Technically, not terrible
Chapter 8: The Worst Possible Thing

“This is the worst possible thing,” Rarity groused.

“I dunno,” Pinkie Pie replied. “This one time, at band camp—”

“I just dropped a stitch,” Rarity grumbled.

“Never mind that, row!” Pinkie looked in the water around them, where the unmistakable dorsal fins of sharks patrolled. “Why are you even sewing on a boat?”

“It’s what I do. It’s all I do; I’m prim and proper and a fashion horse and totally one dimensional.”

“Let it all out.”

“And that’s it.”

“Really?”

“No, not really.” Rarity reached under the pile of fabric and pulled forth a Thompson machine gun. “Die, motherfuckers!”

Her words were mostly lost in the rattle of the gun.

Pinkie sat in the stern and watched as the water turned into a pink froth. Yeah, it was bad for the sharks, but in terms of their own survival, it was technically not terrible.