//------------------------------// // A Zap Apple Jam // Story: Stubborn as Ponies // by Esle Ynopemos //------------------------------// *-*-*Applejack*-*-* Carousel Boutique was an odd structure. Before her friend Rarity had moved in and renovated it, Applejack remembered it housing an actual carousel once. The rotating chariots had not moved in a long while by the time Rarity had chosen it as the location of her fledgeling fashion venture, but even now the circus-tent style peaked roof and festive decorations adorned the exterior. Applejack paused as she approached the door. She did not often drop by Carousel Boutique without good reason. She had learned to respect and admire her fashionable friend despite their differences, but showing up at Rarity's home unannounced tended to result in getting used as a dress form for whatever fancy dress or hat the fashion designer was working on at the time. Applejack took a deep breath and let her hoof knock against the door. She needed advice, and Rarity seemed like the best pony to talk to about this particular problem. That would have to be worth getting roped into some frilly dress. Rarity's voice drifted through the door. “Twilight, dear, please tell Spike I'm busy with an order and cannot see him today.” “Oh. Uh, in that case, I'll jus' drop by later.” Applejack turned and started back towards the road when the door opened behind her. “Applejack?” Rarity peeked her head out of the door, glancing left and right as she did. She beckoned the farm mare inside with her hoof. “Come in, come in! I thought you were someone else.” Applejack stood still in hesitation. Finally an impatient, pleading look from her friend convinced her to enter. “Who'd ya think I was?” Rarity shut the door securely, then waved her hoof dismissively as she trotted back toward her work station. “That's not important. Do remember to wipe your hooves, please.” The farm pony was certain her hooves were not any meaningful level of dirty, but she humored the mare anyway. There was no sense in antagonizing the pony she was seeking advice from. “Can I get you anything, darling? Tea? Some toast? Oh, I have some fresh cherries I picked up at the market this morning that are simply divine!” Rarity levitated a bowl of plump red cherries in from the kitchen. Applejack picked one out of the bowl by the stem. “Thanks, Rarity.” She wasn't hungry, but it was easier to just take what was offered to her than to try and refuse Rarity's generosity. The unicorn smiled broadly and then adjusted her glasses, focusing on a piece of embroidery she had on her desk. “So, what brings you my way, darling? I mean no offense, but you're not typically one to brave the gauntlet of frills and curlers voluntarily.” The cherries were very sweet. A bit too sweet, in Applejack's opinion, but then, she tended to be biased against any fruit that wasn't an apple. “May as well cut right to the thick a' things,” she said. “Pinkie Pie fancies me.” The embroidery was dropped to the desk, forgotten, as Rarity let out a delighted gasp. “Oh, Pinkie finally said something! That's wonderful, dear!” Applejack's mouth worked soundlessly for a moment. “What do ya mean, 'finally?' Are you sayin' ya already knew?” Rarity giggled demurely. “Applejack, darling, half my business comes from ponies trying to look their best for their big date! I would be a poor businessmare indeed if I did not have a feel for these things! Now, tell me all the details. Where did she take you for your first date? Was it someplace romantic? Being Pinkie, I'm sure it was something completely unpredictable!” “We didn't go noplace,” Applejack said. Well no, that ain't exactly true. “I mean, we did go fishin' together.” She paused to think. “...And there was a ride on a hot air balloon,” she added, “but it weren't a date.” Rarity's lips drew into a frown of confusion. “I'm afraid you've lost me, darling. Pinkie confessed her love to you, and then you and she went on not one but two ventures that, while the romantic value of getting fish smell all over your coat is debatable, certainly both fall under the heading of 'things ponies might do for a date.' How was it not a date?” “ 'Cause I don't love her back!” The bowl of cherries wobbled as Applejack pounded a hoof on the end table. The seamstress' eyes widened in shock. A minute of dumbfounded silence passed before she turned her nose up and snorted in disgust. “Well! You really are a brute, aren't you?” “What?” Now it was Applejack's turn to look confused. “Leading the poor dear on like that? Have you no shame? Honestly, I thought even you knew better than to toy with somepony's heart in such a cruel way!” Rarity narrowed her eyes judgmentally. Applejack grit her teeth. First Rarity acts all confusin', an' all of a sudden she accuses me of it bein' all my fault? “I ain't—” She winced. If she had handled this whole thing perfectly, then she wouldn't be here seeking Rarity's advice in the first place. Maybe she was at least partially at fault here. “I mean, I ain't tryin' ta lead her on. I tried ta set her straight. I told her it couldn't happen. But she jus' keeps pushin' at it. This is why I need your help, Rarity. I don't wanna lose a friend over this.” “My help?” “Well yeah.” Applejack shifted her weight from one hoof to the other. “I figured, maybe somepony like you might know what ta do in a situation like this.” Another annoyed huff escaped Rarity's muzzle. “In the interest of diplomacy, I am going to choose to take that as a compliment of my social skills, and not a rather rude implication about my private life.” “Please, take it however ya want, jus' help me out here!” Applejack looked at her friend pleadingly. “Rarity, she kissed me last night!” Rarity's nose remained suspended in the air by indignation, but curiosity softened her eyes. “What were you doing before she kissed you?” The farmer shrugged. “Nothin'. Jus' talkin'. I—” She smacked herself in the forehead. “Hayfries. I told her I enjoyed the balloon ride!” Rarity nodded. “Well there you go. Ponies—our friend Pinkie especially—are very good at hearing what they want to hear.” “Well what am I s'posed to do 'bout that? Tie my mouth shut every time she's nearby?” A faint blush crossed Rarity's white cheeks and she laughed nervously. “She might get the wrong kind of ideas from that as well.” Applejack stuck her tongue out in disgust. “Ew! What can I do, then? It ain't like I can try an' avoid Pinkie Pie. Ya can ask Rainbow Dash—it ain't physically possible!” Rarity tapped a hoof against her chin. “Of course I can help you, darling, but I'm wondering if I should. It feels like I'd be playing for the wrong team.” “ 'Scuse me?” “Well, I mean, the two of you would make such a darling couple! Couldn't you at least give her a chance? Your coats go together so well! And the portmanteau would be simply delicious!” Applejack did not respond verbally but leveled a threatening glare at the unicorn. She coughed nervously. “My personal feelings on aesthetics aside, of course, it would be wrong to build a relationship on a one-sided exchange of emotions, ha ha.” Rarity cleared her throat. “Okay. What you need to do is tell her, in no uncertain terms—” Knock knock knock. “Hey, Rarity?” Spike's adolescent voice sounded from behind the door. Rarity's pupils shrank to pinpricks. She dove beneath her desk. “I. Am. Not. Here!” she hissed to Applejack. Spike's voice continued speaking through the door. “I found some gemstones this morning. They're really shiny, but y'know, I already ate, so I thought maybe you'd like to have them for your dresses or something.” Applejack's eyes flickered between Rarity and the door. “I don't believe this,” she whispered. Rarity frantically put a hoof to her lips. “Uh, so, since you're not answering, I guess you're still in bed. That's cool, I like to sleep in, too, but Twilight usually doesn't let me. Oh, I hope I didn't wake you up! I'll just leave these here, and you can grab them when you get up.” Little claws scampered away from the door. Applejack glared as Rarity crawled out from under her desk. “So, if I'm leadin' somepony on, it makes me a brute, but if you're doin' it, it's jus' fine? Is that it?” Rarity sputtered in embarrassment. “I-it's not entirely the same thing, here. Spike's a darling, but—” “I'm sorry, that's right. Y'all were sayin' I need ta tell somepony somethin' in no uncertain terms?” The unicorn stared uncomfortably at the tile floor. “Ahem. Yes, well, perhaps I am not the ideal source of advice for how to let somepony know you aren't interested after all. I apologize for that.” Applejack wrenched open the door. “I ain't got time fer this nonsense,” she muttered as she kicked the bag of gems inside to Rarity. A grumpy huff carried her into a brisk canter as she made her way back home. Ponyville became dirt road became apple trees. “I got apples ta buck, I ain't got time nor patience ta put up with any of this mess. If Pinkie comes by, I'll jus' tell her... I don't know, somethin' ta make her understand that me an' her as lovers ain't gonna happen, but we'll always be friends. An' if she don't like that, then... then she'll have ta learn ta like it anyway!” The apple farmer huffed as her hooves automatically carried her to the barn to grab some baskets. An early start on bucking was just what she needed to burn off the temper she'd worked up at Rarity's. Gee, it's gettin' awful dark, Applejack thought to herself, dragging out a sturdy wooden basket. She looked up to see dark stormclouds churning in the sky. “Now hang on, there weren't no storm scheduled fer today. What's goin' on?” A low howl drifted on the stirring wind. Applejack's shoulders sank. “No...” As if to contradict her, the lone howl was joined by several others. Granny Smith scrambled out of the front door of the farmhouse banging a spoon against a metal pot. “Timberwolves howlin',” she shouted excitedly. “ 'S the first sign!” Applejack sank to her haunches, the basket she had been carrying tumbling to the ground. “Ya gotta be kiddin' me.” Zap-apple harvest was coming. Right in the middle of applebuck season. Horseapples. *-*-*Mrs. Cake*-*-* Mrs. Cake chewed her bottom lip nervously. Her husband pressed against her side, all but cowering in sheer terror. “Pinkie,” she said, “this is the tenth batch of cupcakes you've made this morning. I don't think we have enough icing for all of these!” A sobbing pink wreck of a mare let the metal tray clatter on the counter, splashing gobs of batter everywhere. Her lower lip trembled. “B-but, if I stop baking, I'll start fee-ee-ling again!” At some point in her life, Pinkie Pie's tear ducts must have been replaced with high pressure water valves, because she was currently flooding the kitchen like a broken water pipe. “Oh dear,” muttered Mrs. Cake as she reached out a consoling hoof to the quivering mass of pink fur and tears. “I'm sorry about—” she paused to think. Pinkie had not strung together more than a couple coherent words since she had burst in the door the previous night, blubbering something about apples, balloons, and 'I blew it!' “...about whatever happened,” Mrs. Cake continued. “Maybe you could use a break? Staying cooped up in the kitchen won't solve anything. I bet you'd feel a lot better if you saw your friends.” “My friends,” sniffed Pinkie, her watery eyes turning up toward Mrs. Cake's face. “F-friends, like Applejack... Bwaaaah!” Mrs. Cake was drenched in a fresh torrent of pitiful weeping. “Carrot, honey,” Mrs Cake gestured to the latest batch of cupcakes cooling on the windowsill. “Can you put those out on the shelves with the others? We'll sell cupcakes at a discount today.” Her orange maned mate nodded and grabbed the tray, visibly grateful for an excuse to get out of the kitchen. She could sympathize with his nervousness. Seeing the eternally cheerful Pinkie Pie this distraught was disturbing, like watching a river change direction or the sun wink out of the sky. “Is there...” Mrs. Cake reached for words. “Is there anything Carrot or I can do for you, Pinkie? You know you're like a daughter to us.” Pinkie rubbed her nose with a hoof. “Do you know a way to un-kiss somepony?” The blue mare shook her head, frowning. She opened her mouth to speak, but was interrupted by a knock at the front door of the bakery. “I got it,” Mr. Cake said. His hoofsteps trotted across the main lobby. The little silver bell on top of the door jingled as he pulled it open. “Why, good morning, Miss Applejack. What can I do for you today?” Pinkie's ears perked straight up. “Applejack!” She shot out of the kitchen, leaving Mrs. Cake spinning in her wake. A moment later, she zipped back into the kitchen to steady the mare before once again speeding out to the lobby. Mrs. Cake wore a puzzled expression on her face as she peered out of the kitchen doorway to listen in. She could see Applejack flinch as Pinkie nearly bowled Mr. Cake over to greet her friend. Her forehooves spread out wide to give the orange pony a big squeeze. However, before the hug was made, Pinkie jerked back, slapping her own hooves. “I... Applejack, I...” she stammered, uncharacteristically tongue-tied. Applejack rocked back and forth on her hooves uncomfortably. “Listen, Pinkie, you an' me need ta talk about last night, an' I really wish we could do that right now. But that ain't what I'm here about.” Pinkie Pie nodded silently. Applejack turned to face Mr. Cake. “Mr. an' Mrs. Cake, with your permission, I'd like ta borrow Pinkie's services for the next week. Zap apples are comin' in in the middle of applebuck season this year, an' we need as many hooves as we can get out at Sweet Apple Acres. Y'all will be compensated for yer loss of labor, of course.” Mrs. Cake stepped forward, shaking her head. “You don't need to pay us anything, dear. Pinkie is free to come and go as she pleases.” “I know, but I have ta insist,” the apple farmer said firmly. “As the face of Sweet Apple Acres, I need ta conduct my business professionally.” The Cakes shared a glance. At length, the matron of Sugarcube Corner nodded her assent. “Okay, very well. What were you thinking?” “Sugarcube Corner gets a fifty percent discount on its supply of zap-apple jam this year,” Applejack responded. Mrs. Cake let out a loud gasp. “Dearie, that's way too much!” Applejack shook her head. “If we can bring in both harvests at once, it'll be more than worth it. Now, I ain't got no paper on me ta write out a contract, so we'll have ta resort to the old ways a' makin' business agreements.” She spat on her hoof, and extended it to Mr. Cake. With a glance back to his wife, Mr. Cake spat on his own hoof and shook Applejack's. Mrs. Cake stepped up and did the same. Pinkie Pie looked up in confusion as Applejack offered her hoof to her. “You're the one workin',” the farm mare explained. “ 'Course you gotta shake too.” The pink mare stared at her hoof for a minute. Finally, she spat on it and gave Applejack a firm shake. “It's a deal, then,” said Applejack. She tipped her hat forward. “It's always a pleasure, Mr. an' Mrs. Cake. I wish I could stay an' talk,” she cast a sidelong glance at Pinkie, “but I got a whole lot more hooves ta shake today. I'll see you at eight sharp, Pinkie.” Pinkie Pie started out the door after her. “Applejack,” she said. Applejack froze for half a second. “I'll see you at eight sharp,” she repeated, and disappeared into the crowded cobbled streets of Ponyville. Pinkie sat in the doorway, staring out at the streets. She did not move until Mr. Cake finally cleared his throat and indicated he was trying to shut the door. She rose to her hooves and wandered over to the display shelves, which were stuffed full of cupcakes from her morning's baking rampage. She took one off the shelf, sniffed it, then took a small nibble. “Bleh,” Pinkie said, making a face. “These are terrible! I think I forgot to put sugar in these!” She zipped into the kitchen to be accompanied by the sounds of clattering pans and bowls. Mrs. Cake's husband swallowed loudly, his eyes darting back and forth between the kitchen and the front door. “Honey,” he asked her, “What just happened?” She worked her jaw. “Well, Pinkie—” No, she didn't really have an explanation for that. “See, Applejack—” No, that was a bit of a puzzle, as well. Finally, she settled on a fact she could wrap her head around. “We're getting a discount on our zap apple jam, dear.” Carrot nodded absently. “Ah, okay. Good.” The both of them winced at a loud crash emanating from their kitchen. “Nothing broke!” Pinkie called. *-*-*Applejack*-*-* Applejack was no liar. When she said she had a lot of hooves to shake, she meant it. Internally, she grimaced at the thought of losing a whole day of farm work just to go around and talk to ponies, but the practical side of her knew she needed the help. Her stubborn pride had nearly ruined applebuck season a couple years prior, not to mention the trouble she had caused for herself and her friends, and she was determined not to make the same mistake twice. She had gone to her friends for help first. Not only did she know for certain they would be willing to help, but each of them had helped out on the farm before. Experience was an important asset; it meant she did not have to waste valuable bucking time explaining how to do things. Next was townsfolk around Ponyville. Being an earth pony town, there were plenty of experienced farmers in the area. Unfortunately, many of them had their own crops to harvest and could not afford to spare the horsepower. However, the ponies of Ponyville tended to be a helpful and friendly lot, especially when a discount on cider was brought to the table. Rose, Lilly and Daisy were better with flowers than fruit, but Applejack could count on the flower trio to handle the apples with care. Applejack was delighted when Golden Harvest agreed to help, not only because she was an excellent farmer but also because it represented a big step towards mending fences with the Carrots after a certain incident with pies and a misplaced hammer. Applejack should not have been surprised when Apple Fritter and Apple Tart arrived on the train from Appleloosa. She should have guessed that Big Mac would have sent letters off to every branch of the Apple family tree as soon as the first sign of the zap apple harvest showed up. Of course, it was applebuck season in the rest of Equestria as well, so she couldn't count on a whole lot of family coming, but every little bit counted. By the time the sun rose the next day, Applejack could count on seeing nearly two dozen ponies gathered at her farm to help. Now there was only one problem... Apple Bloom made her eyes as big and pleading as she could manage. Her lip trembled and she folded her ears against her big pink bow. “C'mon, sis, pleeease?” “Absolutely not,” Applejack bellowed. She stamped her hoof against the floor sternly. “Ya ain't skippin' school!” “This could be my chance ta earn my cutie mark!” “No sister a' mine's earnin' her cutie mark for playin' hookie. I said no.” “But I wanna help!” The little filly reared on her hind legs. The elder apple sister shook her head. “Ya can help by attendin' yer classes like a good filly. Now get yer books together.” Apple Bloom petulantly kicked one of her schoolbooks across the floor. It slid under the table. “Apple Bloom!” Applejack scolded. “You pick that up!” “No!” “Apple Bloom,” the elder sister growled. “I'm an Apple, too!” shouted Apple Bloom. “You're the one always tellin' me family comes first! How come I ain't allowed ta help my family?” Angry tears formed in the corners of the filly's eyes. “Aw, sugar...” Applejack knelt down to wrap her sister in a hug. “ 'Course family's important. But this is just one year's harvest. It ain't nothin' next ta you gettin' an education. Yer a growin' filly, an' ya need ta learn about the world.” “Ain't fair,” sniffed the filly, burrowing her face into Applejack's fetlocks. “I wanna learn about the farm so I can help you an' Mac an' Granny.” Applejack patted her on the back. “You goin' an' learnin' yer numbers'll help us all out a whole lot more than buckin' trees all day, hon. 'Sides,” she said, mussing Apple Bloom's mane and setting her bow off-center, “it ain't like we're gonna be outa apple trees ta buck by the time ya get back from school.” Apple Bloom looked up hopefully at her. “W-will ya teach me how ta buck the trees?” Applejack smiled. “Tell ya what. When ya get back from school, you tell me 'bout what ya learned today, an' I'll take ya ta practice on the saplings. Does that work?” The filly nodded her head. She scampered underneath the table to pick up her discarded schoolbook and balanced it on her back with another book and her lunchbox. “Hang on.” Applejack scribbled a note on a scrap of paper. Miss Cheerilee. My sis here is a bit antsy about applebuck season. I'd appreciate it a good deal if you would keep a special eye on her this week. She's a good filly, but I'm worried she might try and cut class sometime this week. Thank you for all your hard work. --Applejack. She folded the note and pinned it to a shiny red apple, which she put on top of Apple Bloom's pile. “You give this to your teacher, okay?” Apple Bloom wobbled a bit to keep the apple from rolling off her lunch pail. “Okay, sis.” “Good girl. Now, ya better git. School starts in twenty minutes.” Applejack leaned against the doorframe and smiled as she watched her sister shrink into the distance along the dirt road. Big Mac appeared next to her, leaning on the porch. He flicked the stalk of grass he was chewing on from one side of his mouth to the other. “Y'know... ya look jus' like—” “Don't you say it,” Applejack warned him. Macintosh nodded. “The help's all assembled by the barn, waitin' fer ya.” Applejack kept her eyes on the road until Apple Bloom disappeared around a bend. She blew a puff of air from her cheeks. “Alright, let's get this party started.” *-*-*Rainbow Dash*-*-* Some ponies were good at getting up early. Some ponies were able to be up and alert with a bright smile on their faces when asked to be somewhere at eight sharp. Rainbow Dash felt those ponies should shut up about it and let her get to sleep. It took plenty of rest to maintain a high-performance awesomeness engine like herself. She yawned and flapped her wings grumpily as she stood side by side with the rest of the ponies Applejack had brought on to help with the harvest. Twilight was there next to her, carefully taking notes as Applejack gave everypony a rundown on the situation. Pinkie was there as well, bouncing excitedly. Fluttershy had told Rainbow to get word to Applejack that she would be there after she had made sure Mr. Bearington had what he needed for the day. I should probably actually tell AJ that, she thought. And Rarity... was probably off doing something Rarity-ish. Apart from close friends, there were a few of Applejack's less immediate family members that Rainbow vaguely recognized from her friend's occasional family reunions—Was that yellow mare named Red Delicious or Golden Delicious? Wait a minute— and a few ponies from around town, most of them farmers themselves. Rainbow Dash was a bit surprised to see Golden Harvest present; she had heard rumors of some kind of feud between the Apples and the Carrot family. Maybe they settled it. Or maybe she's a spy! Dash resolved to keep a suspicious eye on that one. “Rainbow,” Applejack said, snapping the pegasus' attention. “Ya listenin'?” Rainbow Dash ran a hoof through her multicolored mane. “Lots of apples. Gotta pick 'em. I think I got the idea.” A pair of green eyes narrowed on her. “This is serious, sugarcube. I got more reason than simple gratitude fer payin' y'all farmhand wages.” She swept her gaze across the crowd of friends and family. “This week, I ain't yer friend, I'm yer boss. When I ask y'all ta do somethin', it ain't 'cause yer buddy Applejack wants a favor, it's 'cause yer employer needs it done. If anypony's slackin' off, nopony gets paid. That ain't out of spite, it's cause if we don't get the zap apples down off the trees, there just won't be no bits period.” The farm pony paced up and down the ranks of hired help like a drill sergeant in the Royal Guard. “I'm puttin' the fate of Sweet Apple Acres in yer hooves 'cause I trust y'all. Y'all are good ponies, an' I know ya won't let me down.” She reared up on her hind legs dramatically. “Now get out there an' buck some apples!” Rainbow Dash raised her wings to take off, but halted as Applejack called her name. “Rainbow, where's Fluttershy at?” “Oh yeah,” she said, “ 'Shy said she was busy taking care of a bear. She'll be over as soon as she can.” “That's right, Mr. Bearington.” Applejack nodded. “When she gets here, have her take over for ya an' then come an' meet me in the north field.” Dash nodded. “Will do.” She shot off into the air, only to realize she didn't know where she was supposed to be. She hovered in the air as Applejack issued orders to the rest. “Twi, you seen Rarity?” “I'm here!” Rarity panted as she scrambled up the hill to the barn. From the looks of her, Rainbow guessed she had run the whole way from Ponyville. “I'm sorry, darling, I had to walk Sweetie Belle to school. I didn't mean to—” Applejack raised a hoof and smiled. “That's fine, Rare. Family comes first. I need ya to head on into the farmhouse an' help Granny Smith. She'll tell ya what needs done ta prepare for the zap apples.” “Yes, darling, I'll get right on it.” Rainbow watched, impressed, as Rarity turned and trotted into the farmhouse without once stopping to complain about how the wind had ruined her mane or that she was all sweaty. “Pinkie.” Pinkie Pie snapped to attention. Applejack hesitated. “You get started on the south field. Take Apple Fritter an' the flower trio with ya.” Pinkie's ears drooped. “Applejack, I—” “Not now, Pinkie. Please.” There was a desperate plea in the apple farmer's voice. Pinkie closed her mouth and saluted. “Yes ma'am, boss ma'am!” She turned toward the south fields. Woah, thought Rainbow Dash as she watched the exchange. What just went on there? “Rainbow Dash!” Dash nearly fell out of the sky as Applejack shouted at her. “What the hay are ya still doin' here? Ya got scarecrow duty in the east field!” “Scarecrow duty, right.” Rainbow Dash bobbed her head and started towards the rising sun, but paused. “Uh, what's that consist of, exactly?” “Keep the dang birds from eatin' our apples! This is why ya gotta pay attention, Dash!” Applejack waved her hat at the pegasus in a shooing motion. Rainbow Dash made a few powerful wingbeats and shot off into the east field. She didn't like getting yelled at, but she couldn't blame Applejack for being on edge. Two big harvests at once must be like Tornado Day and a Wonderbolts derby all at once for her. And what was with her and Pinkie? They were acting so awkward around each other. Totally uncool. She shrugged and set her eyes on the flock of black birds that was descending upon the orchard. “All right, birds,” she said, smirking as she accelerated. “Lunchtime is over! Or, uh, I guess it's more like breakfast right now, but uh,” She stopped in midair to put a hoof to her chin and think. Hundreds of beady black eyes regarded her curiously. Finally Rainbow Dash came up with a line she was satisfied with. “Time to feather off!” she shouted as she barreled through the cloud of black feathers. *-*-*Twilight*-*-* Twilight Sparkle's notorious knack for organization once again proved useful. Applejack's first instinct was to spread her strongest apple-buckers out evenly among the teams assigned to each field. It was Twilight who suggested it would be more efficient to place the strongest workers all on the same team and clear one of the fields immediately. Between Applejack, Big Macintosh and Golden Harvest, the north orchard was bucked clean on the very first day, allowing them to move on and help with the east, west and south fields. Twilight's estimates were also critical in determining how much of the regular apple trees they would need to clear before the ripening of the zap apples would force them to shift all of their focus. The numbers were accurate, but a little disheartening. “It ain't enough,” Applejack said, frowning at Twilight's clipboard. “That won't even leave us with enough apples ta cover cider season.” Twilight levitated her clipboard back to herself. “Well, what if we kept a small team still working on the regular apples while everypony else harvests the zap apples?” Applejack shook her head. “Zap apples disappear if ya don't get 'em off the tree in a day. It'll take all of us ta get the whole crop in.” “I'm sorry, Applejack, this is what the numbers say.” Twilight made a few scratches on the parchment. “Even with this much help, we're still short-hoofed. How did you do so much of this by yourself two years ago?” The farm pony lined up her rear hooves with a full apple tree. “Three things, sugarcube. One, half the trees in the west field weren't big enough ta bear fruit yet back then. Two, there weren't no zap apples ta deal with in the middle of it all. An' three, I had a thicker head than a rhino wearin' a helmet.” She gave the tree a solid buck, raining apples all around them. “After the harvest that year, Nurse Redheart told me if I tried ta get through another applebuck season without sleep, she'd break my legs!” Twilight nodded. “I believe it. I saw the medical tent they pitched outside of Sugarcube Corner that day you baked cupcakes with Pinkie.” Applejack chuckled. “I ain't never gonna live that week down, am I?” “Probably not,” said Twilight. She cleared her throat and tapped her clipboard. “But what do you want to do about this? If you like I can run into town and try to recruit more ponies to help.” Applejack balanced a basket of apples on her back. “I dunno, Twi. We already got most everypony in Ponyville that knows how ta buck apples. An' if we hire on anypony more, the farm starts losin' bits.” “Bits are a problem,” agreed the unicorn, squinting at her organization chart, “but we don't really need more skilled workers so much as just more hooves. Especially with the first day of work under their belts, the ponies that are already here should be able to show new ponies what to do.” “Maybe,” said Applejack, carrying her basket towards the farm. “Might be we can get our hooves on—Apple Bloom!” The yellow filly stood proudly on top of a hill, waving. “Hiya, sis!” Applejack stomped up the hill toward her. “Apple Bloom, you should be at school!” Apple Bloom grinned broadly. “I am at school!” Miss Cheerilee appeared at the crest of the hill, as well as a dozen of Apple Bloom's classmates. Applejack's mouth hung open. “Miss Cheerilee? What, ah, what's goin' on?” The pink-maned schoolteacher smiled sweetly. “Apple Bloom was telling me about how busy you were on the farm this week, and I thought it might be a wonderful opportunity to take the class out for a field trip to learn about agriculture! I was hoping you could help me give the children a hooves-on lesson on apple harvesting.” Twilight scribbled a few figures in her notes, adding things up. She grinned and winked at Applejack. Applejack nodded. “Uh, sure, I'd be delighted ta. First thing ya gotta know is that it's called apple-buckin'. Why don't y'all follow me over ta these trees over here an' I'll show ya how it's done?” The gaggle of fillies and colts cheered excitedly, with Apple Bloom cheering loudest of all. *-*-*Applejack*-*-* The week was over, and Applejack couldn't imagine being more proud if she tried. Everypony had more than pulled their weight throughout the whole harvest. After a bit of trouble between Rainbow Dash and the crows on the first morning, Fluttershy had come in and succeeded in convincing the birds to leave the orchards alone for the rest of the season. She owed the yellow pegasus a ton of birdseed for it, but it was well worth it. Rarity's discerning eyes were a blessing at the quality control stage of the harvest. Thanks to her, there was not a single bad apple in all the barrels in the apple cellar. And there were a lot of barrels in the cellar, due in no small part to Rainbow Dash's enthusiasm. She had spent the week racing full carts to the cellar and empty carts to the fields. The speedster had whined when there was no more apples left to haul, saying that she wanted another shot at beating her own best time. But Applejack had to admit that the hero of the hour was Pinkie Pie. The baker had attacked those trees like a mare possessed. Every day she had been the first to show up in the morning, and the last to leave the fields at night. On the day the zap apples ripened, the only ponies that came close to her number of trees bucked were Big Macintosh and Applejack herself. It was fair to say that without Pinkie, they might not have finished the harvest at all. On top of that, it was she who made all the arrangements for the celebration once all the apples were in. The party was held in the barn. The wagons that had served as transport all week were re-purposed to hold up large kegs of apple cider. Streamers of every color crisscrossed the barn, reminiscent of the colorful rays of light that had illuminated the zap apple fields just a day ago. Applejack made a mental note to ask Pinkie where she had found all the apple-shaped balloons that floated around the room like bubbles in a champagne bottle. Applejack stood up on a wooden box. Her friends, family and neighbors milled about, happily chatting with each other or simply dancing to the tune being churned out of the phonograph in the corner. There was an air of triumph about the crowd. She knocked a hoof loudly against her box, drawing everypony's attention. Sensing a speech, they all grew quiet. “I wanna start by thankin' y'all fer bein' here,” Applejack said, sweeping her hoof across the room. “If it weren't fer y'all, Granny Smith, Apple Bloom, Mac 'n I would be in a whole heap a' trouble right about now. That's the truth!” The crowd responded with appreciative applause. Applejack raised her hoof. “On the table over here, we have some food.” Golden Harvest pulled a sheet off the table, revealing a banquet of steamed vegetables, salad and a tall cake. “Carrot cake,” she explained, “on account of I 'spect y'all are sick of apples about now!” This drew some hearty laughter from the crowd. “Much obliged ta Miss Harvest an' her folks fer that.” The orange maned pony smiled and bowed. “Anyhow, I want y'all to enjoy yerselves tonight. Ya earned it. Ain't no small feat what we accomplished here this week, an' it warms my heart to know I got so many ponies I can count on when I need ya.” The barn filled with cheers and applause. “Y'all have earned yer bits, and y'all have earned the right ta be darned proud of yerselves. Big Mac an' Granny Smith got yer pay over there by the table, an' if yer lookin' fer your pride, we got a mirror in the bathroom.” Ponies whistled and pounded their hooves cheerfully as Applejack stepped down from her box to join the party. Rainbow Dash smirked as the farm pony found her in the crowd. “So this means you're not my boss anymore, right?” Applejack smirked back at her. “I don't know, sugarcube. I think I've gotten used ta orderin' ya around. Maybe I'll keep ya on the payroll. Y'know, there's rich folk in Manehattan that pay pegasus ponies to just fly around with a cloud ta keep 'em shaded.” “Pff!” Dash threw her hoof forward dismissively. “You couldn't afford me!” “True enough,” laughed the farm pony. “Or at least I couldn't afford ta repair the windows all the time cause somepony has a hard time with the concept of doors!” She and Rainbow continued their good-natured snipes until Pinkie showed up. “Hi, Dashie! Hi, Applejack!” she bubbled. “Great speech! I especially liked the part where you were talking!” Applejack chuckled. “That was pretty much all of it, hon.” “Exactly!” Pinkie bounced cheerfully. “I especially liked all of it! I like it whenever you talk, Applejack. You have a really pretty voice!” Rainbow Dash flapped up into the air. “Hey, I think I see an old weather buddy of mine. I'll catch you two later!” She swooped low past Applejack's ears. “Beware of pudding!” she whispered to her as she passed by. “What?” Applejack turned to chase Rainbow and demand an explanation, but she was gone in an instant. Pinkie nudged her in the shoulder with her muzzle. “Speaking of talking... or should it be talking of speaking?” She giggled to herself. “There was something we should be talking and or speaking about. Let's spalk!” That kiss. It was hard to believe that anything could have driven that kiss out of Applejack's mind, but the stress of two simultaneous harvests was apparently enough to make her forget. “Shoot, Pinkie, I'm sorry! With everythin' bein' like it's been this week, there just ain't been time ta talk to ya about that. I weren't tryin' ta avoid ya, I promise!” Pinkie remained grinning. “It's a really pretty voice,” she said absently. “Pinkie? Are you all right?” A whiff of alcohol made Applejack jerk her head back. “Pinkie, did you get into the wrong cider?” The baker shook her head. “Nope! I got into the right cider. I got into the rightest cider ever!” She danced just slightly off the rhythm of the music and sang along, making up her own words as she went. “And it was really good cii—der! Pinkie put it insii—de her! Then she—um—met a spii—der! Nya na na na na ii—der! Dance with me, AJ!” Applejack rolled her eyes. “Alright, sugarcube, yer right; we need ta talk. But this ain't a conversation I'm gonna have with ya while yer smashed. Let's get ya some water an' a bit of rest. Ya worked hard.” She put a hoof on Pinkie's withers and began guiding her toward the door. “Ooh, are you taking me to bed?” Pinkie giggled and leaned against Applejack. “I'd like that!” She made what Applejack could only guess to be an attempt at bedroom eyes. She only succeeded in squinting her eyes shut and nearly running into a pony in front of her. Applejack jerked her inebriated friend back to avoid a full collision. This brought Pinkie even closer to her. Pinkie leaned her head against Applejack's orange chest and sighed. Applejack felt her cheeks grow pink as she felt Pinkie's warm breath on her coat. “Geez, Pinkie,” muttered the farm mare, correcting Pinkie's course once again. “How much of the hard stuff didja have?” Pinkie's shoulders shrugged beneath Applejack's guiding hoof. “I lost count after I ran out of hooves, so...” She twisted her face in thought. “...more than four. Hey, you wanna hear my theory?” Pinkie shook her head. “No, wait, it's a hypothesis. Twilight says it's only a theory if it's been tested. Wanna hear my hypothesis?” “I got a theory that you need ta be watched closer around the cider barrels,” Applejack said. “Hypothesis,” insisted Pinkie. “You have a hypothesis I need to be watched around the cider barrels.” “I reckon I got plenty enough evidence here ta call it a theory.” Pinkie giggled. “Anyways, my hypothesis. It's a hypothesis 'cause I still need to test it. That's what Twilight calls scientific rigor. Hehee, rigor.” She snorted like she had just said something very funny. “My hypothesis is about why you won't talk to me about what happened the other night ago.” Applejack's ears folded back. “Pinkie, I—” A pink hoof silenced her. “Shh. I'm spalking.” Pinkie snaked her hoof around Applejack's neck. “See, I think that maybe the reason is because you liked the kiss, too, but you're afraid that if you admitted it, you would be going back on what you said when we went fishing.” Applejack's face burned bright red with a blush. “Y-ya think what now?” “It's okay, Applejack,” Pinkie said, bringing both her forehooves to the orange mare's cheeks. “You were caught by surprise, nopony could blame you for not knowing how you really felt.” Applejack tried to squirm out of Pinkie's hooves, but the mare seemed to have extraordinary coordination for a drunk pony, staying firmly latched on to her no matter which way Applejack twisted. “Alright, Pinks, you really need ta go home an' sleep this off.” Pinkie leveled her eyes at Applejack's, bringing them face to face. “But like I said, it needs to be tested.” She lowered her eyelids and let her lips part slowly. “Pinkie, what are you doin'?” Applejack tried to rear back, but could not get any leverage against her friend's advance. “Testing,” she whispered, pursing her lips and craning forward. “Pinkie... No... Stop!” The party went silent except for the obliviously cheerful buzz of the phonograph and the sharp crack of an orange hoof slapping a soft pink cheek. All eyes fell on the sight of the two earth pony mares. Applejack stood with her forehoof still raised in the air, breathing heavily, tears forming in the corners of her eyes. Pinkie sprawled on her hindquarters, covering one side of her face with a hoof. The side of her face that was visible gaped in shock. Applejack tried to calm her breathing. She failed. Something warm and wet dampened her cheek as she turned and stormed out of the large wooden barn door. *-*-*Pinkie*-*-* As Ponyville's premier party pony, Pinkie Pie had knowledge of nearly every remedy known to ponykind for getting sober quickly. They ranged from the mundane cup of coffee to the truly bizarre, such as stuffing an exotic pepper in both nostrils while hanging upside down over a pool full of steamed beets—a feat only ever conceivable while drunk. While the methods varied widely in theory and application, they tended to follow a basic rule: the more unpleasant they were, the more effective they were. Given that knowledge, it was no small statement to say that night Pinkie Pie had discovered simultaneously the most effective and absolutely least pleasant way possible to become sober. A lemon wedge dipped in rainbow sauce was said to make the town drunk shave his stubble and go apply to law school on the spot, but it was nothing next to being slapped by Applejack. Her cheek throbbed, her teeth stung and her ears buzzed. She had to hold her head steady to get her eyes to focus properly. When they did, she found no orange mare standing before her. She twisted to see the door swing shut. “Applejack!” she cried, scrambling to her hooves. She bowled somepony over in her haste to reach the door. Any other time, she might have excused herself with an 'Oopsies!' or a 'Sorry, coming through!' but now she could not spare a thought for it. What have I done, she thought frantically as the cool night air washed over her. The moon gleamed over her like a spotlight. The stars shone like thousands of judgmental eyes. What have I done? What have I done? Pinkie spun around in the gravel, her eyes darting across the darkened farmland. A square of yellow light spilled out of the barn door behind her, shrinking into a sliver before disappearing entirely as the door swung shut on weighted hinges. The weather vane at the top of the barn creaked as a gentle breeze tugged at it. Shadows were cast this way and that by the moonlight. Pinkie could find no sign of any wide brimmed hat, nor ribbon-bound mane or tail. “Applejack,” she called aloud. A quiet sound reached her ears. It was a small sound, a sad sound. It drew Pinkie over the crest of a hill into one of the freshly picked orchards. There she spotted Applejack leaning against a tree, back to her, her face buried in her hat. Her shoulders shook with a noise Pinkie could now identify as crying. Pinkie felt her heart drop to her stomach. Applejack is crying. I've made Applejack cry. The idea of making somepony—anypony, let alone somepony she cared so much for—cry was so foreign to her, so contrary to her nature that she stood paralyzed, watching helplessly as the pony she loved wept into her hat. “Applejack...” Applejack straightened her back at Pinkie's voice. She wiped her muzzle with a hoof and put her hat back on her head, but she did not turn to face her. Applejack muttered something, but it was too quiet for Pinkie to hear. Pinkie took a hesitant step towards her. “What did you say, Applejack?” The farm pony spun around and leveled a piercing glare at Pinkie. “I said, did it ever once cross yer mind ta ask me about any of this?” Pinkie reeled back, thrown off balance by Applejack's sudden aggression. “What?” “I mean, the mornin' we went fishin', ya never thought ta say, 'Hey, Applejack, ya wanna be my fillyfriend?' Ya jus' decided that we were datin', an' expected I'd be fine with it!” Applejack rose and took a step toward Pinkie, sending her backpedaling back up the hill. “An' then after the balloon, ya jus' decided a kiss would suit ya, so ya went ahead an' took it! No 'Hey Applejack, ya wanna pucker up fer a second?' Jus' bam, smooch, an' then ya run off into the night like some kinda mugger!” “Applejack, I-I—” Pinkie stammered. “An' then there's yer little performance tonight, well that jus' bout takes it!” The farm pony pawed at the ground angrily. “No, I can almost even excuse ya fer that one, you were drunk. But ya still weren't concernin' yerself with how I might feel about anythin'. It's still jus' Pinkie wants, so Pinkie takes! Ta hay with anypony else!” Tears flowed freely from the corners of Pinkie's eyes. “Applejack, I'm sorry! I didn't mean to, I just get excited, and I don't think, and I'm really, really sorry!” Applejack scoffed. “The real kicker is that ya really are sorry, every dang time. Yer truly sorry fer hurtin' me, but ya don't understand that ya still ain't sorry for the whole reason ya hurt me in the first place. Ya ain't never gonna be sorry fer lovin' me.” Pinkie's lip shuddered. “I can't help it! I tried, but I can't let it go!” She sniffed. “It hurts too much!” Applejack huffed. For a few minutes, the only sounds were the rustling of leaves in the trees and the adrenaline-spiked breathing of the two ponies. At length, she gave a quiet chuckle. “Maybe ya jus' figured if ya kept at it long enough, I'd change my mind an' give in. Hay, I thought I was stubborn, but even I can't imagine puttin' myself through all this on purpose.” Applejack doesn't love me... yet. Pinkie's silent mantra echoed in her head accusingly. Applejack had the right of it. Some part of her had hoped that she could have Applejack merely by outlasting her patience. “Irony is, even if you're right, an' I misread my own feelings back on the morning we went fishin', it don't matter now. We've done a pretty thorough job of provin' we don't work as a couple.” Applejack shook her head slowly. Pinkie's head sank. Her ears hung low enough for the grass to scrape against their tips. “We don't listen to one another. We're too selfish to keep from hurtin' one another. If you an' I really were fillyfriends, every day we'd be as miserable as we are right now. I don't want that.” Cold panic gripped Pinkie's chest once again. This time, she could not muster the courage to laugh it away. Her bones rattled inside of her. Her blood became ice. Every breath felt like the air was made of needles. “Please,” she blurted, “you have to forgive me!” Applejack snorted. “An' why should I bother doin' that? Seems I might save myself some trouble by jus' stayin' mad at ya 'till the next time ya forget yer tongue belongs in yer own mouth instead a' mine. Keeps us both from repeatin' too many steps.” “Please,” Pinkie blubbered, “I'll do anything!” Green eyes narrowed coldly. “Anything?” “Anything!” “Pinkie promise it.” Pinkie Pie drew her hoof across her chest, flapped her forelegs in the air and poked herself in the eye. “Cross my heart, hope to fly, stick a cupcake in my eye! Anything you say!” Applejack's face grew as solemn as stone. “Pinkie Pie, I want you to find somepony else...” Pinkie's eyes widened. “No...” she whispered. “...an' get over me.” “Applejack, no!” she pleaded. “Ya Pinkie promised.” Applejack crossed her forelegs. “I-I can't!” “Ya have to,” the farm mare said. “As I recall, nopony breaks a Pinkie promise.” Gravity spun around Pinkie. There was no backing out of a Pinkie promise. But it was something she just couldn't do. There was no such thing as getting over Applejack. There was only being with Applejack and being miserable without Applejack. Her world shattered as irresistible force met immovable object. She couldn't hold her balance any longer and collapsed on the ground. The stars swirled around the sky. The moon burned her eyes. A blurry orange shape stood over her. “Go home, Pinkie,” said Applejack. Pinkie heard her hoofsteps grow fainter and fainter as the pony she loved walked away.