//------------------------------// // Fancy // Story: Appledashery Vol. Two // by Just Essay //------------------------------// "Hrmmmm..." Granny Smith squirmed, squatting awkwardly on the front deck surrounding the outer circumference of Ponyville City Hall. "I'm feelin' downright ramshackled. All... buttons and bobby pins..." "Yer blouse is fine, Granny." Applejack winked aside. She and Big Macintosh stood with the elder mare in the bright afternoon light. Their coats and manes had been freshly-washed and shampoo'd that morning, and there was an extra shine to their hooves. "I'd say you was lookin' shinier than a harvest apple in spring. We all are." "Hrmmm... still, I coulda done better." Granny's wrinkled lips pursed. "Shoulda put on my bonnet." "Granny, you are wearin' yer bonnet," Applejack said, smirking. Big Mac snorted. "Heheh... eeeeyup." "Hrmmff!" Granny folded her forelimbs. "Well, I hope it's all worth it. These Trottingham types can sure be snobbish and choosy. I hate to make him turn his nose and waltz back the way he came." "He's already made it clear he wants to do business with us, Granny." Applejack took a deep breath, tilting her hat back slightly. "Only proper that we meet face to face. Y'know... to make it all professional-like." "You sure this was his idea?" "Yes. And I'm all for it," Applejack said. "Sure is refreshin' to know that business stallions out there actually wish to be personable." Her smile faded momentarily. "Seems to be a sentiment that Filthy Rich is losing by the month." "Eeeeeeeeeeyup," Big Macintosh exhaled. "Ain't it silly?" Granny Smith tiredly blinked. "The way of thangs? When yer lookin' towards the top, you forget the folks who made you what you are. But when you're already at the top of the mountain, you have no choice but to look down. Reconsider thangs." "I like to think that this Fancy Pants feller had it all together in the long run." "Well... I'll reserve my judgment for when I actually see the whippersnapper." "He's a multi-millionaire, Granny. I doubt he's a whippersnapper." "Well, you gotta snap a lotta whip to make a bit these days!" "Do me a favor, Granny." "Yuh-huh...?" "... ... ...let me do the talkin'." "Hmmmf! Fine." Granny Smith smirked bitterly. "For a moment there, I was gonna force Big Mac." "Eenope!" "There'll come a day, sonny boy, you'll see." "Eenope—!" "Shhhh!" Applejack insisted. "Quiet, y'all! Here he comes!" "How do you know?" The farm mare pointed. "You see that stagecoach?" "It's just a stagecoach, Applejack—" "But this one's got silver wheels!" "Well glaze my galloshes!" Granny Smith stood up straight. "That's definitely Frilly Pantaloons in the flesh!" "Fancy Pants—ugh—this is why I should do the talkin'!" "Why? What did I say?" "Shhhhh!" Big Mac insisted, then stood tall as if he was a soldier about to be inspected. The three Apples watched as the stagecoach in question rolled to a stop. It was being drawn by four freshly-groomed chauffers. Once it stopped, the foremost right stallion unhitched himself, brushed off his suit, then trotted briskly around to the door. Applejack and her family watched with baited breaths. The stagecoach opened, and the first thing they heard was the familiar voice of Mayor Mare. "Ah ha ha! You're too flattering!" She stepped down, fluffing her mane as she glanced inside the stagecoach. "If you must know, it's imported dye from Saddle Arabia. But I most certainly wouldn't mind trying out Trottingham's finest." She took one look at the Apples and grinned. "Oh! Apple Smith! Applejack! You didn't have to wait outside! The lobby would have been fine!" "Dun mind us." Applejack tipped the brim of her hat. "We're in our element here in the sunshine. Bein' that we're apple farmers and all, seemed only fitting that we present ourselves as honestly as possible." "Ah! But of course! Uhm..." The Mayor stepped aside, gesturing towards the stagecoach. "Well, here's our beloved guest—just as I promised!" It was then that a stately stallion trotted out. He possessed an alabaster coat and a healthy build. Both his mane and mustache were slick and glossy, and he wore a shiny silk suit jacket. He stood in place, kneading his manicured hooves in the Ponyville dirt, and inhaled the afternoon air. When he exhaled, it was through a charming grin, and his monocle glinted to punctuate his exuberant tone. "Ahhhhhh...! Rustic to the last! The scent of country hay and generations of corn-shucking! I positively relish it!" He looked down at the Mayor and winked. "You, dear madame, do not disappoint." The Mayor giggled like a schoolgirl, fanned herself slightly, then coughed it off. "Yes... well... I'm certainly more than a little bit proud of our... corn-shucking ways. Ahem." She gestured at the deck of the building. "Fancy Pants, if I may introduce you to the Apple family." "My word!" He adjusted his monocle to get a better glance at them. "All present and accounted for?" "Not includin' Apple Bloom, our young'n," Applejack said with a freckled smile. "She's off doin' her learnin' at school." "Yes. Quite." Fancy Pants bowed low. "Forgive my casual dialogue upon arrival. I assumed that we would be meeting indoors." "We ain't exactly the indoorsy type. Harder to buck apples with a roof over yer head." "Ha Hah!" Fancy Pants stepped closer. "No doubt. But you needn't impress me with the nature of yer hard work." He smiled, standing before the three. "I've agreed to this venture upon the recommendation of very believable sources." "Really?" Applejack tilted her head to the side. "Like who?" Fancy Pants leaned forward, whispering. "Some of the best gifts in life come anonymously." Applejack blinked at that. "Applejack, I presume..." "Erm... yes. Yes sir." She took her hat off and curtsied slightly. "Happy to be of service." "Even happier to be acquainted." Fancy Pants looked almost eye-to-eye with Big Mac. "Big Macintosh in the flesh, no doubt." "Eeyup." "Stallion of few words, yes?" "Heheh... eeyup." Fancy Pants reached forward to shake Macintosh's fetlock. "Must be true words, then." He then turned towards the elder. "And you must be Apple Smith." "Darn tootin', I am!" Granny Smith tilted her chin back slightly. "And while I've never been to Trottingham proper myself, I must say that I've known many fine unicorns from that neck of the woods—" She blinked in surprise. Fancy Pants had gently taken her fetlock for a gentlecoltly kiss. Afterwards, he smiled. "And I've known many an exceptional, hard-working earth pony from all across Equestria. Sincere salt of the earth... and they only become more marvelous with age. Like fine wine." He leaned back. "It is an absolute pleasure to meet you, madame. I look forward to our future business arrangements." "Er... yes... " Granny Smith coughed out the side of her muzzle, blushing noticeably through her wrinkles. "Charmed and all that mess..." Applejack struggled hard not to face-hoof. "I have a meeting room set up inside!" Mayor Mare said. "Just for you!" She smiled. "I've known the Apple Family all my life, and nothing brings me greater satisfaction than to facilitate a place of discussion for you." "Smashing! And perhaps later on, I can see more of your fine town!" "Heehee... perhaps so!" "Indeed. Right..." Fancy Pants smiled at the group as a whole. "...shall we begin?"