Equestria Girls: It's Showtime--Imagination Movers: The Curse of the Creative Block

Chapters

I. Rarity's Problem
II. Idea Warehouse
III. Smitty's Idea
IV. Dave's Idea
V. Rich's Idea
VII. The Solution
VI. Scott's Idea

I. Rarity's Problem

It was the Memorial Day weekend in the city of Canterlot. The sun was beating down a reasonable warmth of a temperature with just the right hint of a breeze. The air outside was just the right combo for a perfect weekend of relaxing.

“No no no no no! That is just not it!”

Well, if you were anyone else besides one Rarity Belle that is.

Sweetie Belle was reading a book in the living room while her older sister was in the study. She noticed how her sister sounded frustrated and was throwing out crumpled scraps of paper.

“Yes, there it is, there it is…there it isn’t!”

That particular rejected idea was thrown right out the doorway and onto Sweetie’s face, lightly hitting her in the nose. At last, she put down her bookmarked reading and got up into the study room. There were mannequins with completed outfits, all matching a recurring theme of high society America, except one was completely bare compared to all the rest. Strewn along the floor was a growing pile of crumpled paper and broken pencils.

There was a snap.

“Oh, darn it,” Rarity moaned, discarding a broken pen that leaked out its remaining ink. She took a sip from her coffee mug before plunging back into the fray of her work.

“Uh, Rarity?” Sweetie asked.

“AAH!!” In an instant, she flung her arms across the desk, sending a stack of clean papers into a pile while Rarity lost her balance and fell into said pile, legs spread in the air until they plopped onto the floor. “Oh, Sweetie Belle.”

“You alright, Rarity?”

“Oh, I am not alright,” Rarity whimpered. “Of all the worst possible things that could happen today, this is the. Worst. Possible. Thing.”

Already something was up; somehow her older sister was lacking her iconic dramatic flair, and appeared to be generally out of it.

“Since when do you drink so much coffee at 4 o’clock in the afternoon on a Saturday?” Sweetie asked.

“I am working to complete my deadline for the newest line of clothing in wake of Memorial Day,” Rarity answered, getting up. “It has never been done before and I jumped at the challenge! Oh, if only I knew just how taxing it would truly be.”

“Aren’t stores closed on Memorial Day?” Sweetie said, as if stating the obvious.

“Of course they are, that’s why this line is a limited time offer! The client put in an order that is to be shipped out tomorrow, and I have this one singular outfit that is haunting me to no end!”

Finally, that wailing dramatic flair had returned, much to Sweetie’s annoyance. Still, it was what made her sister stand out and different.

“What’s the matter with it?”

“The matter is that my mind is muddled with all sorts of ideas, except I haven’t the slightest idea on how to act on it!” She fell to her knees. “It is simply the worst thing that can happen to an artist.” She gulped, and screamed.

“I’VE GOT A CREATIVE BLOCK!!!”

It was lucky that the windows did not shatter from the high frequency, again. Sweetie watched with sympathy at the sight of her sister wailing into her palms while ruining her mascara, she also noticed how much of a complete mess her hair was.

“That…sounds bad,” Sweetie said.

“It’s worse than bad,” Rarity cried. “It’s worse than worse than bad! Because I have a Creative Block…I can’t…I can’t…”

Thanks to her sobbing, she could no longer form complete sentences.

“You can’t…finish your order?” Sweetie offered.

“And worse still: I don’t know what to make! How can I become a star of the fashion world if I am stuck with a creative block all before Graduation? People can’t see any potential in my abilities if I can’t make a simple dress!”

Though Sweetie was worried for her sister’s well being, she did feel disgusted at the sight of an overturned coffee mug spilling its contents from the desk and onto the carpet.

“Maybe…you should take a break,” she offered.

“A break?” Rarity snapped up. “But I can’t take a break, not when I’m this close to completing the client’s order and it’s this close to Memorial Day—!”

“Good, that’s very good.”

“Sweetie, darling, what are you doing?”

“Why don’t you try visiting the spa? I heard it’s quite relaxing.”

“Sweetie Belle, I would very much appreciate it if you would stop pushing me—”

“Why don’t you go visit your friends at the mall? And make sure to RELAX!!!”

And as soon as Sweetie Belle had finished shoving her older sister out the door of their home, she slammed it shut, locked it, chained it, covered the windows, and turned off all the lights before turning on some heavy metal music with a load of flashing colored spotlights and a vibrating bassline.

Rarity stood still on the porch of her house in slight shock and surprise.

Then she considered her sister’s words. “Hmm, well I suppose I could visit the mall. Maybe Applejack will be on her lunch break.”

The mall was as crowded as it usually was, it being the Memorial Day weekend and all. The stand that Applejack worked at had a modest busy day that was alright but not exactly thrilling either. The upside was that she would have all day tomorrow to help out with setting up the annual Memorial Day barbeque at her family’s farm, leaving Monday free to…pay her respects.

She took a longing sip from her smoothie. Topics such as the dearly departed was never easy to dwell on, even after years of finding closure.

Presently, she noticed her friend Rarity sitting on a bench in the relatively empty concourse.

“Hiya, Rarity,” she greeted.

“Hmm…” was the reply.

Applejack went up to sit with her. “Somethin’ wrong, Rares?”

She was greeted with a stretched out grabby-hand, so she responded in kind by offering her smoothie, which her downcast friend accepted and immediately brightened up from.

“Feelin’ better?”

“Much better. Thank you,” Rarity smiled, then returned to frowning.

“Ya’re lookin’ more dreary than a rainy day.”

“Oh, I am, darling,” Rarity sighed. “The truth is, I have got a problem.”

“Well, tha’ doesn’t sound too bad.”

“My problem is that I have yet to complete my deadline for a client ahead of Memorial Day, and I just happened to catch a severe case of a Creative Block.”

Truth be told, Applejack had not had that much experience with a creative block. She knew full well of its troubling effects, but as she focused more on her physical labor on the farm and at school, the present situation presented a puzzling conundrum.

“Tha’ sounds…bad,” she offered.

“It’s more worse!” Rarity cried. “My entire life is on the line, my dream of becoming a fashion star! How am I to get over this Creative Block?!”

“First of all, calm yerself!” Applejack affirmed. “Secondly, Ah will admit, Ah don’ exactly have the best experience with…‘Creative Block’, but Ah will help ya the best Ah can.”

She was immediately enveloped in a friendly crushing hug.

“Oh, thank you so much, darling!”

“Yeah uh…yer welcome, Rares.”

Applejack gently moved out of the hug, not that she appreciated it. Rarity looked like she desperately needed it.

“Whatever ya need, we will work together to overcome it.”

“I just don’t know what to do,” Rarity moaned. “I feel like my situation…I don’t know.”

“You got a situation that needs imagination?”

“Why yes!”

“Rarity, what’re ya lookin’ at?” Applejack asked.

“Look over there!”

She followed Rarity’s pointed finger over to a wall monitor that was playing an infomercial, and it could not have been more weirder than its bare concept. It showed four guys in matching blue jumpsuits struggling to get a bucket off of one of their shoes, showing the many different ideas they tried to solve the problem, ending with a flying bucket.

That was the weirdest part of it all, the very thing it was advertising: problem solving, as shown by the scrolling text “Imagination Movers Solve Problems.”

“You got a situation that needs imagination?” All four of the guys in blue entered the frame, smiling big and brightly. “Call us today!”

The infomercial ended with a still frame on a logo that said, in the most wackiest and ridiculous of fonts,

Applejack stared slack-jawed, frozen with utter bemusement. “Wut…did Ah just watch?”

“It’s perfect!”

“Ah! What’ya do that for, Rarity?”

“Don’t you understand?! This is the most perfect opportunity to solve my problem! Quickly, I must find a phonebook!”

In an instant, the young fashionista rushed out of sight as if she had forgotten to be mopey and depressed, leaving behind the cowgirl farmer at a loss for words.

“Who uses a phonebook anymore?” was all she could say.

Author's Note

And so begins my next foray into the It's Showtime series, this time from another show from my childhood that has aged surprisingly well. I guess Disney has a better track record of quality content, it certainly shows.

Next time, it's the Idea Warehouse!

II. Idea Warehouse

Inside the fabled Idea Warehouse, it was business as usual. Meaning to say, that there were no businesses occurring at the time. The four men who were currently occupying the room were going about with their daily hobbies. These were the Imagination Movers, all wearing matching blue jumpsuits, red lines down their left arms and red gear on the right shoulder, black sneakers, and their group logo on their backs. Each of them also had their name tag plastered on their left breast area.

Nearest to the main entrance was a man in a cowboy hat, glasses and a small goatee who had an extra pocket on his right leg. He was currently whistling a gentle tune as he watered the plants on the three-level rack. This was Mover Smitty, the guitarist for the band and researcher.

Near where the closet was opened, a man with long hair, bigger goatee and a pair of specialized red goggles over his forehead was rubbing a cloth over a porcelain model of a brown burrow with a colorful carpet over its back. He was very excited about his task, as evident from a small kiss he gave to its forehead. This was Mover Scott, who played the most variety of instruments for the band and lover of everything burrows.

Off to the east hallway, a man with curly hair underneath a backwards red baseball cap was a man tinkering with a set of tools on a homemade conveyer belt. He wiped the sweat from his brow then got right back to hammering the metal with a mallet. This was Mover Dave, the bassist for the band and inventor.

In fact, it was Scott who said in a disembodied voice: “The Curse of the Creative Block,” which no one noticed whatsoever.

As Smitty was repotting a plant, a brown mouse with orange hair and black beady eyes popped out of the pot in question, startling Smitty.

“Oh, sorry, little buddy,” he apologized. “I didn’t see you there.”

This was Warehouse Mouse, the resident furry wall mouse of the Idea Warehouse.

“‘Mitty, ‘Mitty, ‘Mitty, ‘Mitty!” Warehouse Mouse exclaimed, holding up a small block of cheese.

“Oh, you were hiding your cheese in the empty pot,” Smitty realized.

“Uhuh.”

“It’s alright, little buddy. I’ll find another pot for this plant.”

At that moment, jogging out of the west hallway and wearing a jogging outfit also stylized around gears, was the last of the Movers. He had black hair and a long extra pocket along his right calf. This was Mover Rich, the drummer and lead vocalist of the band and resident athlete.

“Hey, Rich,” Scott waved as Rich jogged up to the fridge, “how’s it going?”

Rich took out a glass of milk, drinking it as his body relaxed. “Mmm, it’s going great, Scott. I was just taking a jog around the Warehouse and I managed to beat my record.”

“Awesome!”

“Hey, that’s great!” Dave complimented.

Rich then looked at the reader. “Exercising is very important to keep your body in shape.”

“So is eating your fruits and vegetables,” Smitty added, repotting his plant.

“It also helps me come up with new ideas.”

“Yeah, that happens to me too,” Dave said. “Sometimes I get so focused on my inventions, I come up with new ideas for inventions while I’m inventing!”

“Yeah!” Scott beamed. “It’s just like when I’m polishing my porcelain burrow, I suddenly start thinking of whales!”

The response was the rest of the Movers to exchange bemused and confused looks, even from Warehouse Mouse.

Scott soon realized the awkwardness of the situation and quickly rebounded, “Uh…hey! Have we got any new messages?”

“I don’t know. Let’s find out!” Rich replied, pressing the messaging button on their Warehouse phone.

“You have...one new message, surprisingly,” the phone voice answered.

Suffice to say, this was cause for excitement among the Movers.

“Yeah! A new customer!”

“We never got any voicemails before!” Scott said, replacing his porcelain burrow before joining the others around the phone.

“Well, people don’t exactly use phone books anymore these days,” the phone retorted.

The Movers nodded. “That’s true,” Dave said.

“Can you play the message for us?” Smitty asked.

“Of course I can. What do you think I am, television?”

“That does sound cool,” Scott said.

There was a slight awkward silence that followed, even from the phone.

Scott sheepishly grinned. “Sorry.”

“Ahem, before I was interrupted,” the phone said, “here is the message.”

A loud beep was heard from the speaker, followed by a young girl’s voice.

“Hello? Is this the Imagination Movers?”

“That’s us!” the Movers replied. Of course the speaker could not respond to them.

“My name is Rarity Belle, and I have…a situation, that needs…imagination.”

“Huh. Somehow it sounds less cool when other people say it,” Scott remarked.

“Now, if only I could find the address…oh, where is it under all of this miniscule text? Uh, Applejack, darling? Can you help me? I can’t seem to find the address.”

Now another young girl’s voice entered the message, but instead her accent was that of a stereotypical western cowgirl.

“Somethin’ the matter, Rares?”

“I can’t seem to find the address in this small text.”

“Darn phone books.”

“Now we know why people don’t use phone books anymore,” Scott remarked.

“Yep,” Dave said.

“Uhuh,” Smitty added.

“Ah, here it is,” the cowgirl said. “Ain’t tha’ far away. C’mon, we’ll take the truck.”

“Just a second,” the first girl said. “I have to finish my message.”

“Jus’ hang up. Ah’m pretty sure they got—”

A sudden click later and the message finished.

“Okay, so…I haven’t done this in a while and I’ve forgotten what the procedure is,” the phone said after a brief silence.

“Thanks,” the Movers said.

“So, when do you think they will arrive?” Dave asked.

Just then, the doorbell rang.

“Right now!” Scott beamed.

“A customer!” the Movers cheered.

Smitty quickly stopped Rich. “Uh, Rich? You might want to change.”

“Oh, right,” Rich replied, speeding off and back again in his matching blue jumpsuit.

Soon, all four Movers stood at attention before the front door, waiting anxiously as Dave answered the door. Rarity and Applejack were surprised by the sudden answer.

“Is this…the Idea Warehouse?” Rarity asked.

“Yes it is,” Rich smiled. “I’m Rich.”

“I’m Dave.”

“I’m Smitty.”

“And I’m Scott! We’re the Imagination Movers!”

Warehouse Mouse suddenly popped up, startling Rarity.

“Ah! A mouse!”

Applejack stepped between the two. “Woah now there, little fella.”

“Oh, that’s Warehouse Mouse,” Smitty explained. “It’s alright, he’s very friendly.”

Despite the reassurance, the little brown mouse huffed with indignity before scampering off, but not before he grabbed a crumb of cheese left on the table.

“Sorry about that,” Rich said.

“It’s quite alright,” Rarity calmed down. “In all honesty, I should not be so surprised by these kinds of situations.”

“One of our friends takes care ‘a little critters like yer Warehouse Mouse,” Applejack explained.

“Even burrows?” Scott said, making a pleadin sort of face.

“…once in a while.”

The Mover in question responded with a blissful smile on his face.

Smitty quickly brought him back to the Idea Warehouse. “Scott.”

Scott meekly jumped. “Sorry.”

“Anyway, you said you had a problem.”

“Yes,” Rarity sadly replied. “It has been troubling.”

“Don’t worry,” Dave assured. “You’ve come to the right place.”

“We’re the Imagination Movers,” Rich added. “Solving problems is what we do best.”

“We could certainly use some imagination fer our situation,” Applejack said.

This caused the Movers to laugh good-heartedly, bringing in the laughs from their customers as well.

“That’s a good one!” Scott beamed.

“Thank ya.”

After their little laughing session quickly cleared up, Smitty began the conversation. “So, what’s the problem?”

Rarity became somber. “Oh, it’s simply dreadful. I’m a fashion designer, you see, and I am hoping to find a career with my talents in the future.”

“Sounds fun!” Scott offered. “I have all kinds of crazy clothes.”

“You should have seen what he was wearing yesterday,” Dave grinned. “There was this big hat…”

“And this big shirt…” Smitty added.

“And these massive shoes,” Rich finished.

“I looked just like a human burrow!” Scott beamed with pride. “Hee haw!”

To the shock of the girls, the Movers all bounced around playfully while imitating the sounds of the common burrow. Scott of course was taking the best advantage of his one love.

“Goodness gracious. Is this what they do in their spare time?” Rarity starred.

“They sure are a rowdy bunch,” Applejack nodded.

After a brief bout of uproaring laughter, Rich turned back to the girls. “Sorry about that. Please continue.”

“Yes, now where was I?”

“You were hoping to find a career with your talents in the future?” Scott offered.

“Ah, yes.” Rarity sighed. “I discovered it yesterday, and I had hoped that it would go away but it got worse. Of all the worst possible things that could have happened, this is the! Worst!! POSSIBLE!!! THING!!!!”

She paused to catch her breath from her sudden freakout.

“I discovered that I have a Creative Block!”

“CREATIVE BLOCK?!!!”

Suddenly, every one of the Movers lurched back gasping with horrified facial expressions, while Scott ducked for cover behind Dave and Smitty. Warehouse Mouse heard the entire commotion from inside his home-in-the-wall, shrugging as he continued to watch his favorite TV program.

Smitty recovered first. “Oh, boy! That’s a problem if I ever heard one!”

“Creative Blocks scare me!” Scott whimpered, “even more so than the dark!”

Rarity buried her face in her hands as she went over and slumped into the sofa. “This could not have been more hopeless.”

“What’s wrong?” Dave asked.

“I have to complete an order for a client that needs to be delivered by tomorrow, but this Creative Block just so happened to hit me right as I was working on the final design!” She then got down on her knees in a praying position, near on bawling her eyes out. “Help me, Imagination Movers! You are my only hope!”

While Applejack scoffed at the dramatic antics of her friend, she could feel the pain she was experiencing eating at her own soul to see poor Rarity in such distress.

“Don’t worry, Rarity,” Rich assured with a smile. “You came to the right place.”

“That’s right,” Smitty added. “We can solve any problem, and trust me, we’ve all been through our own Creative Blocks before.”

“Sometimes when I feel like my inventions are going right, I suddenly feel like they’re going wrong,” Dave offered.

“Sometimes I struggle to find the right beat for a new song,” Rich added.

“And sometimes I get so stressed out, I forget how to tie my shoes!” Scott cried, displaying the mangled knots of his left shoelaces.

“Yeah, we all go through somethin’ er other like this,” Applejack agreed.

A series of nods circulated among the group, even from the distressed young fashionista.

“Guys, this is quite a problem," Dave said.

“You're right! It's not just any problem,” Scott said. “It’s an…”

“Idea Emergency!” the guys finished together.

By the entrance, a blaring siren sounded out, startling the girls.

“We need to figure out…” Rich began.

“How to help Rarity overcome her Creative Block…” Dave continued.

“So she can finish her deadline on time…” Smitty picked up.

“And that means we need some good ideas!” Scott finished.

“Let’s brainstorm!” the guys said together.

And so began that famous routine that has become synonymous with the Imagination Movers. With Rich and his Scribble-Sticks, Scott and his Wobble-Goggles, Dave and his Gadget-Hat, and Smitty and his Journal, the guys came together in a storming cloud in the room that blew everything away that wasn’t nailed down.

Rarity went for cover holding onto Applejack while the farm girl held onto her Stetson for dear life, all the while watching with wonder as the guys sang about thinking of ideas while images of a piece of blank paper and pencil, a pillow, a fancy portrait, and a fishing rod flew out of Smitty’s Journal.

All the while the guys were dancing around like crazed monkeys, ending with Warehouse Mouse singing the repeating final lyric with a cartoonishly deep voice for a mouse.

“Reach high!” Rich raised his hands up.

“Think big!” Dave spread his arms out.

“Work hard!” Scott flexed his muscles.

“Have fun!” Smitty pumped his fist in the air, ending the song with the guys putting their hands together before pumping them up with great enthusiasm.

And just like that, any semblance of that Brainstorm had disappeared as soon as it appeared.

“Whoo! Now that felt good,” Rich said.

“No Creative Block for me over here!” Scott chimed in.

“Nor me,” Dave added.

“Same over here,” Smitty added, shivering at the impeccable thought.

“Wut just happened?” Applejack mumbled, straightening her hat.

“We were brainstorming,” Smitty explained. “It’s how we come up with so many new ideas.”

“It’s very fun to do once you get the general idea of it,” Scott added.

“Yeah!” Dave pulled out a lightbulb from his hat, smiling like a proud kid on Christmas as it brightened in his hand. “So many good ideas!”

“Now Ah know how Pinkie feels…”

Author's Note

You know how in the show there's a running gag that the phone never has any messages? Well, that ends today!
So the guys have had their brainstorm...up next we will see these ideas in action.

III. Smitty's Idea

“Alright, so who’s got an idea?” Rich asked the group.

“I gotta ask, how do y’all come up with so many ideas?” Applejack asked.

“Well, ideas are inspired by something, that’s how innovations are made,” Smitty explained. He then pulled out his Journal from his extra pocket.

“What’cha got there?”

“It’s my Journal. It’s where I keep all the information I’ve collected stored to help with solving problems.”

He then opened up to a page, casting a medium-bright beacon as images floated out and above their heads.

“Woah, nelly.”

The first image was of a standard traffic light.

“The idea for traffic lights came from the growing number of cars on the road, and how dangerous it was to drive without precise directions.”

“Amazing,” Rarity gawked.

The next image was of a standardized farm tractor.

“The idea for tractors were inspired by the train—”

A classic steam engine appeared next to the tractor.

“To better haul all the heavy equipment and crops stronger than animals can,” Applejack finished.

“Yeah!” Smitty grinned.

Lastly, a pair of orange diving flippers appeared.

“And flippers were inspired by the way that animals, like dolphins and penguins, swim in the water.”

With that, Smitty closed his Journal and all of the images zoomed right back into the pages. Suffice to say, the girls were beyond impressed.

“Oh, that was wonderful,” Rarity smiled.

“You’re welcome,” Smitty replied.

“So, perhaps I just need to find new inspiration then? But where do I find new inspiration?”

“You can find it all around you,” Rich put in. “Just by looking at animals, the environment, or even in your own room you can find inspiration.”

“Come on, let’s look around!” Scott waved.

“Wait!” Rarity suddenly interrupted. Her eyes then settled on the Movers with an intense amount of focusing, specifically their jumpsuits. “The blue is standard but the slight plops of red complement it quite nicely.”

“Thank you!” Rich replied, smiling.

“And Smitty and Dave, each of your hats are quite a nice add on that distinguish yourselves without terribly neutering the color scheme.”

“Wow! I never thought of that!” Dave gawked.

“You have some amazing focusing,” Smitty complimented.

“Thank you.” Her thankful smile was brightening, and she felt that her stress was being relieved, then she brought a hand to her chin. “Why yes, yes I have something!”

“You do?!” Scott cried.

“Quick! I need some paper and a pencil!”

“Coming right up!” Dave replied, reaching into his hat and taking out a pencil and blank canvas.

“Thank you.” She immediately got into focus mode, peering her eyes over the blank canvas while tapping the pencil. “Now, let’s see…”

The Movers and Applejack watched over her with anticipation, hoping that she had thought of something.

She then traced a line, “Yes…,” followed by another across the midsection, “Yes…,” another line that traced a pattern of peaks and valleys, followed by a spiral pattern, “Yes…!”

It appeared to be that she had finally found a pattern of her design…until she hesitated for a single moment.

“Oh…no, that’s not right at all!”

And just like that, the idea had fallen flat on its face and died.

“I almost had it, it was right there! What went wrong?!”

Applejack was quick to comfort. “It’s alrigh’, Rarity. Just breathe in and out, in and out…”

Rarity did so, slowly but surely quenching her stress induced anger, though she almost nodded off during the routine but no one noticed. She rubbed her eyes. “Thank you, Applejack. I feel better.”

Dave snapped his finger in annoyance. “Bummer. I hate it when that happens.”

"I hate it when an idea just slips right out of my mind like that!" Scott frowned.

“Maybe we could try looking for another inspiration,” Smitty suggested. “Let’s go ask Warehouse Mouse.”

The girls followed the Movers over to the wall covered in giant gears behind the television. Applejack caught up to Smitty as he knocked on the wall where a hole in one of the gears was.

“Hey, little buddy?” he asked. “We kinda need your help for a problem.”

Immediately, the hole opened up as a giant door to reveal Warehouse Mouse. He waved at Smitty.

“Hi, ‘Mitty.”

He then noticed Applejack, who also happened to have a cowboy-esque hat.

“…and…‘Mitty?”

The brown mouse zipped his eyes between the two hatted humans, absolutely gobsmacked at what he was seeing.

“‘Mitty, and ‘Mitty, and ‘Mitty, and ‘Mitty, and ‘Mitty, and ‘Mitty, and ‘Mitty—WAAAGH!!!!”

Poor Warehouse Mouse was so startled that he lost his balance and fell out of his observatory in the wall, but Applejack managed to catch the critter just in time.

“Woah there, little fella. Ah gotcha.”

The brown mouse looked up at the face of his rescuer, startled at how she had almost the exact same hat as his best buddy Smitty. He shook with fear and could not form a cohesive sentence, he was that scared.

“It’s alright, little buddy,” Smitty calmed.

“‘MITTY!!!” Warehouse Mouse zipped right out of Applejack’s hands only to crash right into Smitty’s familiar chest, babbling incoherently.

“That’s Applejack,” Smitty calmly explained. “She’s here with her friend Rarity to help her with her Creative Block.”

Warehouse Mouse dared to peek at the cowgirl, who gave a friendly, “Howdy.”

“H-H-H-How…dy,” the mouse hesitantly waved. He looked back to Smitty. “Insmeration?”

“Yeah, we were hoping you could help Rarity get inspired by something,” Smitty smiled.

Warehouse Mouse thought for a moment, then made an “Aha!” before zipping back into his home-in-the-wall. Looking around, he pondered at the various furniture and appliances he kept, then he looked in the fridge and smiled. In an instant, he zipped right back outside while holding a plate of fresh swiss cheese.

“Cheese!” he smiled.

“Ya brought out some cheese?” Applejack raised a brow.

“Yeah!”

“Wut could’ya make with cheese?”

Warehouse Mouse angrily spat out words in his mousey language that she could not understand, to which she held out her hands in defense. Instead of getting involved, she turned to Rarity.

“Feelin’ inspired by somethin’?” she asked.

Rarity brought a finger to her chin in a focused manner, then rubbed her temple before clutching her head in what appeared to be physical agony. “Oh, I had something…and then I lost it again!” she wailed, dropping to her knees. “I am sorry, Warehouse Mouse, but I just cannot find any inspiration in your cheese.”

Warehouse Mouse lightly sighed, then said, “Okay,” before darting back into his home without another word.

“This is getting me nowhere,” Rarity cried.

“It’s alright,” Dave consoled. “It just means we haven’t tried out the right idea yet.”

“Where else could we find some inspiration?” Rich asked.

“Hmm, maybe we could ask Knit Knots?” Scott suggested.

Rarity was confused. Knit Knots was a semi-normal sounding name by the standards of Canterlot City, but it wasn’t by much compared to the names of the Movers. “Who is…er, Knit Knots?” she asked.

“Knit Knots is our neighbor,” Rich explained. “He makes boring things.”

“Borin’? Are ya serious?” Applejack asked.

“No really,” Scott put in. “He likes everything to be entirely boring and nothing exciting, like boring clothes…”

“Boring cereal,” Dave added.

“Boring books,” Smitty added.

“And even boring music,” Rich finished.

“We even threw Knit Knots a birthday party, and it was the most boring thing I have ever done,” Scott said, “but it was worth it just to celebrate his birthday!”

Applejack could only take in the information dump with a calm but forced face. “Sounds like Pinkie could git along with these fellas,” she whispered.

“It certainly appears that way,” Rarity whispered back, then she spoke to the Movers. “Well, let us go meet Mr. Knit Knots.”

“Yeah!” the Movers cheered.

“Come on, his office is just down the hall!” Scott led the way.

Enraptured in the enthusiasm, Rarity followed the Movers to wherever they were leading her, while Applejack struggled to comprehend the environment around her, especially the white backdrop that was dotted with all sizes of colorful dots. She soon realized the group was leaving her behind and quickly rushed to catch up.

After following the Movers through the hallways of bricks, they arrived at a plain beige door. It was really the stark opposite compared to the colorful zaniness that the Idea Warehouse presented.

“Here we are: Knit Knots’ office,” Rich present.

“The door certainly gives me ideas of what is inside,” Rarity replied.

“That’s the spirit!” Scott grinned.

Inside the office, a middle-aged man in glasses and a fully beige business suit was busy stamping beige forms with his beige stamp, perfectly content with the boring uninteresting atmosphere. Then he heard a knock at the door, startling him. He turned to a young girl filing beige papers in the beige filing cabinet. “Nina?”

For all intents and purposes, Nina was the complete opposite to the boring beige environment. She wore a bright white shirt and matching bright red pants and jacket with black pigtails and cherry red hair-ties. “Yes, Uncle Knit Knots?” she asked.

“Could you please answer the door,” Knit Knots asked, “and please tell them to politely not disturb me while I’m working?”

“Okay,” Nina smiled, ignoring her uncle’s annoyed sigh.

It was very well-known that Knit Knots, the entrepreneur of all things plain and boring, did not like anything that was remotely exciting, but he was polite about his dislike, because being upset about it would be much too exciting.

And speaking of excitement, practically the repeating irk of his dislike was just outside his office door.

“Hi, guys!” Nina smiled.

“Nina!” the Movers smiled back. “Knit Knots!”

“Hello, Movers,” Knit Knots replied back, struggling to keep calm and boring.

“What are you guys doing here?” Nina asked.

“We got a customer with a problem,” Rich explained.

“So we thought we could bring Rarity over here to find some inspiration to overcome her Creative Block,” Smitty finished.

“Creative Block? Oh, that sounds much too exciting for me,” Knit Knots grimaced.

“Oh, I hate it when that happens,” Nina agreed.

“We were hoping that something in your office could help Rarity get an idea,” Dave added.

“Please?” Scott begged.

While Knit Knots didn’t get along with the Movers, or enjoyed how his niece would tag along with them on their exciting adventures in the Warehouse, it was considered rude to refuse help when people asked politely. Politeness was just the right kind of boring: where everyone agreed on its boringness.

“Very well, come in,” he relented.

“Yeah!” the Movers cheered.

“But please, try not to make such a fuss,” he added.

“Yeah…” the Movers tried again with less enthusiasm.

“Much better, thank you.”

With permission granted, the Movers stepped aside to allow Rarity to step inside the office. It was exactly as she expected: everything was a dull and boring beige, the perfect anti-Pinkie Pie environment. Hardly anything was round, most of everything in sight had straight lines to them…

“Hmm…”

And yet…everything was consistent. There was a theme to the room, and everything complimented that theme to the letter.

“Yes…”

If only…perhaps maybe…if…if…

“Ugh…no.”

She admitted defeat.

“No?” Scott asked, repeating.

“As much as it is lovely that Mr. Knit Knots’ office is consistent in reflecting his…personality…”

Knit Knots brightened up at the compliment. It wasn’t often that a complete stranger would say anything nice about his love for all things boring.

“But I just don’t see how it could inspire me.”

The Movers were also not happy with her revelation.

“Aw, man. Bummer,” Dave sighed.

“Well, thanks anyway, Knit Knots; Nina,” Rich said. “We’ll just be heading back to the Warehouse.”

“Goodbye, guys!” Nina waved.

“Goodbye, Nina! Goodbye, Knit Knots!” the Movers waved. They soon left, leaving the door open.

“They could have at least closed the door,” Knit Knots grumbled.

Just then, Applejack arrived at Knit Knots’ opened door, out of breath. “Hoo, did y’all see the giant dots?” She was given no response, noticing that the others were absent. “Nevermind.”

"If you're looking for the Movers, they went back to the Warehouse," Nina explained.

"Thanks," Applejack nodded.

She then left, leaving Knit Knots to shake his head, stamping another boring form.

Author's Note

What I like about Knit Knots is that he was never potrayed as an antagonist, just a grumpy neighbor, like Squidward.

IV. Dave's Idea

Applejack soon caught up to the others. “Hoowee, it’s like a maze out there. Ah got lost jus’ tryna git back.”

“We’ve been thinking about remodeling the Warehouse lately,” Dave replied. “Sometimes it’s like getting lost in a maze.”

“Not like getting lost in the Lost and Found Room,” Scott paled, “or the Maze Room either.”

“Wut the heck are y’all talkin’ about?” Applejack asked.

“Well, see, in the Warehouse there are all kinds of rooms,” Rich explained. “Here, I’ll show you with my Scribble-Sticks.” He pulled out a pair of sticks that he kept in his extra pocket, not like Smitty’s extra pocket.

“Just watch, it’s amazing!” Scott whispered to the girls.

“Watch what?” Rarity asked.

She was soon answered. Rich pressed a button on his Scribble-Sticks, turning the tips to a glowing blue which he used to literally draw floating images in the air. Rich used this opportunity as an example of his skills to draw a perfect rendition of a set of gears that actually spun in midair. To say the girls were beyond amazed was an understatement.

“Pretty cool, huh?” he smiled with pride.

“It…it is quite simply beyond amazing!” Rarity beamed.

“Ah git the feelin’ that we haven't seen the last ‘a what this place has in store,” Applejack remarked.

“And that’s not a bad thing, Applejack.” She turned back to the Movers. “What kinds of rooms does your Warehouse have?”

“Well…” Rich drew out a sketch of a block of Swiss cheese. “There’s a Cheese Room.”

At the sound of the sacred word, Warehouse Mouse popped right out of nowhere. “Cheese, haha!”

The group chuckled at the furry critter’s shenanigans.

“There’s also a Really Hot Room,” Dave added as Rich sketched an image of a sandcastle with a heating sun, “for when you want to beat the cold.”

“There’s even an Opposite Room,” Smitty added. “The last time we went in there, Scott was wearing his shoes on his hands!”

That earned another chuckle from the group again.

“The Opposite Room is so confusing,” Scott defended. “What’s right is left, what’s down is up, and what’s fun is sad.”

“There was also that time we accidentally left the Wind Room open,” Rich said.

“And that time we tried to paint Knit-Knots beige in the Painting Room,” Dave added.

“Why would’ya need ta paint Knit-Knots more beige?” Applejack asked.

“Unless he was not wearing any beige, that is,” Rarity pointed out.

“Well, that day he got stuck in my special high-bouncing suit,” Dave explained, “which also happened to be right before his meeting with the Boring Club.”

“Why didn’t it work?”

“When the paint dried, Knit-Knots could barely walk around,” Scott added.

“Oh…then you must have used multiple layers.”

“Well, we had to make the entire suit beige.”

“I see what you mean.” She sighed. “I still don’t know how to overcome this Block. All of these rooms give me ideas, but…”

“Somethin’ the matter?” Applejack asked.

“It is really simple to get ideas, but I just don’t know how to bring them together.”

At that moment, a little spark ignited inside Dave’s mind. “Wait a second. That gives me an idea.”

In an instant, the tinkering Mover rushed out of the scene in a zipping motion as the sounds of clanking and power tools were soon followed.

“Wut’s he up to now?” Applejack wondered.

“Dave’s probably gonna invent a new gadget to help Rarity with her problem,” Scott explained.

“Oh…”

There was a long and awkward silence between the girls and the remaining Movers, with only the noises of Dave’s building to add music to the scene.

“He’s…probably gonna be like this for a while,” Rich said. “Let’s get something to eat.”

The Movers all agreed to the notion and headed off to the fridge, leaving the girls on their own to watch Dave tinker away.

“Why does he wear his hat backwards?” Rarity pondered out of thin air.

“‘Cause some people are really into that,” Applejack answered. “How come ya haven't tried that out yet with yer designs?”

“Because it is simply unappealing to look at,” the young fashionista huffed.

“Do ya even wear the hats ya make?”

“Of course I do! You’ve seen me doing it!”

Applejack rolled her eyes.

“And you’re one to talk, you’re always wearing that same hat every day.”

“Wut, yer gonna try yer hand at wearin’ it?”

“I just might.”

Rarity turned her chin up in a huff and joined the Movers at the fridge, followed by Applejack who pinched the bridge of her nose in annoyance. Rarity was one of the greatest friends she could have asked for, but the amount of stuff that got into her head was sometimes too much to handle for the farm girl.

Once again, in front of a background of giant multi-colored circles, Rarity confidently walked along while wearing Applejack’s prized Stetson. Just then, Applejack swiped the hat back, giving her friend the leery eyes of suspicion before walking off, leaving Rarity perplexed and at a loss for words.

Rarity sat hunched over the counter on one of the respective stools, daintily sipping from a simple glass of milk. Applejack sat next to her, drinking out of an apple juice carton.

“It ain’t like my family’s farm,” she said, “but it sure is tasty.”

Smitty was carefully cutting up carrot slices on a cutting board. He then dumped them all into a bowl that he and the other Movers shared from.

“Fruits and vegetables are always my favorite snack,” he said. “They’re not only good for your body and brain, you can also grow them at home.”

“Ah hear that,” Applejack agreed.

Suddenly, Dave jumped into the scene out of nowhere.

“Hey guys!”

“Ahh!” Applejack jumped, nearly dropping her juicebox.

“I finished it!”

The Movers immediately gathered at attention.

“That’s great!” Rich said.

There was a slight awkward silence between the four friends and two customers.

“Uh…finished what?” Smitty finally asked.

“My latest invention!” Dave exclaimed. “Come on, I’ll show you.”

Rarity and Applejack shared a look between them, and shrugged in confusion. Between the two of them, the eccentricity of the Movers was like just a simple day of spending it with their own bunch of friends. It was not a friendship in a stereotypical sense of the term, but one that was cherished nonetheless, which is what they respected most about the Imagination Movers: despite being so zany, they connected so well with each other it was impossible for them to be separated at any time.

Rarity placed her empty glass on the counter, getting up to follow behind the Movers. They did not have to travel far, because the mechanical contraption on focus was placed right off to the side, tucked in a corner right beside the east hallway, where all sorts of machine parts and tools were stored and kept on display.

At first glance, Rarity was confused as to what exactly she was to think about it. It appeared to be a giant box at chin height, with a small opened-mouth slot in front of the group of onlookers, and where Dave was standing, smiling in pride at his creation, appeared to be a computer screen with a monitor keypad attached at the base of the screen, which was held high above the ground. It was covered in the Movers’ color scheme of blue with yellow trims, complete with a red siren light on top.

“Ta-da!” Dave grinned. “It’s my brand-new invention, patent-pending: the Idea Creator!”

The onlookers were certainly captivated by the look of the life-sized contraption, but more so confused than anything else.

“Um…well, uh…” Smitty stammered, at a loss for words.

“Uh, Dave?” Rich asked.

“Yeah?”

“It looks great, don’t get me wrong, but uh…we kinda already have our own Idea Creators.” He pointed to his own head.

“Yeah, that’s what you use your brain for!” Scott added. “Coming up with ideas!” He then noticed something. “Isn’t that a printer attached to a computer?”

“Our brains are definitely important,” Dave said, ignoring his friend, “but sometimes you get into a situation where it’s hard to think. Say: you come up with ideas, but have no idea how to string them together.”

Rarity nodded. “Yes.”

“Go on,” Applejack added.

“Well, that’s what the Idea Creator is for!” Dave then got into position for a live demonstration. “Just simply type in the idea that comes to your mind on the keypad, and by pressing enter, that idea appears right out through here—”

He indicated the mouth of the slot.

“Just like that!” he smiled with pride. “Here, let me show you.”

The inventing Mover quickly tapped his fingers against the keyboard, while the machine itself made some quirky yet amusing noises, like those sound effects that would be found in old cartoons. A small yet noticeable cloud of smoke emitted from a small gap in the machine’s construction, much to the confusion of the onlookers.

“Uh…should we be seeing smoke?” Smitty asked.

“I don’t think so,” Rich said.

“Ah hope he knows what he’s doin’,” Applejack added.

At that moment, the siren light on top of the machine activated, right as Dave quickly stepped back from the controls. As he did, a stuttering noise began spitting out a sheet of paper from the slot, slowly moving outwards towards the gathered group as the flaps opened up to reveal a simple picture of a red apple. As the paper revealed the whole picture, a little friendly ding sounded out from the machine, ending the cycle.

“Ta da!” Dave proudly announced.

“…that’s it?” Scott asked.

“Go on, have a look! It should just be a plain old apple.”

Applejack chanced it, taking the picture of the apple and analyzing it. For a slight moment, the Movers and Rarity watched with anticipation as the farmgirl’s face contorted based on the angles she was tilting the paper around her eyes.

Then, she looked up. “Looks like honeycrisp,” she said.

The Movers all wowed, even Rarity was floored at the genius of the machine. Warehouse Mouse even made an appearance to marvel at the machine’s performance.

“Of course, this machine can only produce still images,” Dave explained, “so you would have a reference picture to…base something on. Like a dress, or a statue…”

“How about a wooden burrow?” Scott asked.

“Sure thing!”

Dave then typed “Wooden Burrow” into the machine, which activated the moment he pressed the enter key. This time, however, the siren blared a plume of smoke emitted from a crack in the machine, and a small spring sprung out of place with an audible “boing”. The inventing Mover was startled at the offset, confused and worried at what it could mean for the machine’s condition. Just then, the paper began sliding out of the slot, until it got caught as the machine painfully stuttered.

“Uh oh, that’s a paper jam,” Rich noted.

“I hate it when that happens,” Scott added.

“That’s never a good sign,” Smitty put in.

“Ah’ll get it for ya,” Applejack offered.

In a few short tugs, the farmer managed to pull the paper free from the machine. The picture was of a burrow, a simple brown beast of burden, except the paper itself was full of jagged lines, crisps and crinkles that almost obscured the image. Despite it all, the picture was still distinctly of a burrow made of wood.

“Looks like a burrow made ‘a oak,” the farmer said, “though the paper’s in…poor condition.”

Just behind her, Dave took out his toolbox. Wrench in hand, he reached up and tightened the loose spring sticking out of the top of the machine. With a few grunts, the spring was cranked back in and out of sight. He sighed, taking a rag out and wiping his brow free of sweat.

“Sorry about that,” he said. “That was really embarrassing for me.”

“Don’ sweat it, Dave,” Applejack offered. “These machines are bound to break down in some way.”

“It’s still a genius machine,” Rarity added supportively. “I see potential with this helping me with my problem. We just have to try again.”

“Yeah, that’s the idea!” Dave exclaimed. “If we try again, then we won’t know if it will work again.”

“Let’s try it again!” Rich declared.

“Yeah!” the other Movers said together, ready to give the idea another try.

The Imagination Moves all gathered together right in the middle of the room with their instruments in hand. In the back, Rich was banging on his drum set. Next to him, Smitty was strumming his electric guitar. Scott was clapping his hands while also playing his keyboard piano on Rich’s other side. In the center was Dave plucking the heavy strings on his bass guitar, singing the main vocals to the song that the band were playing together. It was a simple song about the need to keep on trying even if the situation appeared to not be going in your favor.

It was clear that these four friends have been doing this exact kind of thing for a long time, because they had the perfect set of vocals to match each other, and the melodies, harmonies and countermelodies in tandem. This was something that they loved to do together, aside from helping out customers with their problems of course. Sometimes, they would use the energetic juice from their songs to further motivate themselves to problem solve.

Admittedly, Rarity and Applejack were surprised to see the fellows jump into a sudden rock and roll song out of the blue, until they remembered that they did stuff like that all the time. The two friends decided to add more motivation by dancing away to the beat of the song.

And while they all danced to the beat of the song, the girls and the Movers worked together to fix up Dave’s machine. Applejack tried typing out “Red Barn” on the machine, and though the paper came out in a clean sheet, the picture itself was very flawed. It was of a barn, but the entire sheet of paper was drenched in the color red.

Rich tried typing up a picture of a simple glass of milk, and the paper came up complete blank. It was white as milk, but missing the glass itself. Then, Smitty tried typing in “Vegetable Garden”, which had better luck than Rich’s suggestion. The picture showed a garden, except the garden itself was cut in half by the size of the paper that was printed.

And when Rarity tried typing in “Victorian-styled dress”, that was when the trouble really started to hit the fan. Once she hit the “enter” button on the keyboard, the machine itself started shaking and sputtering violently as if it was painfully coughing. Smoke started emitting from the top of the machine while sheets of paper flew right out of the slot and flew around the room like freshly fallen snow.

And as the band reached the cord in their song, the machine finally sputtered out and gave up, permanently shutting down amongst the mess it created.

The girls and Movers surveyed the room.

“Well,” Dave shrugged, “I guess we can chalk this idea as another failure.”

“Sorry about the mess, girls,” Rich apologized. “This happens a lot with us.”

“Oh, it’s nothing to worry about, Rich, darling,” Rarity assured. “My friends and I go through this…procedure all the time.”

“More than we’d like ta think,” Applejack added with a knowing nod.

“We might as well clean up this mess,” Smitty declared, much to the agreement of the other Movers.

“We can help ya guys out. It’s the least we can do,” Applejack offered.

“Thanks, girls,” Dave smiled, sighing with relief. “We really need all the help we can get.”

And as the inventor moved his broken down invention out of the way, he snapped his fingers in defeat at another failed invention. Of course, that did not mean that he was out of it. The Movers simply had not thought of the right idea yet to solve the problem.

And no idea is a bad idea, not until it has been tried.

Author's Note

I will not let this story die in my Drive. I've been going through a Block of my own, and as it turns out, it's harder to juggle many stories at once.
But I think I'm working things out now. Don't expect frequent updates.

V. Rich's Idea

Rarity pushed a large broom across the floor, sweeping up the scattered pieces of paper, all the while hoping to avoid stepping on the multitude of other pages strewn across the floor from Dave’s malfunctioned machine. While the fashionista was not a fan of doing menial chores, it took her mind away from the problem of her Creative Block. It was wonderful that the Movers were giving their all in helping her solve her problem, but with the previous ideas ending not in her favor, she was becoming somewhat disheartened and worried that she would not be able to overcome this forsaken Block.

While she contemplated her sinking faith and self-esteem in her skills as a fashion designer, she started nodding off, and nearly falling over. She caught herself in time, though not before emitting a slight snort and nearly tripping over the broom.

“Ya alright there, sugar?” Applejack asked.

“Yes, yes, I’m alright, darling,” she replied, steadying herself. “I’m just feeling anxious.”

“Ya’re worried ya won’t get outta yer Block in time?”

“I know the Movers are doing their best, and I am greatly appreciative of them, but…” she paused for a yawn, fighting the tiredness in her eyes, “I can’t stop feeling stressed about…”

“Yer deadline?”

“Yeah, my deadline. I don’t like how it’s looming over my head like those godforsaken school bells!”

“Ah know how ya feel, sugarcube,” Applejack nodded. “Whenever it feels like school ain’t stressful enough, Ah remember that we gotta git our load ready to make the harvest in time. Some years were harder than others, like that drought that’s been goin’ on since mid-April. A third ‘a the trees just up and dried up like a rag in the hot sun.”

Rarity sighed, nodding in understanding. “That must be very hard for you, Applejack. I hope that it will not be a complete loss for the farm.”

“It shouldn’t be, but if this here heat keeps up, we may lose half ‘a the trees before harvest time. Hopefully we can still market and make a good enough profit with the loads we have left.”

The apple farmer removed her prized stetson, wiping her brow of sweat. “Ah, Ah’m sorry, Rares. Here Ah am givin’ ya grief about mah own problems when we’re here to solve yours.”

To her surprise, Rarity actually lightly chuckled. She wrapped an arm around her friend’s shoulder in a thankful sidearm hug. “Oh, Applejack. It really is no bother at all. I’m just very thankful that you are here supporting me as best as you can. I’m very thankful for that.”

Applejack smiled as she reciprocated the hug. “Shucks, Rarity. What’re friends for anyways?”

Rarity nodded at the praise. She would have been perfectly fine with visiting the Idea Warehouse all on her own had Applejack not insist on accompanying her to offer support. The farm girl even went over and closed the stand for the entire day, she was that serious in helping out. How she managed to land herself with the most dependable friends imaginable was beyond her scope, and frankly she was more grateful than anything else. They supported each other despite the little feuds and disagreements they would get into, and were always there to catch them when they would fall—

“Woah there, girl!”

The sudden shout shot Rarity to attention, making a little snort as she came to again. Somehow, she came close to nodding off again and had fallen right into Applejack’s catching arms.

“Land sakes, Rares. Yer lookin’ mighty tired,” the farm girl worried. “When was the las’ time ya slept?”

“Oh, it’s…it’s nothing to worry about,” Rarity yawned again.

“Yer’s head’s noddin’ off more heavily than when Big Mac’s splittin’ wood, and he’s the strongest wood splitter Ah know.”

“Really, it’s nothing to worry about.”

Even when she tried to dissuade the situation, the simple blank stare from her friend gave her the clear impression that she was fighting a losing battle.

“Oh, alright. The truth is I haven't found much time to sleep. I need to use as much time as I have to complete my deadline before it’s too late. There is simply too much at stake here for me to e—even…” she yawned again, this time with exaggerated arm gestures. “Anyway, I’ve got enough caffeine in my system to keep me going so I can get rid of this Creative Block.”

Applejack watched her friend as she absently sweeped away at the mess of papers. Just now, she was starting to see just how much this daggum deadline was taking a toll on her friend. Who knows how much caffeine she was drinking on a daily basis in those blasted coffee cups? She didn’t mind coffee once in a while to get her up in the morning, but there was a fine line that someone had to cross for it to become an unhealthy obsession. One of the downsides to friendship was that she would have to worry about problems that initially did not involve her, but it was worth the struggles to help and support the people she loved.

The farmer tried to keep her mind clear by focusing on the cleaning job at hand. It was easier said than done. In no time flat, the papers had been cleared away, stacked and or recycled.

Rich sighed with relief. “Phew! Cleaning up our messes is hard work.”

“Especially when they are our messes,” Smitty added, earning a chuckle from the other Movers.

“Ah don’ mind cleanin’ myself,” Applejack said. “It gets me good exercise and keeps me active and awake.”

“Right,” Rich nodded. “Exercise is really good for your body. It keeps you healthy and allows you to grow. Also, it’s very good for exercising your brain.”

“Yeah!” Scott agreed.

“When I’m exercising, sometimes I get brain waves of some really good ideas. In fact, some of the best ideas that I have come up with came when I was exercising.”

“You’re right,” Dave agreed. “Maybe that’s what Rarity needs: some good exercising to stimulate her brain, that way she can think of new ideas to get out of her Block.”

“That’s a great idea!” Smitty congratulated. “What do you think, Rarity?”

The girl in question rubbed her eyes, pondering the thought. The idea of a workout routine was not the kind of activity she would get up and ready for; that was better suited to her apple farmer friend, or more likely Rainbow Dash. Still, she knew that movement was necessary for keeping her body in shape, if health class was anything to go by, and at this point she was willing to try anything. A giant clock with a swinging pendulum was floating above her head, swinging back and forth with loud clicks and clacks, counting down the very seconds to her doom.

She took a deep breath, pushing the haunting image out of her mind. “Okay, yes. I would like a workout.”

The Movers cheered her on, while Applejack was slightly gobsmacked at the notion of Rarity, the most prim and proper person she knew, would even consider doing a workout routine. Speaking of which, the farm girl received a bump on the shoulder and a smug look from Rarity, which she rolled her eyes at.

“Whoo, yeah!” Rich cheered, then cleared his throat. “Sorry, I just really love exercising.”

“Oh no, it’s quite understandable,” Rarity said. “I have a friend who is the most athletic person I know, though it comes at the expense of being overconfident in her abilities.”

“Oh, yeah,” Applejack agreed. “Sometimes, she’s unbearable to listen ta, but she’s the most loyal person Ah’ve ever met.”

“So, what sort of workout do you haven mind?” the fashionista asked the Movers.

“Well,” Rich pondered, “we could start with a few stretches, or yoga poses…”

“Maybe even lift some weights or run on the treadmill,” Scott added. “Or we could use those giant bouncy balls!”

“Maybe we could go power walking,” Smitty suggested, “or do some pushups, and even jump rope!”

“And the only place where we can find all of those things is in…” Dave prompted.

“THE WORKOUT ROOM!!!” the Movers all declared.

“Yeah!” Rich cheered.

“Whoo!” Scott added.

“C’mon, let’s go catch some brain waves!” Smitty said to the girls.

In no time flat, the Movers dashed down the East Hallway as their customers rushed to catch up. Their excitement was pretentious, and it was good to see a wonderful friendship in action.

“Ain’t never seen no one that excited ta exercise,” Applejack remarked, “‘cept maybe Dash.”

“That is true,” Rarity agreed. “It’s so wonderful to see such pure friendship.”

“Yeah. Princess Twilight’d be proud.”

They stood like that for about five more seconds, admiring the joy and happiness the Movers had for being together and their friendship. Then they realized something.

“We should prob’ly catch up,” Applejack said.

“Agreed,” Rarity added.

And with that they took off down the hallway.

Once again in the world of white and disproportionately colored circles, the Movers took up a jogging position as they ran across the floor. Applejack ran up behind them while Rarity stopped to catch her breath from all the running. She yawned with a big stretch before tiredly running after the others.

Soon enough, after the group passed door after door, with some being much more creative than others to look at, the Movers finally stopped at one door in particular. The sign above the door was a picture of a pink jump rope with purple handles, a small blue ball, and a pair of black and gray dumbbells. The door itself was the same yellow and blue trim that matched the other doors to most of the other rooms in the Warehouse.

“Well, here we are,” Rich proudly declared. “The Workout Room.”

He opened the door and led the way in. The room inside was yet another case of “bigger on the inside”—which was pretty mundane by Equestrian magic’s standards—with a vibrant neon colored wallpaper with images of all sorts of sport equipment, like it was straight out of the eighties. The floor was divided into black matted material and smooth wooden planks surrounded by shelves upon shelves of varying weights of dumbbells, multi-colored jump ropes, and giant balls of red, green, blue, yellow, green, and violet. There were also treadmills, stepping machines, weight-pulling machines, and a basket of tennis balls placed next to a blank wall. The one part that excited Rarity the most were the changing rooms, and there was also an old-fashioned “boombox” placed in the center of the six doors.

“We just recently added it,” Smitty explained, “because we realized there wasn’t a room dedicated to just exercising.”

“Yeah, and it makes it easier to find everything in one place!” Scott added.

“Well, that’s what these rooms are for,” Dave agreed. “To find everything you need in one place, that way you don’t get sidetracked or lost with what you’re looking for.”

“Though some rooms are…easier at that than others,” Scott shivered. “I always keep getting lost in the Maze Room.”

“You guys definitely don’t spare anythin’ with this Warehouse ‘a yours,” Applejack complimented. “Ah could spend a week in here and still find new stuff.”

Rarity took a few moments to herself surveying the room and all its trappings and gimmicks. The decor was practical, albeit tacky and slightly dated by about a few decades. However, the room was completely spotless and free of any grime, dirt, or dust whatsoever. The most important part of the room, and the most impressive aspect, was how stocked and prepared the room was to suit the needs of what its name entailed.

“The decor has a certain…uniqueness about it, which I really enjoy,” she complimented.

“Thank you,” Rich smiled.

“I must ask: how do you decide what room has what theme?”

To her surprise however, the Movers paused for a few moments, sharing confused glances and remarks with each other, as if no one had ever thought to question them about it.

“Honestly, that was the first time anyone’s ever asked us that,” Smitty said.

“When we said we added the room, we meant that we recently found it,” Dave added.

“Ya mean these here rooms had been here the whole time?” Applejack asked.

“Well…yeah,” Scott admitted. “When we found it, we added it as the newest room on the Warehouse Map.”

“We don’t even know how many rooms are really in the Warehouse,” Rich said. “When we first came here, we were even surprised about what we found in it, and we continue finding all sorts of new things!”

“It’s like our home away from home!” Scott beamed. “I always look forward to coming here every day to solve some problems, because that’s what we do best!”

“Ya also play some fantastic music,” Applejack added.

“Yeah, that too!”

Rich clapped his hands, rubbing with anticipation. “All right, so the first thing we gotta do is change into some exercise clothes. Let’s use the changing rooms; they should have the right outfits to match all our sizes.”

With that, all six of the group each entered one of the changing rooms and in no time they all emerged in the workout clothes that…surprisingly matched their sizes and styles with such perfect ease it could have been mistaken for magic. For the Movers, they all wore the same gray t-shirt underneath a red tank top with a stylized gear on the front and red shorts and tennis shoes, aside from the accessories that they already wore to differentiate, complete with matching headbands and wristbands.

Rarity’s boots were swapped with purple trainers and violet leggings that were just above her ankles. She kept her skirt though it was shortened to mid-thigh length. Her blouse was replaced with a white-blue and purple striped tank top, complete with purple wristbands and headband. Her three diamond insignia was kept consistent with her clothing as usual.

“Ooh, how I wish that I had an outfit such as this,” she admired.

Then, there came a shout from the neighboring “Augh! Dang shoes!”

The door burst open as the figure stumbled out and onto the floor. Farmer Applejack was clearly out of her comfort zone when it came to the proper attire in order for the perfect workout routine. Her white trainers were tied in the wrong places, which was the reason for her stumbling. She wore black leggings with a cyan spandex—shaped kind of like a one piece swimsuit—a bright pink belt around the waist and the words “Apple Farmer” in the most eighties font imaginable. Finishing off the cavalcade of garishness were pink and yellow-striped legwarmers, and matching headband and wristbands.

Though the change that she was most bothered about was that her prized stetson was replaced with her hair braided in a ponytail. “Fer some reason, that there changin’ room thought ta steal my hat!” she grumbled angrily.

“Oh, let me get for you,” Dave said. Taking off his cap, he reached down to his shoulder, digging around until he pulled out…a rubber ducky. “Huh, I was wondering where that went.” He reached down again, until he decided to look down into his hat with his face instead of his arms.

“He really needs to organize in there,” Scott mumbled, aside.

“Mmhmm, yeah” Rich and Smitty agreed.

“How can one keep so many things inside a baseball cap, of all things?” Rarity wondered aloud.

“This is comin’ from ya after seein’ Smitty’s tricked out journal and Rich’s magic sticks,” Applejack deadpanned as she unknotted her laces. She retied the shoes properly as she stood up. “Don’cha remember wut we talked about when dealin’ with Pinkie?”

“‘It’s Pinkie Pie: don’t question it’,” Rarity sighed in reply. She pinched the bridge of her nose. “I suppose I should have seen that coming.”

“Aha! I got it!” Dave exclaimed from behind them. In his hand he held none other than Applejack’s prized stetson. “It took some digging around, but I finally got—”

“TALLULAH!!!”

In a flash, the apple farmer nearly jumped on the inventing Mover, though he managed to jump away in time as she snagged her hat. She hugged it close to her chest as she nearly cried tears. “Ah ain’t never leavin’ ya behind fer nothin’!”

There was a mixture of confusion and concern shared between the Movers.

“That’s the first time I’ve ever seen someone so attached to their hat,” Dave said.

“And that’s saying a lot coming from you, Dave,” Smitty agreed.

“None of us really know why she is so attached to her stetson,” Rarity explained, watching as her friend caressed it like a baby. “I’m guessing it’s a sort of…family heirloom.”

There was a mix of “alright” and “okay, that makes sense” with a few “I guess?” thrown in for good measure. Thankfully, Applejack had recovered from her preemptive meltdown and placed her prize stetson properly upon her head. Although she had forgotten about her ponytail she did not care much for it. Rarity felt like the ponytail matched her style with her hat much better than being tied as it draped over her shoulder.

“Ah, hair’s just hair, Rares,” she shrugged. “Don’t see much reason ta mess around with it.”

“It’s not simply ‘messing around,’ as you put it,” Rarity argued, “it’s simply a case of improving on what you already have to make something brand new and stylish. You should…” She paused for a quick yawn. “You should try breaking more out of your comfort zone.”

“Yeah, after wearin’ this train wreck of an outfit,” the farmgirl complained, fiddling with a pinch of the clothing, “Ah don’t think Ah’ll be doin’ much ‘a that any time soon.”

“Oh, come on, A-A-Apple…” she yawned again. “Applejack. You would be missing out on plenty if you did so.”

“If ya say so. Ah jus’ don’ have the time with all mah farm chores.”

“Well, there is no time like the present to…” Yet another yawn and stretch. “To give it a try. So, Rich, what do we do first?”

“I was thinking we could start with a few stretches,” Rich replied, moving towards the giant mirror, “to get ourselves warmed up. It’s not a good idea to do more vigorous exercises at the offset. You could seriously strain yourself.”

“But when we try more simple exercises first, we won’t have as much trouble with harder exercises later on,” Smitty added.

“That’s right! Thanks, Smitty.”

The others then joined Rich as he began doing some light stretching, including a begrudging Applejack who was still fiddling with her new outfit. The first was a simple lunge to the side, then another to the other side, followed by a few arm circles, neck circles, and a few other circles from moving their rib cages around. Rich was the expert in physical activity so he was the one to listen to.

“So,” Rich instructed, “we’re gonna start off nice and simple with a few lunges. One to this side…and another to this side. Now let’s do some arm circles, neck circles, and now try making circles with your rib cage.”

Unfortunately, it was slightly more difficult for others.

“Ah didn’ think i’ t’were possible ta do this,” Applejack remarked.

“I’m trying the best that I can,” Rarity added, “but it’s more easier to move my waist.”

To Rich’s other side, Scott was doing the best he could to try and copy Rich’s moves, but he was also struggling to make circles with his ribs. In his typical fashion, he swung himself out a bit too far and accidentally collided with Dave, sending the both of them tumbling into Smitty, leaving a pile with three of the Movers tangled in a knot of human pretzels.

The three that had not been caught in the tumble helped them up to their feet, followed by some hat, hair, and collar straightening. Scott shook himself into focus.

“Maybe we should try something else,” Rich suggested. “Let’s try lifting some weights.”

“That’s a great idea!” Dave said.

The girls followed the Movers over to the giant shelves of many weights. Some were dumbbell shaped while others were more rounded, and they were labeled from 0 lbs to 0.5 lbs to 35.75 lbs to even—

“Land sakes! Ya guys got 2,000 lbs weights?!” Applejack nearly shrieked.

Even Rich was confused at the revelation. “Huh. I guess we do.”

He shook himself back into focus. “In any case, this is meant to try and help Rarity stimulate some ideas, that way she can get rid of her Block.”

“Sometimes it helps to kick around a few ideas to try and find the right one,” Smitty added. “Come on, let’s get to exercising.”

“Be right back!” Dave called, dashing back to the changing rooms. “This calls for some music to get us in the mood!”

He took off his hat and produced a music disc, which he inserted into the boombox. He then pressed the play button, and another one of the Movers’ rock and roll songs began to blast from the speakers. Once again, Rich was on the drums, just as Smitty rocked on his electric guitar while Dave played his bass. This time, Scott was the one with the lead vocals while there was an addition of techno beats to match the fast pace bouncing melody. By the middle chorus only the percussion was playing to back the plucking of a mouth-harp, followed by a guitar solo from Smitty. It was another simple song about how it was good to kick around some ideas when you were confused or puzzled about something, and that it was not the time to give up when thinking of a solution.

No idea was a bad idea after all.

While Rarity was more used to calm melodies instead of blasting rock, she could not deny that the song put her in the mood to get moving. Solutions were never drawn up from sitting around the house all day.

First she tried doing some jump roping with Smitty, even managing to outlast him in a little competition between jumpers. Then she and Applejack got in on a game of double-dutch with Smitty and Dave, which went well for a while before the four of them made a few stumbles causing the Movers to lose control, ending with the girls tightly bound by the ropes.

Next, she and Scott went for a run on the treadmill, of course they used separate machines that were side-by-side. They started off slow, at a pace where they were walking. Then they gradually increased the speed, and they got to a jogging pace. However, Scott tried to up the ante a bit too much and the ferocity of the speed caused him to lose balance and send him crashing into a nearby shelf. Rarity cringed at the sight, catching herself before she joined his fate.

Nearby, Applejack and Rich were both lifting weights on side-by-side weight-lifting machines. By complete coincidence, their lifting had coincided with the beats to the second verse of the song, with the two of them alternating who lifted before the other. By the end of the routine, both were sweaty with damp clothes and in need of rehydration, which they got from the bottles provided to their left next to the respective machine.

For the final routine, Rarity was on the floor doing pushups with Rich while Applejack lifted a pair of 55 lbs dumbbells on a nearby bench, with Scott on a bench next to her struggling to lift a pair of 5 lbs dumbbells and almost failing spectacularly. Off to the side, Smitty held down Dave while he did situps. Even Warehouse Mouse got in on the action as he lifted a pair of dumbbells that were just his size, which were giving him a hard time.

Rarity could certainly feel all the ideas pouring into her mind, and there was a smorgasbord of them flying into a melting pot. It was hard to decide which one was the perfect one to satisfy her Block and complete her final dress, because when one idea looked like the solution another one entered the fray and presented itself as more fitting to be perfect. She went back and forth on so many ideas as she concentrated on her pushup routine, even as it strenuously became more and more vigorous.

At last, as the song on the boombox ended, she pushed herself up into a sitting position. She wiped her forehead with a cloth as she drank from her provided bottled energy drink.

“Phew,” Rich sighed. “That was some good exercising.”

“Ooh, you’re telling me,” Scott strained. He then dropped his dumbbells with two loud thumps. “I’m not as fit as I used to be,” he said, massaging his sore arms.

Smitty helped Dave up. “So,” the inventing Mover asked. “How’d that go for you, Rarity? Got any ideas cooking up in there?”

The fashion girl wiped her brow of sweat, putting a hand to her chin as she pondered. “Hmm, while I can say that workout definitely brought some ideas up, and I can’t deny that I feel a little…little,” she paused again to stretch a yawn, though it was longer than the others. “I don’t know. I…think I’ve got them, but I’m not quite sure just yet.”

“Well, it’s a step in the right direction,” Rich said. “Let’s get changed and head back.”

The group did just that. In a few short moments, they emerged back into the outfits that they entered the room in, with Applejack caressing her braided hair with loving care. Rarity fiddled her non-banded hair, once again pausing for yet another yawn. This time, she looked more droopy than before, strenuously rubbing her eyes as she struggled to move.

The moment was not missed by Applejack as she followed behind the others, growing more concerned by the moment. The stress was slowly getting to her friend, and it was only a matter of time before something drastic happened to her as a culmination. She sighed, straightening her stetson, hoping that a solution would be found soon.

Once again, the group entered the dimension of giant multi-colored circles. They all ran in jogging motions from one end to the other, with Applejack leading ahead and a tired Rarity taking up the rear.

Author's Note

In all honesty the solution seems kind of obvious to anyone paying attention, and that is okay.

How will this all play out? Find out next time!

VII. The Solution

The drive back to Rarity’s was fairly quiet, all things considered. The roads were empty on account of the late hour of the day. Rarity was resting very soundly in the passenger seat and Applejack dared not turn on the radio, no matter how hard she really wished to. Looking at the clock on the dashboard, she was surprised just how late it was—she must have misjudged just how long the distance was from Canterlot City to the Idea Warehouse.

She cursed under her breath. She would have to explain to her family just why she had disappeared off her shift in the Mall so suddenly, and while hopefully asking them if she could spend the night at Rarity’s place.

“Should Ah tell the others?” she asked herself. She sighed. “Nah, it’d just overwhelm her even further. Oh, boy, Ah didn’t think it’d be this bad.”

She pulled the family truck into the driveway. Carefully, she carried a sleeping Rarity as she approached the front door. After waiting for a few minutes, no one answered. She knocked again, and once again received no answer. To add to her frustrations, Rarity was completely knocked out to the point of almost drooling over her shoulder; at least she never snored, to her knowledge at least.

“I woulda figured her folks would at least be home,” Applejack grumbled to herself. Then she remembered. “And Sweetie Belle would be at my place for a sleepover with Apple Bloom and Scootaloo.”

She sighed, almost daring to pinch her nose. Getting an idea, and after looking around for any potential passersby, she carefully lowered herself so as to not disturb her friend and checked under the doormat. Surprisingly, there was indeed a house key, just as elaborately as her family’s house.

“Seriously, why do people still pull off this trick?” she grumbled. “Oh, well. Ah can’t complain, really.”

Without much effort, she hoisted her sleeping friend over her shoulder and unlocked the door. Thanks to all the blinds, the living room was pitch black, more so than the night sky even with the New Moon. Thankfully, Applejack had memorized that the lightswitch was just next to the doorframe, and that her grip was tough as metal, otherwise she would have sent Rarity flying against the hard floor.

For the present moment, she carefully placed her sleeping friend on the sofa. Then she carefully put a pillow under her head and covered her with a warm and fuzzy fleece blanket that covered most of the sofa’s surface area. Thankfully, Rarity was not disturbed and remained peacefully asleep. Applejack removed her stetson and wiped her brow, quietly sighing with relief.

She carefully tip-toed to the kitchen where she pulled out her phone and called her home number. Presently, Big Mac answered.

“Y’ello?”

“Hey, Mac. It’s AJ,” the apple farmer replied.

“Hey sis. Where’ve ya been? Ah heard from Granny ya closed up shop early today, and then Ah heard from Pinkie that you and Rarity were runnin’ an errand ‘a some kind?”

Applejack sighed. “Yeah. Ah had ta help Rarity with an emergency crisis she was facin’. Unfortunately, her stressin’ got the better ‘a her and how she’s plum tuckered out.”

“Kinda like the time you tried to ready the harvest all on yer own,” her brother snickered.

Applejack pinched her nose and pretended to not listen. “Anyway, Ah’m plannin’ on stayin’ the night for her sake. Ya think you can cover for me, Mac?”

There was a pregnant pause, but only for a hot second. “Sure thing, sis. Ah can handle it. Jus’ hope Rarity’ll be feelin’in the morning. Seeya, AJ. Goodnight!”

“Godonight, Mac!”

She hung up. Taking a deep breath, she carefully strolled over and turned off the lights in the kitchen and living room. Then, she sat herself in an armchair opposite the sofa Rarity was sleeping on.

“Jus’ need ta make sure she gets a good night sleep,” she said to herself. “Ah’ll stay up all night if Ah have to.”

Rarity awoke the next morning to the bright lights of the morning sun on Memorial Day and to the sound of heavy snoring. Looking up from the sofa, she noticed Applejack fast asleep and snoring as loud as her prized cow Bessie.

For a hot second, she wondered why there was such a large gap in her memory. Then she did, and she fell back against the sofa with shameful embarrassment. Perhaps there was such a thing as a caffeine crash after all, and she had sworn to be more level headed in regards to her infamous outbursts.

She was thankful for Applejack’s help. Careful not to disturb the cowgirl’s deep slumbering, even though it was definitely way past 6 am (just how late was she up to warrant that?), she tipped barefoot into the kitchen. Yawning, she went over to the coffee pot, but instead she steered over to the fridge and picked out a glass of milk instead.

“Oh, yes. I much prefer milk to caffeine in the morning,” she drowsed. “To think that it’s developed into a necessary habit for adults. I don’t think the Movers drink coffee, or at least I’m sure they don’t. I didn’t see a coffee maker in the Warehouse.”

Rarity placed her tired chin against her palm, leaning over the kitchen island. “I owe those men an apology. They all certainly have the most interesting ways of solving problems. If only everyone had the same amount of dedication, creativity, and positive energy when it comes to problem solving. If only it were so simple to overcome this forsaken creative block!”

Applejack stirred slightly. Rarity paused, burning red. “I most definitely needed a good rest. Now to complete my order. Maybe a look at what I’ve completed so far will stir my well rested brain waves.”

She quietly walked into the study room. Paper crumpled balls still littered the floor, some of which were stained brown. Cringing, she stepped over to the completed dresses. There was a common theme of summer sunshine, something nice and simple to enjoy wearing out in the warm sunlight. Strolling over to the desk, she picked up a color shading card, each depicting one shade each of the “Light Summer” palette.

“Hmm…maybe I haven't used every shade in the palette yet. Let me see: there’s one with primrose, soft white, mint and clear sky. Light teal, light aqua and chalk white. Strawberry, watermelon and pink rose. Nautical blue, bright blue and regatta blue. Those are on the completed dresses, leaving hyacinth on the incomplete dress. Now…there’s twelve shades in total and I have used…one, two…six…eleven shades. That just leaves out bluebell.”

Sitting at the workbench, she flipped the pages to the most recently used and incomplete dress design. The hyacinth would be complementary to the bluebell. The only question was how to incorporate it.

“I only have the bottom part finished. Maybe if I could…yes…yes that works. Now maybe if I could…yes, yes that’s perfect! Don’t stop, Rarity! You are a roll!”

Silent ambiance permeated the room, save for the scratching of frantic pencils, graphite and colored. The shapes appeared with great ease, like out of a dream, and the color shading was beyond complementary. Soon enough, the shape was in perfect form. Design in hand, the fashionista rushed over to the table, snagging treads, needles, and the color fabrics necessary.

Thread by thread, stitch by stitch…the piece drafted from her very imagination was taking form right before her very eyes. A hunger growled within her soul. The beast was chugging on a roll. Any sort of descriptive metaphor was working their magic. The fabrics soon were fashioned into genuine clothing, and the colors were woven like a rainbow that only accepted one particular shade to compliment the other.

Rarity held it like her greatest treasure. She slowly approached the now empty dress mannequin like she was participating in a time-honored tradition. The clothing fabric wrapped around the wiring like a glove. She stood back, admiring all her latest creations. A perfect line up of summer shades, all made to be placed back to back.

Such relief of completion deserved some amount of a reward. For Rarity, it was giddily screaming at the top of her lungs.

Immediately following that was a loud crash in the living room with the exclamation of, “SWEET POSSUM IN THE BERRY BUSH!!!”

Rarity gasped as she ran to the living room, finding her friend head over heels with her stetson over her stomach. “Oh, my goodness, darling! I am so sorry!” She helped her up.

“S’alright,” Applejack replied. “But, just what’s gotcha so excited—?”

Her reply was a bone crushing hug from the squealing Rarity, who managed the bare minimum effort to swing the cowgirl around for one rotation. Applejack ended up being frozen in shock for a brief moment.

“It’s finished! I finally, finally finished it! The order that was keeping me awake for the entire weekend is finally complete!”

“Well, hey! That’s great! Ah guess that beauty sleep really did ya good, then?”

“Yes. It really did wonders for me. Oh, I am so sorry for how I acted back at the Warehouse. The stress of this deadline really pushed me to my limits.”

“Hey, don’t worry about it. Happens ta the best of us. Remember that one time Ah tried ta pick the entire orchard ahead of the harvest after Big Mac got injured.”

“Oh, yes. I remember how Apple Bloom found you sleeping until lunchtime out in the field. And thanks…thank you very much, darling. I really appreciate how you helped me despite my sleepless stubbornness.”

“Ah shucks, Rarity. It weren’t nothing at all.”

“Still, I believe I owe apologies to the Movers for all their help.”

“Sure thing. We’ll take my truck…after we have breakfast, first.”

Back in the Idea Warehouse, the four Movers were all sleeping soundly. Soon, a loud ringing and vibration emitted from Dave’s cap. He reached over and picked out a ringing alarm clock, which he shut off. He then sat up with a yawn along with the others.

“Morning guys,” he said.

“Morning,” they all replied.

“That was a good night’s sleep,” Scott said. “We should do this again sometime.”

“Yeah, this was great,” Smitty agreed.

The guys all gathered up their sleeping bags, and put them away. Getting dressed, they all picked out food from the fridge. Smitty handed Warehouse Mouse a chunk of swiss cheese.

“Thanks, ‘Mitty!”

Scott scooped a yogurt cup. “Hopefully Rarity’s feeling a lot better after a good night’s sleep.”

“This Creative Block has been really bothering her,” Rich added. “It’s not easy to overcome it, and it doesn’t just go away forever. It’s gonna come back.”

Dave nodded. “Yeah. It’s like getting a flu shot: it protects you for most of the year but you have to get another one otherwise you’ll risk getting the flu.”

“Sometimes I wish there was a be all, end all cure for creative blocks,” Scott frowned.

“That would be nice,” Smitty nodded.

“But for what it’s worth, I have faith in our abilities.”

“Right,” Rich beamed. “We’re the Imagination Movers. There is no problem that we can’t solve.”

“And if not getting a good night’s sleep solves Rarity’s problem, then we’ll just have to think of something different!”

The doorbell rang at that precise moment. The Movers all walked over. Opening the door, they smiled in surprise at the girls’ arrival.

“Rarity! Applejack!”

“Hey, fellas,” Applejack replied.

“So…did it work? Do you still need our help?” Scott hesitantly asked.

Rarity smiled to her friend. “We just came by to say thank you. Thanks to your help, I was able to complete my order on time!”

The Movers all cheered. Even Warehouse Mouse joined in the enthusiasm.

“That’s great!” Smitty said. “You’re welcome!”

“And if you ever need any help with another problem…our door is always open,” Rich added.

“That’s wonderful,” Rarity nodded.

“We’ll be sure ta keep that in mind,” Applejack added. “Thank ya kindly again. We’ll be on our way now.”

“Bye!” The Moves and Warehouse Mouse waved.

The girls waved goodbye and left. The Movers were all on cloud nine and full of elation. Once again, the Imagination Movers pulled their minds together and solved another Idea Emergency.

“We did it!” Scott beamed. “Another Idea Emergency solved!”

The Movers all threw their hands together in a simultaneous high five in celebration…except for Dave, who missed again.

He snapped his fingers. “Every single time…”

Author's Note

Aaaaaannnnnnddd...that's wrap folks!

Curtain call:
Rarity: Tabitha St. Germain
Applejack: Ashleigh Ball
Sweetie Belle: Claire Corlett
Rich: Rich Collins
Smitty: Scott "Smitty" Smith
Scott: Scott Durbin
Dave: Dave Poche
Warehouse Mouse: Kevin Carlson
Nina: Wendy Calio
Knit-Knots: Douglas Fischer
Voicemail: Kath Soucie
Assorted voices: PlymouthFury58

Written and Directed (and produced) by PlymouthFury58

Thank you for watching, and always remember to use your imagination.

Like my previous It's Showtime stories, I am placing this before the events of Cinematic Adventures: Star Wars Episode IV: A New Hope.

VI. Scott's Idea

Coming around the corner of the hallway, Applejack ran ahead as the others rushed to catch up. Rich came in right behind, followed by Smitty, Dave, Scott, and Rarity in the back. She rubbed a hand over her tired face and hoped that none of them had noticed.

“Ooh, you’re faster than I imagined!” Rich complimented, gasping for breath. “You must have built up a lot of endurance.”

“Well, when ya live and breath on a farm, it tends ta come naturally,” Applejack replied boastfully. “Ah’ve lived on mah family’s apple farm all mah life.” She ran her arm in circles, tensing her gripped hand along her forearm. “Ah can’t think of a more better place ta git free exercise while also workin’ yer behind off.”

“So, what kind of farm do you live on?” Scott asked.

“Mah family’s owned Canterlot City’s one and only apple farm ever since it’s foundin’ all those yeaIt'rs ago. We got all kinds ‘a apples: braeburn, honeycrisp, cameo, ambrosia; you name it, Ah guarantee that we’ve got a row ‘a trees fer ‘em.”

“So, what do you do with all those apples?” Smitty asked.

“Well, normally we would pick our fields ‘a trees and sell ta market, however we keep a bushel fer the school cafeteria. Otherwise, we’d sometimes make homemade apple pies and apple strudels and really any kind of apple desert you can think of.”

“Apple juice?” Rich asked.

“Eeyep.”

“Apple cake?” Dave added.

“Uhuh.”

“Apple cider?” Smitty put in.

“The finest quality, both non and alcoholic.”

“Apple cheese?!” Warehouse Mouse popped up.

The farm girl was slightly startled this time. “Uh, sorry little feller. We don’ make apple cheese.”

The furry little creature sighed in defeat.

“However, we do make homemade cheese from our favorite cow, Bessie! She makes only the best dairy food and drink.”

“Really?”

“You betcha, little feller.”

“Woohoo!” the little mouse cheered, scurrying out of sight back into his home in the wall. Applejack snickered at his antics, they reminded her of her likewise eccentric pink-haired friend.

“Wow! I didn’t know working on an apple farm would be that hard,” Scott awed.

“It ain’t all apples, ‘a course,” Applejack shrugged. “Ah’m kept busy with our chickens, pigs, and ‘a course good ol’ Bessie. Come rain or shine, and even in the scorchin’ hot sunshine, it’s never a slow day on Sweet Apple Acres.”

“Yeehaw!” the other Movers replied in tandem, jumping around making generic cowboy noises and mimicking the motions of lasso throwing.

Applejack could not help but laugh at the humorous antics of the Movers. In most cases, she was not as bothered by other people making fun of her accent, usually it was between her friends or from others she knew were just making a good-hearted joke. Sometimes there had been instances where the joke was more cruel and meant as insulting, but she had been taught to turn the other cheek and not give them any attention, as that was what they were after. It was hard for her in most cases to handle her rather explosive temper, which had caused more than its fair share of trouble for herself on many occasions.

Working her entire life on a farm was both stress inducing and stress relieving. On one hand there was so much hard work to do on a daily basis, and on the other hand there were plenty of distractions to keep her mind off of things. The real issue, and one that she had to learn the hard way, was knowing when she was stressing herself too far and needed to cool down. Ma and Pa always told her that rest was just as important, if not the most important she needed when working.

And speaking of stress, poor Rarity was filled to the brim with ounces upon gallons of them. One of her usual telltale signs of her anxiety was that her pristine hair would come undone, as a few strands would stick up out of place. This was followed by frantic shouting and ruined mascara from bawling tears and over-dramatic frantic shouting. Worst case scenario, she would lock herself in her room and stuff herself with tubs of who knows how much ice cream. It was both depressing and disgusting to watch, but more depressing if anything.

Applejack walked around the partying Movers towards her friend, holding out in case something drastic was about to happen. “Rares? Ya alright there, sugarcube?” she asked.

The poor girl had her hands covering her entire face while making subtle noises. That was never a good sign, especially at how messed up her hair was looking. And just as she feared, when her hands uncovered her face, she saw darkened water streaming down from her red bloodshot eyes. The farm girl immediately wanted to respond with shock, but she kept herself composed. The last thing Rarity needed was more reason to be stressed out of her mind.

More tears streamed out as Rarity clutched her arms around her chest. “Oh, it’s just…well, I…” she sniffed. “Oooooohhh...I just don’t know!”

Her sudden outburst caught the attention of the Movers, not to mention Warehouse Mouse, who’s entire house rattled from the sudden shockwave. Even Knit Knots felt something come over his office space, and he knew that something exciting was happening in the Warehouse and that it involved whatever the Movers were up to.

“Uh…” Scott stammered.

“Uh oh,” Smitty grimaced.

Applejack’s worries went from three to eleven in five seconds flat, a brand new record that even Rainbow Dash would be terrified at. “Rares—”

“I don’t know, okay?! I have been racking my brain constantly for the past three days just to finish this blasted deadline! And this dress—this one blasted dress—has been causing me no end of grief! I have stayed up for days on end, and it is slipping away through my fingers like…like sand in a…in a…! In one of those things that shifts sand! Shifter! No!! SIFTER!!!”

This kind of outburst was…admittedly unfamiliar territory when it came to over-dramatic Rarity, which was bad news all around for Applejack. “Sugar, Ah understand yer upset, but ya need ta—”

“Upset?!” the fashionista cried. “UPSET?!! Do you have any idea how long I have worked tirelessly to get where I am right now?! I am in a position to achieve something I have dreamed about my entire life and I cannot not screw it all up just because I cannot think for the life of me! That’s no excuse! If I don’t complete this on time, if I fail this golden opportunity, my potential career will go up in smoke and no one will trust me again!”

The Movers could only stand at a distance away from the screaming fit, admittedly afraid that they would be dragged down into the mess. They were not used to frantic yelling fits, let alone from their customers. Applejack, meanwhile, could see that being docile was not going to solve anything, which unfortunately meant that she had to raise her own voice.

“Okay, I git it! Yer stressed out like a field mouse bein’ chased by a garden snake!” the farmgirl huffed. “But ya gotta understand that there’s only so much we can do ta help ya. Myself and the Movers are doin’ the best we can with the stuff we got. Yer pushin’ yerself somethin’ fierce and it’s actually concernin’ me.”

“But I need to push myself to the extreme! Otherwise I simply cannot improve beyond what I know! That's a one-way ticket to being left behind in the constant rush of the industry!”

Rarity hysterics were beginning to become much more concerning, especially at how she was now bawling her eyes out as she firmly grasped her apple farmer friend by the forearms. It was a bit surprising, and the fashionista certainly had a very firm grip.

“This is the! Worst! Possible!! THING!!! TO HAVE EVER HAPPENED TO ME!!!! MY FUTURE IS RUINED, AND UNLESS SOMETHING SHORT OF A MIRACLE CAN OCCUR, I’LL NEVER WORK FASHION EVER AGAIN!!!”

At last, Applejack finally lost her patience. “WE CAN’T SOLVE THIS DANG PROBLEM ‘A YERS IF YA CAN’T GIT IT TOGETHER!!!”

In a split second, Rarity buried herself against her friend with such a great heave that it almost sent both girls tumbling over themselves.

“Woah nelly, girl!” the farmer exclaimed.

She stumbled backwards at the sudden surge while the Movers rushed forward, catching the both of them before something unfortunate could have happened. Carefully, she carried her friend over to the sofa and laid her carefully on her back and her head beneath one of the pillows. Fearing she had passed out, the farmer took off her stetson and fanned it across her face.

“Woah!” Dave exclaimed. “Is she alright?”

“That did not look good,” Rich added concerningly.

Applejack pressed her fingers against her friend’s neck, thankful beyond hope that there was a steady pulse as well as a rising chest. But she felt the skin had an excess warmth to it that deeply worried her.

“Her skin’s hotter than a sunbathin’ rattlesnake,” she said.

“I’m on it,” Dave replied. He reached into his hat and in a quick motion obtained a small electric fan. Placing on the table he set it on high while aiming for the gust of the fan to not miss Rarity’s overheated body an inch. “Phew. I did not expect that to happen.”

“No kidding,” Smitty added, likewise shaken.

“It’s like one moment she was pitchin’ ta catch fire, and the next she’s passed out faster than Rainbow Dash after an entire weekend ‘a sports clubs,” Applejack sighed, hanging over the couch. “Land sakes, Ah just can’t understand why she’s so…flummoxed, Ah guess? Ah’m not a creative person in a way. Ah wanna help her in any way Ah can but there’s only so much Ah can do; we’re kinda on different tracks in many aspects. Sometimes it’s hard ta understand what she’s doin’ half the time.”

“Yeah, I understand why that would be hard,” Scott nodded. Then he realized something. “Um, Applejack?”

“Yeah, Scott?”

“I think I may know why Rarity’s acting this way. But I can’t be sure; I’ll need to check with my Wobble-Goggles.”

“Yer wut?”

“My Wobble-Goggles.” He pointed to them sitting on his forehead. “They help me see problems in a different way. They’re very useful for problem solving.”

“Oh, absolutely!” Rich said.

“I agree,” Dave added.

“Scott’s Wobble-Goggles have helped us out a ton with solving problems,” Smitty finished.

“Sometimes problems are hard to solve because you can only see them through your own perspective,” Scott explained. “That’s where my Wobble-Goggles come in: by looking at the problem in a new light, it helps you find more ideas for solutions. And that’s just what we do best!”

Of course, since he had to examine Rarity’s physical appearance, it was a lot more different than looking at walls and objects; it would be very rude to examine a person without expressing given permission.

“Well, uh…i-if that’s okay with you, that is,” he sheepishly added.

“Oh, uh…yeah, sure. Go ahead,” Applejack replied.

“Thank you.”

With that out of the way, Scott slid down his Wobble-Goggles and clicked the buttons, once again emitting those telltale flashing techno blue lights. He aimed them directly at Rarity’s peacefully sleeping face, and just like that, something caused his vision to warp and display something that wasn’t there before. Underneath Rarity’s eyes, behind who knows how many layers of makeup, were two sets of heavy bags.

“Oh, yeah. I was afraid of that,” Scott commented.

“Wut’s the matter?” Applejack asked, worried. “What d’ya see?”

“Right now, I’m seeing some of the heaviest eye bags I have ever seen on a person.” Scott clicked the buttons again, shutting down the Wobble-Goggles for another use sometime in the future. “Ooh…that is not good.”

“That’s right,” Smitty agreed. “Usually, heavy bags under your eyes means you haven't been getting the right amount of sleep.”

“That happened to me one time,” Dave added. “I was so up late pouring over some of my new inventions that I was so tired for a while after that. And every time I looked in the mirror, there were these heavy bags under my eyes.”

“I had that too,” Rich said. “This one time, I couldn’t sleep because my mind was full of all of these exciting new songs! After I calmed down after listening to some calm and slow music, I finally relaxed, but my eyes had bags under them for a few days.”

“So, yer sayin’ Rarity hasn’t been sleepin’ well?” Applejack surmised. She then sighed and slumped forward. “Why doesn’t that surprise me in the slightest?”

“Maybe that’s what she needs!” Scott enthusiastically suggested. “Maybe she just needs some well needed rest so that she has the energy to get around her Creative Block.”

“Yeah, that could work,” Smitty nodded.

“Yeah,” Dave and Rich added.

Applejack looked down on her sleeping friend. One part of her wanted to scream at the top of her lungs for the fashionista being so idiotic to run herself so plum ragged enough that she would be as tired as a Big Mac’s workhorse after a long day of good farmwork. And yet…what would be the point in getting upset over something like that? Besides, it could happen to anyone.

“Alright. If a good night’s sleep’s all it takes.” The farmer rounded the couch and carefully lifted her sleeping friend with one arm across her shoulder. “I’m gonna take her home and make sure that she gets the sleep she needs. That alright with y’all?”

Dave took off his cap and dug out an old-fashioned alarm clock, and was surprised by the time on its face. “Oh, wow. It’s quitting time already.”

“Yeah, sure, that’ll work,” Rich replied. “But, if it doesn’t work in the morning, then come back and we’ll brainstorm some more.”

“That’s right!” Smitty added. “We’re the Imagination Movers, and we don’t ever give up on any sort of a problem.”

Applejack nodded, smiling gratefully. “Alright, thanks fellas. Ah’m gonna take her home and make sure she gets a proper night’s rest.”

“Like a sleepover!” Scott exclaimed.

“Yeah, Ah guess it’ll be like that. Ah’ll be sure ta let ya guys know by tomorrow of any developments. Thanks again fer all yer help!”

“Bye!”

“Goodbye!”

“Goodnight!”

“See you tomorrow!”

The Moves all waved goodbye as the apple-farmer carried her sleeping friend out the front door, and soon enough all that was left in the Warehouse were the four Movers…and Warehouse Mouse, but he had decided to turn in early for the night. Already, he was wearing his sleeping cap and turned off his nightstand lamp.

“Well, that’s it for today then,” Dave remarked.

“Yeah,” Smitty sighed. “I just wish we could’ve helped Rarity more with her Block.”

“Hey, don’t worry about it, Smitty,” Rich replied. “We helped as much as we could and that’s all that matters.”

“That’s right!” Scott chimed in. Then, something manifested inside his brain. “Hey, why don’t we have our own sleepover, right here in the Warehouse? That way we’ll be up and ready the moment we hear the news from Rarity!”

“Hey, yeah!” Rich smiled.

“That’s a great idea, Scott!” Smitty agreed.

“Yeah, I’m so down for this!” Dave added.

“Well, let’s get our sleeping bags out and have ourselves a sleepover!” Rich declared.

“Yeah!” the rest of the Movers agreed.

As the Movers all gathered their sleeping bags, dressed up in their respective pajamas, and all around prepared themselves for a long night of all sorts of things that they would do late into the night—brushing teeth and taking showers and the like—they sang yet another rocking song this time about their sleeping bags of all things. Rich took the lead vocals this time as each Mover was at their respective instruments as Scott took turns providing backup vocals to the call and response sections of the song, all the while providing backup snoring and sleeping noises to the beats.

They all rolled out their sleeping bags on the floor in the main room during the first verse, then danced upright in their sleeping bags during the refrain. Dave then returned with fresh popcorn, much to the delight of the others—including Warehouse Mouse—as Smitty inserted a DVD, the rest sitting upright and excited about the picture.

After that, they played around as if they were flying airplanes, making airplane noises and laughing all the while. Then they marched around like soldiers in a marching band, complete with marching band instruments to fill the mood. After which, Rich grabbed a glass of warm milk as they all gathered around a simple board game of Sorry—Warehouse Mouse paired up with Smitty; Scott seemed to have the worst luck with cards while Dave smoked the entire board. They then all gathered around a flashlight, taking turns telling scary stories. Scott had his teddy bear to hug whenever something in the stories caused his body to jump.

All in all, they enjoyed their little impromptu sleepover, as they always enjoyed the nice moments they shared together as friends. It was really a nice break from the constant hustling across the Warehouse, not that they did not mind it, rather they were grateful for the rest they were getting from the day’s work; problem solving really takes a lot out of you.

As the song wound to a close, the rest of the Movers and Warehouse Mouse had all fallen fast asleep—that is except for Rich, who got up to put away his empty glass of warm milk in the sink, and Scott, who was rather curious. As Rich laid down in his sleeping bag, Scott turned to his friend.

“Hey, Rich?”

“Yeah, Scott?”

“You ever wonder what we would be like if we weren’t the Imagination Movers?”

Rich was appalled by the notion, but intrigued. “Huh…I guess since we’ve been the Imagination Movers for so long that I haven't really thought of that.”

“I know. I feel the same way, but…I can’t help but wonder.”

“Hmm…well, I guess I would be a professional track runner.”

“I could see you running in the Olympics.”

Rich quietly laughed at that. “Me in the Olympics. Yeah, that’s just about every kid’s dream. I used to dream of being in the Olympics. Sometimes…I would imagine myself alongside some of the best runners in the whole world, and then I would beat them across the finish line, and my dad would be there to give me the gold medal and he would say: ‘I’m proud of you, kid. I never stopped believing in you.”

Scott smiled at that. “That sounds wonderful, Rich.”

“Thanks. What about you, Scott?”

“Well…this may sound weird, but I’ve always wanted to run my own burrow farm.”

Rich silently grinned, shaking his head. Strange indeed.

“And I would care for them every day—groom their fur, brush their manes, feed them, give them baths, maybe even knit them their own shawls.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. And each burrow—tall, small, young, old—would have their own shawl that would make them stand out from one another.” Whenever Scott had burrows on the brain, he would always have this wonderful smile of reverence, like a burrow was his spirit animal. “I would name them…what would I name them? Rich, Dave, Smitty…”

“Scott?”

“But there’s already a Scott?”

They both laughed at that.

“How about Marcus?” Rich asked.

“Oh, that’s a good one. And…Peter.”

“Victor.”

“Vincent.”

“Lucas.”

“Nick.”

“Little Timmy.”

“Judy.”

“Big Al!”

Just the thought of the name “Big Al” was enough to cause both friends to have quiet chuckle fits. They calmed down quick enough, then Rich noticed the time on the clock.

“Wow, it’s late,” he said.

“That means we had too much fun today,” Scott smiled. He then rolled over, hugging his little teddy bear. “Goodnight, Rich.”

“‘Night, Scott.”

Author's Note

People are always saying "Write what you know," and what I and many other struggle with is Creative Block. So I guess I am writing what I know, right?

One thing I love about the Imagination Movers show is that the different ideas can work for other people. Ideas are just as unique as people themselves; the solution may come as quick or there may be many minutes of brainstorming before finding the right idea.

Also, isn't it nice to have a more mundane adventure once in a while? But don't leave yet: there's still one more chapter left.