Written Off

by Sharp Spark

First published 2nd of November, 2017

Sixteen minifics that include absurdity, sweetness, darkness, and also absurdity. Also, Applejack invents the Matrix.

24 hours, 16 fics. Prepare yourself for light comedy, experimental prose, and lots of strangely-written Applejack!

These originate from the Writeoff Association's minific contest, in which I and hazeyhooves attempted to write as many stories as possible. Some of them are good! Some of them are very bad! One of them even won the contest!

Now with additional author commentary

Cover art also by Haze

How Do Ponies Use a Computer? Just Use Your Imagination, Please

"I just don't get it," Applejack said.

Rainbow Dash rolled her eyes so hard that she thought for a second she had sprained them. "It's a computer. A magical metal box that lets you talk to people on… gasp. The Internet."

"Not that, featherbrain." Applejack turned her laptop around to the website she was on. "This Kickstarter thing."

"It's a place for—"

"Again, shut it. I ain't dumb."

"Well, you're asking dumb questions."

Applejack sighed. "I mean I set this whole Kickstarter thing up and no one's giving me any money. What's the deal?"

"Let me see," Rainbow Dash scoffed. "You gotta know what you're doing. You need… oh. Huh."

The page for Buy Sweet Apple Acres a New Barn! actually looked pretty professionally done. Rainbow Dash tapped on the video at the top, only to see Applejack, Big Mac, and Apple Bloom all standing out in the orchard. "Well howdy folks!" a tinny voice played from the computer speakers, and Applejack reached over to click it closed, glaring at Rainbow Dash.

"That's embarrassing," she muttered.

Rainbow raised an eyebrow and scrolled down. "Maybe it's the pledge rewards? Let's see, you have… an apple tier. A bushel of apples tier. Good but not great. Oh, wait. Apple kombucha? Zap apple jam?? A whole barrel of Sweet Apple Acres Cider, special reserve???"

"Don't drool on the keyboard," Applejack said smugly.

"This is awesome! Man, I wish I could pledge."

Applejack glanced at her sharply. "Well, why can't you?"

"Uhhh." Rainbow Dash rubbed the back of her head. "I, uh, just don't have the money right now."

"Oh yeah?" Applejack's eyes narrowed. "You were spending plenty at Sugarcube Corner last weekend. Where exactly did it all go?"

"I might have, uh. Maybe. Possibly." Rainbow Dash coughed, muttering something under her breath.

"What was that?"

"I spent it all on another Kickstarter," she said, marginally louder. "Last night. How was I supposed to know you had your own?"

Applejack sighed. "Alright. Show me which. Maybe that'll give me some ideas."

Rainbow Dash wordlessly clicked over a few times, then passed the laptop back to Applejack.

"Flim and Flam's Fabulous Fidget Flanges," Applejack slowly read. "You've gotta be kidding, right?"

Rainbow Dash stuck out her tongue. "They're cool, okay? This is what all the kids are into these days! Don't judge!"

Applejack rubbed her chin with one hoof. "Hm. That does give me an idea. A really, really great idea."

Three months later…

"This was a terrible idea," Applejack said, frowning as their brand new barn slowly rotated in a circle.

"Eeyup," Big Mac agreed. Apple Bloom tried to push a cart of apples in and it got stuck in the door, the momentum speeding up the rotation and causing her to scream as she hung onto the cart for dear life.

"Well I don't know about you two, but I'm totally satisfied and not regretting this at all," Rainbow Dash said, "I— ugh. Hmph. Ack. How do I—" She clamped the little plastic thing between both hooves, trying not to drop it. "Do I spin it with my tongue?"

Author's Notes:

Final Ranking: 14/57

Notes: For some reason people really liked this one, despite the fact that it's about fidget spinners.

To quote myself: "Frig, I could write bad kickstarter/fidget spinner fic. This is the problem with saying bad ideas"

To quote Haze: "Rotate this Barn, Rotate this Barn, 1 2 3 4"

Apple Bloom Says a Bad Word

"Excuse me?" Cheerilee said. "Apple Bloom, did you just say what I think you said?"

"Huh?" Apple Bloom said. She looked up from the floor, where she and Scootaloo and Sweetie Belle were coloring in pictures with crayons. "I was just tellin' Scootaloo not to use all the colors up, cause giraffes ain't even supposed to be rainbowy."

Cheerilee glared at her. "That's quite enough, young filly. I heard you loud and clear, and I think you need to go to the principal's office this instant."

Apple Bloom looked over at her friends. Sweetie Belle shrugged.

"Yes ma'am," Apple Bloom said, and trudged out of the classroom and all the way to the principal's office.

Cheerilee was waiting inside when she arrived. Apple Bloom hated going to a small town school.

"Miss Bloom," Principal Cheerilee said, "your homeroom teacher says that she heard you use very improper language. Do you have anything to say for yourself?"

"I didn't say anythin' bad, I swear!" Apple Bloom said. "I mean, I just said 'swear' right there, but that's not the same thing as swearin', I'm pretty sure. Y'all gotta cut me a break."

Cheerilee gasped. "I cannot believe it. And you are such a promising student! This is going to go on your permanent record, I hope you know."

"Wait, what?" Apple Bloom protested "That ain't fair!"

"No more backtalk, or I'll have you wash your mouth out, little miss."

"At least tell me what I'm sayin' that's bad," Bloom muttered. "Y'all are crazy."

There was a slamming sound as Cheerilee hit the desk with both her hooves. She gave Apple Bloom a look that could have spoiled a jug of milk.

Apple Bloom groaned and sank down into her seat.

Apple Bloom's mouth tasted like soap all the way home. She had three different documents that she was supposed to get a parent or guardian's signature on, as well as sixteen and a half weeks of double-secret-plus detention, whatever that meant.

"Applejack, will you be my ma and sign this?" Bloom said morosely, setting the papers on the kitchen table.

"Sure thing, sugarcube. What all—" She saw 'DETENTION' written on the top sheet. "Whoa nelly, what'd y'all get yourself into this time?"

Apple Bloom bounced up and down. "See? Exactly! They said I said a bad word!"

"Ah see." Applejack frowned. "Thought Ah raised ya better than that. What in tarnation did ya say this time?"

"I just said 'y'all,'" Apple Bloom whined. "Apparently that's not okay anymore?"

Applejack gasped. "Ma always said this day would come."

"Huh?" Apple Bloom said, but Applejack was busy opening the farmhouse's kitchen window.

"Big Mac!" Applejack shouted outside, toward the barn. "Get the shotgun and call the militia, we're goin' off the grid! Big government's here to take our accents!"

"Ee-yup!" he shouted back from somewhere.

"Wait, what?"

"Thay kin' tayke mah ridickyalahs acksent offan' mah dehd bodahy!" Applejack said.

"I can't even understand ya anymore, Sis."

Applejack was already gone, screaming something about pegasus chemtrails and flouride in the water supply.

Bloom was left alone with her paperwork.

"Well, fuck," she said.

Author's Notes:

Final Ranking: 48/57

I said there'd be absurdity, didn't I? I don't think people appreciated me making Applejack so weird. (Get used to it, it won't be the last time) Admittedly, the punchline is pretty expected though. This still wasn't my lowest ranked fic. That's still coming. Be prepared.

The seed of idea originated quite a while ago when talking to Haze about weird fimfic image tricks, but I think that behavior might not work anymore? Sometimes you just write a thing and it ends up being weird in ways you didn't expect.

Today's Special

Perfect Proofs had headed straight to Joe's Donuts after his long afternoon meeting with the Canterlot Times editorial board, eager for his usual pick-me-up. He was as animated as always upon arrival, dinging the service bell more out of habit than necessity.

"Ya fallin' behind, Joe?" Proofs asked loudly as he grinned. He tipped his trilby towards the board, where 'TBD' was written in chalk. "It's already evening and ya still haven't figured out what you're selling?"

"Don'tcha know what day it is?" Old Mr. Rosehip said, from his seat down at the end of the counter. "Leave the poor guy alone."

Proofs blinked, but Joe had his back to the both of them as he organized a shelf of piping hot donuts. When Joe turned around, he was smiling like always, not seeming to have heard either of them. He nodded at Perfect Proofs. "What can I getcha, P? Same as always?"

"Yeah." Proofs hesitated for a moment, pondering Rosehip's words. "S'all good, Joe?"

"S'all good," Joe said, handing him a fresh bear claw covered in sugary glaze. He bustled off back to the kitchen again.

Proofs left his bits on the counter and trotted down to take a seat next to Mr. Rosehip. He took a bite of his bear claw, letting out a perfect sigh of contentment.

He was just about to press the geezer for info when Mr. Rosehip brought it up himself.

"It's Lost Spirits Night, y'know."

Proofs rolled his eyes. "That's a loada hooey."

"Youngsters these days!" Mr. Rosehip raised his cane, waving it in a general castigation of anyone under the age of fifty. "No respect for tradition or mystery."

"Yeah, yeah. So is it a ghost thing?"

"Is what?"

"The sign. TBD."

Mr. Rosehip harrumphed.

It was Mint Jewelup, another regular sitting in a booth, who spoke up with an answer. "It's a girl."

Proofs's eyebrows shot up. "Really?"

"Sooo romantic," Mint breathed out. "A long lost love who died on this day, right before Joe could fix her favorite dish."

Proofs rolled his eyes. "If ya say so."

"She's not dead," Lucky Bucket said, from over where he was mopping up the floors. "His old flame lives in Whinniepeg. But he don't talk about her none. The way I figure it, they broke up on this day, and so every year he leaves the board blank, just in case she comes walkin' in that door."

Mr. Rosehip grumbled into his coffee, but they all paused a moment in unison, eyes drifting towards the door in idle anticipation.

It swung open and a pudgy purple dragon waddled in.

Everyone let out a sigh of disappointment, and he frowned. "What? What'd I do?"

Lucky helped him climb up onto one of the seats at the counter. When his eyes reached the Daily Special board, he let out a soft, "Oh."

"Ya know anything about it, kid?" Proofs asked.

Spike shrugged. "Ask Joe yourself."

"Ask me what?" Joe said, walking out of the kitchen. Everyone in the diner suddenly seemed very preoccupied with minding their own business.

Joe let out a snort. "What can I getcha, Spike?"

Spike puled a long list out of his pocket, with enough donut orders for at least half a dozen hungry ponies. "Got a to-go order."

Joe let out a low whistle. "Looks like you're keepin' me busy tonight!"

"You know it!"

Donut Joe's always closed at 3 A.M. on the dot. Sometimes, this meant kicking out the occasional stragglers still a little sugar-drunk, but the diner's patrons were friendly, and almost always everyone had a friend to help them on the way home.

Tonight, everyone was gone a few minutes early, even. Which meant no one saw the neon 'Open' lights still on at 3:05. And then 3:11. And then 3:17.

That was when she arrived. The bell above the door dinged as she stepped inside, struggling under the weight of the guitar case on her back.

Joe grinned, but knew better than to offer to help. Instead, he went and turned the 'Open' sign off. She was sitting at the counter when he was done.

"What can I getcha?" he asked.

She smiled. "How about a strawberry-maple?"

Joe put on a shocked expression. "What do ya know! That's today's special!"

She giggled, as Joe trotted over to erase the Specials board and write in 'Strawberry-Maple.'

"Sorry I'm late, but the concert ran long. You know how it goes."

"Yep," Joe said. "Still liking life on the road?"

"You know it, but this is still my favorite stop every year."

Joe nodded. He brought over a strawberry-maple donut and a cup of coffee, two sugars no cream.

She took a small bite and her face lit up. "Great as always, Dad."

Joe leaned on the counter. He always had a smile for his customers, but this one, this one was a little special.

Author's Notes:

Final Ranking: 1/57

This won the writeoff! It has been very very slightly expanded from its original format. This one is also the one with the clearest connection to the round's prompt, "TBD." Many of my other ideas I had floating in my head prior to the writing day, but this one I came up with on the spot.

Everyone thank Horizon for that. He was doing a little writeoff-day coffeeshop q&a, whilst working on his own very good story that didn't make it into the contest but did deservedly well on fimfic.

me: What character in MLP doesn't get the attention they deserve in fics?
H: To keep with today's coffeehouse theme I'm going to say Donut Joe. There's so much unexplored backstory there.

(Also, this is also related to the reason fidgetfic mentions apple kombucha)

Make Twilight's Butt Great Again

Twilight's butt was good but not great. I mean it had some bounce, some chubbiness, some softness, but it just was all over the place, yaknow?

I mean, think about Fluttershy. That is a phat butt right there, squeezable like charmin, the kinda thing where when she walks through town, everypony in the street gets an all-you-can-see buffet. She's got four anacondas, and they all want some, because she's got buns, hun.

Or Rarity, who doesn't have as much natural ability (if you know what I mean) but she got it together and brought it back to ya. That yoga stuff is keeping it high and tight. Wowzers.

And of course, Applejack what with all the kicking trees and working out and oh my Celestia, one time I bounced a bit off dat ass and I think it landed in Cloudsdale. (Oh and geez, speaking of Celestia, she may be a Princess and not a Queen, but that's one fat-bottomed girl that makes the rockin' sun go round)

Anyways, I'm losing track. See, the problem is Twilight's butt is too wishy-washy, too indecisive. If it worked on any particular area it could really shape up, be something worth writing a rap song about. Instead—

"I'm not reading any more of this," Twilight said. "Ugh. Gah. Blechhhh!" She continued through a whole range of disgusted noises, reprising several she had already unconsciously made whilst working her way through Make Twilight's Butt Great Again.

"See, much better, right?" Rainbow Dash said. "I think I'm onto something here."

"You can't—" Twilight screwed her eyes shut. "Okay, let's start with the minor problems because I think language has not developed far enough to describe the enormity of the larger problems. First, why are you using first person, as the narrator?"

"Well, you told me that I couldn't do second person, remember?"

"Look," Twilight said icily. "This doesn't fix any of the things I identified about the first draft." Twilight shuddered, remembering that experience. "You don't have a narrative arc at all, and I told you to fix that a hundred times."

"Nuh uh," Rainbow Dash said, a wicked grin on her face. "That's not what you said. Not exactly."

"Yes it is," Twilight rummaged through the desk, looking for the paper. It was easy to find, seeing as how the entire page was covered in red ink from corrections. "See? Right… Oh no."

"Oh yes."

"No!"

Rainbow Dash opened her mouth and said—

Twilight set the pages down, unwilling to finish. She let out a huge sigh. "Rainbow Dash, why does your story include me talking about your story?"

"It's meta!" Rainbow Dash said proudly. "People love meta in the Writeoff!"

"No!" Twilight yelled. "They don't! I mean, occasionally something can cleverly use it to accomplish some core story goal or supplement the narrative."

"So you're saying I need it to be more meta? Maybe I should have a line that—"

"Absolutely not! Calling attention to the fact that it's meta isn't in itself even interesting!!"

Rainbow Dash rolled her eyes. "I think someone's just annoyed that Single Caress didn't understand her metaphorical fic about boning Princess Celestia and left a bad review."

"That's not what it was about!!"

"I told you you should have been more straightforward."

"We're talking about your story now," Twilight muttered. "Ugh, though I wish we weren't."

"But hey, I got a great ending line this time!"

"No you don't! That joke is awful and tired!"

"I know, I pointed that out in the meta part, right above."

"THAT DOESN'T MAKE IT BETTER THAT JUST MAKES IT WORSE."

Twilight's head thudded down into the desk, as Rainbow Dash grabbed her most recent draft and began reading.

"Make Twilight's Butt Great Again. Let me see… Ah, right here at the end: Needs more plot."

Author's Notes:

Final Ranking: 35/57

No, this also wasn't my lowest ranked story. Whoa.

Rewritten some from the original version (and using some different fimfic formatting), which might actually make it worse. But clearly this was the story I needed to spend time perfecting. You're welcome.

Yes, I only wrote it because I thought of the title.