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Thanksgiving Special: The truth behind AJ's Cake.
Thanksgiving Special: The truth behind Applejack's Cake.
Written By: Zachary Sawyer (Iamthemanwithglasses)
(At Sweet Apple Acres)
(Inside the house at the dinner table)
(Just finished up the main Thanksgiving meal)
Applejack: Okay y'all time for desert!
Granny Smith: What is that? *points towards the cake*
Applejack: What do you mean what is that? Its a cake!
Apple Bloom: It sure doesn't look like one Applejack.
Big Macintosh: Eeyup.
Applejack: (Frustrated) Guys this is a cake!
Apple Bloom: No its not. It doesn't look right.
Big Macintosh: Eeyup.
Granny Smith: I agree with Apple Bloom and Big Macintosh. That does not look like a cake to me! And my eyesight isn't the best.
Applejack: (Yells) Guys this is a cake! I followed the recipe Pinkie Pie gave me!
Apple Bloom: Well apparently she didn't give you the right recipe, because it does not look a cake to us. Its 3 vs. 1 Applejack.
Stuck The car sputtered and shook as it came to an almost silent stop. The engine had gone silent as the horn beeped loudly through the dark night. The orange gas light blinked mockingly at the woman behind the wheel. It was making fun of her; she knew it was making fun of her. Grabbing the black cellular phone on the passenger seat, she looked at it with full intention of calling somebody to come help her.
“Oh, what the hell?!”
The “no service” sign was mocking her at the same exact time. The horn beeped loudly as she slammed her head against it once again. The day was out to get her in general. She had arrived at all her classes late, and her son was sick with the flu. The babysitter was able to watch him as she went to her late night classes. Giving a heavy sigh, she lifted her head off the wheel to look out the window. Drops of water pooled on the windshield as rain started to fall in a pitter-patter pattern. She didn’t quite understand the message th
AerosolIt has been a day and a half since the crash, and I have found a cabin. In some ways, this is a relief. I don’t know if I could face another night on the mountain without shelter. Outside, a fire does no good: the heat simply travels upwards. However, this place also raises some difficult questions. I estimate that I’ve put eight miles between myself and the crash site. I don’t know if this will be enough. It Saving...
occurs to me that I don’t really know anything.
The survival manual recommends staying with the plane. It explains that this affords the best chance of rescue. It explains that the wreckage offers warmth and shade. It explains that seventy percent of pilots who stay are located within three days, while seventy percent of those who leave are
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