Applejack pushed open the door to the root cellar. A young dead mare in a nightgown hung from the ceiling suspended by a tight rope harness around her breasts . Her form twisted gently in the air, at the whims of gravity.  
“Granneh, you turned yet?” Applejack asked.
 
The corpse suddenly sprang to life, lifting her head and opening her crimson eyes.
 
“How do ah look?” Granny smith asked.
 
Applejack took a scythe from a pile of tools and wiped the blade until it was a reflective surface. Granny smith smiled.
 
“Well hot damn!” Granny smith exclaimed, seeing her young, nubile form for the first time in… well, she didn’t remember how many years. She wishes she had the foresight for this kind of thing, she would’ve worn her old lingerie to bed instead of this nightgown.
 
“Ah feel like ah could go out on the town again an’ pick up some pretty thing! Git me mah dentures!”
 
“You ain’t gonna need dentures no more, granny.” Applejack said.
 
“Ah got me one hell of a cravin’… git me down.” Granny asked.
 
As Applejack untied Granny, she heard a scream from outside… Applebloom!
 

 
I’ve been sitting on this one for a bit while I was stretching my mind for a story. I didn’t come up with much because, as you can see, there’s not much there.
 
In the time between finishing this and posting it, I’ve had a couple of epiphanies as it pertains to my way of drawing stuff.