//------------------------------// // Chapter 42: Stuck in Foalsom Prison // Story: The Private Scrapbook // by Cadabra //------------------------------// Chapter 42: Stuck in Foalsom Prison Applejack rested an embarrassed hoof against her forehead as she looked at her grandmother’s mug shots from Foalsom Prison. “Geeze, granny,” she said as she looked at the younger image of her grandmother looking ill while holding a name card for the prison photographer. “How many of them ‘applejack’ drinks did ya throw back to make ya behave like that? And while we’re on the subject, is that where mah name came from?!?” Granny Smith retrieved the scrapbook full of memories as she thought back on the night of her arrest. “I can’t remember how much I had to drink that night,” she explained as she turned to a page full of newspaper clippings. “All I know is I’d never been more sick in all mah life. And to answer yer question, yer daddy liked the name after he’d had a few of ‘em when yer mama was expectin’. But that there’s a story fer another night!” Applejack blushed at the realization that she’d been named after an alcoholic beverage. “So how’d y’all get yerself outta this mess?” she said, trying to change the subject. Granny Smith turned to an article published in the Hoofington Post, which was later republished in newspapers Equestria wide. “Remember that there business card I told ya ‘bout?” she asked as she pointed to it in her scrapbook. “While I was in Foalsom I wrote to that there photographer…” Smithy never understood why her father didn’t like talking about his sentence in Foalsom Prison when she was a girl, but now that she was serving a sentence of her own she knew why. Waiting for her case to come to trial was agonizing. She’d barely eaten in the month she’d spent behind bars because her nerves would not allow her stomach to keep anything down. The black and white striped prisoner’s uniform hung on her undernourished body like a set of rags. Her hair was a mess because she didn’t bother to take care of it. She looked every bit the part of a convict. In spite of all her sufferings, one of the worst parts of her prison sentence was the sobriety. She hadn’t realized it, but she’d gotten mighty used to drinking over the years. The headaches, nausea, tremors, and constant clamminess made it hard to concentrate on anything. This, along with the depression and isolation made her an emotional wreck. The prison guards noticed her behavior and were waiting for her to crack, hoping to use her mental instability against her. The guards pestered her everyday for the ware bouts of Crab Apple, but she was not in any mood to cooperate. Everyday when they brought her breakfast they brought with them the latest addition of the Equestrian Times. They seemed to love rubbing it in her face that her arrest was big news, and were trying to use this to get her to spill the information that they wanted. For as bad as Smithy was feeling, she was ready to just sit there and rot in her cell without opening up to the guards. It was the only control she had left. It felt like an eternity before she received any mail. She wasn't surprised that the envelope had been torn already, especially since the guards were so hungry for information. She eagerly retrieved the letter from the dinner tray the guard had slid into her cell. The letter contained was from Crab Apple: Dear Smithy, I hope you realized what a fine mess you’ve gotten yourself into. The Brotherhood of Steeds has left behind Sweet Apple Acres until further notice, leaving it your brother's care. Prairie Tune and his family said they'd keep an eye on the property, but right now it's vacant. I’d tell you where we are but I’m afraid somepony will steal this letter and then I’ll be stuck in Foalsom with you. In the mean time, your fruits and vegetables will just have to wait for you to get out. We did a quick sweep of the property before we left Sweet Apple Acres behind, and I’ve got some bad news. The moonshine still exploded in the Everfree Forest, and timberwolves got into it. It’s a mess, but let me tell you, I’ve never seen timberwolves look happier. I bucked a few and they were so drunk that they couldn’t put themselves back together correctly. They couldn’t figure out where their heads go! Funniest thing I’ve ever seen until they started sobering up. Nothing is scarier than a timberwolf with a hangover. I did go to the Hoofington Post with our story, hoping that a press release will help your case. I don’t know how much it’s going to help, but now they have something to fact check against. Maybe now folks will understand more about slavery and why we do what we do. I found the newspaper pony’s business card in your saddlebag after you left it at The Fire Hole in Canterlot. By the way, I hope you don’t mind I rooted around in your saddlebag. You women keep weird things in there. We all miss you, and hope to see you come to trial soon. Who knows, maybe this is a blessing in disguise. You always said you wanted a chance to talk to the princess about slavery, so maybe this is the eye opener you’ve been waiting for. Well, you can't fault me for being optimistic, right? With all my support, Crab Apple P.S. Kizzy drew you a picture, and it’s enclosed. Lizza told her all about you and her father what’s his name (you know I’m bad with names, sorry.) She feels terrible about the fight you and Lizza had, but she says she can’t wait to see you again. Sounds like the two of you have a lot of catching up to do. Kizzy had drawn a picture of herself and Smithy surrounded by a big red heart. Around the heart were drawings of Lizza, Crab Apple, Salty Ron, and other members of the Brotherhood of Steeds. It was one of the most touching drawings Smithy had ever seen in all her life. She only wished she had some tape to put it up in her cell. Smithy noticed the ragged looking business card slip out of the envelope. It read ‘Focus, Photographer and Writer for the Hoofington Post.’ Suddenly the idea of writing to the press didn’t sound half bad. She didn’t receive the Hoofington Post in prison, so heaven only knows what Crab Apple had told them. For all the hard work it sounded like Focus was doing for her, the least she could do was give him an exclusive interview.