Well, this is . . . interesting. Flam looked at the paper, then back up at the farmer before him. That same stupid grin was plastered on his face, as thick as the honey he sold. “These are all your records?”
“That’s right,” Honeydew grinned, showing off his yellowing teeth that mirrored his coat so well. “I’ve been keepin’ all the important bits.”
“All the important bits, you say?” Inwardly he groaned at the miniscule list of numbers. Profits, taxes, and costs. That was it. Celestia give me strength. “Could we go over this one more time? I want to make sure I’m understanding the situation before I come up with a plan.”
“Sure can do, kiddo!”
Kiddo . . . cute. This was going to be a very long day. Flam could only hope Flim was faring better on his end. A part of him wished he was fixing equipment instead of balancing farm budgets. Then again, he would be very little use with machines, that was Flim’s forté. His lay with financial management, and thankfully that skill had not been lost in his “stint of stupidity” as Flim was calling it now. He only hoped that, once the debt was paid off, they could move from the traveling mechanic and accountant brothers to something with a little more pizazz. But, beggars couldn’t be choosers, so he would do his best with whatever job they managed to land, even if that job involved helping elderly honey farmers with their operation.
Five hours, five hours of staring at data and chatting with the sweetest but most financially clueless couple in all of Equestria. The only saving grace was that they had given him a few extra bits, a basket of biscuits, and some honey for his troubles. Flam trotted down the path from the house to meet up with Flim near the barn. It didn’t take long to spot the sunburned stallion, sides streaked with a concoction of grease and sweat. “Well, brother of mine, how was your day?”
Flim grinned back at him. “Good!” He blew a strand of thick forelock out of his eyes. “Made some real good progress with that ol’ machine. Runs smoother than a greased hog now.”
Flam grimaced. Why did he insist on talking like that? It had been the same for weeks now, and it was getting worse. It wasn’t as though he hated “country” accents, but the fact that his brother was using one habitually was wrong on so many levels. He could only imagine the whipping Flim would get from their mom if he talked like that. ‘Why are you talking like some uneducated redneck? Your father and I raised you better! Do you want to embarrass the family?’ Flam chuckled to himself causing Flim to look up from his attempt at scrubbing himself clean.
“What? Yeah, I know I’m covered in grease. Geeze, give me a sec.” Flim picked up a rag with his hoof, scrubbing at the matted hairs.
“What are you doing?”
Flim snorted, rolling his eyes, “Writing an opera. What do you think, Flam?”
Flam walked over, lighting his horn up and casting a cleaning spell on his twin’s sides. “Honestly, we’re unicorns, Flim, use the ‘force.’”
“Oh . . . right.” Flim chuckled nervously, working with his magic now. In a matter of minutes, he was presentable, well, if you didn’t count the almost wild overgrowth of his mane and tail. It was nearly as long as some mares he had seen and stuck out at random odd angles. That and the thick, crimson sideburns gave him the appearance of a middle aged farmer.
“Don’t you think it’s time you get a trim, Flim? You’re looking like big hoof.”
Instead of a response, Flim took a deep swig from the water trough.
Flam moaned theatrically, “Would it kill you to act more like a unicorn, Flim?”
His brother raised his head, cheeks full of water. Without warning, he spat a stream of it all over his dress shirt. “Lighten up, brother of mine. I ain’t goin’ to the fair. You’ve got yer job, an I’ve got mine.” He levitated his cowboy hat off of the nearest fence post and slipped on his flannel shirt, “An mine ain’t particular in how I dress.”
“But, Flim, we . . . we’re twins.”
Flim’s eyes widened in mock surprise, “What? We are? Why, I didn’t recall.” With a flick of his long tail, Flim set off down the road. “Come on, Flam, daylight’s a burnin’. Got a ways to go before we hit ol’ Saddlewood.”
“Quit talking like that!” Flam levitated the basket, following his brother down the road. “I’ve apologized like a million times already. We’re working honest and hard just like you always wanted. So why are you torturing me?”
“Torturin’ you?” Flim raised an eyebrow, slowing his death march a little bit. “What in Equestria are you goin’ on ‘bout now?”
“That,” he gestured to Flim’s hat and shirt.
“What about it?”
Flam clasped a hoof to his forehead, “It’s not you, Flim. You’ve never liked farming, and yet, here you are obsessing over machines in the hot sun all day. What about your condition?”
“My condition’s fine,” Flim muttered, avoiding eye contact. “I haven’t had any more problems since Entropy sent that medicine to me back in Seaddle.”
“Yes, but,” Flam gritted his teeth, the memory of Flim’s last fit etched permanently in his mind’s eye. That had happened only a week after they got back together. Whatever he did in Ponyville had aggravated the condition until it was worse than it ever had been. Flam wasn’t about to allow for a repeat of that night. “You’ve got to watch out for yourself.”
“I am watching out for myself, Flam! I’d let you know if I wasn’t feelin’ up to work, honest.”
“I know, I know, I just . . . I worry is all.”
He felt Flim’s hoof on his back, “Thanks for that, brother of mine, but you don’t have anythin’ to worry about.”
“Anything but that accent of yours,” he grumbled.
Flim removed his hoof, eyeing him as though he were two tents shy of a three ring. “Accent?”
“Yup.” Flam cleared his throat, doing his best to imitate Flim’s newfound habit, “I can’t rightly see why yer talkin’ like some backyard hick when Mom an Dad taught us better ‘an that.”
“Oh, that,” Flim mumbled, avoiding eye contact. Rather than getting angry, he looked honestly embarrassed, adjusting his hat over his eyes. “Sorry, guess I’m just a little homesick.”
“Homesick? Flim, nopony in the ENTIRE circus ever talked like that!”
“Not . . . not the circus, Flam.” Flim’s voice lowered until it was scarcely more than a whisper, “For Sweet Apple Acres.”
Flam’s heart skipped a beat. So that was what he was going on about. Though they had been back together for a while now, a kind of distance seemed to be building between them, a distance not so easily mended. Oh, he had tried to bridge it somehow, but a part of him knew their relationship would never be the same as before. His blunder had seen to that. What hurt the most was that Flim didn’t seem comfortable or even willing to share his concerns with him. “You miss them that much?”
“Well, yes and no,” Flim hedged.
“Yes and no?”
“Well . . . It’s more,” he gulped, “more her I’m missing.”
Her? Flim had mentioned his time at Sweet Apple Acres briefly. How he had ended up working for the apples, how with their help he had been able to turn a new leaf, but he never mentioned specifics. What he did mention, or more accurately, who, was Applejack. The way he went on about her had started to get on his nerves. Now the pieces were all starting to fit together. “You like her? Like her, like her I mean,” he added.
Flim pawed at the dirt like some schoolyard filly. “Yes,” he squeaked.
“I knew it! So that’s why you’ve been acting like this, you’re trying to imitate her.”
“No I’m not!” Flim’s sunburned face grew even more red, “I just admire her, that’s all. Acting like her helps.”
“Sure it does.” Flam didn’t believe him for a second, but decided not to belabor the point. What he really wanted to know was why. Why had he left her and a place he was so happy in to come looking for a hopeless gambler like himself? Surely he could have lived a relatively happy life, heck, maybe even gotten married and had foals. Instead he was traveling around Equestria taking care of his screw up twin for the indefinite future. “Sorry, Flim.”
“Huh? What for?”
He bit his lip, “For making you leave.”
“You didn’t make me leave, Flam. I chose to leave.” Before he could protest, Flim wrapped him in a bone crushing hug, “I needed you every bit as much as you needed me. So don’t be guilty, numskull!”
Flam returned the hug, gripping his twin tightly. “I’m . . . sorry, I’m so sorry.”
“Me too . . . me too.”
Flam chuckled into Flim’s mane, “You smell like a barn.” Flim only chuckled, still keeping the hug. For once, he couldn’t complain. His brother might be different now, but he was still his brother, and, come what may Flam would never abandon him again.