Applejack Finds a Gun

The morning sun gradually rose over the vast rows of trees in Sweet Apple Acres, painting a cliché, picturesque light on a canvas of land. Streaks of gold, orange, and pink littered the sky, and the trees glowed in colorful vibrancy. Everything was just waking up in Ponyville; the roosters were squawking obnoxiously, birds were chirping giddily, and an annoyed old mare was emerging from a comically cutesy red barn on the crest of a hill. Two ponies in particular, however, had been up for a while.

The two cartoon horses stood in the middle of a denser part of the apple orchard forest. Thick underbrush and shrubs surrounded them, accompanied by the gnarled bark-coated trees that rose above the sisters, their canopies providing shade as they gazed down at the strange device that had brought them there in the first place. It was like an 'L', with the longest rod being brown with a small point sticking out from the top and a small trigger between them.

The eldest (and grumpiest) of the two, a topaz orange mare with a blond mane and tail that were kept together with thick red scrunchies, had a picture of three ripe apples printed onto her flank, and on the top of her head lied a roughed-up brown cowpony hat. She stood, an annoyed pout and a dull, flat look plastered over her face, alongside her younger, blank-flank sister, a yellow filly donning an obscenely large pink bow atop her rose-red mane. There was a pregnant silence before the younger one spoke up.

"What is it, sis?" she asked in a curious tone, her country accent thick as she eyed the object in question with interest. At this, her sister scoffed.

"What are ya, Apple Bloom, stupid?" she asked the yellow filly, throwing a hoof in the air to accentuate her question.

Apple Bloom put a hoof to her chin, seemingly deep in thought, before answering abruptly with an ear to ear grin. "Yes!"

The orange mare's frown deepened and she sighed, facehoofing. "'Course ya are." Without a moment's hesitation, she wrapped a hoof around the item that lied on the smooth dirt and pointed the end of it to the sky. Apple Bloom's curious expression lit up as it transformed into one of joy and remembrance.

"Oh, Ah've seen these in TV!" she stated, not to any of her sister's interest. Of course, she continued talking. "Them ponies on the movies and shows are always usin' 'em! You pull the trigger and it goes kablam!" To act it out, she ducked behind a tree and held her hooves up beside her head, as though she was actually holding it.

"Since when does a gun go kablam?" the older asked her sister, eyes barely open. She quickly realized that Apple Bloom would actually answer the rhetorical question, so she hastily crammed a hoof up to her muzzle.

"Mmmph!" she said through her sister's muzzle, vibrating like a soda that had just been shook up. After it stopped, the orange mare removed her hoof. Much to her chagrin, Apple Bloom immediately started talking, again.

"But AJ, where'd the gun even come from? The sky?" she asked, pouting and looking up at the sky questioningly. A grin spread across her face and she piped up, "Oh, do you think aliens dropped it!?"

"No, and where it came from is obsolete," AJ, or Applejack, told her smaller sister. "And this ain't just any normal gun, sis. This is a nine-millimeter Glock," she specified, closing her eyes and speaking as though she was a teacher talking to a toddler. For once that morning, she was slightly smiling as she explained it. "With a nice and thick, rectangular barrel and comfortable grip, it's the perfect pistol. An' gettin' one for free is even better!"

Almost immediately, her spreading grin turned back to its natural frown. Apple Bloom put her hoof up to her chin again and told her sister "Wow. You sure know a lot about guns."

"A' 'course Ah do, we're the redneck stereotype of the show, remember?" she asked, incredulous that Apple Bloom didn't know. Then again, Apple Bloom didn't know anything, so it made sense.

"We are?" she asked stupidly.

"Well, duh, yeah! Big Mac's the burly, likable stallion, Granny's the crazy old hillbilly, and Ah'm the sexy farmer gal."

"Oh." Apple Bloom paused, looking up at her sister. "Wait a second, where do Ah fit in?"

Applejack threw a hoof into the air again, though this time it was a shrug. "Ah dunno, you're just an annoying little sister. Maybe you'd fit in as the inbred cousin."

At this, Apple Bloom let out a sigh of relief and wiped her brow. "Phew, so I'm not an orphan like Scootaloo."

"But you talk even more than Sweetie Belle," Applejack pointed out.

Before she could respond, Apple Bloom's face scrunched up as a thought came to her. "Sis, why are you bein' so grumpy today?"

Applejack rose an eyebrow. "Ah'm always annoyed by all you idiots. Ah just put up with it, besides with that crazy bitch, Pinkie Pie."

The filly was about to yell at her sister, but she lost her chance when Applejack started towards the direction of the barn, leaving her. "Hey, where are ya' goin, sis?"

She looked back, her top eyelids so lazily slumped that she looked like she was asleep. "Ta' show it to the girls, o' course," she said, as though it was obvious.

"Why?"

"Plot convenience," she responded simply before leaving Apple Bloom by her lonesome.