> A Bucket of Turnips
>  by Gravitys Rainboom
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

> Chapter 1
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------


Chapter 1


Equestria is widely known throughout the world as a very simple country. Save for Canterlot, which could be considered its only real ‘wonder,’ the nation lacks any natural marvels, so to speak. Its mountain ranges are fairly standard; not too tall, too precarious, or too cold. They have the minimum required height to be considered mountains, and their hue is the standard rock brown and rock gray that mirrors the surrounding average rock formations. They completely lack both the grandeur and lush vegetation of the Northern Mesas, which are incidentally part of the Griffon domain. 

Equestria’s lakes and rivers are also a thing of average splendor. Again, only attaining the minimum required size and wetness to be considered lakes or rivers at all. They pale in comparison to the great basins that are found to the southeast. Cauldron Lake, the largest, deepest, and most beautiful of these bodies of water, is said to have made artists weep in its very presence. Yes, the Minotaurs are quite proud of their water.

Even Equestria’s forests cannot boast anything special, only reaching the minimum requirement of vegetation and eeriness to be considered wild forests at all. Why, the Everfree is but a meager shrub compared to the Great Rainforest, which lies across the Great Western Sea and is surrounded by the Great Desert that is found to the north of the Not-So-Great Mountain Ranges. Oh, how the Zebras love to brag about their Great Forest.

Yet despite the averageness of the world’s most prosperous nation, few could deny that there is a certain allure to its simplicity. Travelers and adventures who have been to Equestria’s country side can attest that, despite the grandeur of the previously mentioned natural wonders, they cannot hold a candle to the pastoral magnificence that is Equestria. From the rolling green hills, to the way the morning dew glitters in the shine of the dawn, Equestria’s meadows hold a kind of beauty on to their own which many consider are undeniably every bit as spectacular as the northern Mesas, or Cauldron lake, or even the Great Rainforest, which lies across the Great Western Sea and is surrounded by the Great Desert that is found to the north of the Not-So-Great Mountain Ranges.

But what truly sets Equestria apart is its people. Ponies, for the most part, are a kind and simple folk, who have simple tastes, and are prone to simple tendencies (save for those in Canterlot of course). In some ways, they are a physical embodiment of their nation’s geography. Perhaps it is only fair then that our story, like so many other great tales, begins in the quaintest and simplest of Equestria’s towns. The town of Ponyville, known for its lush pastures, tranquil nature, and ‘out-of-the-way’ setting, could be best described as the ideal village. It is also where we find our hero…




Peaceful.

That’s how one would describe the village. Peaceful. There was hardly a soul outside that Sunday afternoon in Ponyville. Most of the town’s residents had retreated to the comfort of their homes. Some, to partake in naps; for, as we all know, there are few things more satisfying that taking nap after lunch on a hot summer’s day. Others, to spend time with their families and friends, taking advantage of their last day of the weekend to catch up with their neighbors. And some, to just curl up in their living rooms, hide from the sun’s unforgiving heat, and enjoy a good book. But whatever the reason may have been, the result of the town’s current emptiness was undeniably pleasant. It was a shame that there were so few ponies to enjoy it. However, there was one specific pony outside that day, a pony that holds a particular importance to this tale. 

The silence of the country-side was punctuated by a small tune floating in the breeze. The source of this tune? A young stallion, who was whistling a slow yet upbeat melody to himself as he strolled down one of the town’s many dirt roads. This stallion was a tall and slender creature, almost too thin some would say. He had a beige coat that could best be described as unremarkable, a brown, untamed mane that fell down the back of his neck, and a cutie-mark which was a trio of turnips. His two most noticeable features were a white and green cap which bore a picture of a turnip that rested firmly on his head, and a pair of buck teeth that stuck out of his mouth crookedly. These, however, only served to accentuate his large smile and content expression.

This was Hayseed Turnip-Truck.

Hayseed was happy. This was nothing special, as he was always happy, but that day he was particularly happy. This was the day he had been waiting for for the past two weeks, ever since receiving a letter from his favorite third cousin on his mother’s side. Finally, after days of crossing out squares on his calendar, the long awaited date had arrived. 

Today was the day Hayseed was going to Canterlot.

As the earth pony continued walking back to his home to prepare for his trip, his whistling was interrupted by a pair of voices coming from down an empty alley. 

Gosh, thought the turnip farmer to himself. Ah wonder who that could be. The town’s practically empty.

Curiosity getting the better of him, Hayseed wandered down the alley only to find some of the only other ponies outside at that hour; a pair of young colts by the names of Snips and Snails. The two colts were in a bit of a sticky situation, literally. Both were conjoined by a massive amount of bubblegum that seemed to cover every inch of their bodies.

“I…uh…can’t…hergh…believe…argh…that this happened again!” bemoaned Snails as he tried to break free of the pink substance’s iron grip.

“Is this the fourth or fifth time this month?” asked Snails.

“The eighth.”

“Y’all need some help there?”

Both colts turned around to find Hayseed staring at them quizzically.

“Uh…maybe,” grunted Snips sheepishly, the blue unicorn having gotten stuck to a nearby wall.

“How did ya get in this here pickle anyways?” asked Hayseed. 

“We were trying to set a world record for the biggest bubble gum bubble ever, and it popped all over us.”

Hayseed’s eyes widened. “That’s so coooooooooooooool! Did ya make it!?”

“Almost. We only needed, like, one more stick of gum,” lamented Snips.

“Well, y’all just wait right here. Ah’ll be back with some more gum lickity split, then we’ll beat this here record!”

“That’s a great idea! But um, could you find a way to help us down first?”

“Oh, alrighty then.” Hayseed sat down and rubbed is chin pensively while Snips and Snails glanced uncertainly at each other. “A’ve got it!” he exclaimed after ten minutes. “How ‘bout ah get some butter er somethin’ and ya try tah slide yer way out?”

“I think the butter would just melt before you got back.”

Hayseed scrunched his face in concentration, trying to find an alternate solution to the colts’ predicament. “How ‘bout peanut butter? That won’t melt, right?”

“Uh… don’t worry about it Hayseed, we’ll figure something out.”

“Well shoot,” muttered Hayseed. “Sorry ah can’t be more helpful. Ah guess ah should be headin’ back home anyhoo. Good luck with yer world record, fellers!” Leaving both colts behind, Hayseed turned around and resumed his journey.

Snails waved to the stallion as he left. Making sure that he was out of earshot, the pudgy blue colt turned to face his lanky companion. “Peanut butter? Boy, that Hayseed sure is dumb, huh Snips? Now let’s see if we can get Miss Twilight to lend us some cool acid or something to melt the gum!”

“Okay!” said Snips before rushing in the direction of the library. Unfortunately for him, he failed to take into account the elastic substance tethering him to his companion. Thus, the poor colt made it less than four meters before being whipped back and smashing into Snails with enough force to leave both ponies dazed.

Hayseed failed to notice any of this though. He was so determined to make it back to his home as soon as possible that he was focusing solely on the ground in front of him. Sadly, all that this focus amounted to was to avoid getting distracted for a whole two minutes before his attention was seized by the sound of a nearby group of pegasi who were working on a construction site. This scene now fully occupying his thoughts, Hayseed merrily trotted to said construction site with the hopes of inquiring as to what was going on.

Once he arrived to the building that was being renovated, the beige stallion was able to recognize it as Berry Punch’s home. He was also able to recognize one of the pegasai carrying a bundle of two-by-fours.

“Hi there Rainbow Dash!” he called out cheerfully to the aforementioned pegasus.

Rainbow looked around in confusion, trying to discern the source of the call. She looked down to the ground to find Hayseed waving up to her with a huge grin on his face. “Oh, uh…hey there Hayseed. Can I help you?”

“Ah was just wonderin’ what y’all were doin’ up there.” To emphasize his point, Hayseed waved his hoof towards some of the workers.

“We’re just helping fix up Berry Punch’s place,” said Rainbow Dash casually. “Some colt wrecked the foundation or something. While we were here, she asked us to renovate her roof a little bit.”

“Ah didn’t know ya were also uh construction worker.”

“I’m not.” Rainbow shrugged. “Just helping a friend. Though I do wish we had some more ponies to help me out.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” scoffed Dash. “I mean, I know I’m awesome, and I could probably fix this place up on my own. It’s just that it takes soooooooo loooooong. If I had just one more pony to help, we’d be to finish this up in less than an hour…uh…flat.”

“Ah can help if ya need it!” exclaimed Hayseed happily. A mixture of dread and utter terror etched itself on Dash’s face. 

“Uh…t-that’s…w-well,” stuttered the cyan pegasus nervously. She looked around her immediate surroundings frantically, desperately searching for a quick solution to her new predicament. Fortunately for her, she quickly found one in the shape of a grey pegasus. Without hesitating, Rainbow Dash flew off as quick as her wings could carry her and promptly returned with the now very confused mare in tow. “Gee, that’s real nice of you to offer Hayseed. But I just realized that Derpy here had already agreed to help out.”

“I did?” 

Rainbow lightly punched the mailmare on the shoulder. “Yeah, remember. You agreed to help me so now Hayseed doesn’t have to ‘help’ out.” The blue pony nodded towards the turnip farmer as forcefully as she could, hoping to Celestia that Derpy would catch on. The cross-eyed mare looked down at Hayseed and back to Rainbow Dash, still unsure of what was going on. 

“Of course I’ll help, Dash,” said Derpy. “All you had to do was ask.”

“There you go!” shouted Dash. “Thanks, but no thanks Hayseed. Maybe next time.”

Hayseed’s eyes narrowed in suspicion. Dash smiled a nervous smile that would make Applejack face hoof, and shifted her eyes anxiously. But all the smiling in the world couldn’t distract from the fact that she was sweating bullets under the stallion’s scrutiny. Hayseed continued to examine Rainbow with distrust. He ponderously rubbed his chin and hummed to himself, deep in thought.

Rainbow’s fretting proved for naught however, as almost instantly a large smile spread out across the farmer’s face. “Alrighty then. I guess I’ll be seein’ ya.” With a wave, Hayseed turned around and wandered down the dirty road towards his home. 

Once Rainbow Dash was sure that the stallion was gone, she wiped her brow and exhaled in relief. “Phew, that was a close one. Can you imagine what would have happened if that klutz tried to help?”

“Hayseed is really clumsy,” agreed Derpy. “So what can I help you with, Dash?”

“Just take these planks up to Cloudchaser up there, okay.” Rainbow handed the two-by-fours to Derpy.

“No problem, Rainbow Dash!” Derpy tried to perform a little salute, but lost her grip on the pieces of wood in her hooves. Dash held her breath in anticipation, waiting for something to shatter or break. But, much to her surprise, nothing happened. The planks simply flew in all directions, one of them striking the house, but none doing any real damage. Dash was about to breathe a sigh of relief when, all of the sudden, a small crack appeared on the house where the wood had struck it. That crack rapidly spread through the rest of the house’s outer wall, and before the pegasi could react, the entire wall collapsed, windows and all. In what could best be described as a hilarious coincidence, that wall happened to belong to one of the house’s bathrooms, and its collapse left the room completely exposed while Berry Punch was in the middle of a shower. The purple pony shrieked when she realized the bizarre situation she found herself in.

Rainbow Dash calmly turned around and faced Derpy with a flat expression. The mail mare grinned nervously at her companion. “Whoops. My-”

Dash raised her hoof up to silence the gray pony. “Let me guess,” she deadpanned. “Your bad?”

Derpy laughed sheepishly while she rubbed the back of her neck. “Uh…yes?”

Rainbow Dash could do little more than face hoof. 

But, once again, Hayseed was blissfully unaware of all that was happening behind him. He just continued to trot down the road, lightly lifting up tufts of dust with every step he took. His mind was occupied with thoughts of Canterlot, and what he pictured such a big city to be like. As he continued to travel back to his humble abode, gradually the houses began to space themselves out more. Trees slowly replaced the urban landscape, and before long, Hayseed had left the town entirely. The stallion looked up towards a distant mountain with the hopes of catching a glimpse of his new home. On a clear day, Canterlot could be seen easily from the humble town of Ponyville. Yet today was not such a day, for the mountain was shrouded in a plume of white clouds, probably the result of a rainstorm scheduled for that day.

But Hayseed didn’t mind. What did it matter if he wasn’t able to see Canterlot? By tomorrow he would be strolling through its white streets, surrounded by marble columns belonging to the city’s magnificent architecture.

Hayseed took a deep breath, simply savoring the soft, sweet scent of lavender that hung in the air. Butterflies of all shapes and colors fluttered around the trees and meadows, and a light, refreshing breeze was blowing from the south. There was nothing that could ruin this perfect day.

As the beige earth pony climbed a short hill that lay to the south east of the town, his modest home came into view. It was a brown shack, made of planks of rotting wood that were haphazardly nailed together. In fact, anyone approaching the flimsy structure would be mindful to avoid the twisted nails that jutted out of its walls. The door was an antiquated and ripped screen door that hung from one of its hinges. A small, battered, and bent aluminum chimney rose from the shack and sent a tower of dark smoke to the sky. All around the house, weeds sprouted from the ground, and the massive yard, which once boasted a thriving turnip farm, was littered with wheels, broken furniture, and other refuse that was slowly being claimed by the growing grass. 

Hayseed brightened up when he saw his lifelong home. Not wasting any more time, he galloped down to the brown shack and rushed inside. The interior was just as modest as the exterior. A lone light bulb hung from the ceiling, illuminating the entire room. A dented iron stove sat in the corner next to a cracked window. Parts of the walls were covered in a dark mold, and the ceiling was plagued with dozens of holes that would leak in times of rain. The floor was in an even worse condition than the ceiling. Most of its boards were decomposed and had cracked under the weight of the shack’s residents long ago. Some of portions of the ground actually lacked any flooring at all and instead were simply patches of mud. 

Inside the living room/dining room/kitchen were two mares sitting at a wobbly wooden table (which was the only piece of furniture in the entire room). The first was a thin, bent old pony, with a green goat and grey hair that was tied into a bun. She wore an orange, frilled kerchief around her neck with little apples sewn on it; and next to her chair was a metal walker with tennis balls on the ends of two of its legs. The other mare was a chubby pony with wrinkles on almost every portion of her body. Her coat was a very light purple that faded into white when it reached her legs. She, like her companion, wore a kerchief. It was green, like her eyes, with pictures of turnips embroidered on it, and it entirely covered her grey hair. Next to her chair rested a chipped cane. 

They were playing some sort of card game, and both were staring intently at the cards in their hooves. The green mare had her tongue stuck out in concentration while her counterpart was chewing her lip nervously. Neither gave any indication that they noticed Hayseed walk in through the door.

“Hmmmm,” hummed the green mare. “Got any twos?”

The purple pony looked up at her companion and smiled smugly. “Go. Fish.”

“CONSARNIT!!!” yelled the green earth pony as she threw her cards and slammed her hoof on the table. “Stop lyin’ ya no good cheat!”

“Cheat!? Who ya callin’ cheat ya raggedy hag?” 

“I’ll show ya a hag, ya witch!”

“Hey there momma,” greeted Hayseed, ignoring the confrontation going on in front of them.

“Howdy there pumpkin’. Are ya packed yet?”

“Almost,” answered Hayseed.

“Hayseed Turnip-Truck, is that you?” asked the green mare happily. “My my, yer just getting’ more and more handsome every time ah see ya.”

Hayseed blushed lightly and rubbed his shoulder. “Thanks, Mrs. Smith.”

“But yer too thin,” said Granny Smith with concern. “Has yer momma been feedin’ ya at all?”

“Are ya suggestin’ ah can’t take care of mah boy?” accused Mrs. Turnip-Truck with narrowed eyes.

“Ah’m sayin’ that a grown stallion like him can’t be livin’ off nothin’ but turnips ya senile old fool!” Granny Smith suddenly faced back to Hayseed with a warm smile. “Which reminds me dearie, ah left ya a fresh apple pie in yer room.”

“Thank ya kindly, ma’m.”

Hayseed’s mother scoffed. “Just like an Apple to be sticking their snouts where they don’t belong.”

Smith glared at the old mare in front of her. “And just like a Turnip-Truck to cheat at go-fish.”

“Ah told ya ah didn’t cheat ya two bit apple farmer!”

“And ah told ya that there’s no way y’all didn’t have at least one single gosh darn two yeah dirt grubbin’ turnip plucker!”

“THAT”S IT!!! WE’RE SETTLIN’ THIS ONCE AND FER ALL!”

“GLADLY, HOW DO YA WANNA DO THIS!?!”

“AH GUESS IT’S ONLY FAIR AH LET YA DECIDE SEEIN’ AS I’M GONNA WIPE THE FLOOR WITH YA!”

“MUD WRASSLIN’!?”

“DEAL! HAYSEED, GET YER MOMMA HER OLD MUD WRASSLIN’ BIKINI SO AH CAN TEACH THIS SENILE OLD APPLE BUCKER HOW US TURNIP-TRUCKS DO BUISNESS!!!”

“Uh…ma, the mayor said y’all can’t do mud wrasslin’ within a hundred miles of the town any more. Not since what happened last time.”

“Shoot!” swore the old mare bitterly. “How was ah suppose tah know that class was gonna be visitin’ Sweet Apple Acres. How ’bout we just settle this with a good old fashion hoof wrasslin’ contest Smith?”

“Alright then!”

Both mares placed their elbows on the table and locked hooves. On the count of three both their leg muscles contracted and the two seniors began a fierce hoof wrestling contest that could put Applejack and Rainbow Dash’s to shame. Hayseed just spectated casually as the two mares glared daggers at each other; such events weren’t uncommon in the Turnip-Truck household. After much grunting and sweating, a green hoof slammed against the table, leaving Mrs. Turnip-Truck victorious.

“Hah, take that, apple muncher!” yelled the purple earth pony. “Nopony’ll ever beat a Turnip-Truck under mah roof.”

“Ah still beat ya last week,” muttered Granny Smith.

With the contest over, Mrs. Turip-Truck returned her attention to her son. “Hayseed, go and pack yer thangs, pumpkin’.”

“Sure thang, momma.” As Hayseed retreated to his room, his mother stared at him sadly. Once he was gone, the old mare sighed dejectedly.

“What’s wrong, Stem?” asked Smith with concern.

“Nothin’,” mumbled her companion with a distant voice.  

“Green Stem Turnip-Truck, Ah’ve been yer friend fer over seventy Celestia forsaken years. I kin tell when yer upset.”

Green Stem sighed a second time. “Ah don’t want tah see him go Edith.”

“Then don’t let him, ya old fool! He’s like a second grandson tah me, ah don’t want him tah go either.”

“Ah have to.”

“Why?” asked Granny Smith. “Look at mah gran kids. They’re still at the farm.”

“Cuz ya have ah farm,” said Stem pointedly. “The old field’s been dead fer years, and that fool of ah husband of mine didn’t leave enough money fer both of us. Just look at this place Edith!” Stem waved her hoofs in the air for emphasis. “We can’t all be livin’ in the lap of luxury like you, and Hayseed needs tah get a job. Luna knows there aren’t any for him here.”

“Don’t ya worry Stem, he’ll be fine,” assured the Apple matriarch. “He’s a smart bo- well, he’s a good boy. He’ll do great on his own.”

“Yer right,” conceded the purple pony. 

“As always,” said Granny Smith smugly.

“Yeah, yeah. Now where we? Oh right, do ya have any fives?”

While the two mares continued their heated go-fish game, Hayseed toiled in his room, getting his affairs in order. The room was small, only a few meters in both length and width. It held only two pieces of furniture: an old, poorly crafted bed with a ripped hay mattress, and a wooden trunk that rested at its end. The box contained all of Hayseed’s possessions, and he was busy going through them, deciding what he would bring to his new home. Among these belongings were a couple of white shirts, each one more stained than the last, a pair of socks that had more holes in them then cloth at that point, a few of his favorite childhood books, various trinkets and knick-knacks, a photo a him and his mother when he was just a colt, a gold pocket watch that had belonged to his father, and finally his most prized possession: an old, worn down Smarty-Pants doll that his mother had given him on the day he got his cutie-mark. Hayseed hugged the doll affectionately before putting it on top of a red rag with white spots along with the rest of his things, and tying it into a bindle. 

Hayseed looked out the window and saw that the skies around Canterlot had cleared, revealing the greatest city on the planet in all its glory.




“One ticket tah Canterlot please, Miss.”

“Sure thing, Hayseed,” replied the charcoal colored unicorn behind the ticket booth’s glass pane.

The sun had long since descended under the horizon, leaving Luna’s moon to take over the night sky. Ponyville’s train station, which was a modest structure compared to some of the larger cities’ grand stations, was completely deserted, save for a lone night employee and a pair of earth ponies. 

“You’re in luck Hayseed, the train is pretty much empty,” said the unicorn. “So will you be taking a return ticket too?”

“Nope, just one way please.”

The dark mare’s eyes widened. “Sure thing. That’ll be twenty-five bits.”

“TWENTY FIVE BITS!?!”

Mrs. Turnip-Truck, who had accompanied her son to the station, rushed towards the booth. “Who the hay do ya think ya are!? Twenty-five bits for one damn ticket is uh robbery you no good, two bit con-artist!”

“I’m s-s-sorry M-Miss Turnip T-t-truck,” stuttered the employee. “B-but I d-don’t make the p-prices. Besides, it’s actually cheaper because it’s a night train. If you want I can offer you a discount-”

“We don’t need yer charity! How dare you insinu- insina- say that! I otta go in there and whoop yer sorry little-”

“Momma, it’s fine,” insisted Hayseed. He approached the terrified mare and gave her twenty-five bits, which roughly accounted for half his savings. “Here ya go, Miss Smoke Stack. Sorry ‘bout mah ma.”

The unicorn smiled. “Don’t worry about it Hayseed, and please, call me Smokey. I actually get this sort of thing all the time. And here…” Smokey pushed five of Hayseed’s bits back towards him, “…I gave you that discount anyways,” she whispered with a wink.

Hayseed was beaming. “Gee, thanks a lot Miss Smoke St- I mean, Smokey!” The stallion turned around and headed towards the platform to get on his train, followed by his mother. The old mare stopped and turned to face Smokey. She pointed to her eyes and towards the unicorn while mouthing the words ‘I’m watching you,’ before following her son. Smokey gulped nervously.

The train was a perfect representation of the station that it was resting at. It had a small, simple engine with standard coaches that weren’t anything too fancy or over the top. But also like the station, it was efficient and reliable, and to most citizens of Ponyville, that was all that was really important. 

Hayseed stopped before the entrance of the train and looked at his pocket watch. He only had a few minutes to spare before it left. He faced his mother, who was looking at him with somewhat teary eyes. “Momma, I’m gonna miss-”

Before he could finish, his mother pounced on him and snatched him up in a bone-crushing hug (literally, Miss Hayseed has been reported to have broken bones with her displays of affection). “Hayseed, ya be careful now ya hear?”

“Can’t…breathe,” wheezed a now blue-faced Hayseed. His eyes were gradually popping out of their sockets.

“Don’t take money from strangers…”

“Momma…choking…me.” 

“…if anypony there gives ya trouble just call me and ah’ll pound ‘em…”

“Ah’m…dying.”

“And so help me Celestia, if ya fall fer a mare I will go straight over there and-”

“MOMMA!!!”

Green Stem towards her son. His face had gone black, his eyes were rolling into the back of his head, and his tongue was lolling out of his mouth. The elderly mare rolled her eyes and let go of her son. “Pfft, wimp.”

Hayseed collapsed on the floor and panted in as much oxygen as possible. After a few minutes he shakily rose back on his hooves and returned his mother’s hug, albeit less…passionately. 

“Ah’m gonna miss ya, momma.”

“Ah’m gonna miss you too, son,” choked out the mare.

The train’s whistle let out a shrill, high-pitched shriek. “Aaaaaaaaaall aboard!” bellowed the conductor. Hayseed and his mother reluctantly parted.

“Do ya remember what I always tell ya Hayseed?” asked his mother.

“Yup. ‘Don’t play with the possums.’” 

Green Stem lashed out and smacked the white colt on the head. “No, ya idjit!” She grabbed Hayseed shoulders and brought his eyes up to hers. “Don’t forget who ya are. Remember yer roots and all that nonsense. Alright?”

Hayseed rubbed his head and winced. “Sure thang, ma.”

“Last boarding call!” announced the conductor.

Mrs. Turnip-Truck’s eyes softened. “Goodbye, Hayseed.”

“Goodbye, momma.” Hayseed climbed up the train’s steps. As soon as he got his ticket punched, the train lurched forward. He looked back to his mother and waved goodbye.

“Oh, and one more thang!” she called out. “Tell yer lazy, good fer nothing slob of uh cousin that ah said hi!”

“Sure thing ma!”




Both mother and son waved as they watched each other get smaller and smaller, until neither could see the other. With both a melancholic sigh and the insistence of the conductor, Hayseed entered the cart and looked for a room to spend the next few days in. Smokey had not been exaggerating when she said that he had the train all to himself. Hayseed had the pick of whatever room he desired. But, not being an overly fussy sort, he chose the first room he saw. Like all things Equestrian, it was a simple room. It had a window, a wooden desk, and a small bed. Despite the modest nature of the accommodations, however, Hayseed was absolutely floored. This was the nicest room he had ever stayed in.

The stallion took his sack and laid all his belongings on the bed. He picked up his Mrs. Smarty Pants doll and hugged it. It smelled like old, mossy wood. Like smoke and ash. Like leaky ceilings and untended gardens. 

It smelled like home. 

Hayseed shut off the lights and crawled into the bed’s covers with his doll in his hooves. He looked out the window and saw a white marble structure in the distance. The glowing city of Canterlot shone like a beacon in the darkness, and its lights twinkled in a way that would make stars envious. The tall, spiraling towers of the castle stood imposingly over the city, like guardians watching over its citizens. 

That night, Hayseed drifted into a blissful sleep while gazing out towards to horizon to his new home. And slowly but surely, the magnificent city of Canterlot became larger as the train sped towards it in the dead of night. 


> Chapter 2
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------


Chapter 2


The train grounded to a screeching halt at Peaking Dawn station at around eleven in the morning. The morning fog had long since dissipated from the city, and the remaining clouds were removed by specialized weather teams, trained to deal with the kind of weather that assaulted mountains at such high altitudes. The train, which was smaller and more rustic compared to the mammoth engines that also populated the station, opened its coaches to allow its passengers to depart. But only one pony got off the train. Hayseed climbed down his coach’s steps and took a deep breath, trying to savor the smell of the new city. It had taken sixteen hours, but he had finally arrived to Canterlot.

From a distance, the spires were a thing of beauty, something that ponies sometimes stopped to admire. But seeing them from within the city left Hayseed’s jaw hanging. He couldn’t believe it. He had finally made it to the big city. The beige pony’s face broke out into a massive, lopsided grin as he tried to take in the sites in front of him. 

“Get out of the way!” shouted a grey pony as he shoved Hayseed aside.

“Oh, sorry mister,” called out the Ponyvillian, backing up to get out of the way, only to hit a moving luggage cart.

“Hey! Watch it!” cried out an indignant platform worker.

“Sorry.” Hayseed stumbled away from the pile of suitcases and luggage he created, and straight towards the exit…which also happened to be the most crowded area of the station.

“Ouch!”

“Sorry.”

“My tail!”

“Sorry.”

What the!?”

“Sorry.”

“Watch it!”

“Sorry.”

“SWEET CELESTIA, MY EYES!!!”

“…sorry.”

Hayseed broke free from the stream of bodies that flowed across the platform of Equestria’s largest transportation hub, and, as countless new arrivals to the urban bustle of Canterlot before him have done, breathed a sigh of relief. The beige stallion stood up right, straightened his hat, tightened his bindle…

… tightened his bindle…

Hayseed gasped in shock as he realized that his bindle, the thing that carried all his worldly possessions, was no longer on his shoulder. Looking back through the gates of the terminal’s exit, towards the sea of hundreds of travelers that were marching up and down the station, Hayseed could see his bindle and stick lying on the middle of the platform, surrounded by stomping hooves. The colt only got a brief glimpse of it before it was kicked away by an unsuspecting mare.

Hayseed cried out in horror and ran back towards the platform as fast as he could, only to be blocked by a wall of ponies that immediately stepped in front of him.

“What the?” he muttered. Looking towards the front of the line, Hayseed saw a red stand with an umbrella and a fat stallion behind a counter.

“Haydogs! Get your haydogs here!”

“Oh you’ve got tah be kiddin’ me!”

Hayseed dropped on his belly and crawled through the legs of the hungry ponies, much to their surprise. Once he had finally made it back onto the platform, he was left disoriented by the noise and number of ponies gliding to and fro. He whipped his head back and forth, and out of the corner of his eye managed to spot a hint of red on the floor to his right. Scrambling after it, Hayseed was mere inches away from his belongings before they were once again kicked out of the way…

…and towards the rails.

Hayseed’s eyes widened in horror. He dove towards the red cloth and stick, knocking away ponies with ease, and slid across the ground in a desperate attempt to reach his ‘luggage’ before it fell into the tracks and was crushed by an oncoming train. Just as the tip of his outstretched hoof grazed the stick of his pack, another luggage cart rolled by, knocking the bindle away with such force that it flew off into the air. Hayseed could only watch with dismay as his possessions once again left his clutches.

The bindle fell onto the roof of the train station, rolled down and bounced off the umbrella of the haydog cart, spun through a stack of smoke of one of the trains, landed on the roof of said train, and was whipped off by the force of the train stopping before smacking a janitor upside the head and landing in his hooves.

And in all that time, Hayseed’s heart stopped, restarted, stopped again, and restarted a second time.

“Oh thank goodness!” exclaimed the turnip farmer in relief as he ran up the custodian who held his belongings. “Thanks for saving mah stuff mister. Ah almost had a heart attack!” 

Hayseed was blissfully unaware that he literally had not one, but two heart attacks. 

The stallion, a skinny, light brown coated lad with a black mane and gray overalls, looked up at Hayseed with a raised eyebrow. “This is yours you say?” he asked with a heavy accent that Hayseed couldn’t place.

“Yesum,” replied Hayseed with an outstretched hoof.

“Hmmm…mine now.”

“What?”

“Mine. Now,” repeated the earth-pony.

“B-but…but…that’s mah bindle!”

“What’s that expression you Equestrians have? Finders keepers, losers sleepers?”

“Actually, it’s ‘finders keepers, losers weepers.’”

“Oh, gracias.”

“No problem,” said Hayseed. The beige stallion turned around and walked away with a content smile on his face, happy that he could help that pony with his predicam-

“Hey wait uh a minute! That’s mah bindle! Give it back!”

“Why?” sneered the brown pony. “You’re the idiota who dropped the thing on my head.  I think this should be compensation for my injuries.”

“Yer injuries? But ya seem fine tah me.”

“Hfm, shows what you know,” snorted the stallion. “Your things broke my spleen! How am I supposed to work when a have a…what’s that word that starts with an ‘I?’ ¿Cuando tengo un ‘bazo’ herido?”

“Huh?”

“Your stupid bag just broke my spleen, okay?” snapped the earth pony, frustrated by the language barrier between the two.

Hayseed’s eyes widened in horror. “It did? Look, ah’m sorry if ah hurt ya with mah bindle. But all mah things are in there.” Hayseed gave the stallion a pleading look. “Can ah please have it back? Ah promise tah find a way tah compi… copen… make up your injuries for ya.” Hayseed’s lower lip began to quiver as his eyes pierced the janitor.

The pony gave a long, fake, exaggerated sigh. “All right,” he said as he handed Hayseed back his luggage. “I guess I’m too nice for my own good,” he swooned, in an over the top manner. “You can take it for free if you really need it.”

“Really?” asked Hayseed ecstatically.

“Sure. Good luck, güey.” And with that, the janitor turned around and slipped into the crowd with surprising haste.

“Thanks, mister!” called out Hayseed with a wave. With his things back in his possession, the turnip farmer made his way out of the station and finally into Canterlot proper, but not before stopping at the haydog stand from earlier for some lunch. Hayseed patiently waited for the line to thin out as he waited to be served. The aroma of warm, cheap food permeated the area; by the time it was his turn to be served, his mouth was watering in anticipation to bite into one of the tantalizing haydogs. 

“One haydog please.”

“That’ll be two bits,” grunted the fat stallion from behind the counter.

Hayseed opened his bindle and rummaged through his belongings in search of his money. But after a few minutes of scrambling his possessions, his coin purse was nowhere to be found.

“C’mon buddy, I ain’t got all day,” said the vendor gruffly with an annoyed expression. The patrons behind Hayseed were beginning to grumble impatiently behind him.

“Hold on mister, ah know ah got mah bits here somewhere.” Hayseed checked his sack one more time, then his shirt pocket, then under his hat, then his shirt pocket again (he had lost many a thing in that shirt pocket, so it never hurt to check twice), but his money was nowhere to be found.

“Look buddy, if you’re not gonna buy anything, then get out of the way. I’ve got ponies to feed and the last thing I need is a hick like you backing up my line.”

Hayseed sullenly got out of the line and left the station. But ah had mah purse in mah bag. What the hay happened tah it? Wait uh minute! 

The janitor…

…he must’ve accidentally dropped mah bits when he gave me back mah stuff!

Hayseed looked over his shoulder and back towards the platform of the station. Even though it seemed impossible, the terminal had actually gotten more crowded in the time he left. The beige earth pony groaned. It didn’t take a genius to see that there was no way he could find the janitor in that crowd. Ah well, like momma always said: no use crying over spilled milk.

The money was inconsequential to Hayseed. His cousin had promised him a job when he arrived to Canterlot, and soon enough he would be rolling in the riches of Canterlot that his cousin had loved to boast about. With this in mind, Hayseed’s trademark smile found its way back onto his face, and he made his way to the streets of Canterlot.

The first thing he noticed was the *clip clopping* of hooves. At first he was startled by the noise, but when he looked down he noticed that the streets of Canterlot were all paved with stone. This amazed the turnip farmer. He had never seen paved roads before, and to walk down a street without getting mud on his hooves was an entirely novel experience. 

The rest of the city proved to be just as fantastic. The marble architecture that surrounded the streets was full of intricate columns and spires that rose to the heavens. Before arriving to Canterlot, the largest building Hayseed had seen was four stories tall, and he felt minuscule compared to these massive feats of engineering. The city was also spotless, and the entire urban landscape seemed to glow under the sun’s rays. Countless colorful banners and flags flew from the city’s towers, lending some much-needed color to the view.

The ponies were also as extravagant as the city they resided in. During his stroll, Hayseed saw ponies wearing all sorts of colorful and superfluous clothing. Dozens of hats adorned with peacock feathers, rare silk threads, gaudy dyes, and even dragon scales rested on the heads of many of the residents, at times being larger than the ponies themselves! Expensive looking suits and dresses, some of which would have been considered antiquated fifty years ago, were worn with such joie de vivre that few could hope to point out how stupid they actually looked without being accused of being uncultured twits. Hayseed was considered an oddity in Ponyville for wearing something as simple as a shirt, but here he felt naked compared with how much clothing everypony else wore.

But the stunning buildings and colorful ponies all paled in comparison to Canterlot Castle, which loomed over the whole city. If the city glowed, then the castle practically radiated light. If the city was colorful, then the Castle was a canvas splattered with bright hues. And if the city was extravagant, then the Castle was the most flamboyant display of architecture and wealth on the entire planet (which it probably was).

Hayseed couldn’t help but stare slack-jawed at the entire sight. It was everything he could have wanted and more. It was as if he was transported into a fairytale. He felt like he could get lost in this beautiful city and not care.

Which was a good thing too, because it took him a whopping two minutes before he actually did get lost in the city.

One problem with the uniform building style of Canterlot was that for an outsider, every street looked exactly the same. Hayseed wandered around for hours trying to find his way to his cousin’s home. The stallion tried to navigate his way around using the map his cousin had sent him along with the tickets, but for the life of him Hayseed could not recognize the names of any of the streets.

It took a few more hours later for Hayseed to realize that had been holding the map upside down the whole time…

Unsurprisingly, navigating through the city became easier after that. Before long he arrived to the lower district of the city, and managed to find Bellgrave St. The stallion walked down the street where his cousin resided, and slowly but surely, the buildings became less radiant, the ponies less posh, and the streets and alleyways less clean. After a few minutes of walking, the marble buildings were entirely replaced with brick structures and dumbbell tenements. Clotheslines strung from building to building, less reputable looking ponies weaved sullenly between side streets, and the air reeked of trash and filth (not surprising considering the street was covered with trash and filth). In the blink of an eye, the glorious city of Canterlot transformed itself into a slum like neighborhood.

But Hayseed didn’t care. He was still entranced by the novelty of the urban environment, so he failed to notice the shift in his surroundings.

He soon found himself standing in front of an especially dilapidated looking structure: 7167 Bellgrave St. The apartment building was made out of brick and was covered with a coat of old, chipped paint. More than half of the windows were broken or cracked, and the base of the structure was surrounded by dumpsters and litter. The pungent odor of the street seemed to be more potent there. 

Hayseed marched through the door, passed an emerald pegasus who was smoking a pipe and shooting him a mean look, and climbed the stairs. 

Apartment 313.

Hayseed knocked on the door and waited. 

No one answered.

Hayseed knocked again, this time more forcefully, and elicited a response: “Go away! No one is home,” cried out a slightly high-pitched voice with a thick Stalliongrad accent.

Well shoot, thought Hayseed. If no one’s home, what am ah gonna do now?

Hayseed decided to knock one more time, just to be sure. Who knows, maybe his cousin was in the bathroom and couldn’t hear the knocks? With this in mind, the turnip farmer knocked a third time.

“I told you I’d get you the money Ace, I swear! Just give me another week!” called out the voice again.

“Uh…cousin,” said Hayseed uncertainly. “It’s me, yer cousin Hayseed.” He waited a second or two before he could hear the sound of multiple locks being unlocked and bolts being unbolted from the other side of the door. The door slid open to reveal a chubby, charcoal colored unicorn with a black mane and hazel eyes. The unicorn’s mane was slicked black with some sort of gel, and his muzzle was adorned with a thin goatee and pencil moustache. The pony’s cutie-mark was a large metal spike and sledgehammer crisscrossing.

When the unicorn saw who was at his front door, his eyes widened. “HAYSEED! MY COUSIN!!!” He shot forward and embraced Hayseed in a crushing hug (although it was nowhere near as strong as Hayseed’s mother’s embraces. Seriously, those could be deployed as weapons).

“Oh, Hayseed! I am so happy to see you. It’s been so long,” exclaimed the charcoal stallion.

“Heh, good to see ya, too, Rail Spike.”

“Come in, come in, cousin. We have much to talk about.” Rail Spike ushered Hayseed into his home before glancing nervously at the hallway from side to side and closing the door. “Welcome to my bachelor pad, cousin.”

Hayseed examined the apartment he was in. The wallpaper was peeling or entirely absent. The walls themselves were covered with posters of mares in bikinis or Royal Equestrian Air Force pin ups featuring Spitfire in saucy poses. The floor was covered with old magazines and paper plates. The floor was carpeted, but the carpet was stained and riddled with crumbs. The room itself was very dark, only illuminated by a couple of light bulbs hanging precariously from the ceiling by bare wire. In the center of the room was a messy fold-out bed that looked like it hadn’t been made since Luna’s banishment, and a dirty brown couch that rested next to it. At the foot of the bed was a dresser with an old radio resting on top. 

The room had a window (which was remarkably undamaged) that featured a magnificent view of a brick wall belonging to the adjacent building. Finally, just to drive the point of the apartment’s condition home, a cockroach and a rat both scurried next to Hayseed’s hooves and into the wall (which, incidentally, housed both a colony of insects and a colony of rats. Both these colonies had warred often and viciously for dominion of the apartment before the Treaty of Rail Spike’s Apartment of 874 A.B created a long lasting peace between both parties).

Hayseed stared silently at his new home. “Cousin, this apartment is…it’s…it’s AWESOME!”

“I know right! Come, come, let me show you around.”

5.67 seconds later, Rail Spike finished showing Hayseed around. “…and that’s everything.”

“So this is all yours?” asked Hayseed in amazement. 

“No cousin, this is all ours.”

“Wow…”

“Yes, life is good. Come, let me show you something,” said Rail Spike as he motioned towards his dresser. The unicorn opened the drawer and rummaged through his clothes for a few moments before levitating out a photo. In it was an orange mare with a red mane who was staring seductively at the camera. 

“This is my sweetheart, Tuliphaze,” said Rail Spike with a dreamy look.

“She sure is pretty, cuz,” said Hayseed, nudging his cousin playfully.

“Yeah…”

“So are ya’ll engaged yet?”

At this, Rail Spike sputtered uncontrollably. “What!? Oh no no no no Hayseed. I like Tulip, but I can’t marry her.”

“Why not?”

“Hayseed, I’m not a one mare colt. You can’t tie this stallion down; it would be a crime to mares everywhere! Understand?”

“Uh…I guess?” said Hayseed, not understanding at all.

“Good. I mean, don’t get me wrong. I do like her.” Rail Spike sighed as he stared at his lover’s photo. “Really like her,” he muttered under his breath with a goofy grin. He blinked and seemed to snap out of his trance. “But I can’t marry her.” 

Rail Spike yawned loudly as he put the photo away. “You must be tired after such a long journey, yes?”

“Ah am pretty pooped,” said Hayseed with a yawn of his own. 

“Well, we better rest. We have a long day tomorrow what with your new job and everything.”

Hayseed’s eyes widened. “You got me a job?”

“Of course cousin. You think I’d let you run around here looking for one on your own? You’ll be working with me. We’ll be-” Rail Spike was cut off by another yawn. “Ah, I’ll tell you tomorrow. Come let us go to sleep.”

Both colts settled themselves on their beds, Rail Spike on the mattress and Hayseed on the lumpy couch. The beige stallion closed his eyes and prepared to rest, but sleep eluded him. Troubling thoughts swirled in his mind.

“Hey Rail Spike, you awake?”

“No, I’m asleep,” replied his cousin jokingly.

“Oh, okay. Ah won’t bother you then.”

“I was joking, cousin,” laughed Rail Spike. “What is it?”

“Do… do you think ah’ll do okay here?”

Rail Spike paused. “What do you mean?”

Hayseed stared at the ceiling, trying to think of the best way to articulate his thoughts. “It’s just that…in Ponyville everythang was familiar, ya know? Ah mean sure, me and ma weren’t rich like ya, but we were always with friends and family. Here ah…ah just don’t wanna screw up, ya know? And don’t wanna go back home because ah couldn’t make it in the big city.”

Silence reigned across the room as Hayseed waited for a response from his cousin. 

“Let me tell you a story cousin,” said Rail Spike finally. “A few years ago, I was working on the great rails of Stalliongrad. I was happy, my grandmother was happy; everyone in the city was doing fine. Then the rail company went bankrupt, and everyone lost their job. I couldn’t find job, no one needed somepony to hammer spikes. Soon we went hungry, and that’s when I decided to come here. At first I was nervous like you, but soon, with the help of my brain and good looks, I got a job and this apartment. Hayseed, this is Canterlot. Anyone can make it here. This is the city where dreams are made.”

“Ya really think so ,cuz?” But Rail Spike was already asleep by then, so all Hayseed got in response was a loud snore. Hayseed grinned and rolled on his side. Closing his eyes, he took a deep, relaxing breath.

The city where dreams are made…