Applejack scanned the family reunion through the camera's lens. There was nothing memorable about the apple-bobbing tank. No memories were being made by the aunties at the quilt. Not even the mountains of apple fritters seemed like the kind of thing worthy of placement in Granny's family album.

"C'mon, Applejack," she said, "think! You gotta kick this thing up a notch!"

It was right about then that Applejack got a wonderful, awful idea.

It didn't work out so well in the end.

But that didn't mean she couldn't try again...

---

"D'ooh, hornswaggle!" Granny Smith swore. "Gotta get these here butter churns ta the barn, but mah durn hipamajigger's actin' up agin!" She needed take only half a step before the pain became unbearable.

A twinkling light and a chorus of angels heralded an orange comet streaking in from above. With an earth-shaking slam, Applejack landed in the field next to the barn, creating an impact crater that levelled the southwest corner.

"Hey now, Granny!" she shouted. "Don't let that bum bum getcha down! I got just the thing that'll cure what ails ya!"

From somewhere behind herself, Applejack produced a white tub with "Flimco Hip Rub" written in antique gold lettering on the side.

Granny squinted at it. "AJ, what in the hay are ya doin' with mah flank ointment?"

"Helpin' ya out!" Applejack opened the tub, scooped out a hoofful of the gooey white salve, and slathered it liberally all over Granny's hips. Granny's eyes bugged out and she tried to slap Applejack's hoof away, but the twisting necessary to keep up with the younger pony was more than she could handle.

Applejack finished with a final slap to her grandmother's flank, stepping back to admire her work.

"There, that should make ya feel better in a jiffy!" She grinned, but it fell as Granny Smith only glared at her.

Applejack pouted. "It ain't workin' fast enough." With a slow exhalation, she closed her eyes. "That means it's time..."

She reared up on her back hooves, bicycling her forehooves in the air. "Ta kick it up a notch! Yeehaw!"

Granny Smith quailed.

Again from nowhere, Applejack produced a basket filled with small red peppers that glistened in the sunlight like blooded daggers. She kicked the basket, knocking a dozen into the air. Pulling a plate from the same place, she didn't just catch the peppers, but slammed her hoof on them so that when they hit the plate, they turned into paste.

With serpentine grace, Applejack pirouetted and flung the peppery glop onto Granny Smith, somehow perfectly coating the area she'd earlier slathered with rub.

"Bam!"

For a moment, everything was silent, not to mention aromatic. Then a heat crept up Granny's withers. She started to sweat. Her eyes bugged out and her face turned red. With a yelp of pain, she leaped into the air before dashing off across Sweet Apple Acres, smoke trailing from her rump.

"Mah biscuit's a-burnin'! Mah biscuit's a-burnin'! Fire in the hatch!"

Applejack crossed her hooves, smiled, and nodded.

"Yup! Got 'er up an' runnin' like a charm!" She chuckled to herself. "Never fails."