It was a beautiful day in Ponyville- of course, when isn't it? As per usual, the sun was shining (thanks to Celestia), the grass was green (thanks to constant maintenance done by several earth ponies), and there wasn't a cloud in the sky (thanks to the Weather Team of pegasi).

And, seeing as how it was the 2nd Thursday of the month, a group of three fillies were out doting some type of thing in an attempt to gain their cutie marks.

"Scootaloo, are ya sure that this contraption-"

"Of course I am, Apple Bloom! I already tested it, like, a bazillion times!"

"Okay... uh, how many is a bazillion?"

The orange pegasus stopped in thought. "More than twice!"

"Oh boy..."

"Ready, Sweetie Belle?"

"Ready, Scootaloo!"

"Pull!"

Sweetie Belle grasped the lever in her two front hooves and puled back. The catapult went into action, throwing out Apple Bloom a good five feet before she fell to the ground, and it fell apart.

"Ah du fi atapu akin is uh ooer-heshul talon," said Apple Bloom, her face in the ground.

"What?"

She pried her face out of the mud. "Ah said, 'Ah don' think catapult-makin' is our super-special talent'."

"Agreed," the other two said in unison.

"So, Sweetie Belle, any luck today?" asked Rarity. No, she thought.

"No," Sweetie Belle said, as predicted.

By now, this was routine. On the second Thursday of every month, and then every day after that, the Cutie Mark Crusaders would either do some volunteer work- despite the complaints of the ponies they were "helping"- or find some sort of way to gain their cutie marks. On at least on of these occasions, usually around Day Twelve, something absolutely catastrophic would happen, and then they would fix it, and then someone, usually Rarity, Applejack, or Twilight, would step in and give a small lecture about how you can't rush these things. Despite this, they would keep on doing it for the rest of he month, before taking a small break. Bless them, they tried so hard, but never got their cutie marks.

Of course, one day, it would happen- it happened to everypony- but it most likely wouldn't happen due to their antics.

Of course, sometimes, it did take longer for some ponies than with others...

Take, for instance, Hot Shot, who was currently living in his carriage. It's not that he was homeless or anything. Well, technically, at the moment he was. But, he was moving to Ponyville, and was currently several miles from civilization.

At age 17, he had dropped out of school without a cutie mark, feeling that it would not be necessary if everyone got their cutie mark sometime. If this was the case, why not just wander around Equestria until you get it?

So, he and a few other colts and mares did just that, the most notable- for the purposes of the story, at least- being his little brother, left Sunny Town and went out into the wide open world.

At age 18, he had almost achieved his goal.

He was currently inside the carriage, which was surprisingly spacious. This was due to several loopholes that were found in the laws of reality, some clever manipulation of the fourth dimension, and some other science-y stuff. Basically, unicorn magic.

Regardless of why the carriage was big enough to hold a large workshop in it, he was almost done with an ingenious invention that would surely revolutionize the Canterlotian Army, nay (no pun intended), the Equestrian Army.

It was a long, thin, metal barrel, essentially. It also had some other stuff attached to it, most notably, a lever-like device near the back. There was a small sliding-door in the back, in which you put small, metal objects in it. Said metal objects were made of gold- it had special supernatural properties, he was told.

He called it the Golden Unicorn Noisemaker because, well, it was loud.

For short, it was the G.U.N. And it was almost done.

However, this innovation was taking place in the forest. Life in Ponyville kept on going as if nothing happened.

More specifically, Sweetie Belle's life kept going on. For reasons she couldn't quite explain, she was extremely upset and furious at the failure today. Maybe it was just because she was tired. Maybe it was because she was convinced that after catapult-building, there was pretty much nothing left. Well, nothing useful left.

And maybe it was because, at the moment, her room was a shrine to her failures. There was a pile of scraps on her desk that was supposed to be a model log-cabin (Cutie Mark Crusaders Architects! Yay!), a pile of ashes on the floor that was supposed to be vitamin water (Cutie Mark Crusaders Mixologists! Y-yay.), and a box of weeds and dust that was supposed to be a flower (Cutie Mark Crusaders Gardeners. Yaaaaaay).

Angrily, the filly dragged a chair over to her window and looked down upon the city and her plant. What contrast it was! One was full of life and happiness because of all the efforts put forward by the citizens. The other was full of life and happiness because the death of the main source of life.

"It's not fair!" said Sweetie Belle, her voice cracking.

"It's almost done!" said Hot Shot, his voice cracking.

"Sweet Celestia, things never go my way!"

"Sweet Celestia, everything's coming up Hot Shot!"

Sweetie Belle laid her head in the black powder that was her flower, her special flower that she grew herself. She put her hooves to her temples.

Hot Shot leaned in and poured the black powder int the G.U.N., the special G.U.N. that he made himself. He put his hooves to the trigger.

Sweetie Belle sobbed in despair.

Hot Shot sobbed in sheer joy.

Sparks flew.

Sparks flew.

BZZRRT!

BANG!