MY LITTLE PONY: EQUESTRIA GIRLS

Digital Series—Volume Two

Production credits for all shorts are as follows:

Produced by Angela Belyea

Directed by Ishi Rudell

Co-directed by Katrina Hadley

(Writing/story editing credits are listed on each individual transcript)

Transcribed by Alan Back (ajback@yahoo.com)

Note:                   Titles followed by “CYOE” are “Choose Your Own Ending” shorts. Each of these

is structured as an opening segment followed by one of three possible endings. At the end of the opening, prompts for the endings appear on the screen and the

viewer must click on the desired one. Headings for individual endings are

centered and in bold type, with no underline.

“X Marks the Spot” through “Friendship Math” take place on the beach that

served as the setting for portions of “Forgotten Friendship.” Refer to that

transcript for details on the girls’ swimwear and accessories.

Background song lyrics are in square brackets; any marked with an exclamation

point are shouted rather than sung.

“All the World’s Off Stage”                                                                (CYOE)

Written by Christopher Godfrey; story editing by Nick Confalone

(Opening shot: fade to black from the title card, then in to an extreme close-up of Sunset Shimmer’s mouth. The collar and shoulders of a dark gray T-shirt are visible, her pendant is not, and the business end of a headset microphone is poised by her mouth. A fast electronic tune grows in volume.)

Sunset: Go!

(Longer shot: she stands backstage in the Canterlot High School gym, having traded her usual clothing for the T-shirt and similarly colored pants. One hand grips a clipboard while the other gestures for the Cutie Mark Crusaders to hustle out; they are attired as dirty-faced coal miners and carrying shovels and pickaxes.)

Sunset: Go! And…go!

(The three girls dance their way onto the stage, which is set with a mine-tunnel backdrop, and the camera zooms out slightly to frame Twilight Sparkle, Pinkie Pie, and Flash Sentry in the otherwise-empty floor seats. This is a rehearsal for Dazzled, the school play referenced throughout the CYOE shorts in Volume One. Sunset, having traded her previous directorial role for that of stage manager, taps a pencil against her clipboard to keep the beat.)

Sunset: Ten seconds to set change! (pointing) Stage crew ready?

(Cut to the Crusaders, seen in profile, and pan to frame Snips and Snails in the wings at the opposite end of the stage. They have switched their everyday outfits for dark pants and short-sleeved shirts, and have each managed to get several turns of the rigging ropes snarled around themselves.)

Snips, Snails: (grunting, straining) Uh-huh.

Sunset: (flashing countdown on fingers) In five, four, three…pyro!

(A fog machine is switched on, sending out thick billows of mist to blanket the stage as the Crusaders clear out.)

Sunset: And… (pointing) …bring in Shiny City!

(The two boys haul on the ropes, causing a scenery flat to slide in behind a quartet of actors emerging onto the stage. Three are miners, one carrying a cutout of a loaded mine cart in front of herself, and the fourth wears a train engineer’s cap and holds a locomotive up so his face is visible through its side window. The flat, styled as a sparkly, cloud-wreathed metropolis, creaks and lurches across the stage and thoroughly fails to match their speed. The music and the acting both wind to a stop, the flat having barely advanced a quarter of the way across, and Snips and Snails lose their grip on the ropes and thud to the floor with a double groan. Murmurs sound from on and off the stage as Twilight and Pinkie stand up; Sunset puts a frustrated hand to her forehead and blows a lock of hair away from her eyes before crossing to Snips and Snails.)

Sunset: Guys, the effect is ruined if we don’t get the set across the stage in time with the dancers!

Snips: (groaning) But it’s like moving a ton of bricks that’s been built like…like a city! (Sunset grimaces to herself.)

Sunset: There’s gotta be a better way to move this thing. (Cut to Twilight on the start of the next line.)

Twilight: Don’t worry, Sunset. I’ve got an idea. (Zoom out slightly to frame Pinkie.)

Pinkie: (waving) Ooh, ooh! Pick me! Me too! Pick me, pick me, pick me!

(All the lights in the gym go out and the camera pans slightly to frame a single narrow spotlight shining down onto Micro Chips, hunched amid the back rows. Close-up as he stands.)

Micro: Surely brains, not brawns, are the secret formula for backstage success!

(Prompts for him, Twilight, and Pinkie appear around Sunset, accompanied by the ten-second timer that appeared in the opening segment of the Volume One CYOE shorts. She glances pensively among them as the seconds tick down, and the timer fades away once it reaches zero.)

“Choose Twilight Sparkle” ending

(Snap to Sunset standing in front of the stalled-out Shiny City set onstage. Twilight faces her from the floor; full lights have been restored in the gym.)

Sunset: Thanks, Twilight. (turning to it; close-up) Your geode powers’ll make moving this set a cinch. Ready? (pointing to her) Magic, go!

(A great deal of nothing happens, and she is more than a bit surprised to discover that her friend has vacated the premises. She looks around, scratching her head in puzzlement; close-up.)

Sunset: Twilight—

(She trails off into a pained yell and drops her clipboard as something runs into her leg, accompanied by a whine of machinery. Tilt down to her feet, where a cylindrical, one-wheeled device has just collided with her ankle; a circular hatch is set into its side. After it beeps and thuds against her boot again, she sidesteps away from it; now Twilight runs onto the stage carrying a controller. She steers the thing around during the following exchange, including several bumps into the scenery flats and a pivot that exposes a second hatch diametrically across from the first.)

Twilight: This is the perfect chance to test my robotics club project!

Sunset: I would’ve gone with super-amazing, perfect-for-this-specific-problem Equestrian magic, but okay.

Snips: (from o.s., sarcastically) Oh, great! (He and Snails come out from the wings.) There go the robots, taking all our high-paying jobs again!

Snails: Yeah! (confused, to Snips) Wait. We’re getting paid for this?

(Sunset groans wearily to herself in close-up, but is cut off by a string of beeps from the robot. It has made its way over to three actors in the wings, and it bumps into a crate and nearly takes out a shin before veering away. A quizzical stare from the stage manager is met with Twilight’s satisfied smile and thumbs-up. Dissolve to the two girls backstage, Sunset having recovered her clipboard so she can tap her pencil against it in time with the electronic background score. Rehearsals are underway once more.)

Sunset: And…bring in Shiny City!

(This is Twilight’s cue to tap a button on her controller; tilt down to the robot waiting by her feet. It leaps up for a quick midair spin and the upper/lower portions of its housing telescope away from the middle, exposing a camera lens as a pincer-tipped arm extends from each side hatch. One latches onto the leading edge of the Shiny City backdrop, while the other snakes past Sunset’s foot to snag a pipe that runs up the wall as an anchor point. The first arm reels in, pulling the backdrop onto the stage so that it keeps pace with the four actors dancing their way in. Close-up of the device.)

Sunset: (kneeling to it; the pipe is released) Twilight, your robot’s amazing! (The flat is magically lifted away.) Let’s do this one more time from the top!

(It takes her a beat to realize that Twilight is now using her pendant-granted telekinesis to reset the scene.)

Twilight: Ready when you are!

(She beams as Sunset throws her a “yeah, you got me” smile. “Iris out” to black, centered on Sunset’s face.)

“Choose Pinkie Pie” ending

(Snap to Pinkie blowing up a balloon; she stands before the stage, which is now festooned with bunches of them secured to its surface. Sunset pushes her way through them, no longer carrying her clipboard, and full lights have been restored in the gym.)

Sunset: Pinkie Pie, what are these? (Close-up.)

Pinkie: (from o.s., shoving the balloon to her) Party balloons!

Sunset: (setting it down) I’m not sure we have time for balloons. (Pinkie leans hard toward her.)

Pinkie: YOU WILL MAKE TIME, SUNSET!! (normal tone, pulling several from her hair) I mean, there’s always time for balloons.

(She giggles and tosses them overhead; pan/tilt down slightly to frame Snips and Snails. As they tumble down around the two boys, the first catches one happily while the second shudders and cringes away from contact with them.)

Snails: (shakily) I love balloons…they’re not scary at all…

Snips: (blissfully, cuddling his) Little balls of joy!

(One squeeze too many pops it and sends him into an impossible vertical screaming leap, from which he lands gracelessly in Snails’ arms.)

Snips: (shaking fist) Traitor!

Snails: I told you!

Pinkie: (to Sunset) Actually, they’re the set.

Sunset: You mean, they’re for the set.

Pinkie: Nope.

Sunset: I feel like you’re gonna have to explain this. (Long pause.)

Pinkie: Nope.

(Dissolve to a close-up of Sunset in the wings again. The electronic background score kicks up again—rehearsals have resumed.)

Sunset: (pointing) Bring in Shiny City!

(Where the two boys had stood at the opposite end, Pinkie slides a large fan into view. In a movement almost too fast to follow, she has crossed to Sunset’s side; a grinning throw of a wall switch, and the blades whir up to full speed. Out onstage, the four actors advance from the wings and the Shiny City set—now built entirely of balloons sculpted to resemble a city skyline—easily keeps pace with them, bringing a big smile to Sunset’s face.)

Pinkie: See? (arm across Sunset’s shoulders) Balloons can do anything.

(The stage manager laughs and gives her a hug as the view “irises out” to black, centered on their faces.)

“Choose Micro” ending

(Snap to an extreme close-up of Micro’s hands using a tape measure to check the dimensions on a backstage pulley. On the start of the following, cut to frame him, Sunset, Snips, and Snails in the wings; he jots on a notepad, while Sunset does not have her clipboard. Full lights have been restored in the gym.)

Micro: While simple machines do provide a mechanical advantage by multiplying force against a single load—i.e. the set—I’m afraid the net loss of force due to friction in the opposite vector has not been overcome.

(During this spiel, the camera cuts to the two uncomprehending stagehands, then back to the foursome as he tucks his pad away.)

Sunset: (dryly) No kidding.

Snips: Pfft! Your face is an opposite vector.

Micro: (adjusting glasses) Your face is nothing more than a genetically predetermined arrangement of stratified squamous epithelial cells.

(The rotund teen finds himself at a complete loss for words, his eyes flicking helplessly around for any shred of support.)

Snails: Oh, snap, Snips! Burn! (Pause.) I think.

Snips: Harsh. (Micro picks up a rope and tugs on it…)

Sunset: I’m not sure you’ll be able to move that giant heavy set on your own. (…then lets go.)

Micro: I won’t be moving anything. (tapping forehead, then gesturing across gym) This muscle is gonna convince those muscles to move it on their own.

(On the end of this line, cut to his perspective of the area. He gestures toward Bulk Biceps in a chair near the far corner, reading a magazine in one hand and working out with a dumbbell in the other. He is wearing the shorts and barbell-marked tank top he sported in “Best Trends Forever,” as well as his favorite winged red/white baseball cap. Zoom in quickly on him, then cut back to Sunset and Micro.)

Sunset: Bulk Biceps? But I already asked him for help. He’s too busy working out for his part in the play— (rolling eyes) —Lump of Coal.

(Bulk stands up, gesturing dramatically with his weight-laden hand.)

Bulk: This Lump of Coal’s gonna be cut like a diamond!

(He grunts his way through a few more curls as Sunset aims an unconvinced look at the techie, who calmly hooks his thumbs under his suspenders and pulls them out a bit. Letting go after a moment, he shoots a reassuring grin back toward the stage manager. Dissolve to her in the wings, tapping pencil on clipboard as the electronic background score starts up and rehearsals continue.)

Sunset: (pointing) And…bring in Shiny City!

(The first three actors associated with the scene change dance onto the stage, but the train engineer has been replaced by Bulk, rope in hand and uttering repeated cries of “Hut! Hut! Hut!” The other end is wrapped around the Shiny City flat, and he is hauling it in as Micro rides atop the locomotive.)

Micro: Go! (chanting) Muscle! Muscle! Muscle!

(He jumps down to land next to an impressed Sunset, the music and the procession stopping together.)

Sunset: How’d you convince him to stop and help?

Micro: (holding up Bulk’s magazine) Isn’t it obvious? I fabricated a counter-factual, peer-reviewed, pseudo-scientific study in Insane Lats magazine that postulates the only way to make your shirt uncomfortably tight for the summer is battle ropes. (Pan quickly to Bulk.)

Bulk: (flexing; the locomotive bursts to pieces around him) I battled the ropes, and I won!

(Sunset takes cover behind heir clipboard to avoid the flying debris, while Micro in turn hunkers behind her. Even though one chunk ends up lodged in the red/gold strands, she allows him a half-smirk as he nervously scratches as the back of his head over the unexpected fumble.)

Sunset: (tossing it away, walking off) You are a genius.

(“Iris out” to black, centered on Micro’s face.)

“Constructive Criticism”                                                                (CYOE)

Written by Jim Martin; story editing by Nick Confalone

(Opening shot: fade to black from the title card, then in to a sequence of extreme close-ups of various tools being wielded by a pair of gloved hands. A wrench tightens a bolt in a wooden framework; a saw cuts through a plank; a hammer drives a nail home. The exposed swatches of skin on the laboring arms point to Applejack as the one on duty, and a cut to her bears this out. She has donned a hard hat, work gloves, and safety goggles and is poring over a blueprint, which she lowers in time with the start of the next line.)

Sunset: (stepping in through a doorway, sighing with relief) I’m so glad we picked you to be the set designer, Applejack.

Applejack: I’m the only one who applied, so… (She kneels to resume hammering.)

Sunset: And the plans look fantastic. (grinning dopily) Just one thing. One little, kinda huge important thing?

(Long shot. They are on the stage of the Canterlot High gym, a half-built scenery backdrop standing behind them. The frame for another one is laid out flat for Applejack to work on, and the blueprint and a toolbox are within easy reach.)

Sunset: Is this gonna be built in time?

Applejack: Absolutely! (Close-up of them.) Construction’s the quick part. Like I always say— (showing two fingers, then one) —measure twice, cut once. (She prepares to strike a nail, but pauses.) But only after you measure it three more times. (Now she resumes hammering.)

Sunset: (voice raised) Glad that’s not my job! I’d be afraid I’d hammer my finger or something!

Applejack: (ditto) What?

Sunset: (still louder) I said, I’d be afraid I’d hammer my finger or something? (Cut to Applejack on the following.)

Applejack: WHAAT?

Sunset: (from o.s.) I SAID—

(The distinctive sound of case-hardened steel meeting flesh and bone, and the ensuing agonized yell from Applejack, cut off her third go-round. Dissolve to an extreme close-up of two white hands wrapping a light tan one in a thick layer of bandages, then cut to a longer shot. Applejack sits on the laid-flat framework, having removed all her protective gear, and is being attended to by the human counterpart of Nurse Redheart. White skin; blue eyes; pink hair in a bun; pale green sneakers, nurse’s cap, and hospital scrubs. Both the cap and the first aid kit she has placed on the stage bear a logo of a purple cross with a lighter-shaded heart tucked in at each outside corner. Sunset watches worriedly from a few steps back.)

Redheart: (soothingly) You’re going to be fine.

Applejack: Phew!

Redheart: Just stay away from lifting, hammering, cutting, anything set-building-related. (She picks up her kit and leaves.)

Applejack: But the play’s this Friday! (She stands up, all determination.) Don’t worry, Sunset. I still got thi— (She smacks her injured hand into her good one.) — owwww! (Sunset hurries over and rests a hand on her shoulder.)

Sunset: How about we get you an assistant set designer?

Applejack: I guess I could use a hand.

(Prompts for Pinkie, Rainbow Dash, and Photo Finish appear around her along with the usual ten-second timer, and the green eyes slip indecisively from one to another. When the timer reaches zero, it fades away and the view snaps to black around the prompts.)

“Choose Pinkie Pie” ending

(Snap to a long shot of the stage/construction zone and tilt down slightly to frame Pinkie in front of it, setting up her drum kit.)

Applejack: (walking into view) Are you sure you have time to help, Pinkie Pie? Don’t you need to practice your drum solo?

Pinkie: I am gonna practice my drum solo, silly.

(In less than a blink, she is seated behind the kit with sticks in hand.)

Pinkie: (banging them together overhead) A-one, two, three, four!

(She launches into a fast rock solo.)

Applejack: (raising voice) So you can’t help me?

Pinkie: I CAN’T HEAR YOU!

(The pink percussionist somehow manages to slip on a hard hat, work gloves, and safety goggles without breaking rhythm, then switches her sticks for a pair of hammers that she holds up. The solo goes on thanks to a foot that keeps operating the kick pedal of her bass drum.)

Pinkie: I’M BUSY HELPING!

(Now she races up onstage and pounds both tools against one spot after another on the set framework, adding new timbres to the frenetic drum line. Cut to a close-up of Applejack’s feet, one boot tapping in time to the impromptu beat, and tilt up; her face shifts from incredulity to enthusiasm, and she runs up among the flats.)

Applejack: (pointing to a spot) Pinkie! Drum over here!

Pinkie: (hammering it) Okay!

Applejack: (pointing to a doorway) And over here!

Pinkie: (banging around its perimeter) You got it!

(Her next move is to work her way down a long beam and pound in all the nails protruding from it, even turning her back and reaching behind herself to get a couple of them just to show off. A few more in other areas get their tickets punched next, and the solo ends with one final thundering strike. Applejack, completely floored, stares around herself as Pinkie slides over without her tools or safety gear and flashes a set of bullhorns with each hand.)

Pinkie: Thank you, Canterlot High School! (lowering them) What d’you think?

(Long shot. The side walls and backdrop depict a dance club decorated with balloons, musical notes, and a mirrored disco ball; cutouts of tables and a city skyline are set up at the rear, and a multicolored dance floor covers the central portion of the stage beneath the girls’ feet. Pinkie retrieves her sticks from her hair and plays a drum roll against one raised knee as Applejack casts a critical eye in every direction.)

Applejack: I’ll be honest. (smiling; roll stops) I think you drummed up one heck of a set, Pinkie Pie.

(A dazzling grin bisects the pink face, and the sticks tap out a quick sting—two strokes in the air, the third against the brim of Applejack’s hat to knock it down over her eyes. Both share a hearty laugh, the blonde tipping her headwear back into place, and the view fades to black.)

“Choose Rainbow Dash” ending

(Snap to a close-up of Applejack’s hands unrolling her blueprint.)

Applejack: (from o.s.) Thanks a bushel for helpin’ me build the set, Rainbow Dash.

(On the end of this, cut to both girls on the stage, Applejack having knelt to lay out the plans.)

Rainbow: You got it, AJ! This is gonna be done before you can say, “Take a look at this blueprint.”

(She dons safety goggles and a hard hat, spinning the latter on her head, and whips out a cordless drill. A quick trigger squeeze to make sure the battery is charged, and she barrels around the stage to start using it.)

Applejack: Well, actually, Rainbow Dash— (pulling plans off her face, blown there by Rainbow) —you really should take a look at this blueprint.

Rainbow: Already did. (pointing at her head) Got it up here.

Applejack: Slow down!

Rainbow: No time!

(She flashes down from the ladder on which she has been perched, her wake pulling the document from Applejack’s hands. On every pass, the view shifts to a closer shot of the discomfited blonde’s face and the sound of high-speed work drifts back to her.)

Applejack: But you need to measure more and cut less! (Pause.) You’re not measurin’ enough!

(Once her face fills the screen, she boils over and the camera zooms out slightly.)

Applejack: STOOOOOOP!!

(The clangor stops and the speed demon pops up next to her, no longer wearing/carrying any of the construction gear.)

Rainbow: What’s up? I’m done, by the way.

(Applejack’s eyes widen as she looks around herself and the camera cuts to a long shot of the completed set, which is designed as a dance club with crystalline walls. Clusters of orange facets stand up at the dark purple side walls, matching the red-orange hues of the backdrop, and a dark purple mosaic has been assembled as a dance floor, softly glimmering in the multicolored lights shining onto it from the front corners. Three disco balls hang above a row of cutout tables and velvet ropes. Applejack gathers up her dropped blueprint for a bit of scrutiny.)

Applejack: Hmmm…this doesn’t look like the blueprints. (smiling, turning to Rainbow) It’s…even better!

Rainbow: Oh, heh. I guess I was looking at the green prints?

(What she holds up is a mélange of dance/music/crystal-themed snapshots that form a rough border around a large picture of a purple dance floor and disco ball with a red-orange back wall. The entire assembly is mounted on a green picture frame.)

Rainbow: Is that what these are? (lowering it) Sorry.

Applejack: (crossing to her) That ain’t a green print, that’s…that’s my vision board! On green paper!

Rainbow: Say what now?

(Close-up of the lot, panning slowly from one side to the other.)

Applejack: (from o.s.) Green is my power color. I sketched out all this stuff I wished I could build, but knew I’d never have time. (Cut to her.) And you just built it all!

Rainbow: (winking) Only because I followed your amazing ideas. (Applejack takes the board from her.)

Applejack: Where’d you find this?

Rainbow: Oh, I ran to your house while I was building. (Two suddenly panicked green eyes turn to her.) Your room is a mess, by the way, and your diary was unlocked.

(The eyes narrow into a vicious squint as the face attached to them thrusts itself into hers.)

Rainbow: (grinning hastily) I didn’t read it.

(The tension breaks as quickly as it came, both girls having a belly laugh. “Iris out” to black, centered on Rainbow’s face; after a moment, the aperture reopens to frame her now-sheepish visage.)

Rainbow: Okay, I read it.

(Big dopey grin; “iris out” again.)

“Choose Photo” ending

(Snap to Applejack and Photo standing on the stage amid tools and supplies. The shutterbug has donned a hard hat and gloves and traded her usual sunglasses for safety goggles tinted opaque magenta.)

Applejack: All right. So what we got here is a basic disco layout with a light-up dance floor and recessed cans to backlight the performers.

(The camera has shifted to a close-up of her by the time she finishes, after which a gloved blue hand shoots into view and waggles at her. This gesture is accompanied by a shushing noise from the o.s. Photo, the finger goes to the lips, and the camera cuts to frame both again.)

Photo: Mouth closed, please!

Applejack: (muffled, holding up blueprint) But how am I supposed to tell you what to do?

Photo: (backing off, gesticulating grandly) With your heart, Applejack! Open it, and let Photo Finish feel where the light needs to be. Und then the set will be built where the lights are not.

(A snap of the fingers brings her two assistants on the bound to pick her up and carry her off the stage.)

Applejack: Sooooo…what do I do?

Photo: You’re already doing it!

(Lights are swiftly deployed on free-standing tripods and mounted to the set backdrop as Photo rolls across the gym floor, lying on a mechanic’s wheeled dolly. She has the thumb and forefinger of each hand extended and held up before her eyes to form a frame.)

Photo: Yes! Can’t you feel it? (Cut to Applejack, totally bewildered, onstage.)

Applejack: Feel what?

(The camera nut leaps down to her from a giant disco ball as it swings by.)

Photo: The passions!

(One assistant winks from the floor; Applejack starts to comment, but Photo cuts her off with a gloved finger to her lips.)

Photo: Shhh! It is time.

(Zoom out slightly. Except for her and Applejack at center stage, and the other two at the back corners, the area has been completely cleared out.)

Applejack: (sputtering a bit) What? This doesn’t look anythin’ like it’s supposed to.

Photo: (pulling her closer) You are looking with your eyes! Look with your heart!

Applejack: (backing off) You’re makin’ less sense than a jackrabbit on roller skates.

(Photo pivots away from her and lifts a remote control in one hand.)

Photo: Behold!

(One button push douses all the lights and brings the newly placed machinery to life, sending out networks of varicolored laser beams that reflect off banks of carefully adjusted mirrors. Within moments, the shining shafts have traced out walls and a floor to match the outlines of the set pieces Rainbow built in her ending. Applejack marvels at the instant, insubstantial set decoration in close-up.)

Applejack: Whoa. Thank you so much. (Flash of a camera; Photo races into view carrying one.)

Photo: That look! That is why I do this! (Finger snap.) I go!

(She makes good on that statement by peeling out in a white/magenta blur, and Applejack—now alone on the stage—smiles gratefully after the unconventional team. Fade to black.)

“Opening Night”                                                                        (CYOE)

Written by Kelly D’Angelo; story editing by Nick Confalone

(Opening shot: fade to black from the title card, then in to an overhead shot of the stage in the Canterlot High gym. Zoom out slowly to show the floor seats filled with students talking excitedly amongst themselves; the lights are out except for illumination that covers the stage from end to end. Cut to a slow pan across the occupants of the front row, then to the stage as the curtains open—a performance of Dazzled is starting. The scene is the kitchen area of a small cabin, backed by crudely painted scenery flats that depict walls and a cast-iron stove. Flash sits at a table: work boots and shirt with rolled-up sleeves, pants with suspenders, white beard. Twilight stands nearby, stirring a pot of food: severe long-sleeved blouse with ribbon tie, high-waisted skirt that reaches to the ankles of her boots, hair in a bun. Both have had touches of makeup applied to add age lines to their faces. Rarity stands facing them: glittery, short-sleeved purple dress with light pink lace trim under a white apron, magenta ankle-length boots with high heels. All three wear hard hats with headlamps, Rarity’s sporting her three-jewel clip. She is portraying lead character Selfie Soot, while the other two are her parents. She and Twilight deliver their lines with Southern accents, Twilight adopting an appropriately crotchety tone.)

Rarity: Ma! Pa! I have got to leave this humdrum, do-nothing, lump-o’-coal town! (shaking hips) I am going to be the best disco dancer that Club Amethyst has ever seen!

Twilight: (ladling coal onto Flash’s plate) Bury those silly dreams in a slag heap, Selfie. Only fools try to make it big in Shiny City!

(She swings the pot for emphasis, nearly whacking Flash upside the head; he ducks just in time, and she shoots him an apologetic sidewise grin. Rarity casts her eyes dejectedly toward her feet in close-up, the background dissolving behind her to the mine-tunnel set seen during rehearsals in “All the World’s Off Stage.” A spotlight picks her out.)

Rarity: (gradually breaking down) How will I ever become a disco dancer when all I know is coal, coal, coal?

(Bulk leaps and pirouettes into view on the end of this, clad in dark tights, ballet slippers, and chunky costume/cap in his role as Lump of Coal—mentioned in that same short. He catches her as she collapses in a sobbing heap; a brief flash from just above their heads, and a put-out Rainbow is lowered into view to dangle above the stage, a second spot following her. She is kitted out in a long, pale blue dress and conical hat, the former decorated with yellow stars and collar bow that match the hat’s sash tied under her chin, and is wearing fairy wings and a large, tattered work boot that covers her midsection. One hand carries a star-tipped wand. Her entrance is greeted by a round of puzzled stares from the audience and one boy’s soft cough.)

Rainbow: Your canary tears have summoned me, my child. It is I, your Fairy Boot-Mother!

(Awed ooh’s and aah’s from the crowd; Bulk sets Rarity upright and dances off the stage.)

Rainbow: Do not despair, for all coal turns to diamonds!

(Close-up of a chunk of coal on the end of this. Sunset reaches into view from behind a set piece, swipes this item, and replaces it with the glittery boots that were the focus of “Rarity Investigates: The Case of the Bedazzled Boot.” A pinch of glitter is tossed up before Rarity retrieves them, voicing a giddy laugh and earning a round of applause. From here, dissolve to the set change to Shiny City as seen in “All the World’s Off Stage,” the electronic dance accompaniment starting up. Rarity, now wearing the magic boots, pink hoop earrings, and a knee-length sleeveless dress striped in vivid pinks and yellows, leads those four actors—two miners, a cart, and an engineer with locomotive—across the stage as the new backdrop is pulled steadily in behind them. Its motive power turns out to be the one-wheeled robot Twilight designed, placed in the wings near a most apprehensive Fluttershy in miner costume. She glances fearfully at the script in her hands as Snips and Snails ease into view behind her, still wearing the dark clothing they adopted for their backstage work in that earlier short. Snails shoves Snips into Fluttershy, only for Applejack’s hands to reach into view, lock onto both boys’ heads, and drag them bodily out of sight. Snips has just enough time for one surprised yelp before he goes bye-bye, and Applejack steps out to rest a hand on her friend’s shoulder.)

Applejack: How’s Coal Miner Number Two doin’?

Fluttershy: Thinking of calling in sick.

Applejack: Don’t be nervous. It’s only one line.  All you have to do is ring that bell and say, “The mine is closed.”  

Fluttershy: (faintly) “The mine is closed.”

Applejack: Yeah, that, but…maybe a little louder? (Applause; she pushes Fluttershy forward.) Heh. Go get ’em!

(The timid teen steps to center stage, now set as a mountain village, and stops by a bell tower. Twilight and Flash have watched Rarity board a bus, miners Apple Bloom and Scootaloo stand across from them, and Fairy Boot-Mother Rainbow dangles from the rafters. The stage lights go out and a single spot shines down on Fluttershy, pinning her in place under a glare that makes one blue-green eye screw up in pain for a moment. She takes a deep breath and reaches for the rope tied to the bell’s clapper—and then a bit of roughhousing between Snips and Snails knocks a rope loose from its peg on the wall backstage. As Applejack grimaces in wordless terror, having put the script aside, the line hisses through an overhead pulley and drops loose, allowing the bell to fall from the top of the tower and embed itself in the stage with a thundering clang. A shocked gasp from the audience, a shudder from Fluttershy, a gasp from Twilight; cut to Sunset backstage, in the dark outfit and headset microphone she used while directing the run-through in “All the World’s Off Stage.”)

Sunset: Oh…

Applejack: Fluttershy needs our help!

(Prompts for her, Twilight, and Sunset and the ten-second timer appear around Fluttershy. She shivers in place during the countdown and looks from one to another as if wishing she could dive through one of the panes and get out of this living nightmare. After the timer reaches zero, it fades away and the view snaps to black around the prompts.)

“Choose Twilight Sparkle” ending

(Snap to the frozen stage tableau, Fluttershy whimpering and shaking in the throes of fear with feet riveted to the boards. Sunset skids into view in the wings at her end of the stage and waves frantically for attention, having donned her pendant now. Establishing eye contact with Twilight, she wiggles her fingers in a “make with the magic” gesture but gets only a puzzled head shake in return. Her next idea is to hold up an imaginary bell and pull its rope, but this too gets her nowhere. Finally she settles on the direct approach and points at her own pendant; the purple eyes pop in sudden comprehension, and a shimmer of power surrounds the violet fingers as they surreptitiously levitate the bell out of the wreckage. The clapper swings to and fro to ring it in the process, eliciting a chorus of confused murmurs from the audience, and the spotlight shifts to Rainbow.)

Rainbow: Just using my magic here! (tossing glitter, waving wand) Classic Boot-Mother!

(The tone of the murmurs shifts to one of awe, and one last flick of Twilight’s fingers bonks the bell against the side of Fluttershy’s head. She cries out, hard hat knocked askew.)

Twilight: Sorry, sorry!

(Fluttershy grins and waves her off, headwear again on the level, and pulls the rope tied to the clapper to ring the bell.)

Fluttershy: The mine is closed!

(Vigorous cheering and applause sound throughout the gym as all the lights come up, and the view “irises out” to black, centered on her face.)

“Choose Applejack” ending

(Snap to Applejack as she whirls to face Snips and Snails, the latter in a headlock by the former.)

Applejack: Quick! I need a costume!

Snails: (pointing to the side) Uh, we only have one.

(A look of distinct unease comes over the freckled face as the green eyes turn in the direction he has indicated, and she groans and slaps a hand to her face. Cut to the stage; she makes her way in past Bloom and Scootaloo, the spotlight swinging over to pick her out. She has ditched her hat and is now wearing a full-body apple tree costume, her head and arms protruding from the trunk.)

Applejack: Oop, pardon me. Talkin’ apple tree comin’ through. (trying to sound casual) Oh, hello, coal mine! Just me, the magical talking apple tree. R-Remember, Fairy Boot-Mother? You enchanted me?

(The spot pivots to a thoroughly flummoxed Rainbow, who does a little fast thinking of her own.)

Rainbow: Oh…y-yeah! I certainly enchanted you. Heh. That.

(The light shifts back to Applejack and the bell tower. She tries to reach down for the bell without bending her knees, but the height differential and her costume’s bulk make this impossible. After a couple of failed attempts and frustrated groans, she gives up the effort to stay in character and bends over to hoist it back up with one hand.)

Applejack: Well, would you look at that. The bell’s back where it needs to be. (holding it out to Fluttershy) Someone should really ring it. (Long pause; Fluttershy is rooted in place.) Just flutter on over. Don’t be shy.

(The spotlight shifts to Fluttershy as she latches on to the prompt; she smiles and seizes the rope tied to the clapper, shaking it to deliver a series of rings.)

Fluttershy: The mine is closed!

(Vigorous cheering and applause sound throughout the gym as all the lights come up, and the view “irises out” to black, centered on her face.)

“Choose Sunset Shimmer” ending

(Snap to Sunset, who grimaces and runs out onto the stage; the spotlight shifts to her.)

Sunset: (a bit stilted) Oh! (Cut to the audience; she continues o.s.) Coal Miner Number Two! (Back to her.) It is I, the assistant director, um, of the play…of life!

Fluttershy: (aside, to her, gasping softly) This isn’t in the script!

Sunset: (aside) Follow my lead! (aloud, pacing) You’re a genius!

(Cut to a slow pan across the hopelessly confused spectators.)

Sunset: (from o.s.) You crashed this bell on purpose! (Back to her.) For this bell is a metaphor, is it not?

Fluttershy: It is? (The audience again, then back on the start of the next line.)

Sunset: (dramatically, pacing) Whether it’s our families’ expectations to work in the coal mine, or if it’s a fear of the spotlight— (The audience; they start to come around as she continues o.s.) —we all need to let go of what’s holding us back.

(Back to her, now holding a chunk of coal.)

Sunset: (squeezing it in both hands; it crumbles) The pressures of life turn us all into diamonds!

(She accentuates this last work by raising a gem-quality stone in one hand for all to see—either placed within the coal as a prop, or formed on the spot by sheer force and pressure. The sight of it brings appreciative reactions from the crowd.)

Sunset: Come on, everybody! Join in! (waving free hand overhead) Ding-dong, ding-dong!

Twilight, Rainbow, Rarity, Flash: (joining in) Ding-dong!

Applejack / Snips and Snails: (ditto) Ding-dong! / Dong-ding!

Audience: (ditto) Ding-dong, ding-dong! (Back to the stage on the end of this; Sunset has ditched the diamond.)

Sunset: (whispering, to Fluttershy) You got this! (Wink.)

Fluttershy: (grinning jubilantly) The mine is closed!

(Vigorous cheering and applause sound throughout the gym as all the lights come up and bouquets of flowers are tossed onto the stage. In the wings, Snips and Snails have both teared up at the impromptu catharsis.)

Snips: Do you believe in me, buddy?

Snails: (sobbing, hugging him) I do!

(Both of them break down crying as the view “irises out” to black, centered on them.)

“Happily Ever After Party”                                                                (CYOE)

Written by Whitney Walls; story editing by Nick Confalone

(Opening shot: fade to black from the title card, then in to an overhead shot of the stage in the Canterlot High gym. The performance of Dazzled seen in “Opening Night” has just ended, and the cast members have lined up to take their bows in front of a wildly enthusiastic audience. Applejack is wearing the apple tree costume from her ending to that short, and Rainbow stands with the others instead of dangling above them in her harness. All the lights are down except for the ones that illuminate the entire stage. A close-up of the group reveals that Twilight and Rarity are already holding flower bouquets given by the audience, and Fluttershy catches one of her own as the camera pans slowly to the Crusaders at the other end. The smiles fade from the three young faces, replaced by expressions of deep dejection.)

(The view shifts to backstage, most of the cast members going their separate ways to leave Applejack, Rainbow, and Rarity standing together. Twilight is still carrying her bouquet, but Fluttershy is not.)

Applejack: Hoo-wee! What’s the lowdown on the after-party hoedown? (The Crusaders enter through the curtains.) I’m ready to throw down!

Rainbow: Is it gonna be the best night ever or what? (Next three lines overlap, all delivered listlessly.)

Bloom: Suppose so.

Scootaloo: Eh.

Sweetie Belle: Perhaps.

Rarity: Whatever is the matter, girls? I thought you were excited for this soiree.

Sweetie: We were. We even put together a super-special slide show of all the great memories we made while doing the play.

(Cut to Applejack and Rarity as she finishes; a warm smile passes from one face to the other.)

Scootaloo: (sourly) But Mr. Cranky Doodle says parties are not an… (making finger quotes, imitating him) …“appropriate appropriation of his expensive projector.”

(A calculating look makes its way onto Rainbow’s face.)

Rainbow: (to Applejack/Rarity) Maybe one of us can turn that heart of coal into a diamond!

(Dissolve to the Crusaders. Prompts for the three older girls appear around them, accompanied by the ten-second timer, and the six puzzled/skeptical eyes rove from one to another. At zero, the timer fades away and the view snaps to black around the prompts.)

“Choose Applejack” ending

(Snap to a close-up of Applejack, seen from behind and back in her everyday clothes and peering through the window of a closed classroom door from the hall. Cranky Doodle sits grading papers at the front desk within.)

Applejack: (turning away from door) If he’s gonna be stubborn about it, so can we!

(These last three words are accompanied by a longer shot that puts the Crusaders on the receiving end of her words; they are also back in their civvies. Cut to inside as she opens the door and strides brightly in.)

Applejack: Hey there, Mr. Cranky Doodle! I heard you won’t let us borrow your projector for our party. (The Crusaders peek in.)

Cranky: You heard right.

Bloom: (to Scootaloo/Sweetie) Ooh, she’s gonna have a good old-fashioned stubborn-off!

(Scootaloo gasps excitedly and points upon glancing off to one side; cut to the trio’s perspective and zoom in on the back wall. Here, on a countertop, is the overhead projector they are after—a compact model, easily small enough to fit under one arm. Back to Applejack and Cranky.)

Applejack: I’m askin’ nice. (To the doorway; the Crusaders slip/crawl in.)

Cranky: (from o.s.) The answer’s no. (The front desk.)

Applejack: Not leavin’ without it.

Cranky: You’re gonna be here a while. (The girls, now crawling to the projector.)

Applejack: (from o.s.) Fine by me.

Cranky: (from o.s.) Talkin’ overnight. (Up front on the end of this.)

Applejack: Got a sleepin’ bag.

(At the back, the Crusaders quickly tape a flashlight to the top of a cardboard box that is roughly the same size and shape as the projector.)

Cranky: (from o.s.) Floor’s not comfortable.

Applejack: (from o.s.) Air mattress, too. (Scootaloo grabs the loot and plants the decoy.)

Cranky: (from o.s.) You’ll hyperventilate.

Applejack: (from o.s.) Got an air pump. (They start to tiptoe out, watching the face-off intently.)

Cranky: Won’t let you plug it in.

(Scootaloo’s knee jostles a chair; she freezes and Cranky leans over the desk for a closer look, but Applejack positions herself to cut off his direct line of sight.)

Applejack: Foot-powered.

Cranky: You’ll get a cramp.

Applejack: (straightening up) Eat bananas for potassium. (The Crusaders make their escape.)

Cranky: They’re—not—in—season!

(Satisfied that he has delivered the last word, he stands to full height with arms crossed and tilts his nose into the air. As a result, he misses the wink and thumbs-up that Bloom gives her older sister from the doorway.)

Applejack: You’re right. I can admit when I’m beat.

Cranky: Ha!

(He sits down to resume his grading, and Applejack takes her leave of him. Dissolve to one of the school’s music practice rooms, fully decked out for this after-party: plenty of guests, balloons, banners, snack table, and so forth. The Crusaders and all the Rainbooms save Sunset have congregated at the risers, all in their normal clothing and Fluttershy holding Spike in her lap. Like the yellow girl, Twilight is no longer carrying the bouquet she received at the play’s end.)

Rainbow: (to Crusaders) Great party, you guys!

(Cut to a rolled-down projection screen on the opposite wall; now Sunset can be seen among the crowd.)

Rainbow: (from o.s.) Yeah…good times.

(Zoom in slightly as the lights dim and a slide is shown: Bulk holding a swooning Rarity as Rainbow dangles overhead. They are in character as Lump of Coal, Selfie Soot, and the Fairy Boot-Mother, respectively. Assorted squeals of delight are heard as two more images come up: Twilight nearly clocking Flash in the head with her cooking pot during the opening scene…Tree Applejack trying unsuccessfully to get hold of the dropped bell without bending her trunk. The view then cuts to a long shot of the room’s closed doors, which are thrown open from outside by an irate Cranky.)

Cranky: Hey!

(Instant dead silence throughout the whole gathering. Cut to an extreme close-up of his glowering mug, then zoom out quickly as he breaks into a big smile and holds up the flashlight that the Crusaders used as part of their decoy—now detached from the box.)

Cranky: Thanks for findin’ my flashlight.

(He aims it into his own eye and flicks it on and off a couple of times to make sure it works.)

Cranky: (wistfully) I’ve missed this.

(And off he goes, the doors slamming shut behind him. Following a round of confounded “did that just happen?” looks, Applejack, Rainbow, and the Crusaders break into a gale of laughter. Fade to black.)

“Choose Rainbow Dash” ending

(Snap to an extreme close-up of one of the papers Cranky is grading.)

Cranky: (from o.s., marking red X’s) Wrong…wrong… (Cut to him, at his classroom’s desk.) …right, but… (Sound of the door opening.)

Scootaloo: (as the Crusaders rush in, wearing everyday outfits) Mr. Cranky Doodle, come quick! There’s a full-blown math emergency backstage!

Cranky: A math-mergency?!? (Door closes.)

Bloom: Sweetie Drops fixin’ to take the square root of negative one!

Cranky: It’s worse than I could have imagined!

(All four cross to the door, Sweetie opening it for him as Bloom and Scootaloo push him out.)

Cranky: I say “I” and “imagined” because…

(Sweetie is the last to exit, the door swinging toward its frame behind her—but a soccer ball is pushed into view from the hall to wedge it open. With the teacher well distracted, Rainbow jumps into the room, lands in a crouch, and proceeds to roll to the back and up to the front desk. She has changed back into her regular outfit. Taking cover beneath the desk’s edge for a split second, she stands up to do a fast bit of recon and spots a television set and videocassette recorder on/in a cabinet at the front corner. She pulls open the drawer beneath the VCR but finds only a partially eaten donut; this is examined in extreme close-up, the view briefly contracting to a horizontal bar around the wary red-violet eyes. Darting back to the desk, Rainbow goes into another roll and comes up behind it. She tries a drawer, which yields a handheld gaming device and an assortment of dice for role-playing games, and stands up for another look around. A moment’s head-scratching leads into a gasp of realization; she flashes across the room and opens one of the cabinets under the countertop at the back wall. The same compact overhead projector seen in Applejack’s ending rests inside.)

Rainbow: (picking it up) I’m just gonna borrow this.

(Dissolve to the music practice room, where the after-party is in full swing and everyone has donned their everyday threads and put away any congratulatory bouquets as in the “Choose Applejack” ending. Snips and Snails are having fun stuffing cookies into each other’s mouths, Pinkie and Sunset are at the far end, and the rest of the Rainbooms are hanging out at the risers, Spike sitting in Fluttershy’s lap. The lights dim and an image comes up on the room’s projection screen, showing the two inept stagehands tangled up in the rigging ropes, and gives way to Pinkie’s balloon-based design for the Shiny City set with the four actors from that scene dancing in front of it. Next: Applejack and Rainbow laughing it up, the former with her hand bandaged from her mishap in “Constructive Criticism.” Rarity sighs happily and turns to Rainbow as Pinkie crosses past them, eating a cupcake from the tray she carries.)

Rarity: Looks like they threw a splendid party after all.

Rainbow: They just needed a little coaching. (Both laugh, but cut themselves off with sudden concern.)

Rarity: Where are those girls, anyway?

(Nowhere to be found at the party, if the long shot of the room is any indication. Dissolve to a close-up of the Crusaders, standing backstage in the gym and looking very, very uncomfortable.)

Scootaloo: Uh, we gotta get back to—

(A longer shot tells the rest of the story: Cranky has set up a rolling blackboard for their perusal and chalked it thick with equations.)

Cranky: Ah-ah-ah! Here’s where the problem really shifts into high gear.

(He turns to the board, talking more to himself than to them as he resumes working—giving them the ideal opportunity to slip away during the next line.)

Cranky: Take that solution and plug it into this function, and the square root of the sum of the second prime number divided…

(His words fade away in time with the view fading to black.)

“Choose Rarity” ending

(Snap to Rarity and the Crusaders standing outside Cranky’s classroom, all back in their street clothes.)

Rarity: Don’t worry, girls. In the fashion industry, there is no room for compromise— (donning her orange-framed reading glasses) —and I happen to be an excellent negotiator.

(This last word is spoken with a “see” sound on the third syllable as in British English, rather than the “she” used by American speakers. Cut to just inside the room as she opens the door and strides up to face Cranky, the Crusaders heading for the desks; the compact overhead projector seen in the other two endings sits on his own. She adopts her best high-handed, lawyerly tone of voice.)

Rarity: Good evening, Mr. Cranky Doodle.

Cranky: (groaning) Hello, Rarity.

(She begins to pace as the younger girls watch from the front row, adjusting her glasses to peer over them from time to time.)

Rarity: I am here representing the Cutie Mark Crusaders. I understand you are denying them the use of a projector.

Cranky: (pulling it toward himself) Yes! My projector!

Rarity: Uh, let the record show that Mr. Cranky Doodle has identified the projector in question.

(Cut to the Crusaders on the end of this; Sweetie writes furiously in a notebook as Bloom and Scootaloo trade knowing nods.)

Rarity: (pacing) So, if I am understanding you correctly, this is your projector.

Cranky: Yes.

Rarity: And you take it home with you when the school day ends.

Cranky: Well…no, I can’t do that. I—

Rarity: Mmm—that’s right. You can’t do that, can you? (Cut to Cranky, off guard; she continues o.s.) In fact, this projector cannot leave the school premises— (Zoom out to frame her pointing into his face.) —because it isn’t your projector at all.

(Cut to the Crusaders.)

Rarity: (from o.s.) It is the property of Canterlot High School— (Collective gasp; back to her and Cranky.) —a public school funded by hardworking taxpayers such as Applejack and myself! (leaning toward him, tapping projector) So technically, is this not the taxpayers’ projector? (tapping his forehead, then it) My projector! Applejack’s projector!

(This argument earns her a three-way of triumphant smiles from the audience.)

Cranky: (barely audible) Uh…

Rarity: Therefore, did you not lie under oath when you identified it as your own?

Cranky: (sputtering) I didn’t take an oath! (He indignantly stands up.) You’re out of order!

Rarity: This whole projector situation is out of order! (snatching it off desk) I’m confiscating it as evidence. (All four students head for the door.)

Cranky: Wait! It’s expensive, and it could be damaged if not cared for properly. (Pause.) Also, I pay taxes too!

(Rarity pauses in her exit, shooting him a sly look as the Crusaders continue with theirs.)

Rarity: Mmm—you think you’d feel more comfortable if someone were there to supervise it?

(Dissolve to the music practice room, the after-party going in high gear as in the other endings. The Crusaders are sitting at the far end of the risers, and everyone is back in casual wear; as before, Fluttershy has Spike in her lap.)

Sweetie: We did it! (All three trade high fives; Rarity crosses to them, having shed her specs.)

Rarity: Ah! Delighted we could reach a settlement. (She sits.) In exchange for the projector, he could attend the party to supervise said projector.

(On the end of this, she gestures across the room and the sound of its slide-changing mechanism is heard in time with the lights dimming. Cut to the projection screen on the opposite wall, showing Pinkie about to start her combined drum solo and set-building spree in “Constructive Criticism.” Cranky dances in front of it, alternately donning and removing a lampshade as students clap to keep the beat. Rarity smiles as the Crusaders giggle at the spectacle, and the view fades to black.)

“Road Trippin”

(Opening shot: fade to black from the title card, then in to a close-up of a pile of musical instruments and storage cases. They are resting at the back of the Rainbooms’ tour bus as seen in “Get the Show on the Road.”)

Twilight: (from o.s.) Instruments?

(Zoom out quickly to the front, framing the other six girls belted into the seats. Daytime sky is visible through the windows.)

Twilight: (from o.s.) Check. Band members?

All others: Check!

(A clipboard is raised into view, held in the bookworm’s hands, with two items checked.)

Twilight: (from o.s.) Directions to Cousin Goldie’s party? (marking off a third) Check.

(Cut to her at the front, seen from the waist up; the top of Granny Smith’s head is just visible to her right.)

Twilight: Perfect! (checking her cell phone, adjusting glasses) We’re a little behind schedule, but if we get on the road in the next thirty-seven seconds, we’ll make it just in time to go onstage for Goldie’s party.

(She is met with a round of cheers and whoops as she moves to take a seat and buckle herself in, the camera panning/tilting down slightly to frame the Apple matriarch in the driver’s seat. The wrinkled green face sports a pair of eyeglasses with flip-up sunglasses attached. After a bit of fumbling with the seat belt, she gets it fastened and starts the engine.)

[Note: Except where indicated, everyone wears a seat belt while on the bus.]

Granny: Buckle up, Rainbooms!

(She pulls the darkened lenses over her eyes with a devilish grin and peels out, while Twilight aims a satisfied glance at her phone, whose screen shows a ticking clock. Almost immediately, though, the bus screeches to a halt behind an unmoving car; to the sound of discordant honking, the camera pans ahead to put them on the wrong end of a monster traffic jam. Inside, Sunset undoes her seat belt, stands up for a better look, and flops back down with a moan once she sees the extent of the congestion.)

Twilight: Don’t worry. The GPS has accounted for traffic. (Cut to Granny, shades flipped up.)

Granny: GP-what now? I don’t need that ninny new-fangly thing-a-ma-jig-a-bee. I know me a shortcut!

(A hard spin of the wheel sends the bus into a lurching turn; the girls’ seat belts the only thing keeping them from being flung against the windows. To the sound of a lot of panicked yells—with a “Whee!” from Pinkie mixed in—the brightly painted vehicle veers off the highway and through a gate that gives onto a forested dirt road. It is a bumpy ride indeed, made even more severe by Granny’s outrageous speed, and the girls’ lungs get a good workout as several of them brace themselves against the seats to avoid being jostled too badly. Pinkie, of course, is enjoying it no end.)

Pinkie: Woo-hoo! Step on it, Granny!

(The pop of a punctured tire, the squeal of brakes, and a noticeable sinking of the bus all occur at nearly the same moment. Cut to just outside the windows; Pinkie peeks out, the camera tilting down to the offending flat just before Twilight’s telekinesis grips it and the entire bus rises a few inches. A zoom out shows Applejack lending her super strength to the job, having stepped out, and a longer shot frames Twilight with her. The flat is quickly exchanged for a spare, the bus is lowered, and both girls hop in as Pinkie closes her window. Once the trip has resumed, cut to Twilight inside; she eyes her phone with concern at first, but quickly smiles—just before another sudden stop.)

(Long shot of the bus, its path blocked by a herd of lazily grazing cattle; Fluttershy has stepped out to address them.)

Fluttershy: Um, excuse us. Sorry to interrupt your lunch, but do you mind?

(The bovines quickly disperse, Applejack and Rainbow having leaned out from one side to watch; on the other, Twilight gestures frantically at the phone in her hand. Fluttershy boards, the windows close, and the bus zooms off down the dirt road. Inside, real worry starts to take hold on Twilight’s face as the clock continues to count down, but a new problem soon asserts itself in the form of a fallen tree blocking the way. Almost as soon as Granny has skidded to a stop, Pinkie leans out the window, goes into the windup for a pitch, and lets fly with a magically souped-up piece of candy. It detonates on contact with the trunk, blowing away a wide enough section for the bus to hurtle through. Inside, Pinkie settles back into her seat and addresses Rainbow.)

Pinkie: If a tree falls in the woods and then gets sprinkle-blasted to bits, did it ever really exist?

Rainbow: Pinkie, I love your riddles, but— (pointing frantically ahead) —BRIIIIDGE!!

(Cut to her perspective, framing a barricade closing off the road dead ahead, and zoom in through the windshield to give an all-too-clear view of the collapsed bridge beyond this. Back to Granny.)

Granny: (flipping sunglasses down) Hold on to your horses, girls!

(A shift of gears, a stomp on the accelerator, and the camera cuts to a close-up of one rear tire as the kick of horsepower causes it to throw up curtains of dust. The bus goes airborne off the top of a ridge, terrified screams from within ripping the air, and the sound and view both shift to slow motion. As before, Pinkie is the only one of the seven passengers to actually get a rise out of this motoring madness, as seen when the camera briefly cuts to them. Outside again; the bus clears the barricade and hurtles toward the bridge-out—and then the view shifts to a profile of it and a scenery flat that has been painted to resemble the road hazard. A movie crew is set up on the solid ground just beyond it, and normal speed and audio resume as the bus smashes through and barrels past them. Pinkie has her window open.)

Pinkie: Sorry! (fading out) I love your work!

Stagehand: (to crew) Tell the props department we’re gonna need another bridge!

(Inside, Twilight checks her phone once again.)

Twilight: Only thirty more seconds!

(Its clock is about to run out, and she has barely lifted two freaked-out purple eyes from the display before the bus slams to a halt in front of a log cabin in a clearing. Set up next to it are a star/rainbow-decorated stage and a dance floor festooned with hay bales and strings of lights. People, cows, and cats have congregated on both the floor and the surrounding grass. A figure stands on the stage; in close-up, it proves to be this world’s counterpart to Granny’s elderly cousin Goldie Delicious. The sun is now setting.)

Goldie: Please welcome…the Rainbooms!

(The seven girls begin hustling onto the stage, instruments at the ready, as she descends from it and crosses to Granny. The highly unorthodox driver has seated herself on a bale, flipped up her shades, and procured a bottle of soda. A cat is perched on Goldie’s shoulder by the time she makes her way over.)

Goldie: How was the drive, dear? (She sits.)

Granny: (picking up another cat) Aw, pfft! Easy-peasy, lemon squeezy.

Goldie: (taking it away, setting it down) Don’t you go squeezin’ my Lemon Squeezy. That’s my favorite cat.

(The two oldsters give each other a hairy eyeball for a moment before bursting into laughter. All seven Rainbooms are now onstage and ready to play, and Pinkie taps her drumsticks together to count off a beat. Fade to black as they start into a tune.)

“X Marks the Spot”                                                                              Written by Kara Lee Burk

(Opening shot: fade to black from the title card, then in to a close-up of a cell phone whose screen displays a pirate game as it is carried along a beach. Taps and swipes carry the swashbuckler along an obstacle-strewn seashore and into a cave, and a longer shot discloses the user as Sunset, strolling the sand on a sunny day. Toes strike against a half-buried bottle, bringing her up short with a surprised grunt and causing her to lose the game. She regards it curiously; a close-up picks out a parchment that has been rolled up and stuffed inside, and she kneels to pick it up.)

Sunset: What the…?

(An intrigued smile crosses her face. Cut to Twilight and Pinkie elsewhere on the beach, the former touching up a sand sculpture of Spike, the latter relaxing on a towel under a beach umbrella with radio and MP3 player at hand.)

Sunset: (from o.s.) Check this out! (running to them, phone put away) I found an actual, real-life message in a bottle!

Pinkie: (standing up) Ooooh! Is it a love letter? A secret recipe? Or wait! (getting worked up) Someone’s trapped on a deserted island! WE HAVE TO SAVE THEM!! (Sunset extracts the sheet and shows it to them as Twilight stands.)

Sunset: It’s a treasure map!

Twilight: It looks just like this beach!

Pinkie: Amazing! Let’s go!

(Wipe to an overhead shot of the beach, styled as a map with gridlines and various landmarks and obstacles drawn in—lifeguard booth, rocks, logs, and so on. The camera pans to follow tiny figures of the three girls as they are variously waylaid—Twilight by a stray dog, Pinkie by several wandering crabs, Sunset by stumbling through the logs. Varied yelps and cries of discomfort accompany their travails, which end with them hopping across a patch of hot sand and scrambling toward a pier. Wipe to a close-up of this structure as they reach the base of its support timbers; Sunset is no longer carrying the parchment.)

Sunset: (slightly winded) Look! There it is!

(They stop at a barnacle-encrusted chest that juts from the sand beneath the pier.)

Sunset: I wonder if it’s filled with loot!

(She is quick to kneel over it. Two yellow-orange hands eagerly swing the lid back, lift out a second bottle, and extract the document it holds.)

Pinkie: The treasure is a treasure map!

(Cut to Sunset’s perspective of the sheet, panning slowly from left end to right; it shows a dotted-line path interspersed with foreign characters.)

Sunset: (reading) “Follow the trail to the top of the M-F-B-O and look for the X at the end of the…” (Back to her; she gasps happily.) It’s a code! (fishing in chest) If only we had a… (She pulls out a…) …decoder ring!

Twilight: (to Pinkie) Well, that’s convenient.

(It is flat, with a rotatable disk mounted to an outer housing, and Sunset holds it alongside the map so she can sort it all out.)

Sunset: (reading) “Follow the S-H…shells…to the…pier…and look for the X at the end of the R-A-I…rainbow!”

Pinkie: (pointing past her) Look!

(Cut to a close-up of the shadowed sand across from the three and tilt up slowly to show that…)

Pinkie: (from o.s.) There’s a trail of shells!

(They end at a set of steps leading up from the beach; cut back to the girls, who laugh and beat feet. Within seconds they have made it up to the boardwalk that runs along the shore and slowed to a walk, Twilight bringing up the rear and Sunset no longer carrying the map.)

Twilight: This is the pier. Now where’s the—

Pinkie: (pointing off to one side) Rainbow!

(All three charge off in the indicated direction. Cut to a close-up of a multicolored snow cone mounted on the roof of a truck; behind it, a happy fish holding a pair of chopsticks lounges in a bowl of rice atop a second vehicle. Zoom out to frame both parked side by side as the girls approach; the snow cone truck pulls away to fully expose the sushi vendor. Hanging among the menus is a sign of a fish framed by two large X’s; a mat emblazoned with an X covers the patch of pavement in front of the counter. A rather bored-looking young woman in a chef’s short-sleeved white jacket, eyepatch, pirate hat, and one gold hoop earring lounges among the wares.)

Twilight: (puzzled) X Marks the Sushi? (They approach.)

Sunset: Excuse me. Do you know anything about a treasure map? (The vendor perks up.)

Sushi vendor: (exaggerated pirate inflection) Arrrgh! Con-garrrgh-ulations! Ye mateys followed ye map to find the bounty of X Sushi!

Sunset: Yes! What’s our treasure?

Sushi vendor: Twenty parrr-cent off any hand roll, plus all-ye-can-eat wasabi! Arrr!

(Sunset grimaces at the distinctly underwhelming nature of the prize in close-up, Twilight framed alongside her.)

Twilight: (squinting, adjusting glasses) That’s it? (Pan to frame a giddy Pinkie.)

Pinkie: The treasure is a sushi truck! That’s amazing!

(Cut to a long shot of the truck and pan slowly to follow the trio walking away from it. Each is carrying the promised hand roll, which consists of a piece of seaweed rolled into a conical shape and filled with sushi ingredients. Twilight is munching away at hers, but Sunset is more occupied with wrapping her head around this one-off treasure hunt. Close-up of these two.)

Twilight: Mmm…mmm! I like it!

(The last member of the triumvirate lurches toward them—face flushed a deep red, eyes watering, tongue hanging out, fanning madly at her mouth to cool it off from the liberal dose of wasabi on her food.)

Pinkie: Ahhh…ahhh…so spicy!

(The hand roll hits the deck as green flames blaze up in the eyes and from the mouth, and she races across the lot and plunges her entire head into the nearest fountain to put out the fire. A little girl regards her with some bafflement as she lifts her sodden head from the water with a shudder of profoundest relief. Twilight and Sunset share a giggle over their friend’s comical discomfort, and the view fades to black.)

“Aww…Baby Turtles”                                                                         Written by Kara Lee Burk

(Opening shot: fade to black from the title card, then snap to Applejack, Fluttershy, Rainbow and Rarity having their own brands of fun in the sun during the day. Fluttershy and Rarity snooze on side-by-side beach chairs, the latter shaded by an umbrella and wearing her dark sun hat, while Applejack and Rainbow toss a beach ball back and forth. Rainbow’s pet tortoise Tank sits by her feet, all his appendages pulled into his shell. A brief, faint whimpering causes Fluttershy to snap out of her blissful indolence with a gasp.)

Rarity: Is everything okay, Fluttershy?

Fluttershy: I don’t think so. I hear crying!

(Cupping a hand to one ear allows her to focus on the disturbance. Pan quickly to the source: a very young sea turtle emerging unsteadily from a hole in the sand to collapse face-down. A second one only gets its head and front flippers into the clear before running out of steam. Back to the four girls; the game of catch has paused.)

Fluttershy: (standing up) From a bunch of baby sea turtles! (hand to ear again) They just hatched and are trying to find their way to the water, but they’re lost!

Rarity: Oh, no!

Fluttershy: Ooh…how could I ever find a bunch of teeny-tiny turtles on this great big beach?

(Cut to an overhead close-up of her on “great,” then cut to a longer shot on each of “big” and “beach” to frame all of it. The camera then cuts back to her as Rainbow blurs over with Tank in hand.)

Rainbow: Tank here is a tortoise. Maybe he could help us? (The wrinkled green head peeks out at Fluttershy.)

Fluttershy: Hmm…that’s not exactly the same, but it’s worth a try.

(Dissolve to a close-up of a patch of sand as Tank is set down, then cut to Fluttershy and Rainbow behind him.)

Fluttershy: Lead the way, Tank!

(A still-longer shot frames all four girls lined up and watching the slowpoke expectantly. The action and sound shift to ridiculously high speed, with the sun and clouds scudding across the sky and beachgoers blurring past in all directions. The frenetic pace only sharpens the glacially slow speed at which Tank shifts one stumpy foot forward, then another, and normal speed resumes as Rainbow voices an exasperated groan at her pet’s behavior, snatches him up, and disappears in a vivid blaze.)

(Dissolve to a close-up of him being carried along; he shades his eyes to peer across the beach, then points to one side with a smile. He has brought the girls to the shelter of an overhang and the hole from which the baby turtles were surfacing; it is now empty, and six of them are clustered fearfully together.)

Rarity: There they are!

(One pulls its head free of the sand and sneezes out a few grains.)

All four: (tenderly) Awww… (Rainbow sets Tank down; Rarity squats and reaches toward one.)

Fluttershy: You did it, Tank!

Rainbow: So…what do we do now?

Fluttershy: We just need to help them get to the water safely. (pointing aside) Just…

(Pan quickly to each of the following four impediments in turn.)

Fluttershy: (from o.s., with growing unease) …over this sand dune, past those rocks and crabs… (One of which is brandishing a plastic knife.) …beyond that abandoned sand castle city…

(The biggest castle of this lot is overgrown with seaweed, flying a tattered banner, and occupied by an irate crab.)

Fluttershy: (from o.s.) …and around that dangerous shipwreck!

(Half-buried among the dunes and cocked at a crazy angle. Back to the group once she finishes; Rarity straightens up.)

Fluttershy: (gasping deeply) Oh, boy.

Rainbow: (bending down to turtles) Don’t worry. We’ll just carry them to safety.

Fluttershy: We can’t!

(On the end of this exchange, cut to a close-up of one reaching blue hand—which gets stopped by a set of yellow fingers as the baby beneath it squeaks in tiny fright—then back to the four. Fluttershy has knelt alongside Rainbow and the turtles.)

Fluttershy: They have to make the journey on their own so they can imprint— (Close-up of the turtles; she continues o.s.) —and return to this beach when they lay their own eggs someday. (All four again.)

Rainbow: (standing up) Well, then, the least we can do is help clear a path for them.

(She jogs off, leaving Tank behind and grabbing up a discarded toy shovel, and is followed by the other three in short order. A magic speed boost allows her to rip a passage clear through the sand dune, but a click of plastic against plastic brings her to a puzzled stop on the other side. At her feet, the crab with the knife has procured a plastic shaving razor as a secondary weapon. Rainbow jinks left and right almost too fast to follow, scooping up all the belligerent crustaceans on the shovel blade and bulldozing them away.)

(Meanwhile, Applejack has found the precariously stacked rocks that had Fluttershy so worried; she lifts one tower with her super strength and pitches it aside. Rarity conjures a gem construct and brings it down horizontally on the biggest of the abandoned sand castles to mash it flat, only for the crab that had been occupying it pop out and give her a piece of its mind. The shipwreck turns out to be only a broken model, small enough for Fluttershy to pull free with one hand and toss over her shoulder. Behind her, the sky over the ocean is beginning to darken toward sunset.)

Fluttershy: (wiping hands) That’s it! The path is clear! (spreading arms wide) Go, baby turtles! Be free!

(There follows a long moment in which exactly none of said turtles follow her prompt, due to the fact that they are nowhere to be found.)

Fluttershy: Um...adorable tiny turtles?

(The girls hurry back to the overhang from which they emerged, but find only a string of footprints leading away from their nest hole and no sign of…)

Rainbow: Tank? (noticing trail) Fluttershy, look! The trail in the sand!

(Close-up of some of the prints, tilting up from them to a mass of reeds that blocks the view.)

Rainbow: (from o.s.) Tank?

(Her hands push through from behind and part the vegetation to give everyone on that side a good view of events. Cut to their perspective: the prints lead to Tank, who has ushered the infants to the water’s edge.)

Fluttershy: Tank led the babies! (Back to the group.)

All four: (tenderly) Awww…

(All four step out to the shore, Fluttershy patting the grown turtle’s shell as the six young ones chitter happily among themselves.)

Fluttershy: Well done, Tank!

(He beams as best he can at the babies’ attempts to overwhelm him with hugs.)

Fluttershy: (giggling) They think Tank’s their mommy.

Applejack, Rainbow, Rarity: (tenderly) Awww…

(Five of them are soon in the water and swimming away, and he noses the sixth in after them. A tear courses slowly down from one shimmering black eye as they paddle their way toward the sunset, and the view “irises out” to black while staying centered on his wizened face.)

“Lost and Found”                                                                                 Written by Kate Leth

(Opening shot: fade to black from the title card, then in to Applejack and Rainbow resting on side-by-side beach chairs under an umbrella during the day. Each has an appropriately decorated surfboard planted front end up in the sand, Applejack’s hat is tilted over her eyes, and Rainbow has donned sunglasses. Pan slowly across the pair.)

Applejack: (contentedly) Ahhh, summer. (Close-up; hat and shades are tipped back.) You know, there’s nothin’ like kickin’ back and enjoyin’ the—

(Her perspective of the cheery sun on the end of this; it is swiftly blocked out by the arrival of a distraught Rarity. The two white hands are initially clapped to the temples, but come down for a panicked wave that exposes an earring with a small violet bow dangling from only her left ear.)

Rarity: Complete disaster! (The sunbathers again; Rainbow removes her shades.)

Rainbow: Are you okay, Rarity?

Rarity: (sobbing) My earring’s gone! A one-of-a-kind, irreplaceable work of art! (calmly) I should know. I made it.

(Back to the audience, whose combined patience quickly starts to wear thin as she continues.)

Rarity: (from o.s.) I was reapplying my SPF when I realized— (Back to her, pointing to her right ear.) —my ear was…

(A few choked little sobs escape through her grimacing, locked teeth as the frightened blue eyes above them dart from side to side.)

Rarity: …naked! I don’t know what to do! (crying, mascara running) It meant so much to me, and…and…

Applejack: (smiling, rolling eyes) If you want our help, just ask.  (Rarity darts to her, face clean and instantly all smiles.)

Rarity: Oh! Would you mind? (hoisting up three metal detectors) I took the liberty of getting some equipment.

(No points for guessing who gets to use the one studded with tiny blue gems. Wipe to a slow pan that follows the three-teen procession along the beach, detectors at work and with the attached headphones socked over ears to listen for the signal of buried objects. Of the three, Rarity is the only one now bareheaded. Close-up of Applejack.)

Applejack: (voice raised) Any luck? (Zoom out; she is addressing Rainbow.)

Rainbow: (ditto) Not so— (She gets a squeal and stops; normal volume.) —wait! I got something!

(She sets her detector aside as Rarity zips over with an expectant smile and gasp.)

Rarity: Could it be?

(A quick turn of a shovel, a blue hand plunged into the hole, and the jock finds herself holding up an ice skate by its laces. Applejack goes back to scanning.)

Rainbow: (standing up from hole) Close, but not quite. (She drops it back in; Applejack’s detector sings out.)

Applejack: Hold your horses! Now I’m beepin’!

(She pitches the gear aside and stabs the shovel blade into the sand, using her magic strength to excavate a considerably larger hole. Rainbow drops to her knees at its edge and puts a hand in as the farmer slings the sand away.)

Rainbow: Now that is definitely a—

(Rarity is there in an instant with a giddy gasp, but again it turns out to be a bust—a horseshoe, which Rainbow holds up with a deflated sigh.)

Rainbow: —false alarm. (Tap impatiently at the iron.)

Rarity: (sighing, smiling shakily) Well, not to worry. We’ve got plenty of time.

(Dissolve to a mélange of items piled haphazardly on the beach—the results of the girls’ search, including a chest filled with gold coins. Two dissolves grow the collection in steps and advance the sky into late afternoon, adding such oddities as a wrecked flying saucer and a quantity of gold bars.)

Rarity: (from o.s., throwing her headphones into the pile) I can’t believe this!

(Zoom out. All three stand before the lot, none carrying their detectors; the other two still wear the headphones for theirs, though. Rainbow has ditched the horseshoe Applejack unearthed.)

Rarity: We’ve combed the entire beach and found nothing! Nothing! (dejectedly) I’m sorry I’ve wasted your entire day.

Applejack: (brightly) Are you kiddin’? We haven’t even done half the beach.

(Both glance down the shore, Rarity with considerably less enthusiasm; cut to their perspective, panning slowly across the untouched, unoccupied expanse.)

Applejack: Who knows what else we’ll find?

(Back to the three. After a bit of rummaging through the castoffs, Rainbow digs up a decrepit cell phone that is several years out of date and regards it with amused curiosity.)

Rainbow: What even is this? (Chuckle.) The sand is full of mysteries!

Rarity: But the sun’s going down. (sighing, tearing up) I guess it’s a lost cause.

(A piteous sniffle and whimper spark a brainstorm under the wild-colored tresses.)

Rainbow: Oh, hold that thought! (She zips over and hands Rarity the phone.) And this.

(Farmer and fashionista can only stare in utter bewilderment as the speedster begins to circle the junk pile fast enough to become only a striped blur. One item after another is flung free, missing their heads by the thinnest of margins, and after several seconds Rainbow stops and lifts a triumphant fist. Rarity has done away with the phone by this point.)

Rainbow: Hah. Got it! (crossing to them, holding up an earring) How’s that for service?

(Well and good, except that this bit of jewelry is a dangling hoop set with small gems.)

Applejack: Uh, that’s not it. (to Rarity) Is it?

Rarity: It’s…not. (touching Applejack’s arm) But thank you—both of you. (Rainbow scrapes at the sand with a toe and drops the earring in the hole.) I had a wonderful day just the same. (picking up her headphones) I’ll just take one last sweep.

(Something falls away from the right side of her head as she settles them over her ears. Her breath catches in her throat, and a close-up of it landing at their feet picks it out as the missing earring. Applejack and Rainbow regard it and then her with combined disbelief and annoyance at what has just proven to be a colossal waste of time. Rarity is now wearing her sun hat over the headphones.)

Rarity: (picking up earring) Ooh! Found it!

(She offers a weak, placating chuckle before the view “irises out” to black, centered on her face.)

“Too Hot to Handle”                                                                 Written by Laura Hooper Beck

(Opening shot: fade to black from the title card, then in to the sun in a bright blue sky. Tilt down to frame several crabs within a makeshift pen whose walls are built up from the beach sand. Rarity stands with her back to the camera, working on something at a table set with brochures, while Rainbow is on duty at a desk covered with telephones. Both are shaded from the sun, as is a nearby chair with a cooler in easy reach, and strings of pennants run from one to another. Fluttershy is presiding over the tableau, and Pinkie has donned her everyday outfit and covered it with the crab costume she used while babysitting Lily Pad in “Pinkie Sitting.” Cut to a close-up of Fluttershy and Rarity on the next line, revealing a few miniaturized pieces of jewelry on the table at which the designer is doing her thing.)

Fluttershy: Thanks for helping with the crab adopt-a-thon, everyone.

Rarity: Oh, not a problem. My whole life has been leading up to this moment.

(She spins to face her friend, holding up a crab in a frilly new frock.)

Rarity: Voilà! (Close-up of it; she continues o.s.) Crustacean couture! (Back to her; Pinkie slides over.)

Pinkie: Oo-la-la! (picking up a tiny tiara) Let me help!

(She kneels to crown one of the penned critters, but gets an angry pincer nip on the hand.)

Pinkie: Ouch! (Close-up of it; she tries again—a near miss—and continues o.s.) Ow!

(After a third retaliatory strike, she stands up without the tiara.)

Pinkie: (backing off) Actually, how about I help away from the crabs? (Idea.) I could get us a snack. There’s still an hour until the shaved ice stand closes. (Next two lines overlap.)

Fluttershy: Oh, yum!

Rainbow: Sounds great!

Pinkie: Cool! I promise I’ll be back before it starts.

(She exits the scene by scuttling sideways and adding the sound of the skittering legs for good measure. Wipe to her, out of costume and back in her swimsuit, plunking down a few bills at a vendor’s counter to buy a tray of four rainbow-striped snow cones.)

Pinkie: (enraptured) So sparkly.

(Away she goes. A longer shot picks out her bare feet and establishes the vendor as the snow cone truck that appeared briefly in “X Marks the Spot.” She happens across a woman and her son, whose treat falls out of its cone as he licks at it. He has barely enough time to start whimpering before a pink hand offers him one of the four fresh ones, instantly lifting his spirits. Mother/son and Pinkie go their separate ways, but the latter is almost immediately beset by a flock of pesky seagulls.)

Pinkie: Hey!

(One of them swipes a snow cone, leaving two on the tray; after an irked glare skyward, she shrugs and smiles.)

Pinkie: Still works.

(She descends the steps to the beach, the soles of her feet instantly flushing deep pink upon contact with the scorching sand. Extreme close-up of them, starting to jitter madly.)

Pinkie: (from o.s.) Ow! (Back to her.) Hot, hot, hot, hot, hot, hot!

(A backward hop takes her to the relative safety of the steps, from which she snarls and shakes a fist at the treacherous stretch of silica. She finds herself at a loss for ideas on how to traverse it until a runaway beach ball bounces to a stop right in front of her.)

Pinkie: Ahhhh!

(The party enthusiast jumps to balance on it and nimbly maneuvers along with her feet to reach a forest of beach umbrellas.)

Pinkie: (jumping from one to another) Boingy, boingy, boingy!

(Now she vaults up to grab hold of an airborne kite and ride a gust of wind.)

Pinkie: (laughing) Whee! (It falls apart; she drops like a rock.) Wha—?

(Cut to the other three girls and the ongoing crab adopt-a-thon. All the little snappers in the enclosure have been kitted out in Rarity’s high fashion, as has the fifth on the table before her. Pinkie’s rising yell of panic makes itself heard an instant before a crash shakes the camera and she slides into view on her face. One hand still grips the tray with its remaining two snow cones, but a close-up pegs them as lost causes due to the sand now embedded in them. She has fared no better.)

Pinkie: Nailed it!

Rainbow: You made it! (Pinkie stands up.)

Pinkie: Barely! You’ll never believe what I had to do to get these back un-melty.

Rarity: (wiping forehead) Right on time. I hate to say it, but these crabs are getting awfully…

Rainbow: (warningly) Don’t.

Rarity: …crabby! (Cut to Fluttershy, now standing over the pen.)

Fluttershy: Aw, they’re hot, poor things. (Close-up of two, steaming and sweating; she continues o.s.) If only we had a way to cool them off.

(Back to Pinkie, who has brushed herself off and tamed the errant strands of her hair. Those big blue eyes flick between the ravaged treats and the pen a few times until she gathers her resolve with a heavy sigh.)

Pinkie: (setting one cone in the pen) Do you…want this?

(All four crabs scuttle across and eagerly start chomping down pincer-loads of the sweet stuff.)

Pinkie: I’m sorry, everyone. (Rarity returns the crab she has been outfitting to the enclosure.) I wanted to have enough to share.

(Close-up of the last cone on the end of this, then cut to the girls.)

Rainbow: (patting Pinkie’s shoulder) No worries, Pinkie. I got this.

(A split second is all it takes for her to clear out and return with a fresh tray of snow cones, the sight of which causes Pinkie to gape and let her last one hit the sand with a wet plop. However, she quickly brightens up and helps herself along with everyone else. All share a laugh as the view “irises out” to black, the aperture pausing briefly to frame one crab that digs into the dropped snack before closing altogether.)

“Unsolved Selfie Mysteries”                                                                 Written by Nina Daniels

(Opening shot: fade to black from the title card, then in to a slow pan along the beach and the people taking advantage of the fine day. Twilight, Fluttershy, Pinkie, and Sunset have clustered in together, Pinkie holding her cell phone aloft and aiming it at the group in preparation to take a “selfie” photo. Close-up of them.)

Pinkie: Say “Cheese Sandwich”!

(A click and flash, and the image is framed on the screen.)

Pinkie: Okay, once more with Gruyère! (Twilight peers intently at the display.)

Twilight: (tapping at it) Wait! What’s that splotchy thing in the background?

(Cut back to the screen on the end of this and zoom in on a vague dark shape floating in the water behind them, near a jutting horse-head rock formation. It bears a vague resemblance to a seahorse’s head. After a long moment, the camera cuts back to the four as they pivot to train their eyes out over the breaking surf.)

Sunset: It’s a sea monster! We just caught it on camera!

Twilight: (patting her shoulder) Hold on. I’m sure there’s a logical explanation.

Pinkie: A sea monster? I gotta see it to believe it— (gleefully, leaning out from behind Sunset) —but I already believe it! (Big squeaky grin.)

(A pulse of light from Fluttershy’s pendant prompts her to wrap one set of fingers around it and cup the other to one ear, extending her animal-communication power as far as it will go.)

Fluttershy: But I don’t hear anything.

Sunset: Something’s out there, and I’m gonna find out what it is. Who’s with me? (Fluttershy holds her diving mask and snorkel behind her back.)

Pinkie: (waving) Ooh, over here!

Fluttershy: (donning the gear) I’ll go. Maybe I can hear it better underwater. (She sets the mouthpiece in place.)

Twilight: (walking away) You guys go ahead. I’ll do some investigating of my own around the beach.

(Wipe to a close-up of her, elbows propped on a railing and with binoculars raised to eyes.)

Twilight: Hmmm…

(Zoom out. She is standing outside a lifeguard’s lookout booth manned by Timber Spruce—red swim trunks, white shirt marked by a life preserver, gray baseball cap with a four-point compass rose overlaid on two laurel boughs.)

Timber: (playfully) Whatcha looking for?

Twilight: (scowling, lowering binoculars) Answers.

Timber: Huh?

Twilight: (smiling, patting his shoulder) Don’t worry. (peering through binocs again) I’ll let you know when I have them.

(His hand movements during this exchange reveal that he still wears his original leather bracelets even while on duty. Deciding to humor the inquisitive teen, he shrugs with a smile and walks away. Cut to Pinkie and Sunset, the former donning swim fins and the latter wearing a diving mask and snorkel of her own. The mask is up on her forehead, and she has added a string bracelet to her right wrist and stripped off her beachwear skirt to reveal a swimsuit bottom in the same dark gray as her top.)

Sunset: Hurry! We have to move quickly so it doesn’t get too far away!

Pinkie: (putting on a mask/snorkel) I’m ready!

(Sunset starts toward the water, only for a pink arm to shoot out with no warning and bar her way.)

Pinkie: I’m not ready! Where’s my floatie?

Sunset: There’s no time!

(Pinkie’s response is a lung-bursting gasp, prompted by the slow approach of the seahorse-looking bulk. Cut to Twilight’s perspective of it through her binoculars, which re-focuses in time with her soft gasp, then to her.)

Twilight: Oh, no! (She lowers then and straightens up at the rail.) My friends! Sunset Shimmer! Pinkie Pie!

(Passing them hastily off to Timber, she sprints down the ramp from the lookout’s platform with him close behind.)

Twilight: Watch out! (All four gather on the sand.)

Sunset: We saw it! We saw the monster again!

Twilight: I know! I saw it too! (Pinkie stares out to sea.)

Sunset: See? I told you! It was real!

Pinkie: It’s not only real— (pointing) —it’s right there!

(Now it is only a few yards out, in the shallows, and Timber capitalizes on his lifeguard training by voicing a scream of terror and cowering behind Twilight. The unknown life form rises slowly from the surf to the sound of hissing, labored respirations—and a head-on shot frames it in full as Fluttershy, standing upright with water streaming off her hair and wetsuit. Balanced on her head is a deflated floating ring with a duck’s head and a liberal draping of loose seaweed; she removes the lot and shifts her snorkel away from her mouth.)

Fluttershy: I think I caught our monster. (Pinkie shifts from panic to all smiles.)

Pinkie: My floatie! (chuckling smugly) Foiled again.

Sunset: (shrugging, to Twilight) Eh.

(The bookworm’s puzzled glance back at Timber turns to an annoyed one when he steps away from her with a blush, scratching at the back of his head and whistling as innocently as he can. Pinkie takes the toy back from Fluttershy with a joyful shudder and lets all the gunk fall away from it.)

Pinkie: (petting it) I knew you would come back to me.

(“Iris out” to black, centered on its face.)

“The Salty Sails”                                                                                   Written by Whitney Ralls

(Opening shot: fade to black from the title card, then in to a sailboat moored at the end of the beach’s pier during the day. A flight of steps leads down from the elevated structure to a small dock platform where the boat rests. Twilight is astern at the wheel, Pinkie stands at the bow, and a sun-hatted Rarity is pushing a large trunk alongside, stuffed so full that the lid will not close. A slow zoom in picks out the life jacket that Twilight has donned over her swimsuit, and a close-up on the start of the next line shows that Rarity is wearing one as well.)

Twilight: Life vests, on. (pulling out a map) Nautical dictionary, memorized.

(Her perspective of it, tracing a route that weaves through assorted hazards to stop on one of several islands.)

Twilight: And course, set. (Head-on view of all three; Pinkie wears a life jacket and is checking a mooring rope.) Smooth sailing ahead. Ready about!

Pinkie: (lifting a basket of pastries, holding one out) I’m about ready for a snack. Care to try a caramel cream puff?

Twilight: (shaking head, waving her off) Mmm-mmm.

(Stepping aboard, Rarity creates a flat gem platform beneath her trunk, floats it onto the deck, and sits on it as she speaks.)

Rarity: Oh, it is serendipitous that we’re setting sail— (removing hat, fanning herself with it) —because I am winded. (Pinkie crosses to her.)

Pinkie: What’s in the trunk, Rarity?

Rarity: (putting hat on) Hm? Oh, just a change of clothes and a coat in case it gets chilly. (Pinkie eases away, whistling idly.) Also a small folding table, various tools, a fashion reference library, and a bag of gems. (hopping off trunk) You know, the essentials.

(Only now does she realize that she has lost her audience.)

Twilight: (putting map away, rolling eyes) The essentials, right. My calculations accounted for the weight of the boat, but I forgot to account for Rarity.

(A telekinetic twinkle shifts the full-past-bursting luggage back onto the dock, much to the pale girl’s surprise.)

Rarity: Hmph!

(Pinkie is at the bow again, one foot propped on the railing and without her load of goodies.)

Pinkie: (dramatically) At sea, nothing’s accounted for. Its tides are fierce, but sublime—as beautiful as they are chaotic.

(The somber mood evaporates in a blink as she climbs down, unties the mooring rope, and tosses it aside.)

Pinkie: Cast away! (The boat drifts slowly forward.)

Twilight: (to Rarity) Don’t worry. I checked the weather. (counting down on fingers) We should expect a strong westward gale in three…two…one…

(It comes right on cue, sending the craft surging backwards and prompting her to yell in fear. A glance beyond the stern informs her that they are within seconds of running aground.)

Twilight: We’re going the wrong way! Ready about! (Cut to the others, flailing/grabbing each other to stay upright; she continues o.s.) Tack! Jibe! (Back to her.) Am I the only one who memorized the nautical dictionary? (adjusting wheel) TURN!

(The two passengers pull apart as comprehension hits.)

Pinkie, Rarity: Ohhh!

(With a weak laugh, they hurry to the stern and seize hold of a cable that runs from the sail’s boom to a pulley mounted on the rail.)

Twilight: We’re way off course! (pointing to one side) Tack north!

(They haul the cable as indicated, slowly pivoting the boom and causing the vessel to shift its heading; close-up of one lower corner of the sail near the bow.)

Twilight: (from o.s.) Almost back on track. (Back to her.) If only we could get a little more power…

(A gust yanks Rarity’s hat clean off her head; she gasps and rushes after it, making the catch just short of going over the bow. The wind inflates it to ridiculous proportions in her hands, with the effect of greatly smoothing out the boat’s course—at least until a wave begins to grow directly in their path. The screen tiles itself with three panels, each of which gives a close-up of one girl yelling in fright, then cut to Pinkie in the lurching stern, accompanied by another round of shouts. The map is torn from Twilight’s hands and swept away in the high winds.)

Twilight: (gasping, reaching futilely after it) My meticulously plotted chaaaaart!

Pinkie: (dramatically) Surrender to the sea!

(Cut briefly to the bow on the end of this—bearing down on the horse-head rock formation that appeared in “Unsolved Selfie Mysteries”—then back to the hapless mariners, now all tumbled to the stern. Rarity has recovered her hat and plunked it back over the violet curls.)

Pinkie: (gasping, pointing) A rock! (standing up) I mean, rock ho!

(The bow again on the end of this, followed by the girls’ terror-stricken screams and a cut back to Twilight and Rarity hugging each other. Pan from them to Pinkie, who gets a sudden burst of inspiration and acts on it by hoisting her basket of treats. She snatches one, charges a bit of magic into it, and lets fly, it splashes down just ahead of the boat and explodes underwater, creating a wave that pushes them back hard just before they can smash on the rocks. Dissolve to the dock, where the wave peters out and deposits the boat and its waterlogged crew. Wooziness gives way to a round of good-natured laughter at the absurdity of the day’s travels. Rarity’s trunk is right where Twilight dumped it.)

Twilight: (removing glasses) Whichever way the wind blows, I guess it’s not off course— ((putting them back on) —as long as you’re with your friends.

Rarity: (reaching into trunk on dock, fishing out towels) Especially if your friends have towels.

(Cut to the bow. Pinkie has tied one around her neck for a cape, and she lets it stream behind her with a foot propped on the railing and her basket in one hand.)

Pinkie: (dramatically) The ocean—vast, mysterious, wide. We may never fully understand her, but nonetheless she commands respect.

(Biting into a snack, she gives up the old-salt shtick in record time.)

Pinkie: Ooooh! Salted caramel!

(The rest of it goes down the hatch, and she licks her chops as the view “irises out” to black, centered on her face.)

“Blue Crushed”                                                                                     Written by Kate Leth

(Opening shot: fade to black from the title card, then in to Applejack, Fluttershy, and Rainbow standing on the beach during the day. Applejack and Rainbow are barefoot and have their surfboards propped up in the sand, as seen in “Lost and Found.”)

Rainbow: You sure you don’t want to try it, Fluttershy? You can use my board.

Applejack: You’ll be hangin’ ten in no time—twenty, even.

Fluttershy: Oh, no, no, no, no. I’ll leave that to the experts like you and Ra—

(The rest of that sentence dies on her lips as all three faces stare straight ahead, dumbfounded. Cut to an approaching, shirtless male figure, seen from the chest down and silhouetted by the sun. Patterned orange trunks, bare feet, a surfboard tucked under one arm and showing a seashell at its nose and a lick of flame at its tail, and skin in a familiar shade of green. The feet stop, the board is planted into the sand, and the camera tilts up as the figure becomes fully illuminated. It is Zephyr Breeze, wearing the beaded bracelets and cutie-mark medallion as seen in “Overpowered” and a pair of sunglasses.)

Zephyr: Who’s ready for a lesson in the fine art of the crush? (propping shades on forehead) Afternoon, ladies. (Back to the girls on the next line.)

Fluttershy: My brother?! (Rainbow chuckles scornfully.)

Rainbow: Zephyr Breeze? Since when do you surf?

Zephyr: (chuckling) Since always! (pointing out/hugging board) I mean, look at this deck, Gladys. She’s my pride and joy. She and I have been together for what seems like a lifetime.

Fluttershy: (skeptically, crossing to him) No, you haven’t. You only just—

(He cuts her off with a finger to her lips. Applejack has her own board under her arm by this point.)

Zephyr: —waxed her this morning? Yes, it’s true. (The board gleams in the sun.) See that shine? She’s ready to seize the waves, so to speak. (Applejack groans softly to herself, then smiles calculatingly.)

Applejack: Let’s quit hollerin’ and hit the water, then!

Zephyr: (suddenly unnerved) What’s that now?

Rainbow: (hefting her board) Come on, Zephyr! Show us what you and Gladys can do!

(She races toward the waves, followed closely by Applejack, and the two leave Zephyr chuckling sheepishly in their wake.)

Zephyr: (small voice) Okay.

(Lifting his board overhead, he hurries after them; his older sister rolls her eyes wearily and lets her lips curve into a smug smile. Cut to a pan across the water and stop on a long shot of the three paddling out, each kneeling on his/her own board, as a swell starts to build.)

Applejack: Whoo! (Close-up; she and Zephyr get upright.) Looks like a big one! (to him, challenging tone) How would you tackle it?

Zephyr: Me? Uh, well, to be honest, I think it’s best to start smaller. (Applejack rolls her eyes.) You girls probably aren’t ready—

Rainbow: Here it comes!

(She surprises him greatly by darting ahead. Applejack’s evaluation is quickly proven correct, as the wave has built up a considerable height, and she and Rainbow waste no time in surfing to the top of its crest and doing a midair flip to ride down it again. Their exclamations of wild joy are mingled with a yell of panic from Zephyr, who barely avoids being flung from his board by grabbing madly at its tail. He is no longer wearing his sunglasses.)

Rainbow: (to Applejack) Isn’t this great? The waves today are just killer!

Zephyr: (as he is thrown free) That’s what I’m afraid of!

(He disappears into the tunnel created by the top of the breaking wave as it curls in on itself; meanwhile, Applejack and Rainbow cruise smoothly out of it.)

Rainbow: Zephyr?

(Dissolve to the beach, where he sits drenched and miserably huddled under a towel. His board stands over him, as do Applejack, Fluttershy, and Rainbow—now all wearing their flip-flops. A few other spectators have gathered, including a rather irked female lifeguard who evidently got the job of rescuing him. Zoom in slowly.)

Applejack: Why on earth would you try to hack it out there without knowin’ how? You coulda got hurt!

Zephyr: I did! (Pause.) My pride, that is. Wounded.

(His weak attempt at a suave grin is met by a three-part disgusted groan.)

Rainbow: Zephyr…

Zephyr: (overwrought, standing, taking her hand) I know. I’ve shocked you all. (The towel falls from his shoulders.) But, Rainbow Dash, if you could find the strength to forgive me, and the courage to keep from hopelessly falling for my m—

(She yanks her hand back with a revolted grunt.)

Zephyr: (humbly) Maybe you could give me some tips?

(He lets his eyes go big and soft and shiny to reinforce the effort.)

Rainbow: (sighing wearily) Fine! (patting his board) But I’m only doing this for Gladys. (whispering to it, caressing surface) He doesn’t deserve you.

(Fade to black.)

“Turf War”                                                                               Written by Laura Hooper Beck

(Opening shot: fade to black from the title screen, then in to the busy beach during the day. Timber is on lifeguard duty, and the camera pans to frame his elevated booth fully as Applejack runs over. She has traded her usual swimwear for a high-collared, short-sleeved green crop top and a pair of deep red trunks, both emblazoned with a life preserver, and has shed her flip-flops. Stopping by the platform’s ramp, she begins a series of limbering-up exercises.)

Timber: Ahoy, Applejack. Whatcha doing?

Applejack: I’m the substitute lifeguard today. I’m ready to dive in headfirst. What’s the plan?

Timber: (descending ramp) Well, there’s not much to do so far, so just take a load off.

Applejack: That’s not my way. Gotta be prepared.

Timber: Oh! (Chuckle.) Me too. It’s just that my time at Camp Everfree taught me to trust in myself and be confident—

(A protracted young cry gets him to stop tooting his own horn in a blink.)

Timber: Someone in need! (running across sand) Timber to the rescue!

(By the time he gets within five yards of the water, though, Applejack is stepping out of it and carrying a soaked little girl, whose mother is overjoyed at the rescue.)

Mother: My baby! (She takes the child.) Oh, how can I ever repay you?

Applejack: (tipping hat) Just doin’ my job, ma’am. (to Timber, as mother/child leave) I got here first, so I just took care of savin’ that kid for you. (thumping his arm) You’re welcome.

Timber: (rubbing it) Ow! Heh. You didn’t have to.

(He cuts his eyes away with a trace of resentment, only to have his sulk turn into a grunt of surprise when a scream issues from the direction of the waves.)

Timber: (running out) I’ll handle this!

(The source this time is Lyra Heartstrings, flailing to keep her balance on a surfboard in the shallows. Timber wades out and pulls her upright with ease.)

Timber: See? This is the kind of lifesaving instinct I developed at Everfree.

(On the end of this, zoom out to frame Applejack, who looks away with a measure of disgust before yet another cry rings out. The topmost scoop of a woman’s triple-decker ice cream cone slips its moorings and goes overboard.)

Applejack: (removing/throwing hat) Giddyup!

(The camera shifts to ride with it as she says this—upside down and skimming low over the sand. It slides to a stop in just the right position to catch the falling scoop; the woman boggles as the apple expert steps over, picks up the headwear, and flips the ice cream back into place. Applejack gives the hat a deft twirl and puts it back on, totally missing the woman’s revolted expression at the sight of a long blond hair now matted into the treat.)

Applejack: (as she pulls it free) See, this is what hard work can do.

(Challenging smiles steal onto both lifeguards’ faces and they move in to face each other down at close range. Before the face-off can escalate, though, a male voice grabs their attention.)

Bulk: (from o.s., spluttering) HEELLLP!!

(Cut to just behind them on this word; the muscle-bound youth is floundering several yards out, the inflatable “floaties” on his arms doing not a lick of good. Improbably, he is still wearing his winged baseball cap.)

Bulk: HEEELLLP!!

Applejack, Timber: Got it! (Both break into a run; Applejack is first to reach him, grabbing one arm.)

Applejack: I’ve gotcha! (Timber gets the other.)

Timber: I’ve got you!

Bulk: Huh?

(He finds himself being used as the rope in a tug-of-war as the two try to pull him to safety in opposite directions. The disagreement sends him into a crying jag.)

Applejack: Why are you cryin’? We’re savin’ you!

Bulk: (between sobs) It’s just, I hate to see you fight!

Timber: (straining to pull him) We’re not fighting!

Bulk: (smiling) Really?

Timber: You’re right. We’re kinda fighting—but we’re also saving you!

Applejack: (also straining, but stopping/smiling) Yeah. With my elbow grease and Timber’s know-how, we actually make a pretty good team.

(All three have now come to rest among the breakers.)

Timber: Yeah. I guess we do.

Applejack: Let’s…do this together?

Timber: Deal.

(Bulk, now completely placated, surprises the pair by hoisting them bodily off their feet and sloshing to shore under his own power. He sets them down once they are clear of the water, having exposed a pair of short red briefs as his swimsuit.)

Bulk: Thanks, guys! (A cry from o.s.)

Timber: (to Applejack) Race you? (Both sprint off.)

Applejack: Yee-haa! (fading out, as both laugh) Ah, can’t catch me there!

(Bulk wipes happy tears from his eyes as the view fades to black.)

“Friendship Math”                                                                               Written by M.J. Offen

(Opening shot: fade to black from the title card, then in to a pair of side-by-side beach chairs amid the sand and sun. Twilight occupies one and reads as Pinkie crosses to the other, barefoot and drinking a soda, and a man in the fore chases after a seagull that has just stolen his snow cone. Pinkie stops short, having noticed a magazine lying open and upside down on the chair.)

Pinkie: Ooooh! (picking it up, dropping soda, sitting down) Rarity left her Canterlot Beat magazine here.

(After a moment’s perusal, she thrusts it toward Twilight to show a certain page.)

Pinkie: Ooh, look! It even has a pop quiz!

Twilight: (alarmed, closing book) A quiz? On what? But I haven’t studied! (She turns to face Pinkie.)

Pinkie: (reading) “Score your friendship levels. Are you BFF’s for life?”

Twilight: (smiling) Okay, I’m in.

Pinkie: “Question one. What’s your best friend’s favorite food?”

(After the bookworm ponders for a moment, both deliver their responses at the same time.)

Twilight, Pinkie: Cotton candy? / Books?

Pinkie: That’s only my third-favorite food, behind cupcakes and regular cakes.

(She produces a cupcake from her hair and chomps it down, to Twilight’s surprise.)

Pinkie: No points. Oh, well. Next question. “Favorite part of school.” It’s—hmmm…

(A bit of hard thought on both sides before they speak up.)

Twilight, Pinkie: Lunch? / Library? (Result: mutual bewilderment.)

Pinkie: Nope. It’s helping the janitor refill the snack machines. Okay, the score is still zero-zero. (leaning briefly sideways toward Twilight) Cool! Samesies! Last question. “What is your friend’s biggest fear?” Is it…

Twilight, Pinkie: Uh…ice cream without sprinkles? / Clownfish?

Twilight: Uh-uh.

Pinkie: Actually, mine is clownfish. But I don’t even want to think about undecorated desserts. (Shudder, then close the magazine cheerfully.) We flunked! (Pitch it over a shoulder; Twilight shoots to her feet.)

Twilight: Flunked?! (bounding over, picking it up) That can’t be right! Are there no more questions? (Pinkie pops up next to her.)

Pinkie: Aw, it’s just a silly quiz.

Twilight: (resolutely, adjusting glasses) You’re right. It’s deeply unscientific. I’ll do my own calculations to empirically prove we’re best friends!

(The view contracts to perhaps a third of its usual height, framing her face in sharp relief.)

Twilight: (hissing, intensely) Forever!

(Pan slightly to bring a thoroughly flabbergasted Pinkie into view, then cut to a fullscreen shot of Twilight back on her chair with a stack of books and a printing calculator. As she studies its output and wipes her brow, a pink hand reaches into view to offer a glass of lemonade. She takes it with a smile and begins to sip from its straw while Pinkie flops down into the other chair to enjoy a drink of her own. Wipe to Pinkie and Lily Pad swatting a beach ball back and forth as Twilight continues her research; the bespectacled girl bats it back to them without missing a word when Pinkie sends it her way.)

(The seagull that stole the snow cone at the beginning of this short flies past, chased by the victim of its theft; behind him, wipe to a close-up of a technical drawing scratched in the sand at Twilight’s feet. She wipes it away with the sole of one flip-flop and stands there cogitating, stick in hand and poised to resume sketching, but Pinkie’s finger snakes into view and daubs a blot of sunscreen onto the violet nose. She turns to her fellow beach bum with a grateful smile.)

(Now Pinkie lies on her beach chair, poking drearily at the sand and flipping from belly to back as Twilight stands reading intently. A loud grumble from the bored teen’s gut is countered with a cupcake offered by her friend, and Pinkie opens her mouth wide so the treat can be inserted whole. Cut to a slow ground-level pan just behind Twilight’s feet, framing a new and considerably more sophisticated diagram to which she is applying a few last touches with her stick, then cut to a head-on close-up.)

Twilight: I’ve got it!

(But the tide chooses this very moment to come in and obliterate her work. A sharp gasp from the o.s. Pinkie; after which she runs over.)

Pinkie: Twilight! Your friendship equation!

Twilight: That’s all right. Our friendship is unquantifiable.

(The pink face’s big frozen grin and mechanical nod swiftly give way to a confused head shake.)

Twilight: (laughing) It just means it can’t be measured.

Pinkie: Oh! (laughing, hugging her) I coulda told you that.

(“Iris out” to black, the aperture shaped like a heart and centered on their faces.)

“The Last Day of School”                                                                    Written by Kate Leth

(Opening shot: fade to black from the title card, then snap to the domed roof of Canterlot High, the camera aimed up at it from the ground during the day. Tilt quickly down to Twilight and Rainbow facing the front doors as the bell rings, the former clutching a textbook.)

Twilight (panicked), Rainbow (eagerly): It’s the last day of school!

Twilight: NOOOO!!

Rainbow: Yeah!

(Books, sheets of notes, and a clock tumble down past the camera; behind them, wipe to the egghead seated at a cafeteria table and working madly over stacks of papers and envelopes.)

Twilight: (slipping sheet into envelope, closing it) It’s okay, Twilight. You’ve still got four more hours of classes. That’s plenty of time to do extra credit work.

(Rainbow strolls up, lunch tray in hand and sunglasses propped on head.)

Rainbow: (slamming tray down on table, messing up Twilight’s work) Four more hours?!? (slumping into seat) Oh, man!

(She produces a soccer ball and spins it briefly on one finger as Twilight gathers the spilled stationery.)

Rainbow: Might as well be a hundred years!

Twilight: It’s barely enough time to write all my thank-you cards to the teachers! (Rainbow leans casually against her.)

Rainbow: Take it easy, Twilight. (nudging her) We’ll be back in three months. (Zoom in quickly on the violet face, eyes shrinking to points.)

Twilight: Three months??!?

(Clock wipe to Cheerilee, seated behind the front desk in her classroom. Her writing is interrupted by the sudden arrival of both girls, Twilight carrying a stack of papers and Rainbow without the ball.)

Cheerilee: (dryly, clearing throat) Ladies? (Cut to just behind her, framing the pair.)

Twilight: (placing a greeting card on desk) Uh, sorry, Miss Cheerilee. It’s just, Rainbow Dash was—

Rainbow: (leaning toward Cheerilee) Why don’t we watch a movie for the last class of the day?

Cheerilee: (smiling) Oh! That’s not a bad idea, Rainbow Dash.

(Her perspective: the blue face goes slack with shock at this reaction before breaking into a huge grin while the brainiac backs off and sits at her desk with a look of mute horror.)

Cheerilee: No use getting you started on a project this close to the finish line. (Close-up of Twilight as she finishes.)

Twilight: But I still have letters to finish and a collage to make! And maybe I should just rewrite my final exams just in case!

(A vertical panel slides in from the left side of the screen to fill half of it and then some. Within it, Rainbow is at her desk and pushing at the dividing line between her section and Twilight’s as if it were a sliding door, the latter straining to move it back.)

Rainbow: Daring Do Versus the Swamp Monsters! (Twilight shoves her out of view.)

Cheerilee: Great suggestion!

(Leaving her desk, she shuts off the room lights, slots a cassette into a VCR, and presses the play button while Rainbow lowers the tinted lenses over her own eyes. A static-distorted image of Daring Do—as played by actress Chestnut Magnifico, who figured in “Movie Magic”—fills the screen; she stands at the edge of a swamp and brandishes a machete at three slime creatures emerging from it. This can only be an extreme close-up of the television screen on which the movie is running. Twilight pays no mind, writing as if the world might spin off its axis at any moment; meanwhile, Rainbow has put on a set of red/blue 3-D glasses over her shades for good measure. She removes both pairs to throw a worried glance up at the wall clock, which ticks ahead from 2:05 to 2:06, as Twilight works double-time to assemble a collage. Her own look at the clock informs her that minutes are clicking by at an impossibly fast pace—at least in her mind’s eye. Back to Rainbow, who has donned only the 3-D glasses and looks dangerously close to falling asleep at her desk from sheer boredom. The clock snaps ahead from the twenty-fifth minute to the twenty-sixth with agonizing deliberation.)

(On the staticky screen, Daring has lost her machete and found herself surrounded by the slime creatures. Dissolve from her to Twilight, now trying her very best to speed-read two books at once; to her eyes, the clock is rapidly closing in on 3:00. Rainbow, for her part, is now within an ace of conking out altogether and trying not to spill the bag of popcorn she now cradles. Another minute ticks away…Twilight reads a book in one hand and scribbles notes with the other, a tortured little whimper escaping through locked teeth…another minute goes…she whimpers again, eyes and attention wholly on the book…another…Twilight cries out in anguish, her constricted pupils framed in extreme close-up…and the clock hits 3:00 to set off the bell at last.)

(The view splits down the middle and both halves slide away to either side, yielding a split screen of Twilight and Rainbow. The former stands up as the latter wakes up and falls sideways, scattering chair, popcorn, and red/blue lenses all over the room.)

Twilight: (agonized) NOOOOOOO!! (Sit down; Rainbow comes up to her knees.)

Rainbow: Yes!

(As the lights come up and the other students leave, she stands and crosses to the defeated Twilight, who has huddled back into her seat to continue her mad rush of work. A book goes flying over her shoulder as bits of gibberish slip through the clenched teeth.)

Rainbow: (waving hand before Twilight’s eyes) Twi…Twilight…

(No go; the intellectual resorts to hugging her stack of books like a life preserver, one step too far for the blue jock.)

Rainbow: TWILIGHT SPARKLE!! (Who snaps to with a startled squawk.) You know that summer break means you can read whatever you want, right?

Twilight: (slowly catching on) I…can!

Rainbow: (playfully goading tone) Anything. We could even take a trip to… (with great reluctance) …the…public…library.

(Those three words bring a happy gasp to Twilight’s lips, and she allows her friend to pull her up from her chair.)

Rainbow: Come on!

(They charge for the door. Cut to just outside the front doors as all seven Rainbooms burst out.)

Twilight: IT’S SUMMER VACATION!!

(Freeze frame and fade to black.)

“Outtakes”                                                                                             Written by Whitney Ralls

(Opening shot: fade to black from the title card, then in to Fluttershy setting up a video camera on a tripod. Her rabbit Angel and several other small animals are gathered around her on the floor and in midair, playing with one another.)

Fluttershy: Okay. All set up to make the cutest, most cuddly adoption video ever. (Cut to several of them; she continues o.s.) Once everyone sees what good pets you are— (kneeling to pick up a puppy) —you’ll find your forever homes in no time.

(Cradling it in her arms, she straightens up facing the camera and takes a deep breath to gather herself. The hamster habitat she cleaned out in “Hamstocalypse Now” can be seen in the background, marking this facility as the animal shelter at which she has volunteered in the past.)

Fluttershy: I know exactly what to say. I just have to say it to the camera nice and clear. Yep, just me, Pup-Pup, and the camera.

(Her nerve begins to fail her as she regards her distorted reflection in the lens and swallows hard.)

Fluttershy: (softly, fearfully) Plus the hundreds of people who will watch the video. (Whimper.)

(A flick of static fills the screen and clears to frame her and the dog, Pup-Pup, framed through the camera’s viewfinder.)

Fluttershy: (almost inaudibly) Are you an animal looking for a home? (startled, reaching toward camera) Whoops! Oh…I mean…take two!

(Another burst of static, which subsides to frame her again.)

Fluttershy: Is your home furry? (shaking head angrily, reaching to camera) No, no, no, start over!

(This time, Pup-Pup ends up close enough to the lens to give it a hearty lick.)

Fluttershy: Take three!

(Static, then she stands in view again; the little guy’s drool has been cleaned away.)

Fluttershy: (slowly crumpling to floor, still holding him up) Pets…friend…you…happy…take…t-t-take, take, take…

(Cut to her amid the other prospective pets.)

Fluttershy: (miserably) Ohhh… (lowering Pup-Pup) …maybe I’ll take an entirely different approach—off camera.

(Clock wipe to the rig in her hands and zoom out; she has removed it from the tripod.)

Fluttershy: You guys should be the stars of the video anyhow. I’ll just get some super-cute shots of you guys being your well-behaved, perfect pet selves.

(On the end of this, cut to a slow pan across the floor; Pup-Pup and a gray dog pull a chew toy back and forth, while a kitten rides atop a turtle’s back.)

Fluttershy: (from o.s., thrusting camera toward kitten/turtle) Aaaand…action!

(The sudden move spooks the feline into peeling out, the shellback into pulling in its head and legs, and both pups into clearing off. The gray dog scampers back into view.)

Fluttershy: (from o.s.) That’s it, Mr. Puppy! (It barks; cut to her, kneeling.) Oh…but where did Kitty run off to?

(She stands, the camera rising to follow her and framing the missing cat atop a storage cabinet. An over-shoulder glance tips her off, and she pivots to it with the camera ready.)

Fluttershy: Come down and play! (Close-up of it; she continues o.s.) Pleeeease? (It shoves a book off the edge toward her.) No?

(Back to her; now a mouse is riding Mr. Puppy across the floor.)

Fluttershy: Okay.

(Every time she shifts position to get a better shot, though, the animals seem to take off on a whole other tangent. One dissolve later, the entire office space is littered with spills of food and water, paw prints on the walls and furniture, scratches where they have no business being, and general critter-induced devastation at all levels. In the midst of it all lies Fluttershy on the floor, utterly spent and with the camera resting near one flung-out hand. The front door opens to admit Twilight and Applejack, the former uttering a soft, surprised gasp when she takes it all in.)

Twilight: What happened?

Fluttershy: (dazedly) They heard the call of the wild. (normal tone, opening eyes) There’s no way I’m gonna finish this video!

(Cowboy boots and chunky-heeled purple shoes step over to her; Applejack picks up the camera, and she and Twilight laugh at what they see on its built-in playback screen.)

Applejack: I think you’ve captured the fun of havin’ a pet perfectly.

Fluttershy: (gasping) You do?

Twilight: (adjusting glasses) Certainly! With a little editing magic, this will make a great adoption video.

(The screen distorts with static and snaps to black, against which a spot of light fades into view to show a close-up of a pitiful-looking Angel.)

Fluttershy: (voice over, sadly) Shelter pets…

(He fades away and is replaced by a spot on Kitty, then Mr. Puppy. This last one expands to fill the screen as the little fellow bounds up to all fours and pants happily.)

Fluttershy: (voice over, brightly) …are the best!

(Flowers rain down to fill the screen; the mouse pops its head out through the center of one, framing itself with the petals. Stars drift past on the next line, the view wiping behind them to show Angel bounding ahead of the turtle, on which another mouse is hitching a ride.)

Fluttershy: (voice over) If you’re looking for a pet, these pets are looking for you.

(Pup-Pup brings up the rear as a bright red heart swells to fill the screen and subsides to show the hamster habitat. Kitty’s face pops up behind a large, transparent spherical junction in the tubular paths, frightening one of the little rodents into bailing out. Close-up of Pup-Pup held by Fluttershy, close enough to the camera to give its lens another tongue bath, then a flash that frames her standing and waving with a bird perched on her head. The lens is clean again, and she is no longer carrying the dog.)

Fluttershy: Come on down to the Canterlot Animal Shelter—

(Zoom out slowly; she stands on its front lawn during the day, turtle tucked under one arm and popping head/legs from the shell. Kitty purrs next to Pup-Pup at her ankles. The exterior is painted in a cheery cloud/sky motif with paw prints trailing along the walls, the orange roof sections are angled to evoke the idea of a doghouse, and the upper story and a sign in a flowerbed bear a logo of a paw print within a white heart. The facility is topped with a weather vane accented by a dog instead of a rooster.)

Fluttershy: —where we have the furry friend that’s purr-fect for you!

(Fade to black.)

“Pinkie Pie: Snack Psychic”                                                     Written by Laura Hooper Beck

(Opening shot: fade to black from the title card, then in to the exterior of the 1950s diner that served as the setting for “Coinky-Dink World.” It is daytime, and the camera zooms in and cuts to a pan across the busy interior before stopping on Twilight, Rainbow, and Rarity in a booth.)

Twilight: Whoa! This place is packed! (Pinkie, on waitress duty, skates over with menus in hand.)

Pinkie: Welcome, girls!

(She cuts three deft spins, sliding a menu to a different member of the trio on each.)

Pinkie: Be back soon!

(The wheels carry her over to Flash, sitting alone in a booth and biting moodily into a grilled cheese sandwich.)

Pinkie: Big test?

Flash: Yeah. How’d you know?

Pinkie: (pulling up one slice of bread, letting it drop) When you’re stressed, you always order grilled cheese. (Gasp.) Be right back!

(Off she goes, only to return pushing a very puzzled Twilight just as quickly and abruptly.)

Pinkie: Here! Twi can help you. She’s basically a genius at everything, especially math.

(Said genius puts hand to forehead, having figured out what she is being roped into.)

Flash: (hastily, trying to wave them off) Oh, no, it’s no big deal, heh. (as Pinkie seats Twilight across from him) I mean…only if you have time. (The hyperactive waitress skates away.)

Twilight: So, uh…what are you working on?

(He brings up a textbook and slides it bashfully across the table. At the counter, a girl sits with her face turned partially away from the camera and bites into a burger. A few globs tumble loose just before a pink hand reaches into view to tap her shoulder; she turns her head to take notice of Pinkie standing behind her.)

Pinkie: Hi! (pulling Rarity into view) I want to introduce you to my friend Rarity.

(The customer pivots on her stool to face the pair, exposing blots of ketchup on her clothing.)

Girl: (as Rarity gasps deeply) Uh, why?

Pinkie: (pointing at stains) That’s why!

Rarity: Don’t worry, darling. (Pinkie rolls off.) I can fix this. Do you have glitter on you?

(Gliding to a stop, the human dynamo waves a hand toward her own nose to stir up the air and takes a sniff. Her nose registers the smell as…)

Pinkie: Chlorine! (Sniff again; face falls.) And soup. (slumping, rolling slowly away) Aw, candy corn!

(Four Crystal Prep Academy athletes are in a corner booth, staring dully at the bowls of soup before them as she pulls up tableside.)

Pinkie: Eating soup after the big loss at the swim meet today?

Boy: Yeah. Losers don’t deserve nachos.

Pinkie: That’s not true! (Smile.) Hold on. I know just what you need.

(She blurs away and back, now carrying a tray of nachos which she sets among the bowls; there follows a general lifting of spirits.)

Pinkie: First, you totally deserve nachos for trying. And second… (Out and back again, this time towing Rainbow.) …this is Rainbow Dash. She’s the captain of every single team at Canterlot High. (All four customers murmur their admiration.) She’s the best at turning today’s loss into tomorrow’s win!

Rainbow: (moving toward table) Okay. Here’s the game plan for next week.

(Pinkie cruises down the counter and stops facing a waitress stationed behind it.)

Waitress: How do you do it, Pinkie?

Pinkie: Do what?

Waitress: You always know exactly what everyone needs.

(Over by the jukebox, Rarity is tossing pinches of glitter from a jar over the girl who ruined her own dress. She is now kitted out in a strapless violet ball gown trimmed in yellow and loving every stitch of it. Twilight is carrying on an impromptu tutoring session with Flash, who thinks for a moment before jotting on a sheet of paper and showing it to her. Its display of charts and graphs earns a thumbs-up from Twilight, and both laugh brightly at his success. Rainbow has taken a seat among the Crystal Prep squad and is demonstrating a bit of swimming technique.)

Pinkie: It’s just a gut feeling, you know?

(And hers chooses this very moment to sound off loudly; she giggles over it, and her coworker fishes around under the counter.)

Waitress: Mmm-hmm.

(She sets out a monster of a banana split, enough to push any competitive eater’s stomach to the ragged edge of its capacity.)

Waitress: I know.

Pinkie, Waitress: (high-fiving) Yeah!

(They produce spoons and dig in, voicing a triumphant whoop, and the view fades to black.)

“Five to Nine”                            Written by Gillian M. Berrow; composed by Mason Rather

Sparse acoustic guitar line backed by swelling synthesizer

Chugging country feel, moderate 4 (A flat major)

Drums/violin/bass enter after two bars; acoustic guitar replaced by electric banjo

(Opening shot: fade to black from the title card, then snap to a long shot of the main house and barn of Sweet Apple Acres. The sun is rising over the homestead as the camera cuts to a window inside and pans to a chicken-shaped alarm clock on a nightstand by a bed. It emits a clucking ring, the hands showing 5:00, and Applejack’s pajama-clad arm reaches out to shut it off. She sits up and climbs out of bed for a good stretch.)

Applejack:                     Before the sun comes up, you gotta start your rocket boosters

(Outside; she opens the window and watches a rooster crow atop one of the chicken coops.)

                                        Rise and shine, I’m feelin’ fine, wake up, Mr. Rooster

(Close-up of her feet as she pulls her boots on, then tilt up. She has traded her usual outfit for a long-sleeved, white-speckled red shirt tied off at the waist and a pair of jeans, and she knots a red kerchief with white polka dots through her loose bun of hair in place of her hat. Pushing her sleeves back to the elbow, she picks up a broom.)

                                        The early bird gets the worm, the sunrise makes me squirm

Double-time feel; vocal harmonies in behind lyrics

(Swing it toward the camera, throwing out clouds of dust that clear to show her hard at the task of sweeping the floor. A spot on the doorframe gets a quick polish with a cloth.)

                                        Oh, keepin’ busy is keepin’ good, keep on goin’ just like you should

(Downstairs; she slides along the banister and hustles out to the porch, barely avoiding a collision with Big Macintosh. He just smiles and shrugs.)

                                        Call me crazy, misunderstood, but you won’t hear me complain

(Scrub the rails and posts; water the flowers; feed the chickens at the coops behind the house. The sky has shifted into the blue of morning.)

Harmonies out; each set of background lyrics is sung under the preceding line

                                        ’Cause I got time to spare, fun to share

                        [Time…Fun…]

                        My friends along

                        [Friends…]

All instruments out except bass drum and handclaps

                                        A job well done by the break of dawn

Picking guitar in for four beats as she holds the last word, then full instrumentation

Double-time feel and handclaps end

(Applejack starts sweeping the driveway.)

Applejack:                     So many things need gettin’ done around the neighborhood

                                        So get to work and get it done before the gettin’ goin’ gets good

(Toss the broom aside; open the barn doors to reveal a scramble of hay, cobwebs, farm and hand tools, boxes, and random junk. Adjusting her sleeves again, she eagerly charges in.)

A cappella for second half of next line only

                                        Most people dread the grit and grime, but elbow grease works every time

Double-time feel; harmonies in

(She sweeps a window clear of dust, then lifts one box with her left arm and a stack of three with her right and hauls them away.)

                                        Keepin’ busy is keepin’ good, to keep on goin’ just like you should

(Now having loaded a wheelbarrow full of hay, she gets ready to wheel it out but is surprised by the emergence of three chickens from the heap. Her next move is to grab up old tarps from three different locations, startling a hen perched on one of them.)

                                        Call me crazy, misunderstood, but you won’t hear me complain

(A hose with a spray nozzle is used to strafe a wall and instantly clean a filthy window, after which she skates across the floor with soapy scrub brushes strapped to her boots and then runs a mop along the ceiling.)

Harmonies out; each set of background lyrics is sung under the preceding line

                                        ’Cause I got time to spare, fun to share

                        [Time…Fun…]

                        My friends along

                        [Friends…]

                                        A job well done by the break of dawn

Double-time feel ends; handclaps in

(She nails a banner into place over a window, through which the night sky can now be seen.)

Applejack: (spoken in rhythm)               Count my chickens, milk the cows

(A few squawks make themselves heard; next she sets up strings of pennants and hanging candle lanterns among the rafters, with bunches of flowers for accent, and wipes dust from her hands.)

                                                                Hang those lights, I’ll show you how

(Now back at ground level, she strings up smaller multicolored lights, having already set tubs of apples and flowers on some hay bales and laid a plank across others to make a refreshment table. Long streamers in pastel colors hang down into the barn’s main doorway, and Macintosh nudges his way through to give her a thumbs-up as a limousine pulls up to the curb. All six of her friends spill out, sporting the Western-themed outfits they wore during Applejack’s mental picture of a music video concept in “Dance Magic.”)

                                                                Invite my friends, clean the barn

 (setting a pie in place) This is so excitin’!

A cappella

(removing head kerchief)                        Strum guitar and sing this yarn

Banjo/bass/handclaps/bass drum in

(She lets the cloth wave past the camera lens; behind its trailing edge, wipe to the doorway, where the other six girls enter with expressions of surprise and delight. The barn has been cleared of all the detritus and tools, flower tubs stand on tables covered with plaid cloths, and the side table is set up with pies and a cooler full of cider. Applejack proves to be wearing her original hairstyle and her own “Dance Magic” ensemble when the camera pans to her, standing at the opposite side of the space. A string of tiny lights has been added to a ladder rising into the rafters.)

Applejack:                     Keepin’ busy is keepin’ good, keep on goin’ just like you should

 (As the guests spread out, she picks up an acoustic guitar and stands on the hay bale against which it was propped to start playing.)

Harmonies/violin in

                                        Call me crazy, misunderstood, but you won’t hear me complain

                              [Yee-haa!]

Handclaps replaced by full percussion; double-time feel

Harmonies out; each set of background lyrics is sung under the preceding line

(The others groove in their own ways.)

’Cause I got time to spare, I got fun to share

[Time…Fun…]

(Several other Canterlot High students are now present; she leaps off the bale and slides past them on her knees.)

                                        My friends along

[Friends…]

A job well done by the break of dawn

(As the hole in its body fills the screen, the darkness within dissolves to Pinkie trying to pull the end cap off a cardboard tube. She grins and Rainbow laughs at the burst of confetti that erupts when she finally pops it loose. Across the way, Fluttershy is feeding bites from a slice of apple pie to a couple of curious chickens.)

Harmonies in

Applejack:                     Keepin’ busy is keepin’ good, keep on goin’ just like you should         

(winking)                         Call me crazy, misunderstood, but you won’t hear me complain

(The whole crowd is deep into the hoedown now; cut to the exterior of the barn, doors closed and windows glowing warmly.)

Harmonies out; each set of background lyrics is sung under the preceding line

’Cause I got time to spare, I got fun to share

[Time…Fun…]

(Inside, Pinkie is first to notice something is amiss—namely, the fact that Applejack is crashed out and snoring loudly by a bale.)

                                        My friends along

                        [Friends…]

All instruments out except bass drum and handclaps

A job well done by the break of dawn

Picking guitar for four beats as she holds the last word, then song ends

(Rarity pulls out a blanket and drapes it gently over the blonde, who cradles her guitar a bit closer in her sleep as the view fades to black.)

“So Much More to Me”                        Written by Kate Leth; composed by Mason Rather

(Opening shot: fade to black from the title card, then in to the exterior of the Canterlot Animal Shelter during the day. Fluttershy and Sunset stand at the front doors, Angel down by Fluttershy’s feet, while the other Rainbooms wait on the sidewalk near the curb. Zoom in slowly, then cut to the pair on the next line.)

Sunset: Are you sure you don’t want to come to the karaoke party, Fluttershy?

Fluttershy: (stroking hair nervously) Oh, no, Sunset. I can’t. The thought of singing in public makes me…

(A choked little noise escapes her throat in lieu of any further words; Sunset lays a comforting hand on her shoulder.)

Sunset: No worries. (walking off, waving) See you tomorrow.

(The volunteer quickly scoops Angel up and ducks through the doors; cut to inside as she slides down against them to the floor.)

Quiet, sustained synthesizer chords, slow loose 4 (E major)

Fluttershy:                                 Do you think the coast is clear?

(setting him down)                       No one to see, no one to hear

                                                    Me sing out my song

(grasping a broom)                     I think we’re all alone

Poppy synth melody with bass drum, moderate 4; Fluttershy’s voice slowly builds power

(The overhead fluorescent lights begin to pulse in time to the music.)

Fluttershy:                                 I don’t need my name in lights

                                                    That’s not where I’ve set my sights

(Sparkles float up around her ankles as she sweeps a bit.)

                                                    No-o, oh, no, not me

                                                    I don’t need a stage to sing

(The motes build to a flash of pink light that wreathes her form and subsides to leave her in a very different outfit: high-collared, pale green dress with translucent fabric in a slightly different hue covering shoulders and arms and a scattering of pearls down the front, white tights, pale green high heels with pink flower trim, a ruffled, pale green clip amid tumbling, pearl-studded waves of hair. Her broom has become an old-style radio microphone on a pole, its transducer element mounted within a vertical ring frame and displaying a grinning cat’s face.)

Full percussion in; hold last word under next line

Fluttershy:                                 I like the quiet, I like the calm                

(Another burst of sparks, and Angel—in a dapper hat and bow tie—and other critters are now riding atop a set of pulsing equalizer signals.)

                                                    To turn it up, to sing along

(winking)                                     I’m not just shy, look close and you will see                  

Percussion out for next line only

                                                    There’s so much more to me

(A flash, and she is her normal self surrounded by the shelter’s residents in the grooming area. She picks up Pup-Pup and sets him on a counter.)

Fluttershy:                                 I’m just fine rehearsing on my own

(Twirl a brush, raise it to her lips.)

                                                    My hairbrush is my microphone

(Spin the pooch on the counter; he winds up with his shaggy fur neatly groomed and a ribbon tied into it between his ears.)

                                                    Look out now, I’m in the zone

(spoken in rhythm)                      Yeah, can you feel it?

(One quick change later, she carries her microphone to center screen amid a flutter of birds.)

Fluttershy:                                 I like the quiet, I like the calm

(Angel and other fuzzy-wuzzies ride the equalizer bars again.)

                                                    To turn it up, to sing along

(winking)                                     I’m not just shy, look close and you will see                  

                                                    There’s so much more to me

Synth chords and bass drum only

(Flash to her normal self, carrying a bag of trash out the back door as two teens converse by a pickup truck parked at the curb.)

Fluttershy: (softly)                      I speak soft out in a crowd

(She puts it in a waiting can as quietly as possible and hustles back inside.)

                                                    I whisper—am I being too loud?

(building power)                          But when I close that door

(The sound of a cheering audience fades up as one sandal-clad foot taps the floor.)

                                                    The crowd, it just wants more and more and more

All instruments in; hold last word under next line

(She bounds joyfully through the hall, a flash filling the screen and subsiding to reveal her translucent image superimposed first on her green-dressed counterpart and then over the animals on the equalizer bars.)

Fluttershy:                                 I like the quiet, I like the calm [Oh, whoa, whoa]

                                                    To turn it up, to sing along

(The two yellow girls circle around each other, holding microphone and broom, and end up standing back to back as they sing together.)

                                                    I’m not just shy, look close and you will see

                                                    There’s so much more to me

Hold last word under next line

(Both items are tossed away; the other Rainbooms and a group of animals bounce on opposite sides of the pair.)

Fluttershy:                                 I like my friends, I like my pets [Oh, whoa, whoa]

(They twirl away from each other…)

                                                    I like to rock, do pirouettes [Oh-h]

(...then step up side by side with real and pretend microphones in hand. The normally dressed Fluttershy vanishes into her glamorous opposite number.)

                                                    I’m not just shy, I’m more than you can see

Percussion out

                                                    There’s so much more to me

Song ends

Sunset: (from o.s.) Hey, Fluttershy.

(The fantasy shatters into a rain of sparks, a panicked grimace instantly taking root on the yellow face. She stands, normally dressed and holding her broom, as the camera pans slightly to frame Sunset stepping in through the front doors.)

Sunset: I came back to say we decided to go to a movie instead, but… (puzzled) …were you playing music?

Fluttershy: (half-squeaking) No!

Sunset: Okay. Well, do you want to come?

Fluttershy: (smiling, calming down) I guess so.

(She follows Sunset out as the view fades to black.)

“The Other Side”                                  Composed by John Jennings Boyd, Lisette Bustamante

Quiet guitar melody with echoing synthesizer chords, slow 4 (E flat major)

(Opening shot: fade to black from the title card, then in to a series of alternating slow pans across a sunrise and the cluttered design area that Rarity used while working at Equestria Land during “Rollercoaster of Friendship.” The view dissolves from one scene to the other, until a final tilt down from the sunlit sky frames a long shot of Rarity on a beach, walking calmly away from the lapping waves. Her outfit is done in deep shades of blue and grayish-blue—sleeveless bodysuit, wrist-length gloves, ankle-length boots, cape streaming in the breeze—and is accented with light blue gems, matching bracelets, and a brooch that covers the left shoulder. Glitter and more gems are dusted onto the gloves and into the loose, windswept purple hair. Dissolve to a close-up of Rarity’s calmly smiling face, the eyes popping wide with surprise in the same moment that the background changes to her design area and she resumes her normal appearance and clothing. She sits drawing at a cluttered countertop as the camera pans slowly through the space.)

Acoustic percussion in; synth out

Rarity:                Sitting here with my head in my hands, ideas, they come and go

Sketching my heart out, nothing will turn out, everything seems so-so

(She stands and crosses to a bulletin board covered with sheets.)

                            I’ve been here before, and I know that I can do it if I try

(pulling one down, then sweeping the board clear)

                            But why, oh, why do you stumble before you fly?

Percussion out; piano/synth in

(The pages swirl past the camera, the scene wiping behind them to show Bodysuit Rarity struggling to climb a steep, unforgiving mountain slope. The view fades to black several times, then in after each to frame her from a different angle.)

Rarity:                My wheels keep turning [Oh,oh!] my fire’s still burning [Oh, oh!]

(She trips and pitches forward, arms thrust out to break the fall, and swiftly finds herself back on the workshop floor. The spilled drawings and a few loose gems lie scattered before her.)

                            ’Cause right now I’m learning [Oh,oh!] how to get to the other side

Snare drum in

(Eyes widen; hands curl into fists; a flash, and Bodysuit Rarity nears the peak and a gleaming mirror that stands waiting for her.)

                            It’s a game of waiting [Hey, hey!] anticipating [Hey, hey!]

(Dissolve to the workshop; she stands, approaches the mirror at the far end, and joyfully launches herself toward it.)

                            But I keep creating [Hey, hey!] so I can get to the other, get to the other side

Synth and electronic percussion only

(Instead of shattering the glass, she passes through it and emerges into orange-tinted space amid a shower of blue crystals. She is now attired in the carousel-themed ensemble she briefly sported during the Rainbooms’ song at the end of “Rollercoaster of Friendship,” but the camera cuts to Bodysuit Rarity in time for a wink from one blue eye. The latter has shed her cape and brooch, revealing the strapless design of her garment.)

Rarity: (muted)               Get to the other side

(Cut to Carousel Rarity on the beach, a series of dissolves shifting her from one pose to another.)

                                        Hey

(Dissolve to Bodysuit Rarity, who gently blows glitter from her gloved palms toward the camera, then cut to a slow pan across the cylindrical skirt of Carousel Rarity’s dress. A dissolve shifts her expression from confident to playful.)

                                        Hey, get to the other side

                                        Hey (normal volume) So I can get to the other, get to the other

Guitar and acoustic percussion only, with echoing synth

(Now she walks the beach.)

Rarity:                Keep on believing, I’ll be achieving, the harder that I go

(Bodysuit Rarity lounges on a cluster of giant gemstones that jut from the sand, a pair of headphones over her ears; dissolve to a close-up of her winking countenance.)

                            Don’t really know how, I won’t give up now until I steal the show

(Cut to Carousel Rarity, ringed in by pole-mounted crystalline pony statues that cycle up and down as they circle around her, then to Bodysuit Rarity propping herself on one half-bent knee and without the headphones.)

                            With time it gets better, I’ll be a trendsetter, doing it my own way

(She drapes herself over the massive jewels again, a telephone receiver pressed to one ear as she lies on her back, then stands on the beach with her cape and brooch on again. The garment is flung open dramatically as a dolphin leaps from the water behind her.)

                            Hey, hey-hey, won’t stop ‘’til I seize the day

Percussion out; handclaps, piano in

(A flare of white light fills the screen and subsides to black it out, followed by a series of fade-in/fade-out transitions that each fill only a portion of the screen and frame her from various angles. The first two are of Carousel Rarity, the last of of Bodysuit Rarity without her cape.)

Rarity:                My wheels keep turning [Oh,oh!] my fire’s still burning [Oh, oh!]

(Fade to white, then in to Carousel Rarity at the center of her crystalline merry-go-round.)

                            ’Cause right now I’m learning [Oh,oh!] how to get to the other side

Snare drum in

(She tosses a double handful of necklaces in slow motion; cut to Bodysuit Rarity on the beach, cape on and back to the camera, then flash to a profile close-up. Another flash as the accessories fall toward her neck, and she has become Carousel Rarity and is wearing them.)

                            It’s a game of waiting [Hey, hey!] anticipating [Hey, hey!]

(Bodysuit Rarity, now on a cliff overlooking the beach, pulls her cape off and lets the brooch drop from her shoulder.)

                            But I keep creating [Hey, hey!] so I can get to the other, get to the other side

Synth and electronic percussion only

(Cut back and forth between Carousel Rarity, twirling in place, and Bodysuit Rarity, regarding the seascape with arms spread and cape discarded.)

Rarity: (muted)               Get to the other side

                                        Hey

(A longer shot of her gem-themed lounging spot by the waves. A gold sculpture of an eagle rests on a perch hung with jewels; an open treasure chest is to one side; a colossal oyster to the other, its shell opened to expose a pearl; the phone she used is on a pedestal; the ground is littered with assorted small valuables. Zoom out slowly, then cut to one of the crystal merry-go-round horses, then to Carousel Rarity standing within a circle of blue gems that match the ones in her cutie mark.)

                                        Hey, get to the other side

(She stands on the beachside cliff.)

                                        Hey (normal volume) So I can get to the other, get to the other side

Song ends

(On this last word, the camera cuts to a long shot of her and zooms out slowly as fireworks burst in the early-morning sky and a dolphin leaps up into view. From here, dissolve to a close-up of Bodysuit Rarity lying on her back and pan slowly toward her face. The blue-shadowed eyes open halfway over a serene little smile, and the view fades to black.)