//------------------------------// // Talking About the Perfect Pear Can Appearantly be Too Much to Bear // Story: Letters from an Irritated Princess // by Tired Old Man //------------------------------// Dear Granny Smith, I’m surprised you’re still alive. No, seriously. From the numerous unkind words you’ve spoken about Grand Pear I’ve heard over the years, I pegged his return to Ponyville as the day you’d suffer a stroke. Then again, I thought you’d burst a blood vessel when Mayor assisted in conducting a secret wedding ceremony on the Borderline of Forbidden Fruit. However, if I had any indication that made me believe you had moved on from this, it’s you becoming best friends with the wedding officiant. It takes a hefty amount of restraint to accomplish that, I expect. Furthermore, not holding onto a petty fruit-fueled feud with your old rival reveals you’ve gathered a fully-loaded bushel of maturity over the years. It’s the sort of thing your granddaughter should have in spades, but Mayor’s last damage report states she’s selecting a spade to dig a strawberry grave. Ah, the tribulations of easily angered youth. Say, do you reckon those two will have children one day? I’m curious in knowing what a Strappear looks like. Also, I just want to let you know that I’m always here if you feel the need to cry on somepony’s shoulder. This letter of yours definitely seems charged with tumultuous emotions the likes of which I’ve never seen come from you, and the most I could gather was something significant about a double helix tree on the outskirts of the orchard. I’ll take your word for it on its significance, though I’d be lying if I didn’t want some elaboration beyond the scope of your writing. This is important to you, and I wish to treat it with the same level of importance. I’ll be looking forward to our next meeting, Granny. I suspect it’s going to be a long one, especially since you’re offering to take out one of your century cider casks on our next outing. The very least I can do is match that with something from my private reserve. I won’t say what it is, but I imagine the smell alone will send you on a nostalgia trip. Looking forward to seeing you soon. Friends Forever, Celly