I think Apple Bloom's doing worse than ever.”
“Yup,” said Big Mac.
“Did you show her your trick for the perfect sale, Big Mac?”
“Yup,” said Big Mac, pulling from behind the apple stand a chart with the letters, “A,” “B,” and “C” on one side and “A,” “I,” “D,” and “A” on the other. “A, B, C. Always. Be. Closing. A, I, D, A. Attention, Interest, Decision, Action. Know what it takes to sell apples? It takes brass bits to sell apples. You want to work here, close.” He pushed the chart back behind the stand.
“Well, that fillie still couldn't sell a flowerbed to a bumble bee. And we need this crop sold off fast, else they'll up and repossess the new barn's roof. Again.” Applejack glared at Big Mac. “Again again.”
Big Mac quickly found a customer to help.
Apple Bloom was still listing pie flavors to Mrs. Cake. Applejack rescued the helpless mare.
“Howdy, Mrs. Cake,” she said. “Apple Bloom, mind coming over here for a second, please?”
“Aww,” Apple Bloom said. “But Mrs. Cake was just gettin' interested in buying a bushel. Or was it five bushels, ma'am?”
“Oh, well, actually hun,” said Mrs. Cake, “it was, you know, a little less than that.”
“Two? One and a half?”
“Closer to maybe zero.” Applejack pulled her sister aside, letting Mrs. Cake sprint out of there.
“Apple Bloom, listen,” said Applejack. “We need to sell a lot of apples and right now.”
“I know,” said Apple Bloom. “And I'm trying real hard. It's just that no pony wants to listen to what I'm telling them.”
“Have you tried just telling them 'we've got apples'?”
“Course not,” said Apple Bloom. “They know that. I tell them all the stuff they don't know.” Berry Punch and Daisy came trotting down the sidewalk, discussing garden parties and spring juice flavors. Apple Bloom jumped in their path and said, “'Scuse me. Did you know that apples contain a small amount of cyanide? It's totally true. Now, want three bushels or four?”
“Cyanide?” Daisy shouted, fainting into Berry Punch's arms. Applejack pulled Apple Bloom out of the way as Berry rushed off with her companion, calling for a doctor. Apple Bloom laughed nervously.
“I'm sorry, little sister,” said Applejack, “but we need to sell apples. Not drive ponies into the emergency room. Again. Again again.”
“Please, Applejack! I don't even care if it gets me my cutie mark or not. I want to help.”
“I know, sis, but you got to admit when you can't do something. I wish I could help you learn what to say, but sometimes these things can't be taught like that.”
“Oh, can't they?”
An explosion of smoke billowed out from behind the apple stand. Streaks of flame and sparkling light erupted into the air overhead. Ponies who had been apple browsing fled in a panic, somepony shouting something about cyanide. When the smoke had cleared, leaving Applejack, Apple Bloom, and Big Mac coughing furiously, Trixie stood atop the Sweet Apple Acre cart.
“Trixie,” Applejack said, still choked with smoke. “Was the stage show really necessary?”
“Sorry,” said Trixie, jumping down. “I have a lot of fireworks I have to use up. But that is beside the point. The Great and Humble Trixie did not come to discuss her powers to dazzle but, rather, her powers to deal.” She pointed at Apple Bloom. “You want to learn the art of dealing, of winning the crowd, swaying public opinion, captivating the audience through sheer eloquence and skill?”
“Yeah,” shouted Apple Bloom. “I wanna talk them into giving me money, just like you do.”
“Alas,” said Trixie. “I admit, I once was so shallow as to seek attention for my own gain. But after Twilight helped me overcome my own pride and ego, I have found a new calling. Behold.” Trixie raised her hoof, an explosion of smoke and fire works obscuring her for a moment. When the smoke had cleared, Trixie held out a business card.
Applejack read the card. “'Trixie's School of Twisting. Learn to bend words to your will, convince your friends, and influence people. Excellent for salesponies, spouses, schoolteachers, and mayors.' You've opened up a school?”
“That's right. An academy where those who do not know the arts of rhetoric and oratory can learn to speak their minds and be heard by others.”
“You're saying I could learn to talk people into doing what I say?” said Apple Bloom. “Well sign me up!”
“Hold on now,” said Applejack. “How much does this here school cost?”
“Normal course fees are, Trixie will admit, high, given the limited supply and large demand. I'm sure a businesspony like you, Applejack, understands. But since you are a friend of Twilight Sparkle, perhaps a reasonable discount would be in order.”
“You do remember that you enslaved me, forced me to grow unnatural fruit for you, and tickled me as punishment. Right?”
Trixie blushed. “For such a close friend of Twilight, a free trial course would only be expected.”
“Uh-huh.” Applejack turned to Apple Bloom. “Well, sis, I reckon it's worth a shot. We need to get that roof paid off and Big Mac can't pull the sales alone. What do you say? Want to give it a try?”
“You bet,” said Apple Bloom. “I'll study hard, Applejack. By the time I'm done, I'll be selling water to a desert pony.”
Applejack started to speak, but Trixie cut her off. “Wonderful. Welcome to Trixie's School of Twisting, young pupil. Your learning begins... now.” As she spoke, Trixie polished an apple against her chest and went to take a bite.
“Put. That apple. Down.”
Big Mac glared at Trixie as she held the apple before her mouth.
“Apples are for closers only,” he said. “Or for one bit a piece.”
“Fine.” Trixie flipped him a bit and walked off, Apple Bloom bounding at her heels.
***
“Oh my gosh, oh my gosh, oh my gosh,” shouted Apple Bloom. “I can't wait. Oh, what if this gets my cutie mark? I could have a talent for apple selling after all. Or, no, maybe motivational speaking, like Iron Will. No no, teaching, just like Miss Cheerilee. Or maybe politics like the Mayor. All she does is talk! I could do that too.”
“Here we are,” Trixie shouted after they crossed the bridge leading out of Ponyville. Apple Bloom looked around excitedly for the school.
“Where? Where?” she asked, but saw no grand buildings or stately campus. Not even a wooden forum.
“Here,” said Trixie, pulling aside some bushes that had half-covered a dirt path leading into a copse of trees. Beyond was a clearing in the middle of which stood Trixie's old stage carriage, the sign on the side hastily marked over so that it now read, “Trixie's School of Twisting.”
“Is that all?” said Apple Bloom. “Ain't much of a school.”
“Oh, ye of little showmanship,” Trixie said, patting Apple Bloom's head. “Expectation is the first trick to winning an audience. Set up an expectation, let your listener think they know how things will proceed. It lures them into a false sense of security. But then... dazzle them.”
Leading Apple Bloom to the door of the carriage, Trixie threw it open and pushed Apple Bloom inside. The inside of the carriage spread out in all directions. All around, tents, stages, and podiums stood with ponies about them, some speaking to each other furiously, some speaking to themselves even more furiously, and others speaking in unison with the most fury of all. Even though the carriage went on for what looked like miles, it was still a single room of wood.
“This is amazing,” said Apple Bloom, turning in circles to take it all in. “How did you fit all of this inside a dinky old cart?”
“It's funny,” said Trixie. “Originally, Trixie found that the inside of her stage coach was 3/4th of an inch longer than the outside. I had a doctor, Time Turner, in Ponyville look at it and he said he could do much better than just 3/4th of an inch. Though, it still grows an extra hallway every now and then. Either way, come, young Apple Bloom. Trixie will take you to your first lesson.”
Apple Bloom continued to stare at the different tents and stages surrounding her. There were dozens of other ponies, shouting, talking, and shout talking with each other. Some of them pointed furiously at chalkboards, some angrily beat their podiums, some openly cried. She was so overcome with these displays of talking talent, that she ran into Trixie who had stopped before a tent that stood open on one side. Inside, the other walls were lined with portraits of ponies, some old and grizzled, other young and bright.
“Here is where it begins,” said Trixie. “The history of showmanship. If you want to learn to sell your words, Apple Bloom, you must learn the history of speaking all together.”
“Actually, I just want to sell some apples.”
“For this lesson,” Trixie went on, “the Great and Humble Trixie will not be your guide. I have many other students to oversee. Instead, I will let one of my young apprentice teachers lead you through your history lesson.”
A flap at the rear of the tent open. A young, bespeckled fillie stepped through.
“Twist,” said Apple Bloom, surprised to see her old friend here. “You're a student here, too?”
“That's right,” said Twist, cheerfully. “When I found my talent for make peppermint sticks, I also found out it's a lot harder to sell them than to make them. But Miss Trixie has taught me a lot about convincing people.”
“Well if you're here, it can't be bad. Alright Twist. Let's get started!”