“So, um, Applejack… I’m thinking about going into corn,” Apple Bloom said to her sister. Apple Bloom leaned against the table, her forelegs resting against the red and white checked tablecloth. She studied her sister’s face, trying to gauge Applejack’s reaction, but Apple Bloom saw nothing worth noting.
“Now, tell me, li’l sis, why would you want to do a thing like that?” Applejack asked as she raised one eyebrow. “I mean… corn… why would a nice young filly like yourself want to get themselves into something as messed up as corn?”
“Big Mac did corn… he did corn for a whole year, with those husky mares,” Apple Bloom made a gesture with her hoof as she continued, “and he made a lot of money. They took pictures of him and even made a film. Big Mac got famous because of corn.”
“So you want to be famous?” Applejack rolled her eyes.
“I dunno, maybe? Doesn’t everypony?” Apple Bloom gave her sister an imploring stare and then turned away when she saw her sister’s stare. She looked at the fruit bowl instead. The Apple family fruit bowl only had one sort of fruit: Apples. Other sorts of fruits just weren’t welcome. “What’s wrong with being a corn star?”
“Apple Bloom!” Applejack’s eyes narrowed. “We’re Apples! We have some standards—”
“Do we?” Apple Bloom retorted, “‘cause there is a familiar looking mare with Big Mac in one of those corn pictures in the magazines that Big Mac keeps under his bed!”
“That… that’s ‘cause we was about to lose the farm! I didn’t have much choice, so yes, Big Mac and I took a few corn photos together… look, I ain’t proud o’ what I did! I don’t want to see you make the same mistake!” Applejack closed her eyes and began to rub her temples with her front hooves.
“But I want to be like you… in that one picture, you were on your back and you had Big Mac’s corncob laying over your belly—”
“‘Bloom, shut it, not another word.” Applejack waved her hoof. “That was wrong o’ me. That picture made ponies talk. It made Granny Smith almost lose her goldurn mind. At least they didn’t publish the one with me kissing Big Mac’s corncob, that one would have made Granny Smith fit to split.”
“But you looked so beautiful with all that cornsilk blown in your mane.” Apple Bloom gave her sister a dreamy smile.
“That was an accident. Big Mac just got done shucking his corncob and he blew his load of cornsilk in my mane. The photographer said that nopony could see it, but the lights left it all shiny and slick looking in my mane.” Applejack closed her eyes and began to rub her nose. “Look, I don’t want to talk about this no more.”
“Cousin Braeburn got into corn with a whole bunch of stallions… they even did a corn calendar. A whole year of corn and big ol’ handsome Braeburn was shuckin’ his corn as Mister July.” Apple Bloom heard a thump upstairs, which caused her ears to perk.
“Just about every farmer in Ponyville has that hanging in their outhouse. I don’t see why ponies like corn so much. I just don’t get it.” Applejack opened her eyes and looked at her sister. “When I was in Manehattan with the Oranges, I had an older stallion with a mustache ask Aunt Orange if I wanted to be a little corn princess. She wanted me to do it, but I was too shy. Kept telling me that all that nice stallion wanted to do was take pictures of me… no harm, no foul. I got exposed to corn at a young age… I just ain’t comfortable with this Apple Bloom.”
“I won’t be going into this alone… Sweetie Belle and Scootaloo wanna go into corn with me. There’s a premium for threesomes in good corn pictures. We have to look all sweaty and dirty though, like we’ve been out ploughing each other’s fields and doing hard work all day. Ponies into corn really get off on that.” Apple Bloom smiled and she thought she heard hooves coming down the steps.
“Oh no, here comes Big Mac—” Applejack waited, her ears perked, and then she heard the sound of somepony slamming the back door of the barn. She scowled in annoyance. Big Mac was too hard on the back door and the door only swung one way. She didn’t know why Big Mac liked the back so much anyway. He hardly ever used the front door.
Some ponies were just natural born back door ponies, Applejack supposed.
“The Cutie Mark Crusaders and I… we’re used to being covered in sticky stuff like tree sap. I mean, it kept happening for so long… after all of that, being covered from head to hoof in corn silk ain’t no big deal.” Apple Bloom gave her sister a pleading look.
“Why is this so important?” Applejack asked.
“I wanna be somepony! Maybe I do wanna be famous! Maybe, just maybe, I want a little bit of extra money… there’s never enough bits to go around and I get desperate to do the things other fillies my age are doing. Like it or not, corn pays the bills. So what if I have to nibble on a few corncobs or lay in a big pile of corncobs or get covered in corn silk or have popcorn shot in my face… I’m going to Applewood and I’m going to be a corn star.”
“So that’s it then,” Applejack said, “and Scootaloo and Sweetie Belle are a going with you?”
The back door banged open again and Big Mac entered with a grunt.
Applejack watched her brother. He looked sweaty, as if going in and out of the back door had been an effort. His mane was mussed. The big stallion was carrying a bag in his teeth. He dropped it down to the floor.
“Big Mac, whatcha doing?” Applejack asked.
“I overheard you and Apple Bloom. This is like an Apple family tradition… if Apple Bloom and her friends are going to Applewood to get into corn, I’m gonna go do corn with them. They like brother and sister corn acts. Plus, I’m famous. I can help break her in. Show her the ropes.”
Applejack eyed her brother. “I dunno, Big Mac, corn and ropes don’t belong together…”
“Says who?” Big Mac looked at both of his sisters. “A little rope might help Apple Bloom ease into a back door act. We could become overnight sensations.”
“I guess we need to make this a family affair. Ain’t no way, ain’t no how I’m lettin’ my little sister and my big brother go off to Applewood to make a career in corn without me.” Applejack heaved a sigh of defeat.
“So we’re going to go make a career in corn together?” Apple Bloom asked, hardly believing her luck.
“Eyup.”
Author's Note
The aristocrats! Bleh.
