Pastebin launched a little side project called HostCabi.net, check it out ;-)Don't like ads? PRO users don't see any ads ;-)

Untitled5 sec ago
Untitled22 sec ago
Untitled9 sec ago
UntitledC++ | 11 sec ago
Untitled14 sec ago
Untitled14 sec ago
Untitled14 sec ago
Selfies "R" Us33 sec ago

Mad Science: Chapter 8

By: -IceMan- on Dec 3rd, 2013 | syntax: None | size: 14.13 KB | hits: 127 | expires: Never

download | raw | embed | report abuse | print

Text below is selected. Please press Ctrl+C to copy to your clipboard. (⌘+C on Mac)

Mad Science
Chapter 8
By IceMan
>Thump.
>“Mail’s here,” Twilight says, not looking up from her book.
>You rush to the door as the slot flips open with a soft metallic clang, leaving three flat envelopes on the doormat.
>Like a miner sifting through a plate of gold dust, you pick up the letters and sort through them.
>You’ve done this for the past few days, waiting eagerly for a response to your messages.
>Two are addressed to Twilight Sparkle; they’re probably book renewals, as they usually are.
>The third is addressed to . . . you.
>You throw the other two letters on the ground and tear open yours, not even looking at who it’s from.
>“Dear Anonymous,” it reads.
>“This new invention of yours sends most interesting and could bring great profit to my business. If it is at all possible, I would like to meet with you at my estate at 14 Cliff Avenue and discuss the possibility of a sale of the schematic as soon as possible.”
>“Truly yours,”
>Signed in a flamboyant scrawl was the name “Filthy Rich.”
>“You look pleased,” Twilight says, trotting up to you and scooping the dropped letters into her mouth.
“I am. I’m quite pleased. Someone wants to buy my radio.”
>Twilight quickly looks over the two letters before setting them on the table in the center of the library.
>“Who?”
“Filthy Rich. He wants to meet with me immediately.”
>She frowns.
>“Anonymous, I’d really prefer if – ”
“I don’t have a choice. I need money. He can give it to me. This . . . pony is currently my only option.”
>Twilight tilts her head to one side.
“Look, I . . . I’ll tell him that I have another potential buyer that could give me a better offer. But if your other contact does not reach me soon, I’m going to have to accept Filthy Rich’s offer.”
>You really hate saying that name.
>It does belie a rather unscrupulous nature.
>Twilight’s expression brightens.
>“Alright, that’s a fair agreement. I guess you’ll need directions to the Rich residence then.”
>You nod.
>Twilight gets out a bit of parchment, scribbles down the directions, and hands it to you.
>You head downstairs and grab your crude radio, placing it inside a small wooden box, then head out into the open streets.
>As you travel along your route, the houses along the street suddenly become a bit grander, made of brick and stone rather than painted wood.
>Separated from the rest at the end of the road is a brick mansion with an open wrought iron gate.
>You lope right through and bang your fist on the front door.
>A grey, aging butler pony (at least, that’s what you assume he is from the tuxedo) opens it.
“My name is Anonymous. I have a business arrangement with Mr. Rich.”
>The butler merely blinks and maintains his haughty glower.
>He turns his head to the right and calmly declares, “Sir, the human is here to discuss some sort of business arrangement.”
>“Let him in,” Filthy Rich responds.
>The tapping of hooves on the marble floor announces your contractors approach as you step through the entryway.
>The foyer contains a mammoth staircase with carved oak banisters and a glittering crystal chandelier dangling from the ceiling.
>You scowl for a second before regaining your composure.
>You never liked people who swam in their opulence.
>“So, you must be the wondrous human, Anonymous?” Filthy Rich says, walking down the staircase. “Charmed to finally meet you in person. Filthy Rich, at your service.”
>He shoves his hoof into your hand and shakes it.
>“So, tell me about this device of yours.”
“It’s called a radio. It allows communication across long distances. They are very commonplace on Earth, my homeworld. I believe that they would be quite useful in Equestria, and whoever first owns the technology would certainly be able to make a good bit of coin off of it.”
>You pull out the ugly little contraption, rapidly checking to make sure that none of the parts have moved.
“Now of course, this is more a demonstration model than anything. I’m sure with a bit of magical and technological finesse, this could be refined into a suitable product. But this should give you a good example of how to build a similar device. I’ll also draw up some schematics for you once I’ve finished my demonstration. Now, if you could take the receiving end upstairs, I will show you how this works.”
>“Alright,” Filthy Rich agrees.
>You hand him the device, which he levitates with his magic before trotting upstairs.
>Once he is out of sight, you plug the transmitter in and state into the telephone receiver, “Mary had a little lamb, whose fleece was white as snow. And everywhere that Mary went, that lamb was sure to go.”
>Filthy Rich races back down stairs.
>“That was amazing! How does this thing work?”
“Be careful with that. It’s not totally secure,” you demand.
>“Sorry, sorry,” Rich apologizes.
“This device produces a certain frequency of radio signal, think like . . . a sound wave, though it’s actually part of the electromagnetic spectrum - from an electric current and converts sound waves into radio waves. The other picks up those radio signals and turns them back into sound,” you explain.
>“Wow,” Filthy Rich says.
>The explanation clearly went over his head.
>“Well, let me get a few sacks of bits ready. How quick can you make those schematics?”
“Fairly.”
>“Good. Butler, get me 4500 bits out from the vault, and a few sheets of paper and pencil for Mr. Anonymous,” Rich orders his servant.
>The tuxedoed pony races off with a surprising amount of agility for his age.
“Not so fast. We haven’t negotiated a price, nor am I certain that I want to give this design to you.”
>“Ah, you’re cunning, Anonymous,” Rich says. “Sharp. I need more minds like you in my businesses. What’s your price?”
“I need a minimum of 6000 bits. I won’t take any less. Plus, I just want credit for the patent. That’s symbolic more than anything; I don’t want or need any royalties. But, I have plenty of other buyers. Plenty of people who are willing to snap up this little gadget.”
>“Darn . . .” Rich mutters. “6000, eh? How about this, I’ll give you 7000. Right here. Right now. Plus your credit, and 10% on all profits. And you don’t give me anything until the paperwork is all done.”
>Tempting.
>Very tempting.
>Unfortunately for your reputation with your friend back at the library, logic is going to have to dictate your response to this.
>As it always should.
>You don’t know when if ever you will receive a response from Fancy Pants.
>And you can definitely earn 7000 now, 1600 bits more than you even need.
“It’s a deal.”
>The butler returns with the paper and pencil first.
>“Sorry, Butler, but we won’t be needing those it turns out,” Rich says.
>He looks at the sack of gold.
“And we’re gonna need about 2500 more of those.”
>The butler again scampers off.
>“Excellent. Now, one last thing, is there some way that I can get other signals to come out of this? Different frequencies?” Filthy Rich inquires.
“Yes. Each transmitter can only produce one frequency, but a receiver can theoretically accept an infinite number. It’s just a matter of changing some of its resistors.”
>“Huh. I’ll have to have my engineers work on that.”
>The butler returns.
“Here’s your money, like I promised,” Filthy remarks, handing you the weightless sack of jingling coins.
>You spill them out and begin counting them.
>“There’s 7000 in there. If there aren’t come back and tell me. I’m not a pony to rob others of their work.”
>You scoop the pile of gold back into the sack.
“I’ll get some legal documents whipped up and send them to your residence. If you have anything else you need to discuss, feel free to send me a message.”
“Pleasure doing business,” you acknowledge as you walk out the door.
>“Same here. If you have any other ideas, you know who to contact.”
>The butler slams the door shut.
>Now all you have to do is wait.
>It will be one more month before you can begin construction, and that’s if you’re lucky.
>You need something to keep you occupied, and you think you have just the thing.
>It’s time you really delved into how magic works.
>You walk back to Twilight’s library in a cheery mood.
>“You’re back,” Twilight greets as you knock on the door.
>You only nod.
>“Well, I was just about to leave. Do you mind coming with me?”
“Not at all. Let us walk. There’s something I’d like to discuss with you specifically.”
>The two of you stroll towards the marketplace.
>“Well, what happened?”
“I sold the design.”
>Twilight frowns.
“I know it wasn’t what you wanted me to do, but I didn’t have any other option. The diplomatic route was . . . not ideal.”
>“Alright. Just . . . we’ll keep it to ourselves. I know Applejack particularly doesn’t like that Filthy Rich . . . I guess we can just – ”
“It’ll be our secret. And not even that terrible of one.”
>Or, then again, maybe not.
>A strange thought slips into your mind.
>Or, rather, a thought that is rather alien to your normal disposition.
>It is a thought that you know will please your . . . acquaintance.
“No. I’m not going to keep that from her.”
>“What?”
“I’m going to go talk to Applejack. See if I can dispel some of the bad blood between us. This is the start of it.”
>“Anonymous, I don’t know if that’s such a good idea.”
“You said it yourself. I need to make myself liked in this world, or the whole town is going to come after me with pitchforks and torches. This is the start.”
>“Alright, I guess I really can’t stop you. But if anything goes wrong . . .”
“Nothing will go wrong. I assure you of it.”
>And so, you head south towards the fields.
>As you approach, a loud thumping echoes from the apple orchard to your left.
>Walking under the shady branches, you find Applejack hard at work bucking the red fruit from the tree limbs above.
“Good afternoon,” you state.
>“Huh? Who’s that?” Applejack asks, pausing her work briefly to turn around. “Oh. Hello, Anonymous. Whatcha need?”
“I require nothing. I am here to offer whatever assistance I can.”
>“Well, ahm sorry, Anonymous, but we don’t really need any help around the farm. It’s not prime harvest season or anythin’. Just gotta get a few gala apples down. And the rest of the farm is pretty much under control.”
“Are you sure? I mean, I could probably use some of my knowledge for better fertilizer, or show you some growing methods used to increase production back on earth – ”
>“That won’t be necessary.”
“I’m just trying to help. Please, if there’s anything you can think of, just tell me.”
>Applejack gives an especially hard kick to the tree she’s working on, then turns around to face you.
>“What do you really want, Anonymous?”
“What?”
>“What’s your game? What do you want in return for whatever you can give me?”
“I don’t want anything. I’m just trying to be helpful.”
>Applejack snorts.
>“Helpful? Helpful? I can read you like a book, Mr. Anonymous. You don’t help people unless you think you can gain from it.”
“And maybe I’m trying to change that reputation.”
>“And even then you gain things. Trust. Friends. People who you can count on for whatever you need. And all you have to do is pull on the little strings of your web, and all the little flies come tumbling towards your mouth.”
>Your brow furrows, and you frown slightly.
“I’m sorry,” is all you can say. “I just wanted to help.”
>You turn back to path towards town.
>“Back so soon?” Twilight says when you walk through the door.
“Yes. It . . . it didn’t go well.”
>“I can tell that by your expression.”
“I don’t believe that there is a way for me to create a more positive relationship with your friend. She thoroughly distrusts me.”
>“Applejack is stubborn, and she doesn’t like it when anyone tries to help her, let alone you. Maybe, I should go talk to her first.”
“That might be wise.”
>You consider your options for a bit, and make a decision.
“I’m going for another walk. I’ll be back before dark.”
>“Well, aren’t you just on the move today? Alright, see you soon.”
>Outside, you grab a few buckets and a shovel.
>You have a cave to visit.
>You are Twilight Sparkle, and you too have decided to go for a walk to settle this situation.
>You find Applejack hauling a large cart filled with apples towards her barn.
“Applejack, we need to talk.”
>“If it’s about the little human you keep in your basement, then I don’t want to hear about it.”
“Unfortunately, it is.”
>Applejack unhitches herself from the cart.
>“Fine. What do you need to say?”
“I know that Anonymous came down here earlier and tried to give you some help.”
>“And I don’t need any, ‘specially from scoundrels like him. You don’t seem to understand, Twi. He’s just a little rat. Or maybe he’s got magic powers and is putting a spell on you.”
>Applejack wiggles her hooves menacingly.
>“He’s a villain thick and through. And he just wanted to help me so he could get somethin’ in return.”
“He didn’t, though. He wants to change.”
>“Why should I believe you? That’s probably just what he told you. He could say he’s a fish and you’d believe him.”
“Applejack, you need to trust me as a friend and believe that I believe him.”
>The farmer just chuckles.
>“Twi, as your friend, you’ve gotta believe me and believe that Anonymous is a liar.”
>Just then, you hear buckets clanking together and the tromping of feet.
>“Speak of demons . . . .” Applejack mutters.
>Anonymous pauses, stares at Applejack for a second, then sets his buckets down on the doorstep to their barn.
>Applejack trots over to it as Anonymous begins to walk off, and you follow
“Anonymous! What is this stuff?” you ask, taking a whiff of the rancid-smelling substance.
>He stops and turns around.
>“Bat guano. It can be used as a very effective fertilizer. I’ll explain the science when we get home, Twilight.”
>He locks gaze with Applejack.
>“Take it if you need it,” he says with a shrug.

create a new version of this paste RAW Paste Data

Mad Science

Chapter 8
By IceMan

>Thump.
>“Mail’s here,” Twilight says, not looking up from her book.
>You rush to the door as the slot flips open with a soft metallic clang, leaving three flat envelopes on the doormat.
>Like a miner sifting through a plate of gold dust, you pick up the letters and sort through them.
>You’ve done this for the past few days, waiting eagerly for a response to your messages.
>Two are addressed to Twilight Sparkle; they’re probably book renewals, as they usually are.
>The third is addressed to . . . you.
>You throw the other two letters on the ground and tear open yours, not even looking at who it’s from.
>“Dear Anonymous,” it reads.
>“This new invention of yours sends most interesting and could bring great profit to my business. If it is at all possible, I would like to meet with you at my estate at 14 Cliff Avenue and discuss the possibility of a sale of the schematic as soon as possible.”
>“Truly yours,”
>Signed in a flamboyant scrawl was the name “Filthy Rich.”
>“You look pleased,” Twilight says, trotting up to you and scooping the dropped letters into her mouth.
“I am. I’m quite pleased. Someone wants to buy my radio.”
>Twilight quickly looks over the two letters before setting them on the table in the center of the library.
>“Who?”
“Filthy Rich. He wants to meet with me immediately.” 
>She frowns.
>“Anonymous, I’d really prefer if – ”
“I don’t have a choice. I need money. He can give it to me. This . . . pony is currently my only option.”
>Twilight tilts her head to one side.
“Look, I . . . I’ll tell him that I have another potential buyer that could give me a better offer. But if your other contact does not reach me soon, I’m going to have to accept Filthy Rich’s offer.”
>You really hate saying that name.
>It does belie a rather unscrupulous nature.
>Twilight’s expression brightens.
>“Alright, that’s a fair agreement. I guess you’ll need directions to the Rich residence then.”
>You nod. 
>Twilight gets out a bit of parchment, scribbles down the directions, and hands it to you.
>You head downstairs and grab your crude radio, placing it inside a small wooden box, then head out into the open streets.
 >As you travel along your route, the houses along the street suddenly become a bit grander, made of brick and stone rather than painted wood.
>Separated from the rest at the end of the road is a brick mansion with an open wrought iron gate.
>You lope right through and bang your fist on the front door.
>A grey, aging butler pony (at least, that’s what you assume he is from the tuxedo) opens it.
“My name is Anonymous. I have a business arrangement with Mr. Rich.”
>The butler merely blinks and maintains his haughty glower.
>He turns his head to the right and calmly declares, “Sir, the human is here to discuss some sort of business arrangement.”
>“Let him in,” Filthy Rich responds.
>The tapping of hooves on the marble floor announces your contractors approach as you step through the entryway.
>The foyer contains a mammoth staircase with carved oak banisters and a glittering crystal chandelier dangling from the ceiling.
>You scowl for a second before regaining your composure.
>You never liked people who swam in their opulence.
>“So, you must be the wondrous human, Anonymous?” Filthy Rich says, walking down the staircase. “Charmed to finally meet you in person. Filthy Rich, at your service.”
>He shoves his hoof into your hand and shakes it.
>“So, tell me about this device of yours.”
“It’s called a radio. It allows communication across long distances. They are very commonplace on Earth, my homeworld. I believe that they would be quite useful in Equestria, and whoever first owns the technology would certainly be able to make a good bit of coin off of it.”
>You pull out the ugly little contraption, rapidly checking to make sure that none of the parts have moved.
“Now of course, this is more a demonstration model than anything. I’m sure with a bit of magical and technological finesse, this could be refined into a suitable product. But this should give you a good example of how to build a similar device. I’ll also draw up some schematics for you once I’ve finished my demonstration. Now, if you could take the receiving end upstairs, I will show you how this works.”
>“Alright,” Filthy Rich agrees.
>You hand him the device, which he levitates with his magic before trotting upstairs.
>Once he is out of sight, you plug the transmitter in and state into the telephone receiver, “Mary had a little lamb, whose fleece was white as snow. And everywhere that Mary went, that lamb was sure to go.”
>Filthy Rich races back down stairs.
>“That was amazing! How does this thing work?”
“Be careful with that. It’s not totally secure,” you demand.
>“Sorry, sorry,” Rich apologizes.
“This device produces a certain frequency of radio signal, think like . . . a sound wave, though it’s actually part of the electromagnetic spectrum - from an electric current and converts sound waves into radio waves. The other picks up those radio signals and turns them back into sound,” you explain.
>“Wow,” Filthy Rich says. 
>The explanation clearly went over his head.
>“Well, let me get a few sacks of bits ready. How quick can you make those schematics?”
“Fairly.”
>“Good. Butler, get me 4500 bits out from the vault, and a few sheets of paper and pencil for Mr. Anonymous,” Rich orders his servant.
>The tuxedoed pony races off with a surprising amount of agility for his age.
“Not so fast. We haven’t negotiated a price, nor am I certain that I want to give this design to you.”
>“Ah, you’re cunning, Anonymous,” Rich says. “Sharp. I need more minds like you in my businesses. What’s your price?”
“I need a minimum of 6000 bits. I won’t take any less. Plus, I just want credit for the patent. That’s symbolic more than anything; I don’t want or need any royalties. But, I have plenty of other buyers. Plenty of people who are willing to snap up this little gadget.”
>“Darn . . .” Rich mutters. “6000, eh? How about this, I’ll give you 7000. Right here. Right now. Plus your credit, and 10% on all profits. And you don’t give me anything until the paperwork is all done.” 
>Tempting.
>Very tempting.
>Unfortunately for your reputation with your friend back at the library, logic is going to have to dictate your response to this.
>As it always should.
>You don’t know when if ever you will receive a response from Fancy Pants.
>And you can definitely earn 7000 now, 1600 bits more than you even need.
“It’s a deal.”
>The butler returns with the paper and pencil first.
>“Sorry, Butler, but we won’t be needing those it turns out,” Rich says.
>He looks at the sack of gold.
“And we’re gonna need about 2500 more of those.”
>The butler again scampers off.
>“Excellent. Now, one last thing, is there some way that I can get other signals to come out of this? Different frequencies?” Filthy Rich inquires.
“Yes. Each transmitter can only produce one frequency, but a receiver can theoretically accept an infinite number. It’s just a matter of changing some of its resistors.”
>“Huh. I’ll have to have my engineers work on that.” 
>The butler returns.
“Here’s your money, like I promised,” Filthy remarks, handing you the weightless sack of jingling coins.
>You spill them out and begin counting them.
>“There’s 7000 in there. If there aren’t come back and tell me. I’m not a pony to rob others of their work.”
>You scoop the pile of gold back into the sack.
“I’ll get some legal documents whipped up and send them to your residence. If you have anything else you need to discuss, feel free to send me a message.”
“Pleasure doing business,” you acknowledge as you walk out the door.
>“Same here. If you have any other ideas, you know who to contact.”
>The butler slams the door shut.
>Now all you have to do is wait.
>It will be one more month before you can begin construction, and that’s if you’re lucky.
>You need something to keep you occupied, and you think you have just the thing.
>It’s time you really delved into how magic works.
>You walk back to Twilight’s library in a cheery mood.
>“You’re back,” Twilight greets as you knock on the door.
>You only nod.
>“Well, I was just about to leave. Do you mind coming with me?”
“Not at all. Let us walk. There’s something I’d like to discuss with you specifically.”
>The two of you stroll towards the marketplace.
>“Well, what happened?”
“I sold the design.”
>Twilight frowns.
“I know it wasn’t what you wanted me to do, but I didn’t have any other option. The diplomatic route was . . . not ideal.”
>“Alright. Just . . . we’ll keep it to ourselves. I know Applejack particularly doesn’t like that Filthy Rich . . . I guess we can just – ”
“It’ll be our secret. And not even that terrible of one.”
>Or, then again, maybe not.
>A strange thought slips into your mind.
>Or, rather, a thought that is rather alien to your normal disposition.
>It is a thought that you know will please your . . . acquaintance.
“No. I’m not going to keep that from her.”
>“What?”
“I’m going to go talk to Applejack. See if I can dispel some of the bad blood between us. This is the start of it.”
>“Anonymous, I don’t know if that’s such a good idea.”
“You said it yourself. I need to make myself liked in this world, or the whole town is going to come after me with pitchforks and torches. This is the start.”
>“Alright, I guess I really can’t stop you. But if anything goes wrong . . .”
“Nothing will go wrong. I assure you of it.” 
>And so, you head south towards the fields.
>As you approach, a loud thumping echoes from the apple orchard to your left.
>Walking under the shady branches, you find Applejack hard at work bucking the red fruit from the tree limbs above.
“Good afternoon,” you state.
>“Huh? Who’s that?” Applejack asks, pausing her work briefly to turn around. “Oh. Hello, Anonymous. Whatcha need?”
“I require nothing. I am here to offer whatever assistance I can.”
>“Well, ahm sorry, Anonymous, but we don’t really need any help around the farm. It’s not prime harvest season or anythin’. Just gotta get a few gala apples down. And the rest of the farm is pretty much under control.”
“Are you sure? I mean, I could probably use some of my knowledge for better fertilizer, or show you some growing methods used to increase production back on earth – ”
>“That won’t be necessary.”
“I’m just trying to help. Please, if there’s anything you can think of, just tell me.”
>Applejack gives an especially hard kick to the tree she’s working on, then turns around to face you.
>“What do you really want, Anonymous?”
“What?”
>“What’s your game? What do you want in return for whatever you can give me?”
“I don’t want anything. I’m just trying to be helpful.”
>Applejack snorts.
>“Helpful? Helpful? I can read you like a book, Mr. Anonymous. You don’t help people unless you think you can gain from it.”
“And maybe I’m trying to change that reputation.”
>“And even then you gain things. Trust. Friends. People who you can count on for whatever you need. And all you have to do is pull on the little strings of your web, and all the little flies come tumbling towards your mouth.”
>Your brow furrows, and you frown slightly.
“I’m sorry,” is all you can say. “I just wanted to help.”
>You turn back to path towards town.
>“Back so soon?” Twilight says when you walk through the door.
“Yes. It . . . it didn’t go well.”
>“I can tell that by your expression.”
“I don’t believe that there is a way for me to create a more positive relationship with your friend. She thoroughly distrusts me.”
>“Applejack is stubborn, and she doesn’t like it when anyone tries to help her, let alone you. Maybe, I should go talk to her first.”
“That might be wise.”
>You consider your options for a bit, and make a decision.
“I’m going for another walk. I’ll be back before dark.”
>“Well, aren’t you just on the move today? Alright, see you soon.”
>Outside, you grab a few buckets and a shovel.
>You have a cave to visit.

>You are Twilight Sparkle, and you too have decided to go for a walk to settle this situation.
>You find Applejack hauling a large cart filled with apples towards her barn.
“Applejack, we need to talk.”
>“If it’s about the little human you keep in your basement, then I don’t want to hear about it.”
“Unfortunately, it is.”
>Applejack unhitches herself from the cart.
>“Fine. What do you need to say?”
“I know that Anonymous came down here earlier and tried to give you some help.”
>“And I don’t need any, ‘specially from scoundrels like him. You don’t seem to understand, Twi. He’s just a little rat. Or maybe he’s got magic powers and is putting a spell on you.”
>Applejack wiggles her hooves menacingly.
>“He’s a villain thick and through. And he just wanted to help me so he could get somethin’ in return.”
“He didn’t, though. He wants to change.”
>“Why should I believe you? That’s probably just what he told you. He could say he’s a fish and you’d believe him.”
“Applejack, you need to trust me as a friend and believe that I believe him.”
>The farmer just chuckles.
>“Twi, as your friend, you’ve gotta believe me and believe that Anonymous is a liar.”
>Just then, you hear buckets clanking together and the tromping of feet.
>“Speak of demons . . . .” Applejack mutters.
>Anonymous pauses, stares at Applejack for a second, then sets his buckets down on the doorstep to their barn.
>Applejack trots over to it as Anonymous begins to walk off, and you follow
“Anonymous! What is this stuff?” you ask, taking a whiff of the rancid-smelling substance.
>He stops and turns around.
>“Bat guano. It can be used as a very effective fertilizer. I’ll explain the science when we get home, Twilight.”
>He locks gaze with Applejack.
>“Take it if you need it,” he says with a shrug.

Pastebin.com Tools & Applications

iPhone/iPad

Windows

Firefox

Chrome

WebOS

Android

Mac

Opera

Click.to

UNIX

WinPhone