Spoiled Apple Pastry Peril
The Rotten Barrel of Apples
Applejack shook out her mane, her muscles rippling under her coat as she pushed another empty barrel to the front of the Apple barn. Each year since her parents passed she has cleaned the barn of old barrels, setting them out to be cleaned and later filled with delicious apples. Every year she had made sure that not a single barrel escaped her attentive gaze, not a single apple has gone bad under her watch. Each apple older than three months is moved to special fermentation barrels to make cider for the holiday season. Or if there are leftovers, dried into delectable apple snacks.
Indeed, Applejack has been especially thorough in this regard. Not a single apple harvested while she has been in charge of the farm has gone to spoil. To her knowledge no Apple has ever allowed their precious prize crop go to waste, and since this must have always been the case the Element of Honesty has never felt the need to ask about missing apples. After all, there are no apples missing in any of the log books from her or her pa's or granny's time running the farm.
As she begins to move another empty barrel from its resting place, the orange mare's hoof knocks over a rather long wooden pole leaning against the wall. While her focus is on the barrel, the pole falls forward towards the rear wall section under the hayloft. Faster it falls, and just as Applejack had set the barrel in place the pole hits the wall with a resounding *thud*.
Applejack spins around, ready to stop a disaster and potential damage to her beloved barn. What she is not read for is for the back section of the barn wall, under the hayloft, to be swung wide open. A long hidden door within the barn has been forced open by the offending pole, unveiling a treasure trove of Apple artifacts. Though as far as Applejack is concerned those can wait for later, her eyes narrow as she watches an apple barrel roll out from the hidden room. An apple barrel she has never seen before, coated in dust and mildew; signs of immense age.
Walking over to the barrel, the mare carefully lifts it upright so the top of the decades old cask is the right way. Narrowing her eyes and gritting her teeth, muzzle clenched in concentration as her hooves hold the edges; Applejack gives a mighty yank and pops off the barrels long sealed lid.
She instantly regrets doing so as an insidious rancid odor assaults her nostrils, the sheer force of the ensuing nausea knocking the normally stalwart mare off her hooves and onto her rump. Applejack gags, her eyes watering and her brain scrambling to comprehend the travesty she had discovered. The horrendous horror that lies within that horrible barrel, half rotted from time spent in the hidden room.
Another series of gagging and wheezing noises escape her muzzle as the smell begins to permeate the barn with its putrid pungency. Terrible tastes well within her mouth as it seeps into her jaw, the odor so strong she can taste it on the air itself. Rotten, spoiled, rancid, nightmarish, the most horrifying thing she can imagine begins to destroy her precious senses. Applejack lifts herself off the wooden barn floor, coughing and swaying at the terrible terrors malicious odor. A monster, a nightmare, the worst possible thing she never hoped to see must be stopped.
With endurance that would make a garbage pony cry in honor of her bravery, Applejack marches forward against the sensory destroying scent demon. With great effort she grabs the lid of the casket of vileness, and like the hero she is lifts it up and places it on top of the monster. Using a great and carefully measured stomp she once more seals the fiendish far past fermented folly within its ancient tomb. Wiping her hoof on her brow, she back away from the horror; her eyes settling upon the decades old warning upon its side.
Apple Farm Apples
Barreled EQ 909 by Rancid Apple
Coughing to cleanse her palette of the corpse like taste, Applejack heaves a sigh of relief followed by a hearty chuckle. Turning and walking away from the beastly barrel she mutters. "Well that's something Ah never expected, I'll take care of those long Spoiled rotten apples later. For now ah have work to finish."
As she finishes her sentence, she gags once more as the memory of the horror within that cask flashes through her mind. Without breaking a step, she moves towards the barn door, as she leaves in the direction of the farmhouse her words filter into the barn. "But first, ah feel like I need a drink of water to clear my senses out right."
The old barn seems still as soon she leaves, once a few minutes pass a slightly larger empty barrel near the old mildew rotten cask begins to move. Slowly and carefully, it slithers over to the almost hundred year old apple barrel. Once it gets right by it, one blue eye can be seen through a hole in the side checking the doorway for Applejack's return. Satisfied she is still alone, a pair of pink hooves and legs reaches out from the barrels top. Grabbing the far past fermented folly that the farm mare was going to throw away and let go to waste, it gives one single pull.
As if defying the laws of physics the ancient apple barrel lifts into the air, and is promptly pulled into the powerful portal within the larger barrel beside it. It's new owner, a poofy peppy pink party pony pridefully pronks in glee through the pathway of chaotic physics and reality defying power. Within seconds the delighted mare and her ponderous and perilous prize appear from a pantry. A great smile rests upon the muzzle of the pastry chef and baker of bountiful sweets and treats named Pinkie Pie.
Her smile widens as she takes a whiff of the air, the smell of freshly risen dough and prepared pastry crust caressing her nasal passages. Her precious prize in tow she pronks over to the prepared pastry dough, perking her ears at the sound of ponies prancing to and fro outside. Today is a very special day for Pinkie Pie, for today is the day she makes apple treats for everyone in Ponyville. This barrel must be the one her close friend Applejack promised to leave out last week for her to pick up.
Glancing at the date, the party pony shrugs. Sure the apples are over eighty years old, but she is Pinkie Pie; and she can make anything taste delicious. After all, as her friend Applejack once told her, there is no such thing as a bad apple. Properly perked up by this thought, the peppy pink pony begins preparations to prepare the apples for their precious future as perfect pastries.
After all, there is no such thing as a rotten apple. So waste not want not.
Author's Note
This is the beginning of a perilous series of horrifying mistakes made possible by pride in ones ability to make anything palatable. Inspired by my own experience with food poisoning.
Glen Gorewood
