//------------------------------// // Chapter 3: Canterlot, 1991 (Pear Butter) // Story: The Perfect Pear // by The Blue EM2 //------------------------------// Pear Butter certainly had a lot of experience of California life under her belt. Having been born in the state in 1973, her life had been a procession of summers working on the farm, as well as school, which she was on the verge of concluding. The warm summers certainly suited her, as they encouraged waking up early and getting to work. As a matter of fact, Pear hated being stuck indoors during the winter, as it meant she had little to do. At least this winter hadn’t been too bad, but the machines still needed maintaining or else the planting season may not go as planned, or even worse the harvest could fail. And if that happened, it would be a disaster for the townsfolk and the farm, as if the pears were not available for sale, it would harm profits. As they did so much business with Filthy Rich, that would be extremely problematic. So, there she was, trying to fix a malfunctioning pear shaker. The machine had been running fine a few moments ago, but something had seized up, as the main arm jerked back and forth with no real control or safety. So, Pear had stopped the machine, and taken a look at the central mechanism. It transpired the bolts had jammed the system, and she was trying to free them in order to get it to work. “Come on, work you!” she shouted at it in frustration. “Darn it!” She contemplated kicking it, but then heard footsteps behind her, and looked back. Standing in front of her was a young man, only a little older than her, with yellow skin and red hair, wearing an orange polo shirt, jeans, and brown boots. He looked as if he was about to speak, but seemed to be stunned. “Howdy,” she said, trying to break his silence. “Ya the new kid?” “Yeah,” he said. “Ah’m Bright Mac.” “Nice to meet ya,” Pear replied. “Now, are ya just gonna stand there starin’, or are ya gonna help fix this machine?” Mac shook his head. “Oh, sorry!” He sprinted over and took a look at the mechanism. “It seems the bolts are preventing the mechanism from movin’ correctly,” he said. “Ah’d already figured that out,” Pear replied, but she couldn’t bring herself to be irritated with him. He seemed to honest and innocent. Besides, he was a little cute. Mac peered closely at the mechanism. “Ya need ta turn them to the left ta get it ta work,” he added. Pear nodded. “Well, yer kinda tellin’ me how ta do mah job, but Ah’ll try it.” She engaged the wrench to release the bolts, and the machine sprung into new life, running better than ever before. Pear looked at Mac. “How did ya figure that out?” Mac chuckled. “Well, back where Ah’m from, we work on machines called Shays. Sometimes, they get a little mad with ya and lock up like that. Ta fix that problem, we just turn the bolts ta the left.” Pear laughed. “Looks like ya know yer stuff,” she replied, and bent down to her toolkit when she suddenly dropped her wrench. “Ah, gosh darn it!” she replied, and reached for it. Only then did she realise her hand was sitting on top of Mac’s, who had reached for it as well. Their eyes looked into one another's, and Pear saw incredible depth in those eyes of his. It also became apparent that they had inadvertently broken some sort of taboo, as Mac removed his hand as fast as he could. “Ah’m so sorry!” he said, flustered. “Sorry for what?” asked Pear, confused. “Where Ah’m from, it ain’t right to take the hand of somebody ya don’t know,” Mac replied. “But ya were doin’ somethin’ nice fer me,” Pear replied, “so Ah’ll just let it go.” She took up the wrench, and popped it into her toolkit. “Pear! Mac!” shouted another voice. It was Grand Pear. “Yes Pa?” she called. “Now that you've got that cultivator working, we need you two to do some work on a tractor.” As the pair of them worked in the cool evening that day, Pear and Mac got to know each other better. “So, how’s it been bein’ the owner’s daughter?” Mac asked. “Well,” Pear replied, “not too different to anybody else. Ah work and keep stuff workin’, which can be challengin’ mixin’ it in with school.” “That must be a lotta hard work!” Mac exclaimed. “Eeyup,” Pear answered. “But Ah can’t think of anywhere in the world else that Ah would rather live, than here in Canterlot.” “California is new ta me,” Mac admitted. “Ah’ve only ever known Cass.” “Cass?” “Cass is a loggin’ town in West Virginia. Well, was a loggin’ town.” “What happened ta it?” Pear asked. “Cass was formed in 1900 to extract wood from the local hills. The wood ran out in 1960, and the town would have died had the State Government not intervened and bought the town. They reopened the old loggin’ line as a tourist railroad, and Ah was born there in 1970. The Apples are one of the foundin’ families of Cass, and we ain’t leavin’ soon.” “Sounds like it means a lot ta ya.” “Yes, it does. Ah work on the railroad there, so Ah’m keepin’ the past alive, Ah guess.” “Ah must visit the town someday, it sounds fun.” That evening, Pear hopped into bed and switched the light off. But she couldn’t sleep, or get that boy-Bright Mac-out of her head. What was it about him that attracted her? He seemed a nice, innocent soul, and had a good heart with a friendly manner. That, and he was a hard worker, something that both she and her father valued. But there had been so many workers through the farm over the years. What was it about this worker that stood out from the others? “Well, Ah suppose he is kinda cute,” she whispered to herself. “But at the same time, he is different ta me.” As sleep reclaimed her, she had no idea that what was coming would change her life forever.