Apple Bloom was at a table—the table—eating Apple Jacks. Then Applejack came down.

“Mornin’, sugarcube,” Applejack said, sounding slightly tired but not too bad.

“Hey.”

Applejack went into the lavatory, then Apple Bloom noticed a misplaced hoof mirror on the table and masticated to herself. Big Mac came down.

“Hey, Big Mac,” Apple Bloom said through no Apple Jacks because she bothered not to talk with her mouth full.

“Hi.”

“AJ beat ya to the bathroom bah seventeen minutes an’ four seconds.”

“That’s exact.”

“Don’ explain the joke.”

Eight minutes and thirty-two seconds later, Applejack left the bathroom, then Big Mac entered it. By this time, Apple Bloom had left for school. In fact, she left for school so hard that the narrative followed her.

Apple Bloom was contently walking to school when suddenly she tripped on a particularly dense dome of air. This had little effect on her due to her quadrupedness and she carried on, making it to Ponyville Primary Place of Pedagogy without further incident. Skipping to the dialogue, this happened.

“My day’s been a lot harder to plan ever since they started using irrational numbers for the periods,” Sweetie Belle said.

“Word dat, sista,” Apple Bloom said.

“What?”

“Dunno. What do you think ah the somewhat new switch to irrational numbers, Scootaloo?”

“It’s annoying and I can’t see why they did it, but what can you do.”

“That’s offensive ta ponies without saht.”

No one knew what to say do that.

“Sweetie Belle,” Apple Bloom said, “Ah’ve been tryin’ to avoid it, but Ah have ta ask... what’s with the long hospital-stahle bandages on your leg?”

“I was practising teleportation and I got the edge of my leg into a tree branch.”

“Why did Rarity have hospital-stahle bandages?”

“She didn’t, we went to the hospital.”

“Ah.”

Silence again.

“Doesn’t the bell usually ring when our conversations end?” Scootaloo said.

“Yeah,” ⅔ of the CMC said.

“Did you say ‘yeah’, Sweetie Belle?” Apple Bloom said. “Just ‘cause you’ve been more of a yes pony recently.”

“Yeah. I’m doing it to annoy Rarity.”

“Not even you like ‘er anymore?”

“I do, but I wish she’d stop trying to push her fanciness on me. That’s not who I am.”

The bell rang.

“Order is restored,” Scootaloo seriously thought that was funny.

And so the CMC all went to science class. There were those posters on the walls making bad geology puns, but the science currently in question was in fact biology. Since “school is boring” is one of the basic rules of life, Applejack got the focus again.

“What?” Applejack, at her computer, said, quickly turning her head to the camera. “Ah’m busy.”

“Minecraft isn’t ‘busy’,” camerapony #8 said.

“Have you played Mahnecraft?”

“No, but—”

“Then don’t go tellin’ me whether it’s work or not.”

“But then—”

“Stop being a dick,” transcriber #3 said.

Meanwhile at Sugarcube Corner!

“Yeah,” Pinkie said, “We’re goin’ under. What other baking-type jobs are available in Ponyville? Maybe I should actually look sometime instead of just talking to myself about it. Talking to myself... that’s something I’ve been doing a lot of lately. I need a talking buddy like the other mane characters. But you know who wouldn’t make a good talking buddy for me? Zecora. Mostly because I hate her and want her to burn in Hell. I mean, she’s so... so... see, that’s why I love her—completely platonically—because every single bit of her personality is so... what’s a good adverb... unwaveringly? No. The point is that I’m goin’ down the Applejack-style ‘doesn’t have flaws’ route.”

Silence.

“Faust, I wish something would happen.”

“So dividing by bacteria—” said the teacher, before being interrupted by the bell ringing. “Um, there’re supposed to be ten minutes left in the class, but just remember to write your 5,000-word reports on RNA to turn in tomorrow.”

Everyone packed up their supplies and travelled to their lockers, or however classes end.

“Ah almost feel as bad for you as Ah perpetually do for Scootaloo,” Apple Bloom said.

“With my leg? It’s just a flesh wound.”

“No, with the cereal you had today. Ah can’t believe it went stale so quick. Yeah, your fuckin’ leg. You sure you’ll be all raht?”

“I’ll be fine. If you need something to worry about, like you said, there’s always Scootaloo.”

“Ah don’t ‘need somethin’ to worry about’. If anythin’, it’s you who needs somethin’ to worry about.”

“Why would I—”

“Ah dunno. lol.”

“I’m just glad we were able to become friends again,” Bon Bon said regarding her relationship with Lyra, if the transcribers are to be believed. Which they are, because they’re perfectly trustworthy both inside of transcribing things and out.

“Mm-hmm,” said Lyra. “You’re a good pony.”

“What?”

“What?”

“You sounded a little dishonest there.”

“I didn’t mean to.”

“I guess I was just being crazy. Anyway, I was thinking this would be a good time to ask you—”

“I’m Octavia’s.”

“Okay.”

“And that should just about conclude today’s literary studies,” said Strawberryvine. “Wait, I actually got to finish a class? Um, anyway, submit your 5-word persuasive papers supporting or attacking the continued use of paper tomorrow. Remember, that’s a maximum, not a minimum.”

Boring school stuff happened, then there was a lunch table scene.

“You went for apply stuff again?” Sweetie Belle said. “Don’t you ever get sick of apples since—”

“The fuck is your fuckin’ problem with apples?”

“I like apples—”

“Just ‘cause you’d get sick ah apples, that don’t mean anypony else would, okay? So Ah really lahke apples, you got a fuckin’ problem with that?”

“No, it’s just that you eat them every single day—”

“Ah wish Ah could quit walkin’ an’ sleepin’ since Ah do those every day too. You know—”

“Apple Bloom,” said Scootaloo, who was in a chair adjacent to Apple Bloom. She put a leg around her neck.

Apple Bloom looked at Scootaloo. “What?” her angry tone hadn’t worn off.

“Calm down.”

Apple Bloom took a couple somewhat heavy breaths, glanced briefly to Sweetie Belle then back to Scootaloo, and looked at her food. Scootaloo withdrew her leg.

“You good?” Scootaloo said.

“No.”

“Just be good by the square root of third period.”

“Ah will.”

The rest of their eatery carried on without incident, and so √3rd period, for them maths, begun undramatically, went undramatically, and ended undramatically. Which sucks, because that’s where we were hoping to get most of our footage. So here’s Pinkie to close out the chapter.

“Suuueee,” Pinkie said, “I was just thinking about Zecora. And, you know, how much I hate her. I hope she gets killed by a somewhat slow, extremely painful poison, but not before she loses all of her legs in a circular saw accident and both her eyes to something pointy. That would be so awesome.” She paused for a second. “Yep, that’s all there is to it: I hate Zecora.”

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