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I like it.
@Princess♠Molestia
Seconded
Depends on the situation.
If Rarity driving an expensive car into Applejack’s chest isn’t something you’d want to see, you’re living the wrong type of life.
If your life includes ponifying classic literature, then yes, you should.
We backed up to a gray old colt who bore an absurd resemblance to Filthy Rich. In a basket swung from his neck cowered a dozen very recent puppies of an indeterminate breed.
“What kind are they?” asked Applejack eagerly.
“All kinds.”
“I’d like to get one of those royal guard dogs, I don’t suppose you got that kind?”
The colt peered doubtfully into the basket, plunged in his hand and drew one up, wriggling, by the back of his neck.
“That’s no royal guard dog,” said Macintosh doubtfully.
“Well, it’s not exactly a royal guard dog, it’s more like, eh, one of those farm dogs. A Winona.”
“How much for it?”
“That dog? It’ll cost you ten dollars.”
The Royal Guard Dog - undoubtedly there was an Airedale concerned in it somewhere, though its feet were startlingly white - changed hands and settled down with Applejack, where she fondled it with rapture.
“Is it a boy or a girl?” she asked delicately.
“That dog’s a boy.”
“It’s a bitch,” said Macintosh decisively. “Here’s your money. Go buy ten more dogs with it.”
(I should probably get back to my life after that)