MY LITTLE PONY: FRIENDSHIP IS MAGIC
Animated Shorts
Produced by Devon Cody
Story editing by Nicole Dubuc
Supervising direction by Jim Miller
Directed by Denny Lu, Mike Myhre
(Writing credits are listed on each individual transcript)
Transcribed by Alan Back (ajback@yahoo.com)
Note: The first three of these shorts are set in the same winter time frame as the
“Best Gift Ever” special.
“Triple Pony Dare Ya” Written by Kim Beyer-Johnson
(Opening shot: fade to black from the title card, then in to a close-up of Granny Smith, having traded in her usual shawl for a scarf and apple/tree-patterned headband. Standing on duty at an open-air market stall, she scrunches her whole face up in supreme mental effort. The o.s. clink of coins on a counter is heard as she speaks.)
Granny: Uh, seven…eight…
(Close-up of said counter; a wrinkled green hoof pushes a button slowly toward a small pile of coins as Cheerilee looks on worriedly from the other side. The Ponyville street behind her is drifted with snow under a leaden daytime sky, and she is dressed for the cold—as will be other ponies seen outside throughout this short.)
Granny: (from o.s.) …nine…uh, no! That’s a button.
(It is pulled back; cut to a long shot of the stall—and the very, very long line of prospective customers that stretches across the street.)
Granny: I wonder what that goes to? (Close-up of an irate Rainbow Dash in the queue; she continues o.s.) Uh, let me check.
(A length of Applejack’s tail protrudes into view from just ahead. The daredevil sucks in a huge breath, lets it bulge her cheeks out for a moment, and lets it go while slumping on her hooves. She takes another one in like manner, but before she can exhale again, Pinkie Pie pops up alongside.)
Pinkie: Mmmm! Don’t you just love Granny’s Hearth’s Warming fruitcake?
(Rainbow responds by jamming a feather into her own mouth, her entire body quaking slightly with some silent, titanic inner struggle. Zoom out to frame Applejack on the following.)
Pinkie: (to her) Uh…what’s wrong with her?
Applejack: Triple pony dare. I bet Rainbow Dash she couldn’t wait patiently in this line, all the way to the end.
(Zoom out quickly on the end of this to reveal that it not only goes the full width of the road, but traces along the opposite row of stalls for a considerable distance. The three mares are very nearly at the end of it.)
Pinkie: Wow. There’s triple pony dares, and then there’s just impossible!
(Sweat begins to run freely down the distended blue face, which shifts to an alarming shade of red. The cheeks swell to Dizzy Gillespie proportions…the red-violet eyes look as if they might pop from their sockets…and after a full three seconds, she yanks the feather away, rises into the air, and empties her lungs in the form of a frustrated scream.)
Rainbow: Out of my way!
(She rockets ahead; cut to the counter, where she takes Cheerilee’s place and instantly gets on the schoolteacher’s bad side.)
Applejack: (from o.s.) Told you so! (Cut to her, strolling smugly forward.) I win, fair and square.
Rainbow: No, you don’t! I didn’t triple-dare you back! First one to finish a dare, they’re triple-pony-dare champion— (Zoom in quickly; nose-to-nose close-up.) —forever!
Applejack, Rainbow: Hmph!
(Wipe to Rainbow hovering in the gym at the School of Friendship and holding Applejack’s hat.)
Rainbow: Triple-pony-dare you. No touching, no wearing for one—whole—moon!
(On the second sentence, cut to an extreme close-up of it and then the workhorse’s narrowing green eyes, the reflection playing across them as sweat pours down. After Rainbow finishes, cut to frame both again; she plunks the hat over the varicolored mane, only to be almost immediately relieved of it when Applejack leaps nimbly overhead and snaps it away in her teeth.)
Applejack: (voice shaking) I missed you so much, Tallulah.
(She returns it to its usual place, drawing a smug grin from her opposite number. Wipe to Rainbow and two flight-suited Wonderbolts—one of whom is Soarin’—flying through a cluster of suspended hoops in the gym. The performance touches off a devious little spark in Applejack’s mind.)
Applejack: (calling overhead) Triple-pony-dare you, Rainbow Dash—fly slower than apple molasses!
(The speedster slams on the brakes most unwillingly and begins a glacial loop-the-loop through the next ring as her teammates zoom ahead. At the top of her arc, though, she stalls out and plummets with a yell, catching the bottom of the hoop just in time to break her fall and receiving a wicked smile from Applejack. Wipe to the two in the snow-covered meadows outside Ponyville proper; Applejack is up on her hind legs, a column of nine snowballs teetering on the tip of her upturned nose, and holds a pile of extras in her forelegs as Rainbow hovers to watch.)
Rainbow: Keep going. You need twenty more to win this dare.
(The performer of this ridiculous balancing act tosses another one up to land at the pinnacle, but her nervous shudder drifts up as sweat trickles down.)
Applejack: Whoa…
(She trails off into a yell, losing her balance and tumbling to the earth amid a shower of snowballs that buries every part of her except for two sullen eyes. Rainbow lands and rubs in the failure with a mocking laugh and a pat in the vicinity of the buried head, a soft groan rising from the miniature avalanche. Wipe to a patch of ice, against which a shovel blade is thrust down into view to stick in the surface, and cut to frame both of them. A cleaned-up Applejack has deployed the tool against a frozen stream on which she is standing, while Rainbow hovers facing her.)
Applejack: You’ve gotta dig five holes before sunset… (Rainbow lands.) …earth pony style.
(So the pegasus locks her teeth on the shaft, pulls the shovel loose, and stabs it into the ice with all her might. The blade penetrates to exactly zero distance; instead, the impact sets the whole thing—and Rainbow’s skull—to vibrating so badly that one of her teeth begins to chip. From here, wipe to her and Applejack within the latter’s workshop-themed classroom at the School. They are staring intently at the central tree and its freight of apples amid the Hearth’s Warming decorations, and Rainbow has ditched the shovel.)
Rainbow: Buck one, and only one.
(The chipped tooth has restored itself now. The farming expert swallows hard, clearly caught off guard by the terms of this dare, and lifts one shaking hind leg to touch the bark ever so softly. A single apple falls free of the branches and thunks neatly to the ground before her, and she smiles under narrowed eyes while settling back to all fours. The self-satisfaction ends in the split-second it takes for hundreds of additional fruit to drop out and bury every bit of her; she puts her head out and glares daggers at Rainbow, who proceeds to laugh herself silly at the flub. Pinkie peeks in from outside.)
Pinkie: So? Find a triple-pony-dare champion forever yet?
Applejack: It should be me, if Rainbow Dash didn’t keep comin’ up with such lowdown nasty dares!
Rainbow: Me? Do you know how hard it is to fly slow? (Pinkie gasps sharply and hops into the classroom.)
Pinkie: I just figured out how to settle this whole thing! (Applejack extricates herself; Rainbow lands.)
Rainbow: You did?
Pinkie: Uh-huh. I triple-pony-dare you…to quit daring each other!
Applejack: No way!
Rainbow: Me neither!
Pinkie: Guess that means… (rising to hind legs) …I’m the winner! (taunting each in turn) I win! I win! I win! Uh-huh! Oh, yeah!
(She giggles merrily, ignoring their dumbfounded responses and the hooves they clap to their faces at the realization that they have both been royally had. Fade to black.)
“The Great Escape Room” Written by Kim Beyer-Johnson
(Opening shot: fade to black from the title card, then in to five pairs of eyes moving in total darkness. The shapes and colors indicate the presence of Twilight Sparkle and all her friends save Pinkie. As Applejack approaches Rainbow from behind, a soft crunch triggers a grunt and causes the red-violet eyes to narrow indignantly.)
Rainbow: Hey! (She pops up into a hover.) You stepped on my tail!
Applejack: Sorry. I can’t see a darn thing.
Fluttershy: Did Pinkie Pie say what her Hearth’s Warming Eve surprise was going to be?
(The lights flick on, prompting all five to yell in surprise and shield their eyes against the glare. They are standing inside the main barn at Sweet Apple Acres, amid a plethora of holiday decorations, and the missing party pony straightens up into view to face them.)
Pinkie: Welcome to my amazingly amazing escape room! So, you amazed?
(A longer shot of the area picks out the assorted puzzles and challenges that line the walls and floor. A clock hanging from the rafters at the far end shows 8:00. The five look this way and that, not entirely sure what to make of the entire display.)
Rarity: (dryly) Yes, because it looks remarkably like Applejack’s barn.
Pinkie: Oh, it’s so much more! (hopping around) Holiday clues, puzzles, and riddles are hidden everywhere! (to Twilight) And until you solve them to find the key…
(Extreme close-up of a door handle as she reaches into view to rattle it, then zoom out to frame her.)
Pinkie: (with gusto) …we’re locked inside!
(Twilight puts on a confident smile as the four around her gasp in fright.)
Twilight: Come on, everypony. We’re experts at escape rooms now.
(A reference to their visit to one in “All Bottled Up.” She crosses to a pile of presents and lifts one in her field, only to find Pinkie huddled down beneath it.)
Pinkie: Good! ’Cause if we don’t get outta here in time— (spookily, rising to all fours) —something super-big and really scary is going to happen!
Fluttershy: (covering mouth with forelock) What kind of something? (Pinkie pops up alongside.)
Pinkie: I don’t remember.
Rarity: But—but you created this escape room!
Pinkie: Uh-huh. (tapping side of head) Then I made sure to forget everything so I could play too.
(She bounds away with a giggle, leaving two properly confounded friends in her wake. Dissolve to a close-up of the clock, now reading 8:04.)
Rainbow: (from o.s.) That’s not what the clue means! (She hovers into view.) We’re supposed to lick the candy canes, then sing carols!
(Punctuated by holding up the treat and then some sheet music at the appropriate moments. Cut to Applejack at ground level.)
Applejack: Way I see it, we gallop backwards, whistle carols, then lick ’em.
(She too displays the two items as called for by her words and finishes by running her tongue over the red/white-striped peppermint. Pinkie emerges from a nearby hay bale.)
Pinkie: Why not try both?
(A wind-up gramophone is swiftly produced and dropped to the floor; as it begins to play an orchestral theme, she hops out and walks backwards while whistling along. Clock wipe to Rainbow, now hovering and straining to juggle several gifts, and pan/tilt down to Fluttershy with wreaths around her midsection and every limb except the one hind leg on which she is desperately balanced. From here, pan to Twilight doing the backstroke across the floor while an exhausted Rarity hunches down to scrutinize the hay covering it. Applejack gallops past during the next line, her hat and candy cane gone and a light-bedecked lampshade covering her head.)
Rarity: Two hundred thousand, seventy-four…two hundred thousand, seventy-five…two hundred thousand, sev— (Twilight straightens up, wreath around neck and ornament hanging from ear.)
Twilight: Pinkie, what does any of this have to do with finding a key?
(An irked glare from the purple eyes homes in on a Hearth’s Warming tree, whose boughs part to reveal Pinkie’s blue ones among them.)
Pinkie: We’re having fun!
(And she adds to it by laughingly bouncing out into the open on a pogo stick, startling Fluttershy and Rainbow into a gasp. The Wonderbolt drops her presents, the animal lover topples to the floor, and the fashionista gets the end product of her task—counting each bit of hay into a pile—thoroughly muddled and scrambled across the floor.)
Rarity: Oh, poo! I’ve lost count! (exasperatedly) One…two…
(Dissolve to a close-up of the clock, its hands cycling rapidly through the hours as translucent images of the ponies drift past. Rainbow works a jigsaw puzzle…Applejack tries to figure out the workings of a contraption, hat on and lampshade off…Rarity lifts the lid off a gift box ever so slightly to peer in and registers shock at what she finds. Another dissolve frames Pinkie, ringing a bell loudly with the handle clamped in her teeth. She quickly lets it drop as each of the others passes her an item: a lollipop from Rainbow, presents from Twilight and Applejack, a dessert from Rarity, and a wreath dropped around her neck from Fluttershy.)
Rainbow: (from o.s., impatiently) Well?
(Cut to the five, all of whom look in their own ways to have had quite enough of this game. Applejack has doffed her hat, and Twilight has disposed of the decorations she was wearing.)
Rainbow: Which one of these is the thing that you need for the perfect Hearth’s Warming Eve?
Pinkie: All of them!
(Her big squeaky grin is met by a round of very dirty looks, but she pays no mind and hops past them, having ditched the goodies they gave her.)
Pinkie: (as Fluttershy sobs quietly) Yaaaaay!
(The five gasp and look toward the rafters at the sound of a buzzer, finding that the clock has reached 12:00.)
Pinkie: Aaaaand time’s up! (Buzzer stops.) And you didn’t find the key, so get ready! What is gonna happen?
(She is almost instantly half-buried in a pile of freaked-out, shivering, sweating, hyperventilating equines. Behind them, a gargantuan present rises slowly and ominously from a pile of hay. The six swivel toward its looming shadow, voicing a round of gasps as it towers over them—and then the lid bursts off in a salvo of confetti and streamers and Pinkie’s alligator Gummy is ejected into the air. He floats slowly down with the help of a parachute strapped around his midsection, and he is wearing a belled red stocking cap. Close-up.)
Pinkie: (from o.s., casually) Oh, yeah. (Two pink hooves reach up to catch him.) That’s what it was. (The group again.) Woo-hoo! Wasn’t that so much fun?
(The set of the others’ faces indicates very clearly that they are far from sharing her opinion.)
Twilight: Uh, “fun” is a very strong word.
(The edentate reptile blows heartily on a party favor before the view fades to black.)
“Mystery-Voice” Written by Kate Leth
(Opening shot: fade to black from the title card, then in to the exterior of the School, thickly blanketed under the ongoing snowfall of a winter’s day. Zoom in slowly.)
Rarity: (voice over) Welcome, class.
(Cut to a slow pan through her classroom within. Hearth’s Warming decorations, including a large tree, have been set up at all levels amid the fabrics and clothing-design supplies. The mare in charge addresses Sandbar and his friends, who have gathered in around her and the tree.)
Rarity: (levitating a rag doll of herself) Today we’re going to make dolls for Hearth’s Warming Eve.
(Any further remarks are cut off by a whine of feedback from the intercom speaker mounted above the double doors. There follow a couple of muted thumps, as of a microphone on the other end being tapped to test it, then a businesslike female voice.)
Voice 1: Good morning, students and teachers. Due to the snow, Yodeling Club is canceled. Thank you. (Click of the intercom shutting off.)
Rarity: Hm. Odd. That didn’t sound like Twilight. Well, as I was saying—
(Her last words are underscored by the speaker shrilling back to life and the start of the next line—a bright, chipper female voice this time. She glares toward the offending appliance.)
Voice 2: Oh, hi, hi! One more thing. Open yovidaphone practice is postponed ’til after holiday break. Ta for now! (Click; shut off.)
Rarity: (acidly) “Ta,” indeed! Now if that is all…
(When the intercom remains silent for a long moment, she lets her features relax into a placid smile.)
Rarity: Wonderful. (floating up her doll) As I was saying, I think you’re going to find this project very—
(Feedback squeal number three causes her to bite her tongue in barely contained rage before a raspy, barking female voice butts in—something like Rainbow in drill-instructor mode. The plaything hits the floor.)
Voice 3: The Fun and Games Society regrets to inform you that today’s outdoor chess event is being re-scheduled! (softer, like a fading echo) Scheduled…scheduled. (Click; shut off.)
Rarity: (trying not to blow her top) As I was saying— (Feedback; speaker on.)
Voice 3: (normal volume) Have a great day! (Click; shut off.)
Rarity: (snarling, stomping) That does it! (trotting toward doors) Enough interruptions!
(Her magic yanks one door open and slams it shut behind her, hard enough to dislodge the speaker so that it thuds to the floor. Zoom out from this area to frame Gallus and Sandbar trading puzzled looks from their seat, the colt adding a shrug to accentuate his own bewilderment. Cut to Rarity in one corridor; she trots purposefully around a corner and promptly gets a faceful of a flying Rainbow. The collision knocks them both silly for a moment as Fluttershy joins them; all three have wound up in front of a closed door.)
Rarity: What are you two doing here?
Rainbow: I can’t get through a sentence without being cut off! I’m gonna tell those announcers to pipe down!
Fluttershy: I’m gonna ask them politely!
(She softens her demeanor and lifts one wing to expose a small critter curled into a nervous little ball at its base.)
Fluttershy: (as it hops onto a front hoof) I’ve been trying to teach my students how to feed a hedgehog…
(And here goes the feedback again, scaring the dickens out of the little guy. A high, piping, slightly scratchy female voice asserts itself now.)
Voice 4: Before I forget—the Jump Rope Jamboree is also canceled.
Fluttershy: …but that keeps happening!
Rainbow: (menacingly) Let’s go have a friendly teacher chat with those announcers. On three!
(A panel drops into view to fill the right half of the screen, showing Rarity with her dander well and truly up.)
Rarity: One… (Another panel fills the left half: Fluttershy hovering and carrying the hedgehog.)
Fluttershy: …two… (A close-up of Rainbow fills the screen.)
Rainbow: …three!
(Cut to the other side of the door where they have stopped. As white and sky-blue hooves bash it open, the yellow pegasus huddling fearfully to the floor, the camera zooms out quickly to frame more of this area. Clutter of cabinets, scrolls, files, strings of lights, the odd note taped to the wall—and a patch of orange-tan hide and blond mane framed in the foreground. A lack of comprehension swiftly registers on all three intruders’ faces before the camera cuts to an extreme close-up of a microphone on a desk, over which Applejack leans into view.)
Applejack: (using Voice 4) Sorry for the inconvenience!
(Zoom out to frame all of her as she straightens up.)
Fluttershy, Rainbow, Rarity: Applejack?!
(Longer shot of the farmer; she sits on a stool before the desk, and she turns to face them with a smile.)
Applejack: (own voice, waving) Oh, hey! (chuckling, climbing down) What do you think? Twilight said I could do the announcements today. With all the bad news, I thought I’d give ’em some flavor.
Rainbow: Wait. All those voices were yours?
Applejack: (chuckling) Sure were. Want to hear another? (She moves toward the mic, but stops at Rarity’s next words.)
Rarity: Actually, if you don’t mind saving them— (slipping foreleg around Applejack’s shoulders) —I think we have a perfect Hearth’s Warming solution for the blizzard outside.
(Applejack’s confusion is perfectly mirrored in the glance that Fluttershy and Rainbow direct between themselves. Dissolve to the School’s snow-swept courtyard and zoom out slowly as Applejack straightens up into view to point it out. Throughout the following, all words in quotation marks are spoken in a voice different from her normal one.)
Applejack: “This land shall be known as Unicornia,” proclaimed Princess Platinum.
(Longer shot: she and quite a lot of students are seated near the base of the central tree in her classroom, and she has been indicating the view through its open doorway as she reads from a book.)
Applejack: “Pegasopolis!” demanded Commander Hurricane.
(Fluttershy/Rainbow/Rarity step/hover in to observe, the first still carrying the hedgehog.)
Applejack: “Dirtville!” suggested Chancellor Puddin’head.
(Her other voices, in order: calm and soothing, loud and gravelly, bright and cheerful. Cut to the trio, now smiling warmly at the success their friend is having with her vocal versatility.)
Applejack: (from o.s.) And still the windigos raged outside.
(She shifts into a spooky moan as they trade satisfied nods and Rarity telekinetically lifts a cup of hot cocoa, which leaves a dab of whipped cream on her nose when she takes a sip. Cut to the exterior of the School, night having fallen as the storm continues unabated. Zoom out slowly, the moans continuing, and fade to black.)
“Rarity’s Biggest Fan” Written by Gillian M. Berrow
(Opening shot: fade to black from the title card, then in to the hot-tub room of the Ponyville Spa. Twilight and Rarity are relaxing in lounge chairs around the perimeter. Both are wearing robes—Rarity using her personal one—and have their manes wrapped up in towels; in addition, Rarity’s face is covered in a beauty treatment and her eyes are hidden behind cucumber slices. Aloe and Lotus are on duty, the latter filing one of the white unicorn’s hooves; zoom in slowly and cut to the two customers as Aloe crosses to Twilight.)
Twilight: I’ll have my usual mane style. Thank you, Aloe.
(The towel is pulled off her head, freeing her mane—forelock and all—to hang straight down the back of her head. Aloe begins to comb it out, holding the instrument in her teeth.)
Rarity: (disdainfully, behind a cough) Oh, not again. (Twilight, irked, floats the cucumbers away and sits up to look her straight on.)
Twilight: Do you need some water?
Rarity: Oh, I’m fine, darling. (She sits up; Aloe blow-dries Twilight’s mane.) But why can’t you try something different for once?
(A quick bit of magic gathers the streaked dark blue strands into a loose topknot.)
Rarity: A chic up-do will simply scream “headmare”!
Twilight: (undoing it the same way, chuckling dryly) I’m not sure I want my mane to scream anything. (to Aloe) I’ll just have the same as always.
Rarity: (wearily) Oh, bother. (Lotus wipes her face clean.) Of course you will.
Twilight: What can I say? I know what I like.
(A nearby stack of magazines catches her attention.)
Twilight: (floating one to Rarity) But there’s nothing stopping you from trying a new style.
Rarity: I do feel the winds of change rustling my mane.
(The motion has fully exposed the cover photo, a profile close-up of a mare whose voluminous tresses billow behind her. Rarity exerts her field to replace Twilight’s and begins to flip pages.)
Rarity: But what to get? (Lotus moves in for a closer look.) Hmmm…
(The magazine snaps shut in time with her deflated little grunt, surprising the pale blue attendant.)
Rarity: (hopping off chair; the towel falls from her mane) I need something spectacular!
(As if on cue, the purple tresses begin to stream back from head and rump as if caught in a sustained wind. She notices the effect and is absolutely captivated.)
Rarity: Something moving!
(Cut to the cause—an open window, which Lotus quickly shuts to stop an intruding breeze. With the moving air cut off, Rarity’s mane/tail fall limp and all the spark goes right out of her. Across the way, Aloe has started using a hoof-held brush on Twilight’s mane.)
Twilight: Princesses Celestia and Luna are the only ones with manes like that. (Rarity leans in, fully herself again—mane/tail and all.)
Rarity: Not for long!
(She walks away. Dissolve to a close-up of her reflection in a mirror, seen from the neck up; she is in the ground-floor showroom of the Carousel Boutique. She has shed her robe and is straining mightily to rearrange her mane with horn-power alone. No matter how hard she tries to make this bit or that wave/float/cascade, though, every last hair snaps right back to its elegantly curled state.)
Rarity: Oh, come on, mane, move!
(She does succeed in getting all of it to blow, but only for a moment, and she grimaces to herself as it settles back down. An exasperated little exhalation from the corner of her mouth is needed to pop her forelock’s curl back in. On the next line, her image turns away from the mirror and the camera zooms out to frame the real McCoy in front of it.)
Rarity: There must be a secret to it.
(The entire scene pivots 180 degrees around an imaginary vertical line through its center. Now she nods to a just-arrived Starlight Glimmer, who ignites her horn and lets go a with a wide-angle beam that fills most of the screen. As it dies out, the view shifts to an extreme close-up of Rarity’s face in profile, eyes shrunken to points under the intensity of this onslaught. The little of her mane that can be seen is sticking straight back from her head, and a zoom out reveals that every last purple strand on her body is in the same shell-shocked condition. Starlight telekinetically wrenches a small portion forward and bends/curves it in an approximation of Rarity’s forelock, then offers a dopey little “ta-da” grin.)
(The debacle slides off the left edge of the screen and is replaced by a head-on close-up of the fashionista, mane/tail back to their usual grandeur. A can of hairspray is floated up and liberally applied, upon setting it aside, she dips her head forward and tosses it back so that her mane falls straight behind her neck. However, she is not at all prepared for the spray to set in such a way as to leave the locks standing straight up from her scalp and completely frozen in place.)
(This scene slides up off the top edge of the screen, taking her glower with it, giving way to her serenely smiling face in profile. Her mane streams behind her with all traces of the spray eradicated as a train whistle sounds off.)
Stallion voice: Last stop!
(A hiss of brakes, and her coiffure degenerates into an unkempt, windblown purple mass. Her face falls as she looks around herself, and a new camera angle tells the whole story—she has been riding on a train, with her head stuck under the bottom edge of a lowered shade and through an open window to catch the air. She raises the shade and pulls her head in as the speaker, a conductor, gives her a very funny look.)
Rarity: Oh, poo!
(Cut to outside. The train has arrived at the Ponyville station, and Spike flies toward Rarity as she and other passengers step onto the platform. A magically held brush has allowed her to groom herself properly; he is carrying several rolls of fabric.)
Spike: (waving, slightly lovestruck) Oh! Uh, hey, Rarity! I picked up that fabric you asked me to. Anything else you need?
(Her moment of silent, glum contemplation yields to a soft gasp as she notices the loose end of one roll fluttering in the air and the hovering dragon’s wings. The brush has been stowed.)
Rarity: (smiling slyly) Now that you mention it…
(Dissolve to the closed front door of the Carousel Boutique, seen from outside. As it swings open, the camera zooms in on Rarity, who offers an alluring smile as her mane/tail billow away from her body to one side. A camera shift picks out Twilight at the door, spa accoutrements gone and mane/tail back to their usual businesslike style.)
Twilight: Rarity! I can’t believe you figured it out! What’s the secret to the spell? (She trots across and peers closely.)
Rarity: Actually, there was no spell. All it takes is…
(The luxurious strands abruptly go limp, but pick up where they left off after an impatient little throat-clearing.)
Rarity: …a big fan!
(Twilight is completely stumped by both this explanation and the upraised white hoof that accompanies its end, until Spike’s labored respirations make themselves heard. Zoom out to frame him hovering above the two mares, his wings angled to produce the desired effect.)
Rarity: Thank you, Spikey-wikey. Now come along. We’ve got things to do and ponies who need to see me.
(She trots tranquilly out the door, Spike flying backwards and in front of her to keep pace and maintain the needed airflow. Twilight allows herself a humoring eye roll and soft giggle before the view fades to black.)
“Ail-icorn” Written by Kim Beyer-Johnson
(Opening shot: fade to black from the title card, then in to a long shot of the Castle and School of Friendship during the day. The camera zooms in slowly as a chance breeze toys with a few leaves in the placid air and a loud sneeze from Twilight rings out. Cut to a close-up of her, sitting up in bed within her chamber inside—nose/cheeks swollen and flushed, horn severely inflamed, and generally feeling every bit as miserable as she looks. The nightstand is piled with assorted palliatives, but she ignores these in favor of wiping her nose on a hoof and sinking into her pillow. Spike steps up to put a thermometer in her mouth and get an ice bag as the camera zooms out to frame four of her friends at her bedside. The only one missing is Pinkie.)
Spike: I’ve tried everything!
(He sets the bag just behind the swollen horn, then indicates/holds up various items as he continues.)
Spike: Poultices, soup, a poultice made of soup, but nothing’s helping Twilight get better!
(The patient removes the bag and spits the thermometer away, exhibiting a roaring case of nasal congestion when she speaks.)
Twilight: I told you, Spike, it’s just a little spring allergy!
(She underscores the point by cranking off a sneeze that comes complete with a blast of errant, glittery magic from her horn. He hastily lifts a soup bowl for protection, dumping the contents all over himself in the process.)
Twilight: In my horn. (The glimmering particles settle onto the bedspread.)
Rarity: Strange. I’ve never had a horn allergy.
Rainbow: Must be an alicorn thing.
Rarity: Oh, pity. The glitter is simply par excellence. (She lifts a few bits; Spike, now clean, observes worriedly.)
Spike: Uh, I wouldn’t do that.
(A flash, and consternation takes hold in the white unicorn’s mind when the hoof touching the stuff sprouts a pair of roller-skate wheels.)
Spike: Told you.
(Rarity gets absolutely nowhere trying to shake them off, and biting/pulling proves equally ineffective.)
Applejack: (to Fluttershy) That is the fifth-strangest thing I’ve ever seen.
Rarity: How do I get it off?
(Her next attempt informs her that “by stomping” is not the answer, as the wheels cause that hoof to shoot out from underneath so that she crashes spreadeagle to the floor.)
Rarity: Oh, whoopsie!
(She voices a woozy sigh as Fluttershy helps her up and Spike climbs off the bed, leaving the soup bowl on the mattress. Another arcane bolt sings through the room in time with Twilight’s cough; this time, it catches Fluttershy and teleports her out of the room, leaving Rarity to slam back onto the tiles. The timid pegasus reappears a moment later on the side of the bed opposite the others—now covered with ice and snow and every inch of her tinted in frigid shades of blue except for her eyes. She drops to her haunches.)
Fluttershy: (shivering) So…c-c-c-c-c-cold.
Spike: (to others) See? (Rarity pulls herself up to the mattress’s edge.) We gotta do something to stop Twilight from sneezing magic!
Twilight: Sorry, but there’s nothing you can do. (holding up a book) Everything I’ve read says this just has to run its cour—
(She tosses it away and trails off into the windup for a sneeze.)
Rainbow: TAKE COVER!!
(Spike follows her advice by crawling under the bed, and Rainbow swoops across to get the half-frozen Fluttershy out of range. The sneeze brings yet another wild blast; Rarity bails out just in time to let a hapless Applejack take it in the face. The spell explodes in a vivid blast of deep pink, which clears to leave the farmer wearing both a faint corona in this color and a healthy crop of sparkles from one end to the other. It also causes her to float off the floor.)
Applejack: Uh-oh!
(She immediately finds herself being yanked this way and that through the air, yelling in fear the whole time and barely mixing Fluttershy and Rainbow.)
Twilight: Sorry, Applejack.
(Who thinks fast and deploys her trusty lasso; the loop snaps tight around a bedpost, and she gets the free end in her teeth to hold herself more or less in place, head angled toward the floor.)
Rainbow: I’ll get you down!
(She zooms over and bites on a length of rope near the anchor point, leaving herself in just the right—or wrong—spot to get a faceful of magic from Twilight’s next sneeze. Rainbow unclamps her jaws, shakes her head to clear the motes, and opens her mouth in preparation to give her friend a proper dressing down about hygiene. Instead of words, though, what emerges from her mouth is a sound as of a piece of hydraulic machinery in use. Surprised, she tries again and hears a board being sawn in two; now she claps both front hooves to her mouth in sheer fright. Spike climbs up from under the bed, now wearing the soup bowl on his head, as Rarity crawls across the floor.)
Spike: Uh, what’d she say?
(Rainbow voices a jackhammer, then a siren whistle, then a loudly squawking chicken; she pouts in midair as Fluttershy flies over, still iced up but no longer shivering.)
Fluttershy: I don’t know. Not even I speak “sound effect.”
(Rarity, meanwhile, has pulled herself upright against the bookcase near the closed doors; she bangs her wheeled hoof against its upper surface.)
Rarity: This is ridiculous! (stomping) We simply must find a cure!
(And down she goes again, forgetting about her lack of traction.)
Pinkie: (from corridor, muffled by doors) Never fear... (They are bucked open; zoom in quickly on her.) …Pinkie Pie is here! (fishing around behind herself) Special delivery from Zecora!
(On the end of this, cut to a close-up of a small bottle as she holds it aloft on one hoof; it bears a label with Zecora’s grinning visage, and a tag hangs from the stopper. An incensed Rainbow lets go with a barrage of drill, cuckoo clock, yowling cat, and slow-motion sounds while reeling Applejack in from the upper reaches of the bedchamber. Rarity crawls to the bed and drags herself halfway up.)
Pinkie: That’s what I said. (Hop to the bedside.) Anyhoo, Zecora promised this potion will cure Twilight.
(The infirm mare’s aura seizes and uncorks the bottle, and she wastes no time in guzzling every drop, emitting a small hiccup after it is all down the hatch. Within seconds, every trace of the allergy has been relieved and the effects of her spells gone wild are being undone. Applejack’s levitation wears off, dropping her headfirst to the ground, Fluttershy thaws out in a blink, and Rainbow regains her voice.)
Rainbow: (laughing) Aw, yeah!
(Fluttershy helps Applejack up as the camera pans away from these three to stop on Pinkie/Rarity/Spike. The wheels vanish from the designer’s stricken hoof to restore its immaculate appearance. Cut to Twilight, her voice back to normal.)
Twilight: It worked! (Zoom out to frame all seven on the next word.)
Pinkie: Except…
(Twilight has just enough time to scrunch her face up in surprise before a flash of white engulfs her. What it leaves behind is a Princess reverted to infancy, who plops onto the bed from a few inches up.)
Pinkie: …there may be some teensy-eensy side effects.
(As the new-again baby starts crying up a storm, Rarity hurriedly levitates her into the arms of a justly surprised Spike. The five grown mares back away from the bed with varying degrees of speed and urgency, leaving the assistant-turned-babysitter to fend for himself and scared out of his wits. Fade to black.)
“Teacher of the Month” Written by Katherine Chilson
(Opening shot: fade to black from the title card, then in to an extreme close-up of a patch of bare stone wall. Fluttershy reaches into view to hang up a framed photograph that shows her in a badly discombobulated frame of mind. As she gets it just so, the camera cuts to a longer shot of her, hovering above the fireplace in the teachers’ lounge of the School as first seen in “Non-Compete Clause.” The nine identically dazed images commemorating her previous Teacher of the Month awards are still on display, a tenth hangs off the edge of the School crest, and the one she is hanging up completes a triangle of six more. Applejack steps into view.)
Applejack: Hey, Fluttershy! Congrats on being Teacher of the Month… (a bit sourly) …again. What is this, number fifteen?
Fluttershy: (bashfully) Oh, um, sixteen, actually. (Giggle; Rainbow flies up to her.)
Rainbow: What’s your secret? Say some other pony wanted to be Teacher of the Month. What should she do?
Fluttershy: (landing in front of Applejack) Well, um, I’m not exactly sure.
(Daytime sky can now be seen through the lounge windows. Rainbow touches down and leans in expectantly, as does Applejack. Zoom in slowly on the trio as Fluttershy begins to think; the screen flashes white and clears to frame her classroom, filled with students talking animatedly among themselves as they construct birdhouses. She trots to the front.)
Fluttershy: All right, class. Time to tidy up. (Every young face falls.)
Students: Awww… (Fluttershy thinks fast, then brightens hers.)
Fluttershy: I mean…it’s time for a cleanup dance party!
(She gestures to one side; pan quickly in that direction and stop on her rabbit Angel, who smugly kicks a nearby crank-operated phonograph to drop its needle onto the turntable. He pulls out a pair of sunglasses, dons them, and begins to groove to the light, cheery swing melody filling the room. Roving beams and spots of light play across walls and floor, instantly reviving the group’s spirits.)
Students: Yay!
(They dance and laugh, the camera zooming in on Fluttershy. She beams as students get to the task of putting the place back in order, but a camera flash from o.s. throws her into a sudden tizzy. The glare clears to frame a close-up of one of her award pictures in the present; from here, dissolve to her classroom at a different moment in the past. The students are present and accounted for, and the floor is clear.)
Fluttershy: Today, we’re going to learn about… (sternly) …responsibility.
(They groan at this pronouncement.)
Fluttershy: (brightly, descending among them, holding three young rabbits) By taking care of baby animals!
(Several of them from a range of species fly/scamper/lope toward the group, bringing them out of the doldrums in a heartbeat.)
Students: Yay!
(The teacher hugs her long-eared charges, but a camera flash scatters them and leaves her momentarily stunned. It clears to frame another of her pictures in the present. From here, dissolve to a heavy downpour soaking one of the School’s rooftops, seen from just inside a window; Fluttershy steps up and regards the scene gloomily.)
Fluttershy: Sorry, everyone. (She turns away from it.) Looks like we have to cancel our field trip because of the weather.
(The camera shifts to frame her addressing the students in her classroom; their reaction is about as unhappy as can be expected.)
Students: Awww…
(Gallus flops forward onto his face, letting his tongue hang exaggeratedly from the corner of his mouth, as Fluttershy trots off to one side. He perks up at the sight of three flat, brightly colored boxes being dropped one by one to form a stack inches from his face; a moment later, Fluttershy is flying to the front of the room and carrying a fourth. Gallus sits up, his eyes and those of all the other learners turning confusedly in her direction. When the camera cuts to her, she has perked up greatly and is hovering before them with a copy of Dragon Pit—the game Starlight Glimmer and Sunburst enjoyed as foals, as seen in “Uncommon Bond”—nestled in her hooves.)
Fluttershy: We’ll just have to stay here and play games instead!
Students: (from o.s., raising varied appendages) Yaaaay!
(Silverstream hoists a camera and snaps; its flash fills the screen and gives way to a close-up of one more picture of the freaked-out Fluttershy hanging up over the lounge fireplace. A tilt down picks it out as the topmost and newest one, and the camera zooms out in the same motion to frame her, Applejack, and a hovering Rainbow.)
Applejack: (to Fluttershy) Wow. You really are a great teacher!
Rainbow: (excitedly, pulling Applejack closer) Soooo…teach us! How can we get our picture on that wall?
(The yellow pegasus begins to mull this over very carefully. Dissolve to a close-up of the phonograph, now sitting on a different table. A blue hoof snakes into view to set the needle in the groove and start it playing the same tune as for the “cleanup dance party.” Several small critters, including a sunglasses-free Angel, bob heads to the beat from their spot in a basket on the floor. Cut to a stack of boxed board games, then to the upper reaches of the School’s gym—now festooned with balloons and assorted party decorations. Silverstream swoops down on the next line, the camera following her descent to frame Applejack, Rainbow, and the students gathered in this area. Tables have been set up with snacks and drinks.)
Applejack: Welcome to the first annual Student Appreciation School Party!
Rainbow: (foreleg around Applejack’s shoulders, pulling her close) Set up and hosted by us!
Students: YAAAAAAY!!
Fluttershy: (trotting up to the pair) I definitely think they should be Teachers of the Month, don’t you?
(Murmurs of agreement ripple through the attendees as they disperse to partake of the varied entertainments.)
Applejack: Thanks for your help, Fluttershy. We woulda never thought of this without you. (Fluttershy blushes slightly.)
Smolder: (now o.s.) Wait.
(The music stops with a screech of the needle being yanked off the record, and the young dragon rises into a hover.)
Smolder: This was Fluttershy’s idea? (Next two lines overlap, both very sheepish.)
Applejack: Uh…yep.
Rainbow: (scratching back of head) Well…
(Pan quickly from them to a close-up of one suddenly nervous “mastermind,” who nevertheless works up to a smile as the students crowd around her to voice their appreciation. A camera flash fills the screen and clears to show a new photo going up on the wall—the same brain-locked expression as the other sixteen, but with bits and pieces of the youths’ images packed in around the edges. Fluttershy adjusts it and offers a smile and shrug toward ground level—“eh, what are you gonna do?”—and Applejack and Rainbow, on the receiving end, chuckle weakly to themselves over having inadvertently bowled themselves out. Fade to black.)
“Starlight the Hypnotist” Written by Gillian M. Berrow
(Opening shot: fade to black from the title card, then in to Starlight’s office within the School. Daytime sky can be seen through the window. She is seated on the couch facing her desk and making repairs to a cupcake-shaped kite held in her magic. As she reattaches a broken bit of the frame, a knock at the closed doors snaps her out of the zone. Blue eyes glance curiously across the room; cut to an extremely preoccupied Twilight standing just outside in the corridor. Getting no immediate response, she turns to leave—and then the doors swing open under Starlight’s control.)
Starlight: Oh! Hey, Twilight. Did you knock?
(The Princess peeks into the office with one of her shakiest grins to date.)
Twilight: No? I mean, yes? I mean, am I interrupting something? I’ll come back later. (She turns to depart…)
Starlight: (standing on couch) Uh, no, stay!
(…then turns back and enters, her aura flicking a couple of scrolls off a shelf. Starlight hops down and crosses to her desk, floating the kite alongside.)
Starlight: I was just fixing Pinkie Pie’s kite. (Now behind it, she notes Twilight’s rattled demeanor.) Uh, is everything okay?
(One violet hoof spins a globe in the corner, followed by a nearly unhinged giggle from the mare attached to it.)
Twilight: Well, since you asked, there is a little tiny something bothering me. (She steps to the couch with a big fake grin.)
Starlight: (laughing, sitting in desk chair) Oh! Then you’ve come to the right counselor. (Twilight sits facing her.)
Twilight: Oh, wow. This is actually kind of embarrassing, but…
Starlight: (encouragingly) But…?
Twilight: (hesitantly) The thing is, I’m terrified of… (suddenly scared, shivering; zoom in slowly) …of…
(Dissolve to a corridor within the School; she approaches a group of students who are looking over the notices posted on a bulletin board. A glance in Yona’s direction contorts her features into a spasm of purest fear, the camera zooming in quickly as she hitches in a breath. The view then shifts to the smiling yak, and a zoom in picks out a ladybug that has come to rest on the tip of her nose. The spotted critter waves cheerfully at the headmare, who snaps to with a panicked yell and beats wings to get shut of the area, stirring up a tornado of loose papers in the bargain.)
(Wipe to her at a table, sitting across from Gallus and Smolder for a meal—either breakfast or dinner, based on the half-lit sky beyond the window. As Twilight eats a spoonful from her bowl and the two students eye theirs with clear displeasure, a ladybug flutters down to land in the middle of the table. At the sight of it, she lets her spoon clatter down and comes within a beat of choking on her food; she lifts off with a scream and very nearly tips the table onto Gallus and Smolder. She winds up a shivering, bug-eyed ball of nerves clinging to one of the rafters.)
(Wipe to Silverstream looking over the bookshelves arrayed on the second floor of the library. She smiles at the approach of Twilight and takes the book held out in the latter’s field—with a ladybug scurrying up the spine. Twilight’s particular brand of entomophobia gets the better of her once again, in the form of a screaming, hyperventilating, stumbling leap/flight from the balcony railing.)
(Dissolve to Twilight and a most puzzled Starlight in the present.)
Starlight: Ladybugs? Like the cute little red beetle things with black spots?
Twilight: When I was a filly, a swarm of ’em got into our house. Shining Armor told me that their spots were extra eyes— (She pulls her lower eyelids down for effect.) —watching wherever you go. (cringing) So creepy!
(She finishes with a whimper, huddling down and wrapping her wings around herself for a moment.)
Twilight: Ever since Fluttershy assigned the students that ladybug care project, they’re everywhere!
(Starlight just smiles and levitates a book off her desk; cut to Twilight’s perspective as it settles into her grip. The cover depicts a bespectacled mare staring intently at a filly; both pairs of eyes are filled with mesmeric spirals.)
Twilight: What’s this? (reading cover) Magical Hypnosis for Phobias: A Beginner’s Guide. (Both again.)
Starlight: Mmm-hmm! I’ve been studying the techniques. Want to give it a shot?
(After a brief, uncertain glance down at the tome, Twilight sets it aside and offers a resolute nod.)
Starlight: (gasping excitedly) Okay! All you have to do is keep your eyes on the star.
(She materializes a star-shaped pendant on the end of a pocket watch chain as she says this; on the end of the line, cut to Twilight, whose eyes begin to follow it as it is swung gently back and forth.)
Starlight: (from o.s., soothingly) You should begin to feel sleepy any moment. (The lids droop slowly; the next sentence develops a slight echo.) Just listen to the sound of my voice.
(Now the eyes are shut; cut to frame both. The office doors are now closed.)
Starlight: Instead of being afraid when you see a ladybug, you will now—
(The doors burst open and Pinkie slides in on her hocks, spooking Starlight into letting the pendant drop from her field’s grip.)
Pinkie: KITE-FLYING TIME!! WOO-HOO!!
Twilight: (dreamily) Ladybug. Kite-flying time. (slowly pumping a hoof) Woo-hoo.
(Neither she nor Pinkie notices that Starlight’s face has frozen in a horrified grimace. Twilight comes to, voicing a woozy little moan, and looks dazedly about herself as Starlight claps a hoof to her own face with a disgusted groan. From here, dissolve to the three mares flying kites on the School grounds; Twilight’s is shaped like a ladybug, Pinkie is using the repaired cupcake model, and Starlight has sent up a rig shaped as one of the four-pointed stars in her cutie mark. Pinkie has the end of her line tied to her forelock, while the other two are using levitated spools. A close-up of the kites shows Twilight’s rising rapidly above the others; it soon vanishes into a bank of clouds, followed by her half-crazed, taunting whoop from ground level.)
Twilight: (from o.s.) Can’t see me now, huh?
(Back to the three, Starlight’s face broadcasting a single terrified thought: “What have I done?”)
Twilight: What’s wrong? Got clouds in your eyespots? (Demented laugh.)
Pinkie: (to Starlight) Wow! Twilight really likes her new kite. But why does she keep yelling at it to stop looking at her?
(The would-be hypnotist moans wearily to herself, and the view fades to black.)
“Sundae Sundae Sundae” Written by Gillian M. Berrow
(Opening shot: fade to black from the title card, then in to a close-up of the sun hanging bright and yellow in a clear daytime sky. Zoom out and tilt down quickly to ground level, where a tent has been set up next to Sugarcube Corner. A small stage protrudes from the front, while a curtain blocks the passing ponies from getting a peek at the interior; a party cannon has been parked off to either side on the turf. The tent sports an ice cream pattern, and the motif is repeated in the bunches of balloons anchored to the roof and the surrounding fence. Pinkie stands at center stage, Mr. and Mrs. Cake to either side; the pink mare has piled her mane high on her head and donned a blue-striped paper cap with the top cut away to accommodate it. Atop this lot is a headdress styled as a giant ice cream sundae. She addresses the passersby—many of whom are wearing sunglasses and broad hats to ward off the rays—through a megaphone.)
Pinkie: (amplified) Step right up, everypony, to the coolest attraction in all of Equestria!
(One giggle later, she spots a couple ambling by and zips over to them, megaphone gone and all accessories shed except for a pair of shades propped on her forehead.)
Pinkie: (pulling them over eyes) And I mean cool!
(She darts away, prompting an excited murmur; cut to a unicorn wearily propping herself on the closed lower half of a door and seeking relief with a levitated fan. Here comes Pinkie, sunglasses ditched and sporting a coat, knit cap, and mittens as if a blizzard might strike at any moment.)
Pinkie: This show is colder than a snow sandwich in Yakyakistan!
(This news brings a smile to the listener’s face as she races away, and a second one pokes his head out eagerly. Back to the stage; Pinkie has put her mane up and traded the winter gear for her paper cap and sundae rig, and a crowd is starting to gather.)
Pinkie: (twitching curtain open slightly) What icy treasures await you ponies behind this very curtain?
(The camera shifts to stage level, pointing out into the crowd, and she pops up among them. Now she has let her mane down and traded her ice cream duds for a blue/white necktie and a gray fedora with a press card tucked into the band, and is holding a notepad and pencil.)
Pinkie: Oh! I’m glad you asked, ’cause I’ve got the scoop!
(Away she goes; an instant later, one hoof thumps down on the planks, accompanied by the end of a vertical pole. A head-on view frames her standing on her hind legs and holding a giant ice cream scoop, her mane up and decorated with the paper hat and headdress. The reporter trappings have been disposed of.)
Pinkie: A big one! Presenting the one, the only… (twirling scoop, planting it upright) …Sugarcube Corner Ice Cream Museum!
(The party cannons to either side of the stage let off a double blast of confetti and streamers, the crowd voices its energetic approval—but a distinct note of worry plays across Mrs. Cake’s face as she shades her eyes for a glance at the relentless sun and begins to sweat. Her husband is also ill at ease.)
Mrs. Cake: Uh… (Clear throat.) …uh, Pinkie Pie, uh—
Pinkie: (to crowd, ignoring her; scoop gone) The Sugarcube Corner Ice Cream Museum is the only place where you can learn about the history of ice cream and admire whatever flavor you favor! (Giggle.) Come on, everypony!
(Now she makes her way at high speed from one knot of spectators to another in turn. First up is Pinkie’s sister Maud, accompanied by her boyfriend Mudbriar.)
Pinkie: Revere the rocky road! (Maud smiles; she moves to Lyra Heartstrings.) Commend the cookie dough! (To a mare at the fence.) Marvel at the mint chip! (To Lily and another mare.) And don’t forget to take a dip in the rainbow sprinkle pool. (enraptured, sinking out of sight) It’s so beautiful.
(Up onstage, Mr. Cake opens the curtain just long enough for a split-second peek beyond, then directs a terse “no go” grunt and head shake across the way to his spouse.)
Mrs. Cake: Pinkie Pie, dear, the ice cream is going to— (Pinkie whips across and throws a foreleg over her shoulders.)
Pinkie: —be delicious! (jumping to center stage, throwing salvos of spoons into the crowd) That’s right, Mrs. Cake, because there’s tasting spoons for everypony! You get a spoon, and you get a spoon, and you get a spoon, and you get a spoon!
(Cut to the flying utensils on the end of this, several being caught in hoof and horn-power, then to the ponies holding them and talking up a storm at the prospect of finding some sweet relief from the high temperatures.)
Pinkie: (cupping hoof to ear) What could top that, you ask? (Pause.) Go on. (Cut to them; she points and continues o.s.) You ask.
Mare: (nervously) Uh…what could—what could top— (Pinkie leans into view toward her, prompting a gasp.)
Pinkie: TOPPINGS!! (tossing various yummy bits everywhere) Jimmies, gummies, crumbles, jumbles, sprinkles, pickles—
(The camera shifts to the onlookers and back during this line, the ponies catching samples in their mouths—except for one stallion who winds up with pickle slices covering his eyes.)
Pinkie: (gasping, dropping to haunches) —and that’s just the first row!
Mrs. Cake: Well! Why don’t we go inside and see?
(Instead of heeding this suggestion, Pinkie gasps and zips out to address Cranky Doodle Donkey, holding a standard-sized ice cream scoop out to him as if it were a microphone. He is present with his wife Matilda and wearing a match for the dark toupee he sported when he first came to Ponyville.)
Pinkie: Tell me, Cranky, what flavor of ice cream are you most excited about?
Cranky: Vanilla.
Pinkie: (tossing scoop aside, pulling him close) Well, you’re in luck, because this museum’s got that too!
(She pushes him back on the end of this, then slides across the stage on her hocks.)
Pinkie: (rising to hind legs) Now who’s ready to chill out with me?
(Hooves wave wildly skyward, accompanied by a tumult of happy cries.)
Pinkie: Welcome to…
(Each half of the Cake couple shudders/cringes/perspires in turn…the curtains are pulled fully open, flooding the screen with light…and the view clears to frame a head-on view of the crowd, every member of which gasps in complete shock. The camera cuts to the now-exposed interior of the tent, appointed with tables and tubs of ice cream treats that have all melted into puddles of sugary sludge under the themed balloons and decorations—the problem Mrs. Cake was trying to bring to Pinkie’s attention.)
Pinkie: …the Sugarcube Corner Ice Cream… (noticing the mess, deflating with a choked gasp) …Soup Museum?
(The dribbles of goop oozing off the serving dishes and over the edges of bowls and tubs testify to the accuracy of her new assessment.)
Cranky: Good. I can’t stand eating cold things.
(A though clatters through the mind under the magenta mane, and a pink hoof is thrust into one particularly large tub so Pinkie can have a lick—which in turn surprises her enough to shove the whole hoof into her mouth.)
Pinkie: Mmmm!
(She laughs greedily around the appendage, pulls it free, and proceeds to leap squarely into the tub.)
Pinkie: Melted is my new favorite flavor!
(Laughter ripples through the crowd as ponies start to move closer, ready to sample this unorthodox method for serving ice cream. The screen blacks out as if a bucket of hot fudge were being poured over the camera lens from above.)