Pinkie Pie heard someone come into Sugarcube Corner and looked up from her 36×36 sudoku. Get it? Because it’s big?

“Hi, Rainbow Dash!”

“Hey. Any exciting new pastries?”

“We have—wait a minute....”

“What?”

“You’re not Rainbow Dash!”

“The hell?”

Pinkie went around the counter and pulled off what was actually a mask. “Old man Jenkins?”

“But how did you know?”

“Rainbow Dash is still in hospital.”

“What? When did that happen?”

“It was all over the news. She’s still answering the same three interview questions to this day.”

“Well, I never heard about it.”

“That’s weird. Anyway, I’m calling the police.”

He ran outside and flew away.

Meanwhile, Twilight was in her kitchen.

“If this saves even one foal’s life, it’ll all be worth it,” Twilight said.

“Why would baking cookies save a foal’s life?” Spike said.

“Are you saying you wouldn’t be happy for a foal’s life to be saved?”

“No. Answer what I actually asked you.”

“I don’t know, but I would be glad if it happened.”

“Okay....”

“Do you want a foal to die? Like, if you had a foal tied up at your mercy, what would you do?”

“If I didn’t know them and they weren’t important to the world?”

“Yes.”

“Probably eat them.”

“So you do want to kill innocent foals.”

“So do you. You want to become a spree killer, right?”

“And a massacrist and mysterious serial killer. Just an all-around polymurderer.”

“That’s a pretty big ambition.”

“Well, obviously I think I can do it.”

“Just don’t start out as a massacrist, a bunch of ponies at once might be too hard for your first time.”

“I’m not crazy, Spike.”

“You aren’t?”

“Well, okay, I’m not dumb.”

Applejack was sitting against the outside of the barn. “Big Mac should be gone for the next few hours, so....” She petted an imaginary Rainbow Dash. “Yeah, this sucks.”

Big Mac came outside. “Who’s doing the apple stand today?”

“Ah’ll do it. Ah’m just still sad an’ annoyed over the—friend tahmes Ah’ve missed with Rainbow Dash....”

“Why have you been—”

“Ah already told you. She’s mah friend so Ah’m sad that she got hurt. Is that so hard?”

“You’ve really been—”

“Quit overanalahsin’. Really. You’re actin’ lahke Ah wanna fuck ‘er. In fact, Ah fahnd that so offensive Ah’m just gonna leave right now.”

She pulled everything to the place in Ponyville they had determined to the best, which happened to be in the opposite corner of the town to Sugarcube Corner, and assembled the stand. The big question was how well the new apple crumble would sell, and if it did sell well, if that continued when it was the familiar apple crumble. She never understood why ponies ate apple crumble so infrequently when it was loved so much, since it wasn’t as if the ingredients were particularly special; the only possible thing was the seasonality of certain types of apples, and that could hardly account for the seemingly biennial frequency.

Although the novelty was always in the back of her mind to keep her from getting too excited about it, the crumble sold out, as did a few other things. It was actually quite a good day not just for that one experiment but in general, although she had more of the turnovers and little tarts left than usual. Not that many, since she didn’t bring that many since not many ponies came to her in the first place since Ponyville was a small town since the only ponies who ever lived there were born into it since nopony would move there when there was a fifty thousand-pony city just ten kilometres to the north since some planner 150 years ago made a railroad go through there instead of Ponyville. It was sunset when she came back to Sweet Apple Acres, since even though she wasn’t always out that long, she decided to do it that time since anyone she would have socialised with would’ve just been a substitute for Rainbow Dash and she didn’t want to be rudely apathetic about everything talking with a member of her family, or anyone for that matter.

Big Mac got the door. “Hi.”

“Hey. How was your day?”

“Nothing happened. How did the experiment go?”

“How do you know—oh, that experiment. Yeah, they sold out.”

“What other experiment—”

“It’s a prahvate thing.”

“What would—”

“It’s a secret.”

“But why—”

“Oh, the ‘what have you got to hahde’ attitude. Well, Ah don’t support cameras in—”

“I’m not going—”

“Ah ain’t tellin’ an’ that’s it.”

Rarity hadn’t sold much in the way of high-end clothing, mid-range clothing, or toasters that day. And whilst the last was to be expected, she usually had a decent time with the other two. She only had so long before fashion moved on and the clothes were unable to provide their primary function, making someone look like they had money. To occupy herself, she was reading a book titled “Socially Unacceptable Extreme Platonic and Sexual Love”, which despite the at times clumsy translation was a fascinating tale of the author’s experiences mountain climbing.

She put the book down as someone came into the store, because fully half of the ponies who had most recently saved the world had a job about selling something. The pony didn’t look like her typical customer; she was wearing a black jacket, black sunglasses, and black mane and tail dye, which contrasted with her white fur. Her extreme colours combined with her total lack of any colour made her the target of many vaguely racist comments.

Rarity was hardly annoyed about someone browsing the store, but what did bug her was her boyfriend smoking just outside. That spinach and red cabbage on the grill made her realise she hadn’t eaten since breakfast and made her suddenly quite hungry. As she continued to stare at the leaves, she went from fantasising about food to admiring a beautiful piece of art to mindlessly enjoying something she just found oddly soothing to outright meditation. Eventually the customer put a couple things on the desk, but it went unnoticed.

“Uh... are you okay?” She waited a couple seconds. “I got something.” She put the money on the desk. “I guess I could leave, but I don’t really feel comfortable about it.” She waited another few seconds, then came around and tapped one of her legs. “HEY!”

She didn’t want it to come to this, but saw no other choice, and pushed Rarity down to the floor. This finally worked, and Rarity got up. Without a word, she checked the price tags and counted the money.

“Thank you for shopping at the Carousel Boutique. Someday we must meet again.”

The customer took her clothes and left, taking her boyfriend and the vegetables Rarity would never know with her. Next Chapter: Chapter 30: Twilight Discovers Spike’s Porn Stash Estimated time remaining: 16 Hours, 56 Minutes