MY LITTLE PONY: EQUESTRIA GIRLS

Digital Series—Volume Three

Production credits for all shorts are as follows:

Produced by Angela Belyea, Colleen McAllister

Directed by Ishi Rudell, Katrina Hadley

(Writing credits are listed on each individual transcript)

Transcribed by Alan Back (ajback@yahoo.com)

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

point are shouted rather than sung.

“Reboxing with Spike!”                                        Written by Gillian M. Berrow

(Opening shot: fade to black from the title card, then in to an extreme close-up of Spike reaching toward the camera and adjusting it. He is sitting on the bed in Twilight Sparkle’s room at home, and a sealed carton rests off to one side on the mattress. A bone features prominently on the logo emblazoned across the cardboard, suggesting pet supplies. Once Spike has the camera just so, he backs away a few steps.)

Spike: Hey, paw pals! Welcome to this month’s Fancy Fetch Unboxing with Spike.

(The title is delivered in voice over, the camera cutting to a close-up of one suavely smiling pooch and a paw-marked box that opens on its own so a bone can float up. After he tips a wink, the view returns to him on the bed.)

Spike: I love pampering myself, and of course putting it on the Internet for you, my fans, first.

(So this is an online video, then. He squishes his cheeks on the start of this line and adds a wink to end it. As he continues, a graphic briefly appears in midair by his head, showing his own face topped by a halo and alongside a pound sign.)

Spike: Hashtag “puppy self-care.” I decided to splurge a little this month and get the deluxe package.

(Teeth nip onto the corner of the carton so he can drag it toward the center of the bed. Cut to close-ups of it from various angles.)

Spike: (voice over) Let’s get a better shot.

(The graphic, minus the pound sign, materializes at screen center and zooms toward the camera as the view fades to black. Snap immediately to a close-up of the now-open carton, filled with an assortment of dog toys and goodies.)

Spike: (voice over, awestruck) Whoa! (pointing to a sack) Look at this!

(Zoom in quickly on it, then cut to him lifting it out and using his teeth to extract a gem-studded Frisbee.)

Spike: (voice over) Fabulous Fido’s Fabergé Flying Disc. (He sets it down and addresses the camera.) Of course, you can’t actually throw it. (holding it up) Far too delicate.

(A tender kiss to the surface is met with four jewels flicking into view above it; these disappear as he puts the bauble aside and begins rooting around in the carton.)

Spike: Hm…what other gems do we have here? (Eyes pop.) Oh!

(What he produces this time is a tricked-out purple slipper covering a paw.)

Spike: Slippers to make your paws feel plush!

(He cuddles it to a cheek. Cut to a slow pan across his form—sprawled on his belly, wearing a full set of four as satisfaction oozes from every square inch of his face.)

Spike: (voice over) They’re encrusted with locally sourced amethysts.

(Five gems pop into view for a moment before the camera cuts back to him digging around some more, having shed the slippers. Cut to a closer shot of his face on each of the next three words, ending with an extreme close-up.)

Spike: (giddily) Oh, my goodness! (Longer shot; he laughs.) This is why I started vlogging in the first place! I’ve been waiting for a sniff like this.

(A bit of drool escapes his lips; close-up of the items, zooming in slightly. Front and center is a worn, dirty, greenish sock that begins to glow with a heavenly light. A pair of wings pops in around it, and the screen quickly tiles itself with jewels before the view returns to Spike holding it proudly—and the wisps of malodorous vapor that have begun to rise from the fabric.)

Spike: It’s a classic white ankle sock. (Close-up of it and him; slow pan.) Cotton-nylon blend, two hundred wears deep, never washed. This ain’t no dry-wick. This baby is as absorbent as they get!

(He takes a lungful of the funk and backs out of view.)

Spike: (from o.s., contentedly) Ahhhh…

(Back to the indulging puppy, whose reverie comes to an abrupt end at the sound of rapidly approaching footsteps.)

Spike: Huh?

Twilight: (from hallway, testily) Spike!

(He turns to face the room’s open door, rising to his hind legs and clasping his front paws innocently behind his back, as she enters holding a receipt.)

Twilight: Did you spend two hundred dollars on a box with a dirty sock in it? (She fixes him with a glare.)

Spike: (laughing nervously) Can’t put a price on “hashtag ‘puppy self-care’ ”?

(A brief blip of sound and light fills the screen; when it clears, the carton has been sloppily repacked and taped shut and Twilight is gone.)

Spike: (deflating slightly) And now for my new show—Reboxing and Returning Stuff.

(Fade to black.)

“DIY with Applejack”                                                Written by Laura Beck

Note:                Throughout this short, all lines marked with one asterisk (*) are spoken by a

                character holding the camera.

(Opening shot: fade to black from the title card, then snap to a close-up of Applejack standing in a room with a bare wood floor. The walls are unadorned, inset with alcoves directly behind her and to both sides. Visible in the bottom right corner of the screen is an icon consisting of a wooden apple in a matching frame—like Spike, she is making an online video. Her image is slightly fuzzy at first, but comes into focus before she begins to speak.)

Applejack: On today’s DIY with Applejack— (holding up a hammer) —we’re gonna build my friend Rarity a dream dressin’ room, in just seventy-three easy steps.

(The image jitters briefly, followed by a quick swivel that frames an extreme close-up of the fashionista’s features, her cheeks all but mashed against the lens. Evidently she drew camera-operator duty for this endeavor. The apple icon remains on the screen.)

Rarity: Hello, darlings. I can’t wait for my fabulous new dressing room and—

(A loud, impatient throat-clearing from Applejack’s direction brings her up short.)

Rarity: (blushing) Oh. Sorry. (Laugh.) Promise I won’t make another peep.

(The camera swivels back to the hands-on teen, who has put away the hammer.)

Applejack: Let’s get started!

(Snap to black, a flicker of static blinking across the screen, then immediately to a brief, shaky zoom out from her standing among a clump of trees on the Sweet Apple Acres grounds during the day. The apple icon is gone from the screen now. She has donned a hard hat in place of her usual one, safety goggles, and work gloves and is leaning against an axe whose head rests in the grass. The tool is lifted into a two-handed grip.)

Applejack: First, you need wood. So for step one, I’m gonna cut down one of my trees.

(Here comes the swing—but the following words startle her into slamming on the brakes just before the blade can make contact with the trunk.)

* Rarity: Ooh, just a dash of peep. How many trees are we going to need?

(Mildly vexed at the interruption, the farmer pulls the axe back for another go. The entire image freezes just short of a hit, a “pause” symbol within a circle superimposing itself on the screen. Now the camera backs up to put the entire scene within the viewing window of a computer World Wide Web site, complete with running time display, volume control, and progress bar. A mouse cursor clicks on the slider control affixed to this last and drags it to the right, instantly advancing the video through a series of still shots. Standing over the now-felled tree and wiping her brow…carrying a plank…measuring the height of one alcove in the room…using a power sander on the top of a crate…sawing a plank…and the cursor clicks to resume the playback as she is sanding it.)

Applejack: (slightly tinny) Step eight. (Zoom in until the viewing window fills the screen again; normal audio resumes.) Gettin’ rid of splinters.

(The shift in the sound quality reflects a transition from watching the video online to being on the scene again.)

Applejack: Now you have to give each square foot of the surface thirty clockwise strokes with the buffer—

* Rarity: Thirty! (Applejack shuts it down.) Darling, that seems a bit excessive.

Applejack: (needled) Yes, thirty. (smiling, restarting) And then you have to double-check those strokes by… (Shut down again.) …aw, shoot! I lost count. Well, I have to cut down a new tree. (She walks out.)

* Rarity: (yawning; camera wobbles slightly) This is positively electrifying.

(Snap to staticky black, then in to Applejack holding a paint roller. She is no longer wearing her work gear and has put on her cowboy hat again. Behind her, a door has been fitted up and decorated, a splotch of paint marks the wall above this, and a fringe of fabric trim hangs from the upper edge of the wall alcove to her right. Lumber and rolls of fabric are scattered about, through which Rarity’s cat Opalescence enters the workspace.)

Applejack: Step twenty-nine—paintin’ your room. (lifting a can of paint) I chose this practical brown color—

(The fussy feline chooses this moment to voice her opinion in a loud hiss. The camera focus shifts briefly to her and back, throwing a mild scare into Applejack, then swings briefly from side to side as if Rarity is shaking her head. A “you’ve got to be kidding me” look comes over the freckled face, followed by a quick snap to black and in to the room again. Now Opal is much more content, while Applejack has stitched on a slightly forced grin as she holds up her roller and a different can.) 

Applejack: Step twenty-nine-point-five—paintin’ your room with this, uh, very bright purple.

(A pale hand reaches into view to give her a big thumbs-up, after which the view undergoes a “diamond wipe” to frame Applejack regarding one back corner of the room. That is, the new image expands from the center of the screen and takes on a diamond shape as it grows until the transition is complete. The walls have been fully painted in the Rarity-approved shade.)

Applejack: (tossing roller into a can) Step forty-two—adding tufted button walls.

(Close-up of a patch of floor, fabric being unrolled to cover it.)

Applejack: (from o.s., reaching briefly into view to measure) You’re gonna want to be careful, measurin’ the satin at least twice…

(As she says this, Opal darts in to work the textile over with her claws and shoot the camera a slightly dirty look. There follows a split-second blip of black, which clears to show the floor again bare; as a new length of fabric is rolled out, the mouse cursor appears and clicks to pause the video. As before, the view zooms out to frame the entire computer screen and the slider on the progress bar is dragged right to skip ahead. Stills flash by of Applejack repeatedly measuring again, first with a tape measure and then with additional tools, followed by a close-up of her face, mouth open to speak and index finger raised to drive home a point. Zoom in until the viewing window fills the screen again; the cursor clicks to resume the playback, then drops out of sight.)

Applejack: Now that you’ve measured five times— (hefting a pair of hedge clippers) —we can begin to cut the samples.

(A less-than-amused throat-clearing from behind the camera stops her cold, and after a staticky flash of black, the blonde smiles sheepishly while holding up a pair of scissors more suited to the task at hand. Her test snips are frozen by a click of the cursor, which drags the progress bar slider ahead to frame her standing at the trimmed alcove. Stacks of fabric swatches fill both hands and litter the floor; she regards these with no small degree of confusion as the mouse and controls drop away.)

Applejack: We just have to figure out which of the sixty-two samples work best.

(These words are punctuated by a yawn from Rarity and a slow droop of the camera until it frames the booted feed and a napping Opal. At the sound of Applejack’s annoyed throat-clearing, though, she snaps awake with a little yelp and trains the lens ahead once more.)

Applejack: Now the real fun begins!

* Rarity: (sourly) Oh, now the real fun begins. (Camera starts to tilt and fall again.) I’ve been having so much fun the whole time. (Weary sigh.)

Applejack: Rarity! (now o.s; a yawn from Rarity) Wake up!

(The camera is now pointing into the pale girl’s own shadow, which grows to fill and black out the screen to the sound of a hearty thud—she has carried it to the floor while passing out from sheer boredom and exhaustion. On the start of the next line, the view fades in to an extreme close-up of Applejack’s hand, which pulls away from the lens to expose the finished room. Racks for shoes and accessories fill the alcove at the far wall; the trimmed one now holds a bed in which Rarity and Opal are sleeping peacefully; across from it; a third niche houses a vanity counter and mirror. Furniture and carpets are present in the appropriate opulent style, including a chandelier hanging over the low central table, and all the materials and tools have been cleared away. The camera is now in Applejack’s hands.)

* Applejack: Step seventy-three— (The apple icon appears at bottom right.) —the big reveal!

(Opal meows grumpily at the disturbance, the camera panning slightly to frame the bed and its occupants.)

* Applejack: (softly) Oh, yeah. Good night, you two.

(The cat settles back down to sleep before the view cuts directly to the closing credits.)

“The Craft of Cookies”                                                Written by Laura Beck

(Opening shot: fade to black from the title card, then in to Pinkie Pie standing at a kitchen counter. She is wearing a pink-frilled white apron over her usual clothing, decorated with a blue sash and three hearts—one large and pale blue, the others small and pink—and her magical pendant is not around her neck. On the counter are her stuffed alligator Gummy and Rainbow Dash’s pet tortoise Tank, both sporting white chef’s toques; daytime sky is visible through the window behind Pinkie. Zoom in slowly.)

Pinkie: Welcome to The Craft of Cookies with me, Pinkie Pie!

(She puts her hands together with thumbs/fingers curved to form a heart, and two bright pink ones pop briefly into view to flank her grinning visage—an online video in progress.)

Pinkie: In just one class, you too can become a certified cookie master!

(Close-up of Tank on the end of this, the wrinkled green face ever-so-slowly creasing into a smile. She leans down into view with a happy little gasp.)

Pinkie: Let’s get started.

(Big squeaky grin; double thumbs-up, accompanied by three gold stars winking into view around them both for a moment. From here, cut to a series of close-ups of cabinets being opened and ingredients being snatched up.)

Pinkie: (from o.s.) Yum! Ooh! Yes, please! Tasty! You’re gonna be delicious!

(On the end of this, she leans into view next to Tank for just long enough to deposit the lot on the counter. She stands over a mixing bowl as the leathery head stretches toward a particular container.)

Pinkie: Now, step two—making cookies!

(The sweet stuff is plucked out of reach, leaving his beak to clack shut on nothing but air. Close-ups of ingredients being measured up and added to the bowl.)

Pinkie: (voice over) Cup of sugar…tablespoon of baking powder…dash of vanilla…pinch of salt. And for our final ingredient…

(Tank once again extends his head to get in range of the mix during this line, but is unceremoniously picked up and held over it as Pinkie finishes.)

Pinkie: …two Tank kisses!

(She plants two big smooches on his cheek, a pink heart materializing and dropping into the dough after each one to turn it that color, and gets a dab on a finger for a taste test.)

Pinkie: Mmmm! (Gasp.) Cotton candy! This is ta-a-a-asty!

(She leans down over Gummy and affects a slightly altered voice to “speak” for the toy.)

Pinkie: (as Gummy) You’ve really outdone yourself, Pinkie! (own voice) Aw, thanks, Gummy! (rooting around in her hair) Now for the not-so-secret ingredient…

(The follicular foraging yields a bowl piled high with morsels of…)

Pinkie: …CHOCOLATE!!

(This is set down on the counter, prompting Tank to begin reaching his jaws eagerly toward it, and Pinkie pops one bit into her mouth.)

Pinkie: Mmmm! (She takes another.) Mmmm!

(The height of the chocolate begins to drop with remarkable speed as she wolfs it down; close-up of Gummy.)

Pinkie: (from o.s., as it) Don’t eat all the chips!

(All three again; after swallowing her latest mouthful, she begins to look more than a bit ill.)

Pinkie: (own voice, queasily) Whoa…my tum-tum! (Cut to Tank, head nearly in the bowl; she continues o.s.) I didn’t think there was such a thing as too much chocolate.

(The shelled critter’s snapping beak again gets a whole lot of nothing when she pulls the bowl out of reach. He grumbles to himself; her cheeks go an unappetizing shade of green as she burps her discomfort. Her face quickly resumes its usual shade of pink, though, and her gut settles as she dumps the remaining chocolate chips into the bowl of dough and sets to mixing them in.)

Pinkie: Now, to bake our creations!

(A cookie sheet is laid out and two balls of dough are transferred onto it, after which ten more pop into place on their own to form three rows of four. Pinkie loads the sheet into the oven and closes the door; cut to her, Gummy, and Tank sitting on a row of stools. The baking time quickly ticks down on a floating graphic of a kitchen timer.)

Pinkie: (pulling a cupcake from her hair) Mmm-mmm-mmm!

(The timer rings and disappears before she can bite down on it.)

Pinkie: (gasping, tossing it over shoulder) They’re ready!

(The treat splats down across Tank’s carapace, but the mess is positioned just right to leave him completely unable to snag even a particle; even extending his tongue to full length does him no good. His face falls as two oven-mitted pink hands bring out the cookie sheet, whose dough has become a dozen sparkly goodies, and Pinkie’s eyes become twinkling red hearts for a moment once she gets a lungful of the aroma. The blue irises pop wide in surprise after they have returned to normal; she turns to direct a sly over-shoulder glance toward Gummy, who is back on the counter.)

Pinkie: What’s that, Gummy? You think I’ve just invented the perfect cookie? (cheerfully self-deprecating) Awww… (Close-up; she addresses the camera and digs in her hair.) And now, for the final and best part…

(She has shed her oven mitts at this point, and the camera zooms out as she extracts a shaker can of…)

Pinkie: …SPRINKLES!!

(This shot puts Gummy, a cleaned-up Tank, and the cookies all on the counter. The baked goods get a load dumped over them, which detonates in a burst of magenta smoke; when the view clears, the cookies are now piled on a plate and framed in a close-up and slow pan amid bright yellow flecks of light.)

Pinkie: (voice over) Et voilà! Two dozen ultra-scrumptious cookies—

(The kitchen again; the blast has splattered dough all over her, Gummy, and most of the room and flipped Tank upside down. She is holding up the plate.)

Pinkie: —for a sophisticated snack time. (setting it down) Until next time on The Craft of Cookies— (pulling a cookie from her hair, picking up Tank) —this is Pinkie Pie, bidding you a sweet evening and a most delicious morrow.

(His mood instantly brightens when she holds it close so he can chomp down and get the sugary happiness he has been chasing this entire time. “Iris out” to black, the aperture pausing briefly to frame his blissful face before closing altogether.)

“Street Magic with Trixie!”                                                Written by Laura Beck

(Opening shot: fade to black from the title card, then snap to Trixie standing on the sidewalk outside the Carousel Boutique. She has switched her everyday outfit for a deep blue dress and matching top hat, the latter sporting a yellow band and blue-violet feathers. Over the dress is a formal coat, lighter in hue, whose tails reach down to the hem. Both its trim and the epaulets at the shoulders match the hatband, and the sleeves are bedecked with pale yellow stars. Blue-violet stockings reach up past her knees, and she wears blue high-heeled shoes set with lighter bows marked by yellow stars. Resting on the concrete around her are five items: a bouquet of roses, a deck of playing cards, an upended black top hat, a wand, and a box all set up on a table for the “saw a person in half” trick. Spike’s head protrudes from one end.)

Trixie: (sweeping hat off, donning it again) Today, the Great and Powerful Trixie is here to blow your feeble minds with some serious magic.

(Cut to a long shot of her on the end of this, seen from across a busy street, then cut to Spike.)

Spike: (uneasily) Yeah…uh, Trixie, everyone believes that you’re great and powerful. (Zoom out quickly; Trixie now stands behind the box.) You don’t have to prove it!

Trixie: (lifting a sword) Don’t worry, I got this.

(She poises the blade halfway down its length, preparing to chop it in two.)

Spike: I’m worrying! I’m worrying!

Trixie: Magic, don’t fail me now. Abraca—

(The camera cuts briefly to a slowly thickening knot of baffled spectators during this line, then back to the young illusionist on its end as she brings the sword down. Before metal can touch wood, though, a sparkly aura brings it to a sudden halt. Trixie can only boggle at the feat, and her perplexity grows as the weapon is lifted away, taking her arms with it, and all her props except for the box float up from the sidewalk. Awed murmurs drift from the o.s. audience, the items following the movements of the sword as it shifts here and there.)

Trixie: (smiling) —dabra? Ah! (waving sword overhead; items spin in a circle around her) Ladies and gentlemen, feast your eyes on the Great and Powerful Trixie’s astounding power of telekinesis!

(The box rises and floats away unnoticed on the end of this, and the murmurs turn into full-blown cheers. Cut to the onlookers—with Twilight now standing at their rear and smiling to herself as one upraised, glowing index finger describes small circles. She smirks across the way, having decided to liven up the show and get her dog off the firing line with her powers, but Trixie catches on to exactly none of this.)

Trixie: You’re welcome. I am all-powerful.

(Her satisfied little giggle gives way to a look of surprise due to the camera flashes that begin to pop, but she strikes a confidently smiling pose with the sword before the view snaps to black.)

“Sic Skateboard”                                                Written by Gillian M. Berrow

(Opening shot: fade to black from the title card, then snap to Rainbow at a skateboard park during the day. Wearing knee/elbow pads and a purple helmet marked by multicolored lightning bolts to match the ones on her pants, she jumps her board onto a rail, rides it sideways from one end to the other, and hops off to roll through a few more turns and jumps. A handstand at the top rail of a half-pipe—one hand on the rail, the other on the board—and she cruises down to jump clear and catch the rig under one arm. The deck bears a design of a rainbow issuing from a cloud at the nose. Her words are directed toward the camera, marking this as an online video.)

Rainbow: Hey, everyone! I’m super-stoked because today is the day! This skateboard trick is gonna blow your mind!

(Each of these last three words is delivered from a different camera angle, the last in a zoom in from overhead with one blue index finger pointed emphatically toward the lens. From here, cut to her riding up one quarter-pipe, flipping over the rail at its top, and riding down an adjacent one.)

Rainbow: (voice over) It’s been a super-intense four weeks of training. Nothing but grinding, claw stretches, shredding—

(Close-up of each activity as she names it. “Grinding”: riding with the tail of her board tilted back to scrape the ground and throw off sparks. “Claw stretches”: with fingers interlaced and palms facing away from her body, she stretches her arms forward to pop and loosen the joints. “Shredding”: she rides while squatting down to let one set of fingertips graze the concrete. Finally the camera cuts to a close-up.)

Rainbow: —and shredded lettuce!

(She holds up a fistful of said produce, bites down, and chomps noisily. The next shot is of a group of younger skaters murmuring excitedly among themselves.)

Rainbow: (voice over) Some say it couldn’t be done—

(She blurs into view among them, drawing on the power of her pendant and no longer carrying her board or the remains of the lettuce.)

Rainbow: —but get ready, ’cause today you’re going to witness…the first-ever Tortoise Kicker Ramp Ollie!

(On the end of this, she points off to one side and the camera pans quickly in that direction to stop on Tank at the top of a ramp. He inches up to the edge, having been kitted out with his own board and safety gear, and cringes away from it in a panicked sweat upon getting an eyeful of the drop.)

Rainbow: Time to bust out of that shell, Tank.

(Finding his owner’s palm extended toward him, he touches the sole of one stumpy foot to it in a slow-motion high five and smiles at the encouragement. In a blink, Rainbow has whisked back toward the spectators.)

Rainbow: Let’s do this! (A calm nod from the tortoise; she addresses the group.) Wait ’til you guys see this!

(Pan quickly back to Tank, who raises a foot from his deck. The young skaters gasp excitedly…he begins to push off…two direct worried looks at each other, then toward him…Rainbow grins from ear to ear, eyes shining as a giddy little squeal finds its way out…sweat dribbles down the wizened green face…two skaters clutch fearfully at each other…and finally, in extreme close-up, gravity pulls Tank and the board over the edge. Almost at the same moment, the camera zooms out quickly to reveal that this ramp stands only up to about Rainbow’s waist. Tank goes airborne for a moment off the raised lip at the lower end, then plunks back onto solid ground and almost immediately comes to a stop. There follows a long, stunned silence, broken by the stripe-haired daredevil.)

Rainbow: Awesome! (Cheers from the others; she picks Tank up.) Don’t worry. I’ll add some sick special effects later.

(Her wink is followed by a brief flash of white and blip of sound, which give way to an extreme close-up of Tank lifting his head. The wrinkled features are set in stern concentration and thrown into relief by the sunlight glinting off his helmet. Next is a shot of him launching into the trick, the camera aimed at him from the ramp’s lower end. The descent is then seen from two additional angles, the second of which frames him rolling directly toward the camera. Fade to black, then snap immediately to a close-up of his wheels arcing through the air in slow motion, framed by glitter and an icon of a trailing fireball. This is followed by a normal-speed close-up of Tank and his board being held up by Rainbow’s hands and raised/dipped to simulate a dramatic trajectory—“sick special effects” on no budget, perhaps—and finally the takeoff and ending jump are seen again. Slow motion on the latter, one green foot lifted in triumph as icons fill the surrounding air—fireballs, stars, a thumbs-up, a dragon’s head breathing fire—then “iris out” to black, centered on his face.)

“Street Chic”                                                                Written by Laura Beck

(Opening shot: fade to black from the title card, then in to Rarity outside the Carousel Boutique. Two wheeled racks loaded with clothes stand within easy reach on the sidewalk, while a passing boy pulls up his jacket collar to shield as much of his face and neck as possible.)

Rarity: (twirling) Hello, darlings! Welcome to Street Chic with Rarity.

(Another online video, then. A scatter of fallen leaves blows past on a strong breeze—autumn has arrived, and with it the dropping temperatures that explain the boy’s jacket. The wind will reassert itself from time to time throughout the remainder of this short.)

Rarity: A show that keeps you ahead of the curve, so you’re always the first girl on your block to wear the most glittering and glamorous frocks in fashion.

(Two girls exit the shop during this line; now Rarity slips between the two racks.)

Rarity: This week, I am bringing you the latest in summer flair, so let’s get started!

(Here comes Applejack, sipping from a cup of hot tea and wearing a short orange scarf over her usual outfit as he only two concessions to the cold. The free ends are decorated with red apples.)

Rarity: (showing off Applejack for the camera) As you can see, Applejack has a simply scrumptious country style that really works for her. So I will just make some simple tweaks.

(Said tweaks are triggered by spinning the blonde in place, so fast that she loses hold of her cup and becomes a blur as a flare of white envelops her for a split-second. She is more than a little stunned to find her scarf gone, her shirt replaced by a sleeveless white top with the same red apple, and her skirt switched for a pair of rolled-up denim shorts. Shivers quickly set in as Rarity gasps in surprise and smiles.)

Rarity: Oh, sometimes I just shock myself with how good I am. (A jacket/scarf-clad teen passes.)

Applejack: (now shivering badly) Uh, don’t you think it’s a pinch chilly for this getup?

Rarity: (patting her shoulder) Nonsense! You look gorgeous, and oh so summer. (Close-up of Applejack, from the waist up.)

Applejack: (teeth chattering) C-c-c…cold…

(Now Fluttershy arrives on the scene, having topped her sundress with a fluffy scarf in white and pale violet, secured with a bright pink heart brooch. The honking of geese from somewhere overhead draws her attention.)

Fluttershy: (pointing upward) Oh!

(Tilt quickly up the sky, so completely filled with gloomy gray clouds that it is impossible to tell the time of day. A flock of these very birds is winging over the rooftops.)

Fluttershy: (from o.s.) They’re starting to head north for the winter!

(Back to street level, now framing her fully; the straps of her butterfly sandals have been removed, and she wears knee-length pink stockings with white trim and pink bows at their tops.)

Rarity: It may be fall, darling— (Applejack snatches a pair of pants from one rack and wraps herself in them like a shawl.) —but we in the fashion world are in summer mode. And now, so will you [sic].

(She works her mojo on Fluttershy as she did with Applejack, leaving the animal lover in a pale green sundress with white birds along the hem. The scarf is gone, and the stockings have been replaced by the sandal straps. The wearer of this new finery reacts by wrapping her arms around herself and shivering like mad as the wind whistles down the block.)

Rarity: (to camera) She’s sporty, she’s stylish—

(Rainbow strolls up, earphones socked in and connected to an MP3 player in her pocket. She pulls one free as Applejack tries to wave her off.)

Rarity: —and she needs a sensational summer look to dazzle all the other sports…people? (Clear throat; grip Rainbow’s shoulder.) Anyway…

(A third spin and flash, and the star athlete finds herself tricked out in a deep pink tank top, marked with a yellow lightning bolt and tied off at the waist. Her pants are now blue, unmarked and stopping below the knee, and she has been relieved of her tunes. The shivers start up almost immediately.)

Rarity: It’s elegant, yet still sporting. She’ll be bringing drama, along with the summer sun. (Close-up of Rainbow.)

Rainbow: (pointing upward) That doesn’t look like the sun to me. (Pan to Rarity.)

Rarity: Ignore the nature, Rainbow Dash. Summer chic is a state of mind. (to camera) We’ll see you next time on Street Chic with Rarity! Until then, don’t forget to strike a pose!

(The inviting hand that she stretches toward her friends is met with nothing but full-body shivers and clacking teeth. Only after she throws them a slightly panicked nod do they smile and follow her instruction—and an instant later, enough snow thunders down to blanket all four and the racks and bury them up to the waist. Winter has come with all the grace and subtlety of a twenty-car pileup on the freeway. Eight eyes blink confusedly through the frigid layers for a long, silent moment until Rainbow speaks up. The next two lines are slightly muffled by the snow.)

Rainbow: Uh, Rarity? You got anything for winter?

Rarity: (shivering) Remind me to do our photo shoots indoors from now on.

(Fade to black.)

“Game Stream”                                                                                             Written by Katie Chilson

(Opening shot: fade to black from the title card, then snap to a screenful of greenish symbols and glyphs streaming down like rain. An icon styled as a simplified picture of Sunset Shimmer’s head appears and offers a grinning wink, after which the view dissolves to her and Fluttershy sitting on the couch in the former’s room. Both are wearing headphones with attached microphones, the sort favored by online gaming enthusiasts, and Sunset is sporting the dress/jacket/tights ensemble she wore throughout Friendship Games. One notable change, though: instead of the short boots, she has put on a pair of black/orange sneakers with white toecaps and magenta stars on the tongues. An untidy pile of game titles rests between the two as she addresses the camera.)

Sunset: Welcome to Shimmercode, my game channel! I’ve decided to take a break from racking up crazy high scores to introduce my friend Fluttershy to gaming.

(An online video, then. The timid teen reacts with a bit of a jolt when her name is said, but comes around to a small smile and fist pump.)

Fluttershy: Yay, games.

Sunset: Okay, Fluttershy, your pick. What’ll it be? (Fluttershy picks through the pile briefly, then lifts one with a smile.)

Fluttershy: Oh! The squirrel one!

(As she says this, a “picture-in-picture” image appears at bottom right, showing this particular rodent scattering varicolored nuts in all directions. This vanishes in time with Sunset’s slightly resigned yet humoring shrug.)

Sunset: Yeah, sure! (She takes the game, stands, and moves toward the camera.) I usually play more advanced games, but… (Kneel, fiddle with the o.s. game console; focus shifts to her.) …what my guest player picks, we play. (aside, smugly) This will be…easy. (Focus on Fluttershy again.)

Fluttershy: (clapping) Time to press some buttons! Whee!

(Her host returns to the couch with a pair of controllers and passes one over. Cut to their perspective of the room’s television set, whose screen comes to life with an image of the happy little squirrel and nuts going airborne. Fluttershy is holding her controller upside down. Daytime sky is visible through the window adjacent to the setup.)

Sunset: Here we go.

(A rain of nuts tumbles down over the view; behind these, wipe to a lower-resolution, vertically split screen—the game in progress. Each half shows a tree, one of whose branches supports a small house with a bucket hanging down, as well as an empty meter with space enough for six acorns. Icons for the two girls’ faces are on opposite sides of the dividing centerline, Sunset at left and Fluttershy at right. Both halves tilt quickly down to ground level, where a basket has been set by the base of the tree; a gray squirrel stands on Sunset’s side, a blue one on Fluttershy’s, and an acorn rests before each. The avatars and meters remain in view.)

(Cut back to the two girls; Sunset notices her guest’s incorrect grip on the controller and turns it over.)

Sunset: The gameplay here is actually very simple. (The screen; she continues o.s. as her avatar smiles.) Get your squirrel to climb the tree…

(Gray snatches its acorn and begins to scamper up the bark, only to slide back down after a few feet and anger Sunset.)

Sunset: (from o.s., vexed) …climb the tree…

(Gray tosses the nut up and tries for a bounce off its head and into the basket; the attempt falls short, leaving the animal dazed and Sunset even more peeved.)

Sunset: (from o.s., through gritted teeth) …climb the tree…

(Jumping does no good; back to the girls.)

Fluttershy: Like this?

(The screen, on which Sunset has shifted to sadness. Blue nimbly scales the trunk, the camera tilting up to follow it to the house. The acorn is thrown into the hanging bucket, filling one spot on Fluttershy’s meter and causing her to beam as rainbows lance among the leaves. The couch: she is now really enjoying herself, while Sunset has assumed a popeyed expression of shock, the controller in her hands all but forgotten.)

Sunset: Uh…yeah.

(The screen: as Gray keeps fumbling to hold its acorn, Blue hops up to grab a newly materialized peanut out of the air and climbs the tree.)

Fluttershy: (from o.s.) Huh? Oh!

(Into the bucket it goes, raising the meter another notch and bringing out more rainbows; she beams and Sunset seethes as Blue drops back to the turf.)

Fluttershy: (from o.s., giggling) Oh!

(The couch: the red/gold-haired gamer manically works her controls as her opposite number continues to cruise.)

Fluttershy: Oh!

(The screen: now Sunset has calmed down since Gray is actually keeping hold of its prize—that is, until a falling twig knocks squirrel and acorn alike off the tree. Gray sails gracelessly through the open space to smack face-first against the “camera lens” and slide down o.s., to Sunset’s considerable dismay. Blue, on the other hand, makes a pair of midair catches and scurries up to score them—rainbows and all. Delighted giggles and frustrated snarls accompany the exhibition, followed by a cut back to the couch—Fluttershy still having a grand time, Sunset bouncing up to stand on the cushions as if that might improve her chances.)

Fluttershy: Oh!

(The screen: Gray and the dropped acorn sit dejectedly by the infuriated Sunset’s tree, while Blue has made it up to the house in Fluttershy’s and dropped one more nut into the bucket to top off the meter, setting off yet another iridescent light show. Back to the couch: Fluttershy sitting cross-legged, Sunset on her feet and ready to blow every gasket she has.)

Sunset: What do you want from me?!? (running toward camera) Tell me what you need!

(The screen—both squirrels on the ground, Gray repeatedly running into its tree trunk as Blue easily dodges a hail of twigs. The couch: Fluttershy has shed her headset, and Sunset has hunched down into the cushions to voice her rage in a loud, muffled, groaning sob, which turns into a feral scream when she straightens up. The screen: Gray tosses its acorn up only to get hit on the noggin by it and knocked silly, while Blue avoids the falling twigs and climbs up. By the time it reaches the bucket, it has collected no fewer than three nuts—enough to fill Fluttershy’s meter a second time and set off the rainbows when they are dumped in. Sunset’s meter, meanwhile, has remained empty this entire time.)

Fluttershy: (from o.s.) Yippee!

(The rainbows fill her side of the screen, accompanied by Blue’s ecstatic visage. Sunset’s half, on the other hand, is filled by a wash of purple paint and Gray’s teary countenance. One winks, the other cries, and the camera returns to a very happy Fluttershy and an utterly gobsmacked Sunset on the couch. Fluttershy has donned her headset again, and she sets her controller aside.)

Fluttershy: Did I do it right?

Sunset: That was… (grinning widely) …amazing! (She hands over her own controller.) Can I watch you play it again?

(An enthusiastic nod from the yellow girl, and both have trained their attention straight ahead for the next go-round. Cut directly to the closing credits.)

“Best in Show: The Pre-Show”                                               Written by Gillian M. Berrow

(Opening shot: fade to black from the title card, then snap to a long shot of the Canterlot High School gym. Most of the floor is covered with carpet or synthetic turf, on which various playthings appropriate for a pet show have been set up—seesaw, hoop, fences/walls to jump over, and so on. Several dogs sit/stand/lie here and there, a row of snack tables is set up to one side, and a few students occupy the bleachers opposite these. Lengths of bunting in assorted colors are strung in the rafters, the basketball goals have been swung up out of the way, and banners adorned with a logo of a gold crown superimposed on a blue paw print hang from walls, ceiling, and the stage at the far end of the room. Blue/yellow paw-shaped balloons have been added as a final touch, and the stage itself is set with a three-level medal podium. Zoom in slowly on Applejack and Fluttershy, standing in front of a table near the stage; the paw print appears and zooms up to the camera, the crown drawing itself in, before the screen fades to white.)

(Fade in to a close-up of the two girls, each holding a microphone. The logo appears on these and also in the bottom right corner of the screen—an online video in progress. Fluttershy huddles fearfully behind Applejack, a long sheet of paper gripped in her free hand as if wishing it could transport her away from this place.)

Applejack: (as Fluttershy keeps trying to hide completely) Howdy! And welcome to the first annual Canterlot Pet Show. (pulling her fully into view) Sure is great to be here, ain’t it?

Fluttershy: (woodenly, reading from sheet) Sure is, Applejack. Can’t wait to see all the wonderful contestants. (She cowers behind it.)

Applejack: (chuckling) All righty, then. You heard the lady. (walking away) Let’s meet ’em!

(Her most reluctant co-host scrambles to catch up, still keeping the paper up to block every square inch of her face she can. A moment later, they are walking past a long row of tables, where various teens are looking after their pets; one improbable addition to the group is Micro Chips, wrenching on a home-built robot. A wall of curtains forms the backdrop, through which the gym can be seen through a gap. Throughout the rest of this short, the view will wobble slightly from time to time, as if the camera were not being held entirely steady.)

Applejack: This is the backstage area, where the pets get fresh and spiffy before the competition. (Stop; Fluttershy runs into her.) Right, Fluttershy?

(The latter responds by backing out of view, only for the farmer to grab one yellow arm and reel her in with a slightly strained grin. The sheet of notes is now gone.)

Fluttershy: (faintly) Mmm-hmm. (Slow pan across the area; she continues o.s.) Fresh and spiffy.

(The camera motion brings Pinkie into view, playing with Gummy, as well as Flash Sentry with a small dog dressed in a sweater. He reacts with some surprise upon finding the lens trained on him.)

Applejack: (from o.s.) Well, look at this handsome feller! (Close-up; he grins/waves as both girls cross to him.) Tell us about your pooch. (Fluttershy leans down to hear it bark.)

Flash: Oh! The dog’s a Boston terrier named—

Fluttershy: (with new enthusiasm) Banana. (Four stunned eyes turn her way; she addresses the dog.) Anything else to share?

(Banana yips a bit more, prompting a soft giggle.)

Fluttershy: Banana’s favorite snack is bananas, he loves his banana toy, and his favorite pastime is—

(The powers of her magical pendant are coming in handy, no doubt. She is cut off by a different round of barking from o.s.)

Fluttershy: (darting away, as Flash pets Banana) Aww, what a cutie.

(Cut to a close-up of a very small, very fluffy dog cradled in Bulk Biceps’ brawny arms; it sounds off happily into the microphone Fluttershy has extended into view toward it. He has tied sushi-patterned kerchiefs around both its neck and his own for the occasion.)

Fluttershy: (from o.s.) Oh, really? (A bit more; zoom out to frame her.) She loves daytime TV, is a great listener, and— (Applejack hustles over to her.)

Applejack: Uh, I think the show’ll be startin’ soon, so we should wrap this up.

Fluttershy: I think we have time for one more quick interview.

(She hurries away on the end of this, not catching the look of mild bemusement on Applejack’s face. Cut to Apple Bloom, brush poised over the back of Applejack’s dog Winona.)

Applejack: (from o.s., flabbergasted) Winona? (Bark; she crosses to these two, already joined by Fluttershy.) What are you doin’ back here?  (Another one.)

Fluttershy: (giggling) Oh, Winona only said that she wanted to surprise you by competing today.

Applejack: Huh. Yee-haa! (hurrying off with Bloom/Winona) We gotta get ready to win that gold!

(Fluttershy is ever so slightly puzzled to find herself working without a partner as owners and pets begin to file past her and an electronic chime rings out. She is quick to smile and address the camera.)

Fluttershy: That’s the signal. It’s time to enjoy the cutest show in Canterlot!

(The blue paw print zooms up from the center of the screen and is crowned, just as at the beginning of this short. A flare of white fills the view, followed by a snap to the closing credits.)

“Best in Show: The Victory Lap”                                                       Written by Katie Chilson

Note:                   This short is a continuation of the preceding one.

(Opening shot: fade to black from the title card, then snap to a blurry close-up of Applejack and Fluttershy in the Canterlot High gym. They have equipped themselves with headset microphones to go with their handheld units. A quick equipment/hair adjustment, a grin from the freckled blonde, and the blue paw print of the Canterlot Pet Show’s logo zooms up to the camera and receives its gold crown. The completed logo shrinks down into the bottom right corner of the screen as the image comes into focus and Applejack dusts herself off before addressing the camera.)

Applejack: Giddyup! What a show! So many surprises, and one too many jugglin’ acts, if you ask me. And now for the victory lap. Here comes [sic] our participation winners!

(Comes now a steady procession of students carrying their pets; the former wave to the crowd, while a ribbon has been bestowed on each of the latter—including Gummy, being towed along the carpet by Pinkie on the end of a leash.)

Fluttershy: I have such a hard time reading that Gummy. (Close-up of the toy; she continues o.s.) He’s a pet of mystery.

(This assessment leaves Applejack at a momentary loss for words.)

Applejack: Next up, our third-place partners…

(Cut to a close-up of Micro, waving sheepishly and walking the circuit, and zoom out on the next line to frame his robot, which stands about as high as his waist and is wearing a green ribbon. The body is constructed from flexible hoses and various bits of hardware, including a toaster from which a nicely browned slice of bread pops up as a smiley-faced head.)

Applejack: (from o.s.) …Micro Chips and JVJ-Two-Four-Six-Oh-One!

(It bleeps happily and waves a pincer-tipped arm under this last, after which the camera cuts back to the two hosts.)

Applejack: (aside, hushed) Uh…hey,  Fluttershy. Does a robot count as a pet?

(The yellow girl just stares ahead, her mind temporarily locked solid—and the smiling piece of toast ejects itself and is promptly replaced by a burnt one decorated with a face on the verge of a full crying jag, marked by a spatter of dejected beeps from JVJ.)

Applejack: (forcing a smile) Uh…I mean, over to you, Fluttershy!

Fluttershy: Thank you, Applejack! JVJ-Two-Four-Six-Oh-One really wowed the judges with their super-shiny coat.

(Cut to Micro and his gleaming creation on the end of this, he patting its shoulder, then back to Applejack—her badly unsettled expression broadcasting one thought: “This is not what I signed up for.” In an instant, though, she is all business and back on the job.)

Applejack: Our second-place team sure knows how to put a game face on durin’ a tough competition. (Pan to Fluttershy.)

Fluttershy: Couldn’t agree more, Applejack.

(Cut to said team—Rainbow pulling Tank along on a skateboard via a rope tied to its nose and loving every bit of attention from the crowd. The tortoise is decked out in helmet and pads, and a red ribbon is affixed to his shell.)

Fluttershy: (from o.s.) And Tank kept his focus— (Rainbow stops and picks him up.) —despite the distraction of being totally in love.

(This last bit throws the soccer ace for a loop, and it takes her a second to realize that her wrinkled green buddy has started making goo-goo eyes at Bulk’s little dog.)

Fluttershy: (from o.s.) Bravo, Tank!

(Hearts burst upward from the fluffy canine’s head, prompting its owner to beam and Rainbow to recoil in sheer disbelief at the implausible attraction.)

Applejack: Huh…you sure do have the inside scoop, Fluttershy.

Fluttershy: Well, Tank is a very talkative tortoise.

Applejack: And our big winners!

(Cut to Bloom and a leashed, ribbon-less Winona. The redhead bends down to pet the pooch as Cranky Doodle trudges past, accompanied by an equally sour-faced dog dressed in a sweater that matches his.)

Applejack: (from o.s.) Huh. I don’t know about you, Fluttershy, but I can’t think of a more deservin’ duo. (Cut to Fluttershy.)

Fluttershy: Yes. Despite being in a horribly cranky mood during the personality round, Fluffersnuff really turned on the charm for the win.

(During this line, the camera cuts to a close-up of Cranky, pans/tilts down to his dog, then cuts back to her. Following a sotto-voce grumble from the animal, all three winning pets take their respective places on the stage’s medal podium, with their owners and a few other human/animal competitors off to both sides. Applejack and Fluttershy are now up here as well, Applejack pinning a blue ribbon on Fluffersnuff’s sweater.)

Fluttershy: You guys did great!

(Cheers erupt from the onlookers as the pup snags JVJ’s overcooked “head” in its teeth and begins to gnaw; a new, smiling replacement immediately pops up to the sound of electronic happiness. The show logo fades away from the bottom right corner of the screen, its paw print zooming up at center screen and being re-crowned; the background fades to black, and it does likewise a moment later.)

“Schedule Swap”                                                                      Written by Gillian M. Berrow

(Opening shot: fade to black from the title card, then snap to an overhead shot of Canterlot High during the day. Zoom in slowly and cut to Principal Celestia in her office, seated behind her desk and speaking into the intercom microphone she holds.)

Celestia: Welcome to another exciting school year at Canterlot High.

(Cut to a slow pan across an art studio, in which a toga-clad Bulk has struck a pose on a central podium. Around him is a circle of easels, some of which are being used by students paying various degrees of attention—or lack thereof—to sketch him. The camera motion brings a noticeably confused Applejack into view at the far side of the room.)

Celestia: (over intercom) As you settle into your new classes, please make sure everything’s in order.

Applejack: (angrily, standing up) Everything’s not in order! Where’s Pinkie Pie?

(Cut to a long shot of the stage in the gym and zoom in slowly. A single broad spotlight casts the only illumination, shining down on a group of students seated on mats in a circle. Fluttershy and Photo Finish are among their number, while another teen has risen to one knee as if to act out a scene—a drama class in progress. Cut to the two girls.)

Fluttershy: (to Photo) Um, isn’t Rarity in this class?

(A noncommittal shrug is the only reply she gets. From here, cut to a classroom occupied by variously attentive/excited/bored students, one of whom is a rather perplexed Twilight. Zoom in as a paper airplane loops lazily through the still air, then cut to a close-up of the budding genius. She runs a worried eye over the schedule printout lying before her.)

Twilight: But I thought Sunset Shimmer was in advanced physics with me. (The plane lodges in her hair; Sandalwood addresses her from the next desk back.)

Sandalwood: This is regular physics, dude. (Twilight shoots upright, the plane falling away.)

Twilight: What?!?

(She hustles for the door, schedule clutched tightly and a breath hitching in her throat. The start of the next line is heard over the intercom, but finishes normally once the camera cuts to Celestia in her office.)

Celestia: All final schedule changes must be made by the end of the day.

(She has barely enough time to set the microphone back on the desk before six girls—all of the Rainbooms save Sunset—burst in to wedge themselves in the doorway, all waving schedules and complaining at full voice. The logjam ends with them tumbling to the floor in a heap; Applejack is the first to rise, the others following suit as she speaks.)

Applejack: I was supposed to be in wood shop with Pinkie Pie, not frou-frou paintin’ time with nobody.

(An idea occurs to Celestia, prompting her to smile and begin taking notes.)

Fluttershy: (stroking hair nervously) I only signed up for drama to be with Rarity, but she wasn’t there—which was very dramatic, but for all the wrong reasons.

Celestia: (still jotting) Don’t worry. I’ll sort it out.

(A flurry of pale pink fingers on computer keys, and her printer cranks out one new schedule after another. These are held out to the group in a stack, bringing a cacophony of relieved chatter. Wipe to a close-up of Rarity standing in a wood shop classroom and studying hers incredulously; she has donned safety glasses, work gloves, and earmuffs. On the net line, zoom out to frame the entire space as the sound of power tools underscores her words; the other students, including Zephyr Breeze, are hard at it on assorted projects.)

Rarity: (groaning, propping glasses on forehead) This is the strangest math class I’ve ever been in.

(Close-up; Zephyr crosses to her, carrying a small wooden flute he has made.)

Zephyr: That’s ’cause it’s wood shop.

(The flurry of notes he plays is all the impetus she needs to cringe mightily and bug out. Cut to a pan through the home economics classroom, now the site of a long string of student-initiated culinary disasters, and stop on Rainbow slumped over a table. Her feet in a puddle of spilled batter, she pours something into the mixing bowl resting before her, straightens up, and pulls her befouled schedule partway out of it.)

Rainbow: Huh…Sunset should be in here.

(A furtive look around informs her that no teachers are watching, so she puts on a burst of super speed and clears out of the ravaged cooking space. Cut to a full classroom in which Pinkie is standing and working at a blackboard chalked thick with equations; Twilight enters, no longer carrying her schedule.)

Twilight: Pinkie Pie, have you seen Sunset? (peering closely at board, smiling, adjusting glasses) Wait. I didn’t know you were taking advanced physics.

Pinkie: Advanced physics? (Laugh.) Thank goodness! I thought they had ruined PE. (running out) Rainbow Dash, I’m on my way! (voice fading) DON’T CHOOSE TEAMS WITHOUT ME!!

(Physical education, that is—also known as gym class. Twilight utters an exasperated sigh and puts a hand to her face, having experienced the glory of a fresh bureaucratic foul-up. Cut to Celestia’s office, once again playing host to a half-dozen irritated teens clamoring for her to make sense of this craziness. This time, though, her smile has given way to a stern expression and she stands up from her chair, instantly silencing them. Rarity no longer wears her protective equipment from wood shop.)

Celestia: Girls, I think I can arrange for you all to have one class period together. (sitting) But this is the final change, okay?

(Mollified, the girls voice happy agreement, accompanied by a tip of Applejack’s hat. Wipe to the cafeteria during lunchtime and zoom in on the six eating at one table, the farmer sitting with her chair turned backwards.)

Applejack: Well, she wasn’t lyin’. (Close-up.) Lunch technically is a class period.

Pinkie: Best class to have together ever!

Rainbow: (amid laughs from the others) Sure is!

Fluttershy: Um, has anyone seen Sunset?

(Cut to Celestia at her office desk, typing on her computer. The heretofore-missing seventh Rainboom walks up, schedule in hand.)

Sunset: I think I’m supposed to have lunch this period?

(To which the harried principal responds with a weary sigh and a hand over her face. “Iris out” to black, centered on Sunset’s confused expression; the aperture pauses briefly so she can turn it toward the camera, then closes altogether.)

“Twilight Under the Stars”                                                      Written by Gillian M. Berrow

(Opening shot: fade to black from the title card, then in to an extreme close-up of a fruit tray on a table. Twilight reaches into view to take a piece; on the start of the next line, cut to a longer shot of this area—one of the exhibit halls within the planetarium to which Timber Spruce took her in “Star Crossed.” She and Pinkie are at the table, helping themselves to fruit and cupcakes respectively, and a lively crowd has gathered for an event. Flash, Sunset, and Timber are talking among themselves amid the buzz of conversation, and everyone is kitted out in formal wear and dresses of various calibers. None of the three Rainbooms is wearing her pendant, and Pinkie has traded her usual blue bracelets for a pair of pale orange ones on each wrist.)

Twilight: Thank you so much for helping me with tonight’s Canterlot Celestial Society Member Social, Pinkie Pie.

Pinkie: (adding sprinkles to a cupcake) No trouble, space rubble. (Set it down.) Stars are like the glitter of the sky!

(A tiny poof of purple smoke drifts up—the result of her explosive-sweets ability—and Twilight’s good spirits instantly give way to a world-class case of nerves.)

Twilight: I’m so nervous! (pulling out a brochure) My favorite astrophysicist, Rosette Nebula, is here!

(Close-up of the paper on the end of this; prominently featured is a woman with pale blue-green skin, dark purple hair gathered into a bun, and medium green eyes behind black-framed spectacles. It is quickly pulled away from the camera.)

Twilight: She’s so smart, and cool, and probably very funny. (Wince.) Do you think she’ll like me?

Pinkie: (pulling Twilight close) Of course she will!

(There follows a general rush off to one side, prompting Twilight to gasp in surprise; pan quickly in that direction and stop on Rosette Nebula and the attendees flocking to her. The guest of honor is clad in an off-white turtleneck with a white collar, magenta skirt suit with lighter lapels, and dark purple high heels.)

Twilight: (from o.s.) There she is! (Close-up of the woman, autographing one fellow’s book.) Rosette Nebula! (Pan quickly back to Twilight and Pinkie.) I just have to meet her!

Pinkie: (winking) And I have to get this celestial celebration into orbit! (She drops out of sight, then pops up in extreme close-up.) WOO-HOO!! (shaking camera) SPACE PARTY!!

(When she plunges o.s. this time, the view wipes behind the top edge of her hair to a long shot of the hall. Zoom in slowly for a moment, then cut to Rosette chatting with a couple of women at the snack table. Twilight watches her from several feet back, frozen in silent panic with her lower lip caught in her teeth; here comes Pinkie, about to dig into a fresh cupcake, but she stops and smiles slyly upon seeing her friend’s unease. In a move almost too fast to follow with the naked eye, the party lover has ditched the dessert, whisked over, and pushed Twilight across the floor to stop just behind Rosette. The eminent scientist eats a morsel from her plate...Twilight relaxes and taps Rosette’s back for attention...and then two pink hands reach down to plop a balloon hat styled to resemble Gummy on the ponytailed head. The green eyes swivel to take in this bit of unorthodox millinery, and Rosette’s amused little grin is met by Twilight’s huge stupid one and furious blush. The girl backs away as a woman steps up to speak to Rosette and Pinkie stands up into view in the fore.)

Pinkie: (to herself) Hmmm…

(Elsewhere in the hall, a now-hatless Twilight catches sight of Rosette in conversation across the way, gathers her nerve, and goes into a slightly jerky approach. Pinkie nips in to watch her from behind, a fresh sneaky smile taking root on her face, and an instant later she has jumped onto the snack table to plant a…)

Pinkie: PARTY CANNON!!

(Twilight has no time to move before it goes off, caking her in confetti from top to toe and leaving her to blink the mess out of her eyes in close-up. Pinkie’s satisfied little hum is heard from o.s., followed by Rosette and the guests stepping away from the pair in a longer shot as Pinkie’s glee evaporates in the face of her blunder. Cut to the woman and three guests, laughing lightly as they move off to one side, and zoom in slowly on two figures near the planetarium’s statue of Starswirl the Bearded. Timber, standing, gives a cup of punch to a seated, cleaned-up, downhearted Twilight and pats her shoulder consolingly before walking off. Twilight sighs heavily in close-up, after which the camera tilts up quickly to Pinkie gazing concernedly down at her from the statue’s shoulder. The pink teen glances toward the sculpted face and thinks hard; after a moment, her eyes pop and a brightly glowing light bulb winks into being next to her head—a brainstorm has struck under the magenta curls. This vanishes as she whisks down with a shiny-eyed grin; cut to ground level, where the squeaky front wheels of a food cart pull into view and stop. The camera shifts to frame its cargo—a stack of plates and a large, two-tiered cake iced with white and dark blue to resemble a starry sky and topped with model suns and planets. Pinkie stands up into view in the fore.)

Pinkie: ATOMIC CHOCOLATE CAAAAKE!!

(Long shot of the hall on this last word, zooming out as eyes and feet turn her way, then cut to the cart as the guests eagerly help themselves. Pinkie carries two loaded plates over to Twilight and passes one over, earning a small smile of gratitude, and the latter takes a bite in close-up.)

Twilight: Mmm!

Older female voice: Did you know the smell of chocolate increases brain waves and contains—

(Zoom out quickly. The speaker is Rosette, who has a plate of her own and is addressing herself in Twilight’s general direction. Twilight is quick to stand and continue the sentence with gusto, paying no mind whatever to Pinkie standing behind her or Timber behind Rosette. The Camp Everfree counselor flips a grin and thumbs-up to Pinkie before backing out of view on the next line—evidently these two joined forces to bring Twilight out of her funk. Pinkie has disposed of her cake and plate.)

Twilight: —the neurotransmitter serotonin, which triggers relaxation and contentment. (She freezes up slightly upon realizing whose thought she has finished.)

Pinkie: (pushing her toward Rosette) Mmm, science-y.

Rosette: (shaking hands with Twilight) I’m Rosette Nebula.

Twilight: (smiling, relaxing) Oh! I’m Twilight Sparkle. It’s such an honor to meet you. (fading out, as the two walk off) Oh, I’m so interested to hear about your theories about—

Pinkie: (knowingly, to camera) Cake fixes everything.

(She winks as the view “irises out” to black, the aperture star-shaped and centered on her face.)

“Five Stars”                                                       Written by Gillian M. Berrow, Kate Chilson

(Opening shot: fade to black from the title card, then in to the exterior of the 1950s diner where Pinkie works, as seen in “Coinky-Dink World” and “Pinkie Pie: Snack Psychic.” It is daytime, and the camera zooms in slowly before cutting to a slow pan across the busy interior. During the next line, stop on Pinkie and two of her coworkers standing behind the counter; she has her cell phone out and is watching it intently.)

Pinkie: (from o.s.) Best diner in Canterlot, ladies! Not a single bad review. Five-star rating on Screech!

Waitress 1: (picking up a plated pie slice) Let’s keep it up!

(Pinkie roller-skates to deliver it to a booth where Octavia is sitting and using her own phone.)

Pinkie: Super-happy with your flavor selection? (Octavia smiles and nods.) How about a review?

(Five white stars appear in front of the giddily grinning waitress and wink to gold one at a time, symbolizing a top-tier review of the experience.)

Pinkie: (savagely, lifting phone overhead) Yeah!

(The stars vanish, and she rolls across to a booth playing host to two Crystal Prep Academy students, one of whom is Fleur. The other one speaks up. Pinkie has now pocketed the device.)

Student: We’ll both have the club sandwich— (Pinkie darts away and instantly returns with two orders of this dish, one with fries and the other with salad.)

Pinkie: I thought you might.

(The food is served up, Fleur receiving the fries with hers. She speaks with a Valley Girl accent, rather than the cultured British one of her pony counterpart as heard in “Sweet and Elite.”)

Fleur: Wow, that was, like, so fast.

Pinkie: (pulling out phone) That’s what I like to hear! Care to Screech about it?

(Both patrons bring out their phones and tap at the screens, and as before, the five white stars appear and go gold; this time, Pinkie grins as her own baby blues change to match them. In the time it takes her to skate past the counter and high-five the other two waitresses, the stars and her phone are out of sight and her eyes are back to normal. Her next stop is to refill the coffee mug of an elderly, hard-faced woman with pale grayish-violet skin at a corner booth. The latter blows across the surface to cool it; cut to an extreme close-up of her lips as she lifts the mug. On the start of the next line, zoom out quickly to frame Pinkie leaning cheerfully down to her level.)

Pinkie: Can I get you anything else?

(The interruption freezes the mug just short of the target and startles its holder into almost sloshing the coffee into her own lap.)

Woman: (lifting a newspaper) Nah. Just gonna enjoy my paper.

Pinkie: (saluting) Okey-dokey-lokey!

(She is gone in a blink, and the woman sips from her mug and settles down to read—but Pinkie returns just as quickly, spooking her into another near-spill.)

Pinkie: Hope you’re enjoying your paper! (refilling mug) If you’re enjoying your service too, feel free to leave a Screech!

(The woman brings up her phone and taps away; here come the white stars, going gold one by one—but now the rightmost one remains unchanged. Watching the progression on her own screen, Pinkie reacts to the less-than-perfect score by voicing a shuddery sigh as her fluffy hair deflates into a lank magenta mass. Her spirits crushed, she wheels slowly back to the counter; the stars wink out, and the other waitresses gasp in shock upon seeing her downcast expression. She has stashed her phone again and put the coffeepot aside.)

Pinkie: We just got our first-ever four-star review! (sobbing, covering eyes) We’re doomed! (A full-bore crying jag follows.)

Waitress 2: Four stars doesn’t seem so bad.

Waitress 1: Gosh darn, it’s still a good review. Our streak was bound to end sometime. (Pinkie straightens up, fresh fire in her eyes.)

Pinkie: No! (showing them a full handful of fingers) We are a five-star diner! (Zoom in to a close-up.) I have to fix this!

(Back at the booth, she peeks up over the edge of the table, her hair restored, and stands up with a fresh mug. Extreme close-up of the woman’s face; the one she is drinking from is switched out for this one almost before she can react.)

Pinkie: (from o.s.) Just in case the first one gets cold!

(Zoom out slightly; a nasty look, an irked drink, and the customer goes back to catching up on the news of the day. Pinkie’s next trick is to lower herself from the ceiling, a rope tied around her waist.)

Pinkie: (pulling a plated pie slice from her hair) Complimentary piece of pie?

(The paper is swiftly rolled up and smacked against the treat, and Pinkie offers a sheepish grin and lets herself be reeled up, up and away. The woman has barely had time to unfurl the newsprint before an entire pie is held up to her from somewhere below table level. Up comes the overeager waitress, free of the suspending rope, to displace the paper.)

Pinkie: Complimentary whole pie?

(Another harsh glare as the pages are lifted to block her line of sight. A moment of intense thought on Pinkie’s part yields to a smile of fierce inspiration; within moments, she has put her skates into overdrive and begun to load the table with one culinary offering after another By the time she finishes, the spread consists of two pies, a stack of pancakes, a three-tiered cake, two extra mugs of coffee, Sunset’s magic journal, Bulk’s small dog—as seen in the “Best in Show” shorts and pulled from Pinkie’s hair—and a hopelessly flummoxed Twilight standing alongside the lot.)

(A dissolve frames the booth and its impassive occupant now sitting amid a proliferation of additional food, items, and party paraphernalia. Twilight is eating one of several cupcakes that have been dropped off.)

Twilight: Mmm! (She walks away; Pinkie whips over to the booth.)

Pinkie: Ugh! What am I doing wrong?!? (Pause; she becomes sullen.) Fine! (skating away; pan to follow) I’ll just leave you alone!

(She does not get more than a few feet away before her phone begins to vibrate in her pocket. Out it comes, the four-star review display appearing below her—but now that last star flicks from white to gold and she brightens with a huge gasp. She pivots back to the booth, the camera panning quickly back to the woman; she lowers her paper.)

Woman: (half-smiling) All I wanted was some peace and quiet.

(Her face goes slack as the camera zooms out to frame Pinkie now alongside with a coffeepot at the ready, and she is quick to roll up and brandish her paper. The perky teen takes the hint and slowly backpedals out of view with an innocent whistle, whereupon the woman smiles and reopens it to carry on with her perusal. Cut directly to the closing credits.)

“FOMO”                                                                Written by Gillian M. Berrow, Kate Chilson

(Opening shot: fade to black from the title card, then in to a Canterlot High hallway during the school day. Rainbow closes her locker and starts into a magic-powered sprint that takes her past Rarity, who has a backpack slung up.)

Rarity: Oh! (Rainbow slams on the brakes.) Rainbow Dash! Would you like to come over after school today to—

Rainbow: Oh! Uh, that sounds really cool, but I can’t. I have, uh, plans.

Rarity: What sort of pla—

Rainbow: (rattled, rapid fire) Just chores and stuff! Gotta go!

(The ensuing high-speed peel-out leaves the fashionista properly perplexed. Cut to one of the school’s side doors, from which she emerges to the sound of an engine sputtering to life, and zoom out to frame the edge of the parking lot. Rainbow is sitting astride a sky-blue motorcycle striped in all the colors of her hair and has donned a helmet, and Twilight fastens one of her own in place while standing alongside.)

Twilight: I’ve always wanted to do this! It’s gonna be so much fun!

(She takes the seat behind Rainbow, and both laugh as the jock feeds gas to take them toward the street. Neither of them spares even a moment’s notice for the thunderstruck Rarity, who glowers mightily to herself and hurries after them. By the time she reaches the curb, though, they are zooming away.)

Rarity: (waving, calling back the way they departed) Taxi! TAXIII!!

(One pulls up in a screech of tires and she climbs in the back seat.)

Rarity: (to cabbie) Follow that motorbike!

(As she says this, she sets her backpack on the seat, fastens her seat belt, and points ahead. The cabbie pulls away in another shriek of rubber on pavement and a screen-filling cloud of exhaust fumes. This last drifts up and out of view, the image wiping behind it to a retail area somewhere in Canterlot. Rainbow’s motorcycle is parked at the curb, but neither rider is present. The taxi pulls up on the opposite side, and one rear window rolls down to frame Rarity—now wearing a purple scarf knotted over her hair, matching sunglasses, and a highly suspicious expression. The tinted lenses go up on the forehead, the seat belt comes off, and a pair of binoculars is brought into play. Cut to her perspective, panning to Twilight and Rainbow as they step out of a grocery store with several full shopping bags; both have shed their helmets. The view passes them, but swings back to follow their movement in time with a soft gasp from Rarity.)

Rarity: (softly) They’re shopping without me. (Back to her; another gasp and she lowers the lenses.) I’ve never felt so betrayed in all my life!

(Up they go; back to her perspective. Now Fluttershy and Sunset leave the store and join the pair, each hauling her own load of goods. Back to a flabbergasted Rarity as she lowers the binoculars again.)

Rarity: No!

Sunset: (to Twilight/Fluttershy/Rainbow) We’ll see you guys there!

(The four shoppers begin to disperse; cut to inside the taxi. Rarity, in close-up, pulls her head in and hunches down to avoid being seen by Fluttershy and Sunset as they pass.)

Sunset: (as Fluttershy giggles) ’ll have plenty of time to think about that.

(The style-conscious teen sits up and stares after them, struggling mightily to keep her composure.)

Rarity: (removing sunglasses, setting binoculars aside) I guess their plans don’t involve me. (buckling seat belt) Driver, take me home! (Zoom out to frame the cabbie on the start of the following.)

Cabbie: Uh, lady, I need an address.

(Rarity slumps in her seat, face clearly broadcasting her self-aimed disgust at having forgotten this rather important bit of protocol in using a taxi. Wipe to a stretch of road in a residential area; the vehicle pulls up and Rarity climbs out, carrying her backpack and no longer wearing the head scarf.)

Rarity: I guess I’ll just…be alone…by myself.

(She approaches a pair of front doors marked with blue gems that match the ones favors—this must be her home.)

Rarity: (increasingly overwrought, opening one door) While all my friends are having fun together.

(She topples backwards across the threshold. Cut to the interior of a dimly lit room, the camera placed just inside the closed door. It swings open to frame Rarity, no longer hauling the backpack.)

Rarity: Without… (The lights snap on.)

Other Rainbooms: (from o.s.) SURPRISE!!

(She is completely unprepared for both this and the gentle rain of confetti that begins to patter down around her. Zoom out quickly to frame the area as her bedroom, tricked out for a celebration and populated by the gang, Spike in Fluttershy’s lap, and Rarity’s cat Opalescence.)

Other Rainbooms: HAPPY BIRTHDAY, RARITY! (Close-up of Rarity.)

Rarity: Wha—? (Cut to the others on the next line.)

Rainbow: You didn’t think we’d let you spend your birthday alone, did you?

(The others’ furtive behavior is now explained—they needed to stay clear of her in order to plan out this soiree. They gather in around their friend, Pinkie plopping a party hat atop the elegant purple coiffure. Rarity, now wearing her backpack, stammers for quite a few moments before finding her way up to a smile and a coherent word.)

Rarity: Of course not, darling! (as Pinkie giggles) I knew you had something up your sleeve from the very beginning.

(As completely divorced as these words are from reality, the others humor her with a laugh and a group hug. A blush steals over the white cheeks, the mouth under them stretching into a tremulous smile, and the view fades to black.)

“I’m on a Yacht”                       Music/Lyrics by John Jennings Boyd, Lisette Bustamante

Hip-hop synthesizer line with growing electronic percussion, fast 4 (B major)

Only lyrics marked with an asterisk (*) are sung; all others are delivered as a rap

(Opening shot: fade to black from the title card, then in to a long shot of the Lux Deluxe, the ship that served as the setting for the bulk of “Spring Breakdown,” pushing on through the ocean during the day. The camera shifts to frame it from various angles, finally rising past the bow to frame the deck in a long overhead shot. The figures of the Rainbooms can just be perceived at this distance; cut to a jittering close-up in time with a stuttering airhorn blast. They are wearing the vacation attire from the special and grooving to the beat.)

Rainboomss:                 Hey, hey

Sunset:                            Check our new ride

The wind is blowing and we’re feeling real fly

                                            Me and my girls are pumped up

Others:                               That’s right

(Four dolphins wearing sunglasses leap from the sea.)

Rarity:                            Gonna see some dolphins ’fore the end of the night (dolphins)

(Water drains over the view, changing it to a close-up of Applejack holding a tube of sunscreen.)

Rainbow:                       Hold up, pass the sunscreen

                                            Can’t nobody stop us from doing our thing

                                            We flossing on ’em with our bling-bling

Fluttershy:                     Pinkie Pie’s on deck, and it’s fire she’ll bring

(The others sing the last three words in time with Fluttershy.)

Double-time feel

(Pinkie tips her heart-shaped sunglasses down, a moment later, she has changed into her “Forgotten Friendship” swimsuit and back.)

Pinkie:                            We hotties on a yachtie, it’s a special kind of party

                                        Setting sail so we can play because it’s anchors aweigh

(Fluttershy wiggles her bare toes while floating in the pool.)

                                        We got floaty-woaties, beach toties, queens of the sea

                                        We’re fabulous, phenomenal

* Rainbooms:               Don’t you agree?

Double-time feel ends

                                        Hey, hey, hey, hands in the air

(Twilight and Sunset shake hips and hair, respectively.)

                                        Oh, oh, oh, wind in our hair

                                        We’re hopping on, so float along

                                        ’Cause EG’s on this yacht

(Rarity enjoys a drink from a crew member’s tray, while Fluttershy dances with a knot of Canterlot High students.)

                                        ’Ey, ’ey, sipping on lemonade

                                        Shining bright, but we’re throwing no shade

(Pinkie, in swimsuit and shades, dangles her feet in the pool with Derpy Hooves and Lyra Heartstrings. In no time flat, though, she is back in her dress and has regrouped with the other six.)

                                        Exclusively, we’re VIP

                                        ’Cause EG’s on this yacht

(A flare of white washes over the screen and clears to present an overhead shot of Applejack, dozing on a beach towel spread out on the deck. Zoom in to a close-up that gives a clear view of the reddish tint on every exposed inch of skin—sunburn ahoy.)

Rainbooms:                    Oh, no

Sunset:                            The sun’s beating down

                                        AJ fell asleep when no one was around

Pinkie:                            What?

Sunset:                            Now she’s got a burn and a serious frown

(She comes up smiling and tries a dance step, but winces at the pain.)

Applejack:                         That won’t even stop me from really gettin’ down

(DJ P0N-3 mans the turntables that have been set up in the lounge overlooking the pool as students get down on it.)

Rainbooms:                    Hey

Rainbow:                       DJ, drop that beat

                                        She knows what we need to make us move our feet

(Several jump into the pool.)

                                        Diving in the pool to escape the heat

(The screen flares white and clears to show the dining room. The female chef who faced off against Pinkie lifts the cover off the tray she holds to reveal a live lobster with a bright blue-violet shell. Twilight and Pinkie are shocked at the sight, but Fluttershy is ecstatic.)

Rarity:                            Now we’re getting hungry and it’s time to eat

Double-time feel

(The animal lover scoops the crustacean into a hug, bringing smiles to her friends’ faces while leaving the chef at a loss.)

Pinkie:                            Lobster on a silver platter ’cause the cost don’t even matter

                                        All expenses are paid, EG crew

Rainbooms:                    Got it made

(A few students sail small boats past the bow as seagulls arc lazily overhead and the seven watch from the rail.)

Pinkie:                            Little boats are drifting by, seagulls up in the sky

                                        We’re a picture of perfection as we wave to them

* Rainbooms:               Hi

Double-time feel ends

(Twilight and Sunset show “jazz hands”; Fluttershy takes her new “pet” for a walk on the deck, earning cheers and a few pictures snapped on cell phones, and Twilight uses her own to get a shot of the septet.)

* Rainbooms:               Hey, hey, hey, hands in the air

                                        Oh, oh, oh, wind in our hair

                                        We’re hopping on, so float along

                                        ’Cause EG’s on this yacht

(Sunset, about to enjoy a cold drink, shows great consternation at a gull helping itself.)

                                        ’Ey, ’ey, sipping on lemonade

(A race in the pool: Twilight, Pinkie, and Rainbow paddle inflatable floats as onlookers cheer them on.)

                                        Shining bright, but we’re throwing no shade

(Rarity blows a kiss; Twilight points excitedly over the rail at a pair of leaping, sunglasses-wearing dolphins. Slow motion for only the duration of their jump.)

                                        Exclusively, we’re VIP

                                        ’Cause EG’s on this yacht

Half-time feel

(Cut to a darkened stage and tilt down slowly. The figures of the girls and Spike can barely be made out in the dim light, and the backdrop is a large electronic sign displaying the heart-shaped pink horseshoe that has been used as part of the Equestria Girls logo since the franchise began. Pulses radiate outward over this item as the lights come up to frame the ensemble The girls wear their performance outfits from “Spring Breakdown,” while he has donned sunglasses, a baseball cap turned backwards, an unbuttoned vest, a collar with gold spikes and matching paw medallion, gold bracelets on one foreleg, and sneakers for the hind legs on which he is now standing.)

* Rainbooms:               We’re living our life like

                                        This moment never ends

                                        Sun shines on us so brightly

                                        When we’re chilling with friends

Spike: (over previous, spoken normally) Worldwide, y’all! Equestria Girls crew! Keeping it hot on a yacht! (lowering shades) And it’s aaaaaaaaall good!

Half-time feel ends with a stuttering airhorn blast

* Rainbooms:               Hey, hey, hey, hands in the air

(Twilight shakes her hips; Fluttershy tosses her hair.)

                                            Oh, oh, oh, wind in our hair

                                            We’re hopping on, so float along

                                        ’Cause EG’s on this yacht

Airhorn

(Spike takes a pull at a drink.)

                                            ’Ey, ’ey, sipping on lemonade

                                        Shining bright, but we’re throwing no shade

                                            Exclusively, we’re VIP

(Long shot of the vessel, cruising on as the sun sets at the horizon and the girls watch at the rail.)

                                        ’Cause EG’s on this yacht

Song ends

(Zoom out and fade to black.)

“Run to Break Free”                

Music/Lyrics by Jessica Vaughn, Jess Furman, Dan Whittemore

(Opening shot: fade to black from the title card, then in to a scatter of birds flying up past the roof of Canterlot High during the day. The camera cuts/pans here and there through the busy hallways as students go about their usual school-day business, and finally arrives at Rainbow, backpack slung up and stowing a volleyball in her locker. The moment she shuts the door and begins to walk away, her surroundings take on a bluish tinge and shift to blurry slow motion. She, however, retains her normal hues and speed. These effects last until further notice.)

Quiet electronic percussion/handclap line with occasional vocal accents, slow 4 (D flat major)

Rainbow:                       I have so much more to say

                                        But I live in slow motion, from moment to moment, hey

Synthesizer in

(She passes a collision between Snips and Trixie that has caused a deck of cards to spray from the latter’s hands, while Snails has let fly with a paper airplane.)

                                        Holding back from day to day

                                        The clock’s ticking slowly, but time cannot hold me down

Percussion builds

(She picks up her pace and pushes the front doors open.)

Rainbow:                       Find myself in the rhythm of my feet [Hey!] Feel it in my heartbeat

(Stop; adjust one sneaker.)

                                        The time is now and I won’t hold back, hold back [Hey!]

Handclaps out

(A burst of magic speed carries her off the steps and across the lawn, leaving a rainbow contrail behind herself as her image drifts lazily across the near-frozen tableau.)

Rainbow:                       Gonna break free, yeah, I’m running

(Normal motion resumes for her; she weaves past a kid riding a bicycle on the sidewalk and disappears around a corner.)

                                        Watch me, yeah, yeah, I’m running

(Finding a tractor-trailer squarely in her path at an intersection, she “ponies up” and hurls herself upward. She moves in slow motion until her feet hit the ground on the opposite side, then accelerates back to normal speed.)

                                        I let it go in this moment, all roads open

                                        Gonna break free, yeah, I’m running

                                        I was born to break free

Percussion drops back; handclaps in

(Fade to white, then in to a different stretch of sidewalk and its near-frozen denizens. She whisks into view, hooks a lamppost with one hand, and spins to a stop among them. Her transformation has now reversed itself, and she brushes herself down before setting off at a leisurely pace.)

Rainbow:                       I choose my path, I choose my dreams

(Run a hand along a skateboarder’s helmet; throw a few punches at the air.)

                                        My spirit’s a fighter, a passion igniter, yeah

Percussion builds; handclaps out

(Assorted calamities catch her attention: a boy about to lose the ice cream from the cone he holds, a cat-chasing dog that has caused Pinkie to trip and inadvertently hurl a tray of cupcakes toward a bike rider, Fluttershy stopping short and jerking back so that the coffee she carries is sloshing toward Twilight.)

                                        All I need’s inside of me

                                        A light shining brighter, a spark to a fire now

(The speedster kneels to check her laces, casually sets the ice cream back in place, and licks her finger to check the taste.)

Rainbow:                       I find myself in the rhythm of my feet [Hey!] Feel it in my heartbeat

(She stands, removes her backpack to leave it hanging in the air, and limbers up.)

                                        The time is now and I won’t hold back, hold back [Hey!] [No-o]

Vocal harmonies behind lyrics

(Off she goes across the street toward her friends, the multi-hued contrail marking her path. Gather up the cupcakes; tip Pinkie back to vertical and put the reloaded tray in her hands; pick up the dog and give it to a bystander; hand the cat off to Fluttershy; scoop the coffee back into its cup and settle it firmly in Twilight’s grip.)

Rainbow:                       Gonna break free, yeah, I’m running [yeah]

                                        Watch me, yeah, yeah, I’m running [I’ll really run away]

(She ponies up and zooms away as normal speed and color resume for everyone and everything else, leaving no trace of her presence except a rapidly fading contrail. All five are more than a little surprised to find that disaster has been averted on every front.)

                                        I let it go in this moment, all roads open

                                        Gonna break free, yeah, I’m running

                                        I was born to break free

Song ends

(In time with her last word, she launches herself triumphantly into the sky to set off a Sonic Rainboom. Twilight, Fluttershy, and Pinkie smile and wave from the sidewalk as the view fades to black.)

“Camping Must Haves”           Written by Katie Chilson; story editing by Nick Confalone

(Opening shot: fade to black from the title card, then snap to a close-up of Applejack and Rarity sitting in the latter’s bedroom at home. Rarity reaches out to straighten the camera a bit—this is an online video in the making—and leans back in her chair once she has it to her liking. Applejack is not wearing her hat.)

Rarity: Hello, Internet darlings! It’s your music festival muses, Rarity and Applejack here— (Applejack flips a salute.) —presenting our camping must-haves.

(On these last three words, she touches her thumbs and forefingers together to form a triangle, then pulls them apart. A tent, heart, and pair of exclamation points appear between the splayed digits, then vanish in a sudden cut to the two with slightly altered postures.)

Applejack: Now you’re gonna be out in the hot sun all day long. (picking up a spray bottle from the floor) So be sure to bring plenty of sunscreen.

Rarity: Of course, your SPF won’t be complete without a chapeau.

(Sun protection factor, that is. The end of this line is delivered as a voice over when the camera cuts to her standing near the window and showing off a sun hat she has donned. In a trice, she is bounding back across the room with a rolled blanket under one arm and a parasol in the other hand, to Applejack’s considerable surprise.)

Rarity: (deploying both items) And it should match your parasol and your blanket, of course. (She darts o.s.)

Applejack: But you don’t really need all that.

Rarity: (from o.s.) And maybe a scarf.

(One is flung into view from her direction to tangle around the blond head; Applejack snatches it away and shoots her a dirty look.)

Applejack: (showing two fingers) I can think of two must-haves for makin’ an outhouse feel like an in-house.

(Close-up of two rolls of toilet paper and three bottles of green gel.)

Applejack: (from o.s.) Bring your own TP and plenty of hand sanitizer.

(A pale finger hooks the camera and drags it around to face Rarity, who shows off two bottled products in quick succession.)

Rarity: (voice over) Be sure to include one or two all-natural moisturizers.

(Cut to her, pointing out a few other beauty items stacked on a side table.)

Rarity: It never hurts to have a whole set. (She puts them on the floor by Applejack’s supplies.)

Applejack: (irked) You can’t go three days without ’em?

Rarity: (hustling back and forth, adding items to the pile) Oh, I’ll fit them in, darling. I’ll just tuck them in next to the cushioned seat cover, air-freshening candle set, and four-panel privacy screen.

(This last is unfolded to present an image of Opal, prompting Applejack to voice an irritated sigh and pivot herself and the camera away from her friend.)

Applejack: And finally— (rummaging under chair, hefting a rolled sleeping bag) —you’ll need a sleepin’ bag for a few hours of shut-eye. (Rarity leans into view, in extreme close-up.)

Rarity: (singsong) Plus pillows!

(Cut to her sitting on the couch over by one wall; she shows off each type as it is mentioned.)

Rarity: (voice over) Travel pillows, body pillows, accent pillows, throw pillows, bolster pillows—(Cut to Opal making herself comfortable on one.) —hypo-allergenic pillows… (Back to Applejack, now supremely fed up and no longer holding the sleeping bag.)

Applejack: And where are you plannin’ to put all them pillows?

(She is not a bit prepared to hear her opposite number grunting with exertion and dragging the room’s four-poster canopy bed inch by inch across the floor.)

Rarity:  (between grunts) Just… (After a few more heaves, she stops to catch her breath.)

Applejack: Excuse me! What happened to bringin’ only our must-haves?

Rarity: This is a one-of-a-kind bespoke four-poster bed. (grabbing one of its posts, sliding pitifully down) I absolutely must have it!

(Applejack manages to limit her exasperation to a pinch at the bridge of her nose.)

Applejack: (pivoting away, pulling camera along) Campin’s about makin’ do with what you got. It’s about breakin’ off a stick to roast marshmallows, or rustlin’ up pine needles for deodorant!

(Rarity stands on up the end of this tirade, then moves up to sit next to her and drape an arm across the T-shirted shoulders.)

Rarity: But, darling, we’re not camping.

Applejack: Huh?

(Now the fashionista’s fingers spin the camera to put them out of view and point out the window. Parked on the lawn is a motor home of some magnitude—white walls, purple roof, blue/gold trim.)

Rarity: (from o.s.) We’re glamping!

(A portmanteau of “glamour” and “camping,” that is. One side panel flips up; tree stumps fall out to create a circle of seats and a flattop grill table lands in their center. Skewers are next to fall, leaning against the edges so that the marshmallows spitted on their upper ends are in a perfect position to start toasting when the grill switches itself on. The vehicle’s horn plays a merry tune as multicolored lights play over the bodywork, after which Rarity whips the camera back to herself and Applejack. There follows a long silence, during which the farmer’s startled air shifts to one of smiling acceptance.)

Applejack: Well, I think I’m gonna like glaimpin’.

(Rarity winks. “Iris out” to black, the aperture shaped as a lozenge-cut gem and centered on her face. It pauses for a split second before closing entirely in a gleam of light.)

“Festival Filters”                       Written by Katie Chilson; story editing by Nick Confalone

(Opening shot: fade to black from the title card, then snap to a long shot of the Rainbooms congregating near a wall that runs around the perimeter of a grassy outdoor area during the day. They have switched their everyday outfits for more festive duds, and a couple of hairstyle tweaks are in evidence as well. Zoom in slowly as the other teens in the vicinity disperse and Sunset raises her phone to get a picture of the seven. After the digital shutter clicks, the view cuts to a close-up of Rarity and Sunset hunkering down over the screen, the other five spreading out.)

(These two shots pick out details of the girls’ new duds. Twilight: short-sleeved, deep pink shirt with white collar/cuffs and a circular logo in white and light blue; purple skirt and boots; darker purple tights; fanny pack turned sideways; the stone from her pendant mounted in a purple star-shaped hair clip. Applejack: white dress with flowered hem and red apple clip at the neckline; brown boots marked with red apples; sunglasses with transparent green apple-shaped lenses; brown hat edged with green puffs; short denim jacket with rolled-up sleeves and yellow fringe at the pockets. Fluttershy: long-sleeved, light blue dress trimmed in pale green lace and decorated with butterflies; beaded belt; white/pink/blue-violet sneakers with thick soles, blue laces, and ankle-length pink/white-striped socks; cluster of blue-violet flowers in her hair; pendant stone in a blue-winged butterfly clip on her dress. Pinkie: short-sleeved, balloon-marked blue dress with three layer blue/yellow/pink skirt cut high in front; tights with one yellow and one blue leg; yellow-laced pink sneakers similar to Fluttershy’s; short, fluffy yellow socks; small belt pouch; pendant stone at her neckline; part of her hair gathered into two loose bunches at the back of her head. Rainbow: white T-shirt with a red/orange/yellow rainbow across the chest; short jacket in varied shades of blue three-quarter-length sleeves; dark blue shorts with multicolored splotches around the hem of each leg; long rainbow-striped socks; dark blue sneakers; transparent green sun visor; hair in a ponytail. Rarity: short-sleeved bolero jacket in light blue fur; medium pink tights; sparkly dress in zigzag stripes of pink, blue-violet, blue, and blue-green, with a gold panel on the blouse decorated by a cluster of gems in assorted blues; light blue high heels with stacked soles, hair in a ponytail. Sunset: dark gray leather jacket with magenta trim and a yellow-orange chevron stripe on each sleeve; sparkly, dark magenta pants with her cutie mark down one leg and rolled-up cuffs; shirt shading from yellow-orange at the collar down to deeper orange at the waist and marked by a grid of red triangles; magenta/yellow-orange hiking boots; pendant stone serving as a belt buckle. Bracelets and wristbands of varied hue, style and quantity are in abundance among the seven.)

Rarity: Ooh! What filter are you going to use, darling?

Sunset: I was thinking about going “hashtag ‘no filter.’ ”

(Zoom out quickly to frame the entire group save Pinkie, who has already cleared out. Sunset finds herself on the receiving end of four stunned gasps, Applejack being the only one not to register any shock.)

Applejack: Uh, not to sound like Granny Smith, but… (Cut among the others; she continues o.s.) …why do y’all care so much about a filter? (Back to her.) All it does is make a new picture look…old.

(Rarity crosses to her, exposing a string of blue gems on a gold chain in her hair and a wristband set with her pendant’s stone.)

Rarity: (laughing, patting her shoulder) Oh, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, sweetheart, no! (reaching out with free hand) They are so much more.

(Cut to Sunset on the end of this, a bit caught out as her phone is plucked away, then back to the pair.)

Rarity: (aiming it at herself and Rarity) You can model the latest trend with Shape Chic…

(Its screen projects a live image of them, and a tap frames each girl’s head in a different king-size gem. This angle picks out Applejack’s pendant stone in one of her own wristbands.)

Applejack: (dryly) I’d never wear a dodecahedron.

(Another tap switches them out for hearts before Fluttershy commandeers the phone.)

Fluttershy: (tapping, aiming it at herself) If you’re missing your friends… (Camera-eye view of her, a bed of grass/flowers superimposed on the bottom edge.) …try Flora-slash-Fauna. (Images of birds and a hamster pop into view around her.) Oh!

(She giggles merrily; now Rainbow snags the device with a laugh.)

Rainbow: Check it out!

(Now the screen presents a close-up of her face amid a scatter of musical instruments, spotlights, and cheering concertgoers. She holds the phone at arm’s length, throwing the bullhorns with her free hand as an unimpressed Applejack watches from the background.)

Rainbow: (laughing) We’re in a band!

Applejack: Uh, we do that already. (All six girls again; Fluttershy takes the phone.)

Fluttershy: Fisheye!

(Click; she and Twilight are captured with googly eyes overlaid on their own. Next Rarity holds it high, trained on herself and Sunset.)

Rarity: Bird’s Eyes!

(Now these two appear with large, shiny, pupil-less eyes in their respective colors as Sunset flashes a peace sign. Rainbow seizes it for a shot of herself, Twilight, and Applejack.)

Rainbow: Normal Hair!

(This picture starts off looking ordinary enough, but her bangs quickly replace those of the other two subjects.)

Rainbow: You guys look great!

(Twilight’s turn; she gets herself and Sunset in the viewfinder.)

Twilight: Watson!

(Both girls acquire mustaches in this photo, Twilight gaining a monocle and Sunset a bubble pipe; magnifying glasses swing back and forth at either side. Now Fluttershy steps in.)

Fluttershy: (tapping screen) Bigfoot Blurry in the Background!

(Twilight raises the phone and snaps, getting a shot of all three—and an indistinct, brownish humanoid shambling out of the undergrowth behind them. Zoom in on this to a freeze frame, accompanied by laughs and squeals from the girls, then cut to all but Pinkie and Rainbow gathered around the phone.)

Fluttershy: Looks just like him! (Rainbow shoulders her way through.)

Rainbow: (tapping screen) Po-neigh!

(The next shutter click gets them all in view, with the heads of their pony counterparts—in the style of an earlier generation of My Little Pony toys—overlaid on their own. All six recoil from the sight; the next two lines overlap, accompanied by a scoff of disgust from Rarity.)

Twilight: Hmmm…

Rainbow: (uneasily) Uh… (Pinkie chooses this moment to return to the group.)

Pinkie: Ooooh! (She brings up her own phone.) Party picture!

(Close-up of the screen, displaying a lounge tent liberally bedecked with decorations and treats for the festival-goers to enjoy. A party cannon is parked in front of the lot.)

Sunset: (from o.s.) This one is awesome! (Back to the seven.)

Fluttershy: That cake looks delicious!

Applejack: I’ll say. What’s this filter called, Pinkie Pie?

Pinkie: (puzzled, lowering phone) What filter?

(With the high-tech hardware out of their line of vision, all can now see that her camera has delivered an accurate representation of the area—right down to the cannon. Pinkie whisks over, points it skyward, and pulls a rope attached to the breech to set off a mighty blast of confetti and streamers. The other Rainbooms approach laughing as the view fades to black.)

“How to Backstage”                  Written by Katie Chilson; story editing by Nick Confalone

(Opening shot: fade to black from the title card, then snap to a long overhead shot of Sunset on a covered outdoor stage and zoom in slowly. She is alone except for a security guard, and a couch stands near the entrance to the backstage area on one side. She is wearing the same outfit as in “Festival Filters,” establishing that both this short and that one are occurring at roughly the same time and place, and she kneels over a drone to make a few adjustments. Once done, she stands up and the device rises toward her eye level; cut to its camera-eye perspective of her, which frames the badge hanging on a lanyard around her neck. She waits to speak until the autofocus has kicked in.)

Sunset: (waving) Hey, everybody! Sunset Shimmer here, your MVP with the BTS look at the VIP life. Translation? (holding up badge) I got a backstage pass!

(“BTS” = “behind the scenes.” The drone follows her past staff members as she approaches a lounge area well back from the hubbub.)

Sunset: Need a break?

(Zoom in quickly on some of the hanging light fixtures, then out to frame the entire space as she walks in. Tables and chairs, a few of them occupied with people taking a break; U-shaped counter set with snacks, drink dispensers, giveaway items, and decorative plants. Sunset grins to the camera before it shifts to highlight the bags and boxes; she pops up in the fore.)

Sunset: First perk of the VIP treatment? Swag, swag, swag, swag, swag! (Slow pan across the items; she continues o.s.) I’m talking foreign chocolate, instant cameras, noise-canceling headphones…

(She reaches into view and takes a bag on this last; cut to her reaching inside, eagerness slowly giving way to befuddlement.)

Sunset: (pulling out a pair of socks) …or…socks. (Drop the bag; drum up enthusiasm.) Rock on! They must be to keep bands from getting cold feet. (Lame chuckle.) I guess I’ll just, uh…put them on!

(Another chuckle precedes her lurching, off-balance attempt to do so while standing up.)

Sunset: VIP coming through!

(And then she says hello to the floor. Cut to her walking through a different passage and toward a doorway, still seen through the drone’s camera.)

Sunset: Check it out! The world-famous green room where all the bands hang out before the show! Any guesses on who we’ll see?

(The view shifts away from the drone’s view to within the entrance as she steps in—now wearing the socks she swiped and no boots/shoes—and it hovers behind her to capture the moment. A few bits of gear are laid out here and there, along with a couch off to one side, and a road crew member is keeping an eye on the proceedings. Sunset stops short, mouth falling open in shock; cut to her perspective, panning slowly across the area. More roadies are attending to instruments and lighting setup.)

Sunset: Are you kidding me? (Back to her.) This…is…amazing!

(Camera-eye perspective; she steps into view as one fellow adjusts a microphone.)

Sunset: You’re looking at the guy who invented pickup-only reverb! (He gives her a thumbs-up; now she steps toward a lighting technician on a ladder.) Ever wonder who does Post Crush’s light show? (Focus shifts to this one.) She runs a four-gel hot swap!

(The focus returns to Sunset in time for an excited scream.)

Sunset: This is the best day of my life! (The tech again.)

Lighting tech: Did you want to meet the band?

(The yellow-orange teen turns wonderingly away from the ladder. Cut to a close-up of the bottom of a flight of steps, not seen through the drone’s camera, as three pairs of legs descend. A zoom out frames one man and two women looking on with cocked-eyebrow smiles—the band has just entered the building. One of the women, a blonde, speaks up with an unusually deep voice.)

Blonde: Cool socks.

(Sunset laughs as the lighting tech climbs down and the drone circles around the group.)

Sunset: Thanks. (slightly embarrassed, holding up her cell phone) Can I get a picture?

(All three members strike poses, but are not quite prepared for her to hand the phone to the male member and back up. They laugh, and she lets out a giddy little squeal while clustering in with the roadies—four in all—and the drone. A shutter click and flash, and the camera zooms out slowly from the resulting photo, rotating slightly at the same time.)

Sunset: (voice over) And that’s how you backstage.

(Fade to black.)

“Festival Looks”                        Written by Katie Chilson; story editing by Nick Confalone

(Opening shot: fade to black from the title card, then in to a close-up of a computer monitor. The mouse cursor clicks on an icon at the left edge, bringing up a contact list headed by a picture of Rarity. A click on her entry within the list, and it is replaced by a window and sound effects to indicate that a video call is being placed. Zoom in until the window fills the screen; after a couple of rings, it gives way to a shot of the fashion-conscious teen sitting at a keyboard in her bedroom. She is wearing the outfit she sported in “Festival Filters”; the same will be true of the other Rainbooms when they appear next. However, she has removed her furry blue bolero jacket and set it on a headless mannequin, exposing the sleeveless design of her dress. A few control icons line the bottom edge of the screen.)

Rarity: Some say the best part of a music festival is the music. But to me…

(She puts hands to mouth as if trying to hold in a giddy outburst, but soon gives up the effort and rises to plant one foot on her chair and spin where she stands. The jacket is whisked away and pulled on in the same motion.)

Rarity: …it’s fashion!

(The image shrinks into the top left corner of the screen, replaced by one of Applejack leaning back against a fence on the grounds of Sweet Apple Acres. A passing pig eyes her curiously as Rarity gets herself under control and sits down. It is daytime here.)

Applejack: An old pair of cowboy boots’ll keep you from steppin’ in a steamin’ pile of… (Rarity cringes.) …uh…fashion emergency.

(A grunt from the porker, and her window shrinks into an apple icon at bottom right. Now Fluttershy is seen in her bedroom, touching up a garland of leaves and flowers in her hair that has replaced the blue-violet blossoms she wore in “Festival Filters.”)

Fluttershy: If you’ve got hang-ups with hangers— (setting a bird’s nest filled with eggs on her head) —look for style right outside your window.

(The eggs hatch and the emerging baby birds start cheeping.)

Rarity: (tinny, as if heard through a computer speaker) Oh, I believe they’re famished for fashion.

Fluttershy: (crestfallen) Well, actually, they do want me to regurgitate worms into their beaks.

(Rarity, horrified, hammers at the keys until her window fills the screen again and Fluttershy’s end of the call is minimized as a butterfly icon above Applejack’s.)

Rarity: (hastily) Innovative. Who’s next?

(Shrink into top left; Rainbow appears on the Canterlot High soccer field, bouncing a ball from one knee to the other. This shot picks out the placement of the stone from her pendant in a wristband, which had been hidden by the camera angles in “Festival Filters.”)

Rainbow: Make sure you can move, whether you’re dancing at the festival or after a hat trick.

(A backwards-flipping kick sends the black-and-white spheroid into the goal behind her, and she springs upright almost as soon as it has landed.)

Rarity: (tinny) TOUCHDOWN!!

Rainbow: Uh, that’s not what it’s ca—

(A tap by Rarity minimizes the jock’s end into a cloud/lightning-bolt icon above Fluttershy’s. Up next is Sunset, sitting on her couch at home and wearing a pair of headphones in addition to her festival threads.)

Sunset: Can’t go wrong with a classic.

(Shrink to a sun icon at bottom left; Pinkie gets a turn now, leaning toward the camera and adjusting it in extreme close-up.)

Pinkie: Classic? You mean like…

(She backs away, showing her own bedroom—with a party cannon sitting in the middle of the floor. A hard yank on the rope extending from the breech tilts its barrel up toward the ceiling.)

Pinkie: …confetti?!? (Fire off a blast, surprising Rarity; stand up to full height.) Confetti everywhere! (Contented sigh.) Classic Pinkie Pie.

(Her purple-haired friend lets out an alarmed squeak as the paper bits unexpectedly rain down on her end, leaving her with a badly disheveled coiffure that she has to pat back into place.)

Pinkie: Oops! Sorry!

(Now her end drops back to a three-balloon icon above Sunset’s, yielding to a shot of Twilight standing in a lab.)

Twilight: You know what’s always in style? (opening her fanny pack) Personal responsibility. (pulling out items as she names them) Earplugs for high-decibel situation [sic], a water bottle, flashlight and compass in case you get lost, the other kind of compass in case you need to draw—

(“The other kind” being the sort used in drafting and navigation to draw circles and arcs. Rarity’s growing puzzlement leads her to cut the brainiac off with a keystroke, and her own window expands to fill the screen as Twilight is reduced to a star-cluster icon above Pinkie.)

Rarity: Aaaand there you have it, my loves. At the end of the day, it’s always in fashion to be utterly yourselves.

(All six icons suddenly expand into small windows to tile both sides of the screen. The main window contracts slightly and every girl waves to the camera.)

Rarity: (tinny) See you at the festival!

(The mouse cursor clicks on the X at the top right corner to close the window, and a tap on an icon at the bottom left corner shuts off the monitor and blacks out the screen.)

“Five Lines You Need to Stand In”

Written by Katie Chilson; story editing by Nick Confalone

(Opening shot: fade to black from the title card, then in to an overhead shot of a paved lot set up as an entrance checkpoint for the music festival described or referred to in the previous four shorts. It is daytime. There are three gates, each staffed by a security guard, and quite a few ticket-holders have queued up at each one. Pinkie stands apart from them, wearing her brightly colored festival outfit from the previous shorts, and fiddles with something as the camera roves over the scene. A close-up picks out the item as the drone Sunset used in “How to Backstage,” and after one last switch flip, it hovers out of her hands and rotates to aim its lens at her. Cut to its camera-eye perspective as she backs away from it.)

Pinkie: Hello, computer net friends! Pinkie Pie here, bringing you the list you’ve all been waiting for.

(On the next line, she proceeds to pop up all over the place: at a line, hanging upside down from a ticket booth, in front of the overarching sign, one foot propped on a picnic table near the well-appointed motor home Rarity showed off in “Camping Must Haves.”)

Pinkie: Because anybody who’s anybody knows that music festivals aren’t about the music or the scene, or even the camping—

(The camera cuts closer to her by steps as she continues, ending with an extreme close-up of the grinning pink face.)

Pinkie: —which is why we’re counting down the five lines you need to stand in!

(Zoom out quickly; she is now standing on the table, and bystanders are looking at her askance.)

Pinkie: Oh, yeah!

(She inserts herself into one of the lines waiting at the gates.)

Pinkie: First up, the security line.

(At its head, the female guard on duty is sifting through the contents of attendees’ bags.)

Pinkie: If we play this right, we might just make a new friend. (Grin; she is next up.)

Guard: Bag, please.

(In a trice, Pinkie has moved up to the inspection station and passed over her ridiculously tiny belt pouch. It is so small, in fact, that the guard can barely fit one set of fingers inside.)

Pinkie: You can show off all the cool stuff in your purse!

(The impassive adult’s eyes widen in surprise as she pulls out a handful of strings that are in turn tied to an impossibly large bunch of helium balloons.)

Guard: How in the—?

Pinkie: I know, right?

(She grins for the camera. Cut to an extreme close-up of her.)

Pinkie: The only thing that tastes better than nachos…

(The camera pivots quickly away from her and slows down to pan across a row of food trucks and the hungry music lovers waiting to patronize them.)

Pinkie: (from o.s.) …is nachos you waited two hours to get! (She leans into view in front of one line.) Besides, how else would I ever decide what I want on them?

(One customer receives a loaded tray and clears off, only for Pinkie to zip up to the counter so abruptly that the vendor ends up squirting cheese sauce all over herself. This shot reveals that Pinkie has stuck the pouch back on her belt.)

Pinkie: Which is everything!

(The vendor shoots her a dirty look. Cut to an extreme close-up of an order of nachos brimming with cheese and a range of most unorthodox toppings—including watermelon, broccoli, and a chocolate chip cookie. It is pulled back from the camera in Pinkie’s hands and lowered to frame her eager grin.)

Pinkie: (shuddering blissfully, grabbing a handful) Delicious!

(Down the hatch they go, leaving cheesy smears across her face. From here, cut to her standing next to a different line; she is fully cleaned up, and the nachos are gone.)

Pinkie: (gesturing to it, moving aside) Up next, the photo booth line!

(The step discloses just such a booth behind her.)

Pinkie: (dragging a teen close, aiming her phone at herself) Let’s practice a pose!

(Cut to her phone camera’s perspective of the pair—one smiling broadly, the other too stunned to speak, no points for guessing which is which. The latter manages a grin and flashes a peace sign.)

Pinkie: Say cheese! (Click; she holds up a handful of nachos.) Say, cheese?

(The other teen’s face goes green at the profusion of flipped-out toppings, and she claps both hands to her bulging cheeks and ducks away with remarkable speed and agility. Cut to the drone’s camera-eye perspective; Pinkie stares confusedly as she crawls away in search of a quiet place to vomit.)

Pinkie: (shrugging) Eh, your loss.

(She wastes no time in chomping down the snack, again besmirching her cheery visage. Cut to a couple of students standing in yet another line; she leans into view behind them, face/hands clean and phone stashed.)

Pinkie: Why not take a chance on a mystery line? It could lead to the coolest place you’ve ever seen! (The boy ahead gives her an odd look; she addresses him.) Do you know where this line goes?

(He offers nothing beyond a bewildered shrug and grunt as the line begins to move.)

Pinkie: Ah! Me neither! But if it’s this long, it’s gotta be good, right?

(A zoom out answers the question she put to the boy—and that answer is “nowhere,” as the line is actually a circle around a broad tree trunk. She giggles; cut to a close-up of her on the move.)

Pinkie: Last but certainly not least is the bathroom line.

(Longer shot of it as she finishes. She has just joined its end, and all are waiting at a row of portable toilets and jittering in place under the strain of overfull bladders.)

Pinkie: Or as I like to call it… (grabbing the shoulders of the girl ahead of her) …the conga line! (shaking in rhythm) Ah-ch-ch-cha, everybody!

(This girl—who happens to be Fleur—finds her arms being raised so she can put her hands on the shoulders of the next one up. Pinkie’s good mood quickly spreads all the way up the line, turning it into a smiling, laughing, dancing procession.)

Pinkie: This is the best line ever!

(They stop at the nearest stall, which opens to disgorge a very relieved girl an instant before the frizzy-haired dynamo whips up to toss a handful of confetti.)

Pinkie: Congratulations! You made it!

(She throws a double thumbs-up, paying no mind to the attendee’s justifiably bewildered reaction. “Iris out” to black, the aperture centered on the pink face and pausing briefly before it closes altogether.)

“Find the Magic”                      

Written by Whitney Ralls; story editing by Nick Confalone

Music/Lyrics by Jessica Vaughn, Jess Furman, Jarl Aanestad

Quiet synthesizer chords, moderate 4; lyrics echo slightly (C major)

(Opening shot: fade to black from the title card, then in to a close-up of two of the spotlights hung above the closed curtain of a stage at the music festival. The detailing above them indicates that this stage is different from the one that figured in “How to Backstage.” The spots flick on one at a time, their pale blue and violet beams crossing in midair as the camera tilts down slowly to a thick bank of sparkly greenish fog at stage level. Adagio Dazzle sits among the haze in profile, leaning back in her chair so that her mass of curly hair cascades down its back. As she raises the hand farther from the camera to her forehead, two more arms swing up on that same side--gray-violet for Aria Blaze, pale blue for Sonata Dusk. The three Dazzlings, all sporting festival-themed outfits that are markedly different from the ones they wore in Rainbow Rocks, begin to sing as they face front and the other two step out to either side of Adagio. The mist obscures most of the details of their new clothing.)

Dazzlings:                       Where do we go? Every day’s the same

(Longer shot: they have drawn a fair crowd, seen only as immobile silhouettes.)

                                        Did we lose the magic, magic, magic?

(Adagio jumps down from the stage and faces the onlookers, now visible as dim, faceless figures under a starry night sky.)

                                        So ordinary, stuck on repeat

(All three move self-consciously through the audience.)

                                        Gotta find the passion, passion, passion

(The following particulars become visible during this verse. Adagio: knee-high boots in purple and dark gray, with stacked heels and marked by spikes up the back and the yellow gem she used to wear on her belt and the hem of her shorts; dark gray leather jacket with spikes on arms; dark-collared violet shirt set with a pattern of darker triangles and split in front to show off purple shorts; gold crescent-moon necklace and matching belt buckle; one gold bracelet and one studded leather band on each wrist. Aria, seen from the waist up, short jacket of yellow-green fur over a long-sleeved top in deep pink with white polka dots; purple kerchief at the throat. Sonata, also from the waist up: sparkly, short-sleeved dress in shades of magenta and displaying a large taco on the chest; left arm covered by a long, deep magenta sleeve with lighter stripes, two gold bands encircling the right upper arm. None of them are wearing any trace of the red-gem pendants through which they channeled their power in Rainbow Rocks.)

Closed hi-hat cymbal on every second beat; soft synth melody in

(They stand in a star/moon-decorated archway set in a broad wall of hedges. A nimbus of pinkish light surrounding them and illuminating a double row of colored lanterns set on the ground as filaments flick on, sketching out trees and paths. Tacos can now be seen on the sides of Sonata’s skirt, and she wears magenta/pink-striped socks and sneakers in varied shades of pink. Aria wears close-fitting pants in deep purple with lighter green patches running down each leg and lighter purple, chunky-soled boots with fur running down the backs to match her jacket.)

Dazzlings:                       The days go ’round and ’round, ’round and ’round

                                        Gotta break away, find a great escape

(They move in a loop, following each other out of one archway and in through a second.)

                                        ’Round and ’round and ’round, ’round and ’round and ’round

(Stop; Adagio at one portal, Aria and Sonata at the other.)

                                        Oh-h

Cymbal roll; bass synth in; vocal harmonies behind lyrics

(Fade to black, then snap to a close-up of Adagio rising from the green fog on the stage as the multicolored spots pop on overhead. The others join her here, but the crowd remains impassive even as they raise their arms.)

Dazzlings:                       Let’s find, let’s find

                                        Let’s find the magic

(More lights blaze up from the archways; Aria and Sonata emerge smiling, and all three lie down facing upward with heads near one another. Zoom out slowly overhead.)

                                        Let’s find, let’s find

                                        Let’s find the magic

Bass/melody synths out, vocal harmonies out

(Dissolve to a close-up of a tea leaf floating in a full cup held by Adagio. She sits on a couch in the lounge tent seen in “Festival Filters.”)

Adagio:                           Can I find the beauty in the simple things?

(She pulls out her pendant; to her great surprise, its gem is no longer shattered, but whole and glowing warmly. The others marvel at giant flowers traced in light.)

Dazzlings:                       Can I learn to see it, see it, see it?

Synth melody in

(Extreme close-up of the jewel, now fractured and missing a sizable chunk as it reflects multiples of Adagio’s uncomprehending face. It is whole again in the next shot, and she cradles it blissfully to her cheek.)

                                        The days go ’round and ’round, ’round and ’round

                                        Gotta break away, find a great escape

                                        ’Round and ’round and ’round, ’round and ’round and ’round

(The pendant is clasped to its owner’s chest.)

                                        Oh-h

Cymbal roll; bass synth in; vocal harmonies behind lyrics

Background lyrics sung by Adagio

(Fade to white, then snap to a slow tilt down toward ground level as the Dazzlings walk slowly toward the stage, now clear of fog. Each has a repaired, glowing pendant laid across one palm, and waves of light in their signature colors ripple across the grass from every footfall. They touch spectators as they move, restoring full color.)

Dazzlings:                                   Let’s find, let’s find

                                                    Let’s find the magic

 (Three pairs of feet climb the steps to the stage.)

                                                    [Let’s find the magic] Let’s find [Hey] Let’s find

(The crowd comes to cheering life as they stand in the spotlight beams.)

                                                    Let’s find the magic

Cymbal roll; bass/melody synths and hi-hat out; vocal harmonies only

(All three girls smile gently down at their pendants. Zoom in slowly on Adagio, the other two and the background fading nearly to black around/behind her The glow from her gem slowly dies away.)

Song ends

(As the final chord subsides, the screen goes entirely black except for the gleaming scarlet stone. This explodes into a miniature starburst, which slowly fades away.)