Applejack and the IRL Fight

by Raw Cringe

Rating: teen
Tags: Slice of Life, Applejack, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Snips, Comedy
Length: 1306

Applejack gets into a fight on the internet... and it leads to real life troubles.

Applejack gets into a fight on the internet. She then brings the internet fight into real life.

Never bring internet fights into real life.

Published 2016-12-07 05:00:01 UTC
Last updated 2016-12-07 05:00:01 UTC

S*** Was So Cash

S*** Was So Cash

The moon had long risen, and Sweet Apple Acres was asleep; but Applejack's prurient desires had kept her awake far too late, tossing and turning in her scratchy bed.

"Ugh... agh... no... it's a sin... I can't! No matter how good it feels..."

Applejack held her breath, hoping to suffocate her feelings, but the unnatural thoughts only grew stronger. "Aww, who am I kidding. This is happening."

She fumbled out of her custom silk bedspread, which was extremely scratchy, and flopped onto the floor. On landing, she winced: the sound of her hooves against the hard old mahogany floor had been loud—too loud.

"Quiet, Applejack... don't want to wake the family up. Heavens, if Big Mac saw me doing this... or Apple Bloom!"

She crept with difficulty through the bedroom, down the single flight of stairs—taking care to skip the creaky seventh step—and with a soft tread entered the family living room, where the geniuses in the Apple family had installed an overpriced desktop with a high-speed internet connection. For Applejack, it had been the site of many nights' sleepless assaults on all morality and all things decent; it was the setting of many shameful memories.

"All right, girl. Let's do this fast, and get back to bed."

She fired up the slick machine, with its elegant, trendy curves and its loud coloring. Ten minutes' inept, random clicking later, Applejack finally succeeded in opening the web browser.

As she thought of what she was about do, she broke out into a cold sweat. She made a last nervous circuit of the room, glancing up the staircase and down the hallway, until she had assured herself that no one was awake. Sitting back down, with heart racing, she typed her destination into the browser: .

Website.com was the premier online destination for all things internet. Whether for business, shopping, news, entertainment, social media, or research, website.com had you covered with an unparalleled variety of cutting-edge services powered by innovation and the spirit of discovery. Website.com: the only website you'll ever need.

For Applejack, secret access to her guiltiest pleasure, powered by website.com's industry-leading search engine, was only a few hoofclicks away. She shakily navigated the mouse cursor to the search bar, and typed the words of her own damnation:

swift tailor hoof story

Swift Tailor was a sweet young mare from the sticks who, from a humble origin as a seamstress, had made it big in the cutthroat world of popular music with her sweet disposition, winning smile, and an uncountably infinite number of samey-sounding songs about love. Ever since Swift had risen to stardom, Applejack had harbored a secret love for her as an instrument through which she could vicariously live out her own long-buried dreams of rising from the dung heap of rural farm life to shine under big-city spotlights.

Needless to say, if anyone had ever found out about her perverse, nearly heretical fate-denying desires, Applejack would have died from shame.

Hoof Story was a very cute song about an even cuter schoolfilly who overcame a case of smelly athlete's hoof, brought on by strenuous farm work, to win the heart of her dreamy high school crush. Applejack donned a pair of headphones, and clicked the top video on the search results page. The video loaded, and then played—loudly, to the whole house.

Applejack had forgotten to plug in the headphones she was wearing.

Swear words followed, and a frantic fumbling. After a brutal six seconds, the noise was silenced; but Applejack was shaken by the mistake. Adrenaline was electrifying her body, and her legs were quavering and weak.

"All right," she muttered, breathing heavily. "I think that was a sign from God... I need to go back to bed now."

Applejack reached to shut off the computer, mentally praying that she hadn't awoken any of her family members. But before she could reach the power button, a comment someone had left on the video she was watching caught her eye.

It read:

You say Swift Tailor-I say HayCDC

You say The Rainbooms-I say Dazzlings

You say T-Grain-I say Saddleknot

You say Flowers-I say?? Celestallica

You say Pinkie Pie-I say Iron Hayden

You? say Applecore-i say? shut the ---- up

You say Pinkie Pop-I scream Hoofy Metal!!

You say? hannah banana-i ------- punch you in the face

92% of teenagers have turned to Applecore and Pinkie Pop.If you are part of the 8% that still listen to real music,copy? and paste this message to another 5? videos. DON'T? LET? THE? SPIRIT OF ROCK SALT DIE

Applejack stared at the comment, amazed by the brute intensity of its illogic. No one could honestly believe HayC/DC was better than Swift Tailor... could they?

Such an idiotic comment could not go unanswered. Applejack had no choice but to respond.

Typing at a furious five words per minute, she penned a reply of such erudition and flair that, Applejack reckoned, even the literary Twilight Sparkle would have been impressed.

To her immense surprise, she received an immediate response.

fite me IRL fgt

"Oh, you wanna tussle? Bring it on, short stuff," she said, and typed out an aggressive comment, asking for a place and time.

A quick reply later, and it was settled: Applejack would meet this anonymous coward tomorrow afternoon, in front of the Ponyville schoolhouse.

Applejack waited under the agreed-upon tree, ready to defend the honor of Swift Tailor against a no-class ignoramus who had yet to make himself known.

The bells of the school rang out, and the children ran giddily out. Applejack spied Apple Bloom among them, rolling and fumbling as befit a child, and she giggled to herself.

"That kid..."

After the lion's share of the children had sped off, only a few remained. Snips and Snails were among them.

"Hey, Snails, hold my backpack. I have something to take care of," said Snips.

"Ahhh, gaaah, waaat?" said Snails, like a retard.

"So, it was you all along," said Applejack, as she took a powerful, broad-shouldered stance. "I oughta tell your momma on you for talking like that on the internet!"

Snips, standing opposite Applejack on a lonely dirt road, chuckled. "You're not going to tell anyone anything ever again, after I'm through with you!" he squeaked, nasally.

"Bring it on, then, ya internet tough guy, if ya think you're big enough," said Applejack, with a smirk. Her kicking legs were feeling a powerful itch, and she thought it would do her some good to exercise them a little.

Snips waggled his eyebrows suggestively. "I've already won," he said.

Then, a loud cracking sound filled the air and echoed throughout the town.

Applejack was temporarily deafened, but decided that whatever the sound was, it would have to wait a moment. "All right," she said, "I'm-a coming for you now!" With that, she took off.

But, as soon as she put one hoof in front of the other, Applejack felt a very odd tearing sensation.

"Oh... Oh, no," she said. Then the left half of Applejack's body separated itself from the right half, and fell flopping onto the dusty dirt road.

It was a remarkably clean slice. Applejack's still-beating heart was visible in a surgical-quality cross section, along with her exposed entrails, which clearly showed the apples she had eaten that morning.

Just before Applejack's face split in half, she muttered: "Sugarcube... how could this happen to meeeeeeee?"

Then a pair of seraphim descended from heaven, along with a hip-hop choir of cherubim, who were performing their a capella rendition of "Shake Ya Tailfeather". They alighted upon Snips, and lifted him up on their shoulders while fellating him, as their wings lifted them heavenward.

Before Snips' holy Assumption into heaven was complete, he could be heard to utter only one thing:

"You're fucking dead, kiddo. Nothing personnel."