//------------------------------//
// Who's Comin' Where? 
// Story: Flying Apples 
// by Twilicorn 
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Braeburn sighed, lining himself up with what felt like the millionth tree. He lined his back hooves up, carefully leaning forward onto his forehooves. He shook slightly, then managed to get his balance. Leaning forward, he thrust his back hooves onto the tree. He leaned forward again, repeating the action before falling sideways to stand again. Lifting the few apples that hadn't landed in the baskets, he hoisted the first one onto his back with a grunt. He carried it towards the wheelbarrow, dumping the apples in and setting the basket down. Repeating this a few more times with each basket, he plopped down near the wheelbarrow. Wiping the sweat off his brow with a hoof, he adjusted his hat and slid into the harness around the wheelbarrow and began pulling it towards the buildings in the distance.

The dirt kicking up behind him, he realized he'd have to wash all the apples when he arrived, and let out another sigh. It was worth it, to feed Appleloosa and to get paid his few bits, but sometimes he ended up working overtime without the extra pay. He spotted the hose outside the building, and lifted it in a muzzle. Suddenly, he dropped it, a look of remembrance flashing across his face. He lifted a barrel from near the hose, filling it with apples and lifting the hose again. Using a hoof to turn it on, he tightened his teeth and began spraying the apples in the barrel. When he finished, he lifted a hoof and turned off the hose, filling another bucket and rinsing it again. Once he had completed all four barrels' worth of apples, he moved them in the sun to dry for a few moments. When they weren't sopping wet, he dumped them back into the wheelbarrow and pulled it into the building ahead.

A lime green stallion waited for him, his mustache covering his mouth. His eyes were what truly held the frustration, and Braeburn couldn't help but worry as to why his boss was so upset. Setting the wheelbarrow down on the floor, he slid out of the harness and approached his boss.

"Where were you?" he demanded,  his eyes flashing.

"Ah was simply harvestin' the apples li' you tol' me to, Mr. Crab Apple," said Braeburn, trying to act brave.

"Be that as it may, you were supposed to be in half an hour ago!"

"I apologize, sir. Th' apples got dirty, ya see, so ah had to rinse 'em." Crab Apple sighed, then reached down and lifted the envelope below him.

"Here's your pay for the month. Thank you for you work," said Crab Apple, dismissing Braeburn.

"Yer welcome," smiled Braeburn, the worry gone from his face as he trotted out of the building, turning down the street. He sauntered down the dirt roads, his hooves merrily creating a clip-clop sound as he went. Turning down a small side street, he approached the two story apartment, pulling the door open with his jaws and darting in before it could shut on him. He trotted up the stairs, his hooves now muffled by the thin carpet, and arrived at his apartment. Lifting the key from his saddlebags with only slight difficulty, he unlocked the door and entered, shutting it carefully behind him. Gasping for air, he ran towards the air conditioner, turning the knob to high-cool and pressing his face against it eagerly.

With the cold air filling his home, he backed away and surveyed his house. To his left, the kitchen and small table, to the right a door leading to a small balcony. Behind him was a small living room with books and chairs, and ahead of him was his bedroom and bathroom. He entered the kitchen, pulling open the fridge and lifting an apple out. He bit down, savoring the juice and taste, and held the other half in his hoof. He walked over to the table, sitting down to finish the apple in silence. Crunching filled the room, the only sound besides the dull buzz of the air conditioner.

Just as he completed the apple, he heard a knock on the door, and with a sigh, stood up. Quickly washing his hooves off in the small sink, he galloped towards the door and pulled it open. Nopony was there, but a sign hung from his door. Curious, he lifted it, shutting the door behind him in the same manner he'd buck an apple tree, though significantly lighter. Walking to the small couch, he settled back onto it and began reading the flyer.

"The Wonderbolts?" he said slowly, continuing to read the flyer. "A show by the greatest fliers in Equestria? Here in li'l ol' Appleloosa? Well I'll be..." he trailed off, setting the flyer on a small sidetable next to him. "Maybe ah oughta go." He ran a hoof over the flyer, then found the date and time. "Tomorrow night? Well I suppose ah should go see these Wonderbolt ponies afta' all."

Looking around the room, almost as if afraid of being caught, he stood, scrawling the information on the calendar in his apartment before sitting back down on the couch. Lifting a book from the shelf at random, he curled into a more comfortable position and began reading.

The clock in his apartment rang seven o'clock, and Braeburn shut the book, muttering under his breath. Trotting towards the kitchen, he pulled some bread from the fridge and set it in a pan. Once they were sufficiently browned, he flipped them out with finesse and landed the two pieces squarely on a plate. Nosing around the fridge, he found some day-old hay and set it on the sandwich, folding it shut. He grabbed some carrots, then sat down at the table to enjoy a small meal. Finishing off the carrots, he grabbed a quick drink straight from the sink, then entered the bedroom. Flopping down on the Prince-sized bed, he sneaked under the covers. With the clock ringing eight o'clock, he fell asleep, eager for the next day.