//------------------------------//
// Coward of the County (FlutterMac) 
// Story: Waxing Lyrical 
// by Imperator Chiashi Zane 
//------------------------------//

“Macintosh, Son, my life is over,” the old stallion coughed at his brilliant red son, “But yours has just begun.  Promise me colt, Promise you won’t do what I’ve done.  Walk away from trouble if you can.  Turn the other cheek, they won’t think you’re weak.  An Apple can’t be weak.  You don’t have to prove it.  I hope you’re old enough to understand that you don’t have to fight to prove you’re a Stallion.”
Macintosh Apple nodded, tears rolling down his face.  Behind him, his sisters sat with his grandmother.  They hadn’t expected the old stallion to drop like he did.  The fight he got in, it had crushed his ribs, and nearly killed him right there.  He had just enough left to give Macintosh a few words of advice.  He reached out and dropped his battered old hat on his older daughter’s head, and nodded to them both, “I’m sorry, kids.  I really am.”  With that, the stallion’s breath left him, and he was gone.
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Fifteen years had passed, and Macintosh had grown large.  Ponies called him yellow, on account of his tendency to just leave if a fight ever was about to break out.  Even his sisters called him on that more than once.  How could he just walk away when they were insulting him like that.
Only one didn’t.  Fluttershy, a sweet, shy butter-colored mare who fit perfectly with the silent giant.  He never had to prove anything to her, she would just melt into his muscular body easily, without struggle.  They were getting married next June.
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The Diamond Dog gang knew he wouldn’t fight when they broke into his house and assaulted Fluttershy.  The three of them took turns with her, not caring how she screamed, not caring that the mountain of a stallion might be back soon.  He would just run away, they reasoned.  They left her beaten and bloody on the kitchen floor when they left.
__
Macintosh opened the door, tired after a long day of hauling apples, and stopped.  The soft, almost inaudible sound from the kitchen drew him away from the door, boots still securely on his hooves.  On the floor, sobbing into her mane, Fluttershy curled away from the clomping sound of his boots.  He sat on the floor, “Fluttershy.  Who did this?”
The yellow mare choked out three names.  Macintosh stood and started for the door, “Ah’ll be back.”
He stopped at the side of the door and picked up the family photograph from years ago, when he was still a gangly colt, getting his muddy mane tangled by his father’s cracked hoof.  He heard his father’s last words.  A tear formed on the edge of his vision, “Dad, I’m sorry.”
He laid the picture down, hiding the image against the table, and stormed out the door, not even bothering to grab his coat.
__
The gang laughed at him when he walked into the tavern.  It wasn’t like he was a threat.  He’d been working all day, and, they knew he would just back down from a fight.  They pulled out their knives.  Other patrons started leaving, because even if Macintosh didn’t fight back, there would be a mess.  Even the Bartender started closing up, getting ready to clean the mess he knew would happen.  Macintosh waited until everyone else had cleared out, it was the polite thing to do.  Then, the massive red stallion started walking towards the door.  The Dogs started crowing at him, mocking him, “Hey look!  Ol’ yeller’s leavin’.  Macintosh stopped at the closed door, gripped the lock, and twisted it softly.  Silence reigned as the metal bolt clicked into place, followed by a sound like tearing metal as he ripped the key off the deadbolt.  The key rang out in the silence as he threw it to the ground.
“Ha!  Y’all jus’ locked yerself in ‘ere with us!”
“’Ee’s stupid as ‘e is yeller!”
Twenty years he had let them go.  Twenty years he had suffered their mockery.  Twenty years he had dealt with it, hidden the pain, ignored it.  Then, they hurt Fluttershy.  The first Dog didn’t even get up from his stool before a work-hardened hoof collided with his ribcage hard enough to break it.  The wounded member of the gang hit the floor with a wet thump, probably dead.  Most of the ponies watching through the windows would have called it justified.  The second almost stabbed him.  His tree-bucking instincts burst through, shattering the creature’s ribcage, then its spine on the wall behind it.
The third started stepping back, “Hey!  Hey!  No reason to keep fighting.  Come on!  It was all a joke.  Stop it!  I’ll buy you a beer!  I’ll stop teasing you!  I promise!”
Macintosh looked at the two corpses, a sad look in his eyes, and picked up a straw from the counter.  The straw went into his teeth, and he thoughtfully chewed on it, looking away from the last Dog, who still hadn’t stopped begging for mercy.
The Earth pony turned around, and started for the knife-wielding gang member.  Every step brought him closer.  The Dog pushed back against the wall, “Come on, colt!  Leave me alone!  You’ve already got two murders against you!”
“You have more.”
“So!  The justice system will take care of me eventually!”
“That won’t fix Fluttershy.”
“Is that was this is all about?  Your little whore!”  The Dog seemed to get smaller as he curled into the wall, “You know, she was crying out your name the whole time!  Had ta belt her across the face to make her stop!”
“Stop digging.”
“Oh yeah!  And you know what!  Tomorrow, the rest of the gang’s gonna be the…”  The Dog stopped abruptly as he found his forehead being bashed into the much thicker stallion’s skull.
“This one’s for Fluttershy,” Macintosh pushed forward, legs that could split tree-trunks pushing his rock-like skull against the stone wall until the softer skull between the two split like a grape in a press.  He pulled his head back, shaking the blood off, and walked over to the counter.  A small stack of bits materialized on the register, “Sorry about your door,” he kicked the door, breaking off the lock so he could exit.