Rarity found it awfully dreary, standing aimlessly beside the door to Ponyville Town Hall, but if she was going to have to attend the mind numbing meetings held by the nags of the Parent-Teacher association, then she wasn’t going in until it was absolutely necessary – even if she was just going to be milling about under the melancholy summer sunset in the empty town centre.
“Cutting off my adorable nose to spite my dazzling face” She thought, with a smirk.
Rarity was shifting her head from her vacant gaze to adjust the tremendous hat she’d worn to remind the old grey mares of the PTA that she far too young and fabulous to be associating with them – when she noticed an expanding orange dot emerge from a distant street and onto the far side of the square. Trying to figure out who could be galloping with such urgency to make it to such a miserable meeting was a mildly enjoyable way of passing the time required for a fashionably late entrance.
“Who could that be?”
“The only ponies I can imagine scrambling to make it here are far too decrepit to gallop like that.”
“Their coat is the same colour as Applejack’s.”
“Could it be?”
“It is!”
Somepony who wasn’t old enough to be her mother, and a good friend at that. Rarity felt the evening improving already. Perhaps she’d be able to have a meaningful conversation. Then Applejack drew close enough for Rarity to see the all-too-frequent snarl on her face. This evening was going to be spent listening to an impassioned yokel-rant about whatever had infuriated Applejack this time. She knew she wouldn’t have to ask what.
“RARITY!”
Applejack gasped as she climbed onto the decking and made for the door which Rarity was absent-mindedly blocking.
“What’re you doing here?”
“I’m here, Applejack, because my parents, in addition to dumping Sweetie Belle in my boutique, for some reason expect me to take an active role in her education. What were you bolting over here for?”
Applejack took a deep breath and Rarity braced herself.
“Today Applebloom came back to Sweet Apple Acres from school and tells us that the PTA doesn’t approve of how we’re looking after her! Can you believe the nerve!? It’s like something out of a bad country music song!”
“What? You mean they have an issue with you raising her in place of her mysteriously absent parents and making her work in your dubiously licensed moonshining operation?”
By now Applejack was used to such sarcastic jibes from Rarity. They’d been through enough together for it to count as ‘banter’ when they verbally assaulted one another. AJ would get her back later.
“For one, it’s not ‘moonshine’, Rarity – its traditional cider, and two, we just sell it to make living! It’s not like we give Applebloom any, or go around getting sauced on our own supply. The note made out like the Apple family are bunch of souses!”
“Applejack, darling, your parents named you after 60 proof liquor. You can’t betray your jovial country-folk roots by trying to act like you’re all completely teetotal down there on the farm.”
Applejack gave a quiet groan at her friend’s contrariness.
“Rarity, you know full well that there ain’t nothing wrong with how we raise Applebloom. And you can’t talk about how to raise a little sister either, why, I’m surprised Sweetie ain’t never been injured, all the times you’ve tripped over her chasing after a stallion.”
Rarity’s mouth dropped open a little at Applejack’s remark. She quickly passed it off as a droll laugh and rolled her eyes to mark her surrender in the battle of witticisms.
“Yes, you’re right, those old crones will use anything to bring down a beautiful young mare. Like you say, when I first came to these meetings my… alluring and glamorous nature turned them against me as soon as I trotted in the door, as well as turning their poor old husbands’ heads.”
Rarity snickered quietly at her own boast, before continuing with her tangent.
“I couldn’t help it that every stallion in town was lining up for a chance to court me, but I figured out how to deal with those old bats pretty quickly.”
“Well I’m gonna go and deal with ‘em right now. Outta my way Rarity, I’m gonna give ‘em a piece o’ my mind…”
Applejack bent low, snorted and scratched the floor with her hoof, ready to charge into the hall, when to her surprise, Rarity didn’t budge from in front of the door. Instead, she looked up and down Applejack with a perturbed look.
“Oh please, Applejack, don’t tell me you’re going to charge in there like… well...”
Rarity paused for a second to consider the ending to the condescending simile she’d just started.
“A charger. For once in your life you could forgo the ornery bumpkin routine and handle your disputes in a more civilised manner. I could teach you how…”
Applejack returned to a less savage stance, but donned a sceptical look.
“What is your ‘civilised’ way of handling things then?”
“Blackmail”
Applejack was disappointed, but showed little surprise, Rarity spoke to allay her.
“Well, not really blackmail. More, threatening to reveal personal secrets unless demands are met.”
“So blackmail.”
“Ugh, I wish I hadn’t said that now. Look, Applejack, dearie, these mares will use anything they know about you against you, from your perfectly innocuous bootlegging to the attention I get from the young Gentlecolts of this town. But you remember when our own to little sisters wrote that… accursed gossip column? Everypony in Ponyville has an embarrassing secret, and you or I, well, we’re nothing compared to those old witches.”
“Yeah, I remember when Applebloom did that, we gave her a real ear boxing for it. I can’t just turn around and do it myself. It’s… unethical.”
“Ethics? Oh come, has Twilight been lecturing you on Immanuel Kanter too? I know it’s not ‘treating ponies as ends’ or whatever Twilight would say on a philosophy drone, but really – If they don’t want their indiscretions brought up then they shouldn’t bring up yours. It’s only fair. So will you let me teach you how to quieten those shrieking old nags?”
“OK” said Applejack with unease. She was the element of honesty, and she’d only be telling the truth, so it was OK, right?
“Well, to start, let’s say Berry Punch says something about your… family business. That would be rich coming from her. All you’d need to do was bring up Pinkie Pie’s last post-Winter Wrap Up bash, and she’d keep her mouth shut for the rest of the evening.”
“How come?”
“Oh she made a terrible scene. Had so much to drink Mr Cake found her in the flour bin the next morning.”
The two friends shared a snigger. Rarity was on to something here.
“Well, that’s Berry Punch dealt with but what about the rest of them? You got dirt on every last one of them?”
“Oh Applejack please, I spend about six hours a week at the salon – I’m dressmaker to just about Everypony who’s anypony in this backwater, I daresay I have more dirt in my repertoire than you do in your fields.”
Applejack was too curious by this point to voice a disapproval of Rarity’s dreadfully twee remark, she simply stood in anticipation of the next scandal. Rarity stifled a wry laugh as she moved onto the next item on the PTA’s rap sheet.
“Let’s see… Oh! If Golden Harvest were to have anything to say about how you Apples earn your money you could ask her about her income. She’s been claiming a disability pension for her ‘swayback’ for years, but apparently she’s capable of making a miraculous recovery when she needs to haul a cartload of carrots to market.”
“Aha! Keep ‘em coming!”
“Well if Shoeshine tries to act high and mighty with you, you might ask her opinions on Zebras. It’s said she’s espoused some rather… unenlightened beliefs regarding the work ethic of our striped cousins. I even hear she’s still frightened of Zecora!”
Rarity carried on through her astonishing list of vices until the time had come for the pair to make their grand entrance. Applejack’s feelings of fury and apprehension had worn off, and she was now feeling the sweet smugness of a pony who knew something they weren’t supposed to. She swung the door open and let a wave of orange dusk into a dim hall full of humid air and dour faces. Whether the humid air had produced the dour faces or vice versa was unknown to the two young mares as Rarity took her usual seat in the farthest corner of the field of folding chairs and watched as Applejack cantered up to the front of the room and stood herself in the proud stance of somepony about unleash an unrestrained verbal smack down.
Rarity felt the same anticipation as she did waiting for curtain up in a theatre. As the first sanctimonious voice was raised from the crowd, Rarity predicted that the most spectacular production that Ponyville had ever seen was just about to begin.
“Looks like you finally made is, Miss Apple. Would you like to explain why you think it’s acceptable to have an underage filly sell alcoholic cider?”
“Certainly, Medley, if you’d like to explain why you think it’s acceptable to claim hooficures on your expenses at the Board of Weather Pegasi.”
Rarity was correct.
Medley sunk in her seat turned red in the face. The rest of the mares in the crowd however, while not as old and cronish as Rarity had made them out to be, still felt secure in their facades of respectability. Some took great exception to the contempt in which Applejack held their impromptu kangaroo court. They raised their hooves to speak and were shot down just as fast with quick-fire retorts, from suggestions of extramarital kisses at Hearthswarming parties, to a threat of revealing one mare’s current address to the Canterlot city watch.
The crowd grew frantic, and attempted to enter a shouting match with Ponyville’s pre-eminent belligerent farmer. It was no match. Rarity watched the whole sordid affair in paroxysms of laughter, as the mares who once looked down upon her either made swift escapes after having their dirty laundry aired in the town hall, or slinking out as they remembered any number of the countless faux pas that could be thrown back at them were they to challenge the mad orange farm girl who they’d foolishly summoned to their freshly exposed den of iniquity.
Before long, the hall was empty save for a self-satisfied Applejack and a highly amused Rarity. The mares of the PTA were now desperately galloping to make it to their husbands before the juiciest set of PTA minutes that Ponyville had ever seen did.
The two friends met each other by the doors, which the mass evacuation of the PTA had left open to the chilly air of the early night. Applejack glanced out at the lit windows of the quaint and innocent looking thatched-roof house around the edges of the square before turning to Rarity.
“Aww, Rarity, I know I give you stick for being a busybody, but I’ve gotta thank you for teaching me every embarrassing anecdote in Ponyville. Looks like your total lack of regard for personal privacy finally came in handy.”
“No problem dear, friends help one another out dear, I only wanted to see you tell those old witches what for.”
Rarity, raised her front leg to take the first step out onto the street, but suddenly wondered something.
“Applejack, what are you going to tell Applebloom?”
“That it’s time for her first drink of hard cider.”
