When Scootaloo woke up in the morning, stretched out her hooves, let out an earth-shaking yawn, and fluttered her tiny wings, she quickly realized that today was going to suck. It wasn’t just the fact that her dead parents were dead and were never coming back—because they were dead—and it wasn’t just because her fragile, underdeveloped wings were never going to grow large enough to support her own weight, and it certainly wasn’t just because her personal hero, Rainbow Dash, was actually a huge douche. No, today was going to suck because, as she rubbed the sleep from her eyes, she realized she was out of orange juice.

Throwing the soggy newspaper off her chest, Scootaloo rolled out of the cardboard box and nudged the empty orange juice container. It tipped over. She sighed.

“Mooooooooooom! We’re out of orange juice!”

"There's more in the fridge, sweetheart," called Scootaloo's mother from the other room. There was a pause before she said, "You're not still sleeping in that cardboard box, are you?"

Scootaloo glanced over at the cardboard box she had been still sleeping in.

"No."

"Good. I swear, I don't know why you insist on pretending to be an orphan."

Scootaloo pretended not to hear that and instead decided to lament her long-dead parents by laying some moldy flowers over a makeshift grave she was hiding in her closet. Once she'd finished her morning ritual, Scootaloo headed to the kitchen, where she saw her father reading the morning paper.

He noticed her as she came in, and lowered the paper. "Mornin', ‘Loo. You excited for the Summer Sun Celebration?"

Scootaloo scrambled up into the chair opposite her father and started shoveling down the bowl of oats in front of her.

"Mm, guess so," she said through a mouthful. "Hopefully I'll get to see Celestia this time."

He chuckled, giving her an amused grin. "I'm sure you will," he said, reaching across the table and ruffling her mane.

That night, as the Summer Sun Celebration got underway, Scootaloo found herself milling through the crowd, utterly disinterested in everything that was going on. She came across a pair of fillies that looked to be about her age and she sidled up next to them.

"Hey there, I'm—"

"Shh!" said the shorter of the two. Her horn sparkled for a moment as she looked up at the unicorn on the balcony. "That's my sister!" she squeaked.

The filly next to unicorn, who had a large bow, held a hoof to her lips. "Quiet. I can't hear what she's saying."

Scootaloo squinted up at the balcony. She couldn't really hear what the mare was saying, but she looked like she was about to do something. Then, a moment later, she threw open the curtain.

Scootaloo gasped. There she was! There was Celes—Wait... no, there she wasn't.

"Uhh... Anyone else not seeing this?"

"Oh boy..." said the filly with the bow.

Suddenly, storm clouds gathered inside the building, swirling around the balcony and forming a purple mist. A few seconds later, they had coalesced into a violent-looking mare with spiky helmet around her face and a smoky mane trailing off her head. She cackled cruelly as everyone stared up in silence.

A crack of thunder shook the room, and just as Scootaloo felt the rumbling in her gut, she felt something else. A bolt of lighting had arced down from the clouds and struck her right in the chest.

She barely had time to mutter, "Seriously?" before she crumpled into a heap and died.