"Oh shut your pie-hole, Sugarcube!" Applejack vented as she ran down the steps to her farmhouse.

"But Applejack, I want my cutie mark!"

"I said no, Apple Bloom! I will not tolerate having a sister with a used condom as her cutie mark! I don't care how probable that is, no tramp stamps for you, missy. Now get!"

The young filly looked utterly downtrodden as her sister turned her dreams of being a pole dancer into nothing more than a silly pipe dream, unsuitable for the Apple Family. She turned around dejectedly as she walked towards the entrance to her clubhouse. It's not like there was really anything that strange going on, now was there? No, it was just Applejack being Applejack.

"It's just not fair," she muttered darkly as her red ribbon somehow managed to slump with the rest of her form, wilting at the realization that no matter how hard she'd try, nothing would ever quite be as she wished it was. It was almost like the young filly was cursed to live out her days as a medieval crack-addict...

"Wait, that's it!"

With a squeal, Apple Bloom ran full tilt to her clubhouse, destined to meet the group of friends that had somehow managed not to break too many legs over the course of the last few years of their being together.

"Ah got this for sure naow!"

"Nope, I'm not doing it, Apple Bloom!"

"But ya don't know whether er not y'all like it 'til ya try it!"

"I have to agree with Sweetie on this one, Apple Bloom. While I like being all cool and shit, even Rainbow Dash would say that crack is for eggheads and Pinkie. Why don't we try pot instead? First dibs on Cups and Blunts!"

The three Cutie Mark Crusaders remained at an impasse. While Apple Bloom wanted nothing more than to get her cutie mark in cocaine dealing, both of her friends had other ideas about what to use in their dealings. This, of course, did no good since neither of the saner Crusaders wanted to try what Sweetie had suggested. Mixing heroin with methamphetamine was too much even for a crack addict like Apple Bloom, let alone a lowly pot head like Scootaloo. Oh Sweetie, what has the world gotten you into? Other than a filly hole, of course. Pervs.

"How about we take a break from our usual nonsense and try each others drugs out?"

There was a unanimous cry of agreement from the other two at Scootaloo's suggestion. Try everything once, right? Soon, the three had yet again abandoned their usual hideout for the more interesting waves of a sensational manner that were heading right their way.

"CUTIE MARK CRUSADER DRUG ABUSERS, YAY!!!!!"

It took all of thirty minutes for the fillies to get their assortments of needles, blunts, and powder for the three fillies to prepare for the coming excitement. It was as if a child had just discovered their first Christmas present, only to find it was a drowned puppy with its eyes torn from their sockets to be stuffed into a moldy Christmas sock. They were simply ecstatic.

"Dude, are you fucking happy yet?!"

"Oh my God, fuck yeah!"

"Fuck isn't a word, you guys."

"Get off the crank, Sweetie, we're not all fucking dictionaries."

"Fuck you, I can be a fucking dictionary all I fuck fuck fuckity f-f-f-fuckin' want!"

"Dude, did we get our cutie marks in fucking?"

"That's not how you fuck, Apple Bloom!"

"Really, then how do you?"

"I'll show you, babe, I'll show you."

The afternoon dragged on with their rampant shenanigans, and led to many things, not including pregnancy, venereal diseases, or Diamond Tiara's used tampon. However, it did include excessive amounts of sex, copious amount of oral, and other stuff that won't be mentioned here so that I can at least maintain the illusion that this fic somehow fails to warrant a "mature" tag, which it really does. Oh well, why am I rambling? By the way, have any of you ever tried out a Johnny D tag on your tampons? It's a hoot, I tells ya! And a bit of a conspiracy.

The moral of the story is to not try to lift too many pounds of weight at one time, because that would just be fucking stupid. Have a great day, and as always, I love y'all!