Making Apple Pie

Some time ago, I reviewed the spectacularly disgraceful affront to the English language known as "The tail of pRince Martin Willis". Well, now it's time for another review. We join Twilight and Applejack in "Making Apple Pie".

Well, the title is a foodstuff, so that can't be good.

Do I really have the stomach for this? Well, as they say...ALLONS-Y!

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Deep beneath the barn of Sweet Apple Acres there is a room.

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Inside that room is a single bolted metal and wood chair, and beneath it sits a large glass bowl.

Who the hell builds a toilet that deep underground?

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It is these two things that have kept Granny Smith’s apple pie a prize winner and the Apple family on the outskirts of Ponyville for the past few hundred years.

Aaand that's disgusting.

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The medicine had now worn off and Twilight tried to focus her eyes.

That's what happens when you try to make homebrew.

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“So you’re awake?” Applejack hugged the other pony and grinned ear to ear. “I was afraid you wouldn’t wake up, and then I’d have to do this all alone.

"This bank ain't gonna rob itself!"

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“Applejack is that you?” Twilight tried to stand up but found she was unable to move.

Heavy drinking does that to you.

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“I can’t feel my horn. Applejack, what’s going on?”

The fact you drank 30 cans of Special Brew in two hours may have something to do with it.

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Eyeing the horn sitting lifelessly beneath the chair that housed Twilight, Applejack cleared her throat.

Oh god, it's another "Cupcakes" clone.

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She ran a hoof over the instruments on the wood in front of her. Knives, screwdrivers, picks, hacksaw, wires, a power drill…

...chainsaws, pistols, an AK47, grenades, rocket launchers, an ICBM, a nuclear missile...

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Her leg held up a rusted spoon and she giggled.

Oh god, she's going to cut Twilight's heart out.

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“Always makes me think of apple pie… the dish that is,” She was still chuckling as she trotted back to the chair in the center of the room. “not my cousin.”

"That cousin we never talk about, not since she joined the Illinois Nazis."

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“Now I ain’t gonna lie,” Placing a firm front leg against the other’s neck she lifted the spoon. “This is gonna hurt.”

It hurts to read this drivel.

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Her tongue lolled from her mouth and her nostrils widened to the size of baseballs.

Making them as big as her eyes.

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“Here we go!” And so saying she dipped the spoon in. It passed deep behind the white

But the yolk was rock-hard.

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detaching the wire of tissue that held it in place in the back.

Pretty sharp spoon there. In fact, wouldn't that warrant a product recall?

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“Hush now sugarcube!” Applejack wrestled the rusty handle back and forth in the socket. “It’ll pop any second now and you can relax.”

Yes, never mind the fact that her eye's been gouged out.

So, after the other eye is gouged out in the authors shameless attempt to out-Cupcakes Cupcakes...

No. I can't do this. This manages to even outdo Sweet Apple Massacre in blood and guts. Let's fast forward...

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“Is it ah’m… Finished?” Granny Smith’s voice waded in from above and Applejack shakily stepped off of her friend’s limp body.

You could say that...

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“And tell Big McIntosh that I left her back legs on. So when he comes down here to clean up he has something to make it worth his while.”

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“If’n it don’t get mixed soon I’m sure they won’t take it kindly.”

Just like they don't take kindly to strangers round these here parts.

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Then she quietly sped up her work, threading all of the purple mare’s knowledge into the crystal bowl of award winning apple pie ingredients.

That's the last time I buy an apple pie from Tesco.


Well, that's it. And for what? What was even the point? Why would you try to be gorier than Cupcakes and Sweet Apple Massacre put together, squared, and squared again? And why did it have to be so long? My verdict? Nuke this atrocity to oblivion. Take it away, RD!



Tune in next time for when they try to change the colour of apples.

GeorgeUK wrote:

That's the last time I buy an apple pie from Tesco.

Oh, you.