As had been the case for all previous days that year, the sun rose out of the belly of the earth (well, not literally) and floated in the beautiful cloudless sky, turning the blackness to orange, and then a wondrous blue. The weather was perfect for a wonderful day of friendship, bonding, and reunions. Nothing could ruin the sleeping bliss of the residents of Cass No 22, facing onto the old sidings built on top of the former alignment away from Cass, built for shipping wood and lumber away from the town to the neighbouring communities and the main line, as there's had been a good and quiet sleep, with nothing to disturb them. But just then, as the clock hit seven exactly, it happened.
"Galileo!" said a sudden voice from the top of the building. Such was the suddenness that Big Mac tumbled out of bed and hit the floor. He pulled himself up and looked around, trying to figure out where the noise had come from.
"Galileo?" he asked, confused as to why somebody should be saying the name of a famous astronomer. Then it came again.
"Galileo!" There was no mistaking it. Something (or somebody) was shouting 'Galileo' from somewhere. Big Mac wondered if maybe one (or both) of his little sisters were trying to prank him. But then, he heard another voice, that belonging to Applejack.
"Galileo?" she asked, sounding equally confused.
"Galileo Figaro!" said the first voice again, the very voice which had caused all of this confusion. There was also a loud fluttering noise, and when Big Mac went over to the window, he could see a bird flying off into the distance.
"A cockrel, sayin' Galileo'," he sighed. "And Ah thought that thin's in Canterlot were gettin' wierd." Just then, there was a knock on his door. "Hello? Who is it?"
"Hey Big Mac!" came the voice of Apple Bloom. "Were y'all just singin' Bohemian Rhapsody? Pa sent me over ta check."
"No," Big Mac replied. "It were a cockrel."
"Oh. OK. Ah'll tell them it were a cockrel," Apple Bloom answered, and the pattering of feet informed Big Mac that she was headed downstairs.
After he had showered, and dressed properly, he headed downstairs to find his fellow family members sat in the living room (or, according to one of the brochures, a 'get together' room, whatever that meant). He looked over to his younger sisters. "Ah wasn't the only one who heard a cockrel sayin' Galileo?" he asked.
"Ah heard it alright," Applejack said, adjusting her hat to sit properly on her head. "But why Galileo?"
"Beats me," Big Mac replied, sitting down as he did so. "So, how did y'all sleep?"
Bright Mac looked over. "It's a bit strange bein' here," he admitted. "This is where Ah grew up, and spent most, if not all, of mah formative years here."
"Ah was here before ya!" Granny Smith said. "As was yer father, and his father, and his father before him, and even before him, his-"
"Yes, thank you," Grand Pear interrupted, waving his hand politely. "Never havin' been here, Ah certainly appreciate how you Apples are so hardy. You'd need ta be, up here, in the mountain air."
"Well, ya do live next ta the sea," Bright Mac joked.
"What's wron' with the sea?" Pear Butter asked.
The argument (or conversation, depending on whos side you were on) was suddenly interrupted by a loud rumbling noise. A rumbling noise that came from a stomach. "Erm," Apple Bloom said, suddenly looking very red indeed, "shall we go get breakfast?"
After breakfast, which was the classic American combination of eggs, sausage (links, rather than patties. Seriously, who eats patties?), and bacon (but no sticks), the family gathered on the porch just outside the Last Run, to be greeted with a wondrous sound. The first sound to be heard was a 5 chime echoing off the hills.
"Sounds like Number 2 has just woken up," Bright Mac said, looking into the distance, seeing a plume of steam and smoke rising over the valley. Not long after, a fast, multi-cylinder beat followed the whistle, rumbling down the valley and toward the station. Then another whistle was heard. "And Number 5 too!"
"Ya can recognise the engines from their whistles?" Grand Pear asked.
"Ah drove them back in the old days!" Bright Mac replied. As if to contradict him, another whistle echoed through the valley. "Ah don't know that one. Any clue?"
"Ah think that's an NYC 6 chime," Apple Bloom said. "But it's a bit lost, ain't it?"
Applejack opened her mouth to contribute. "Maybe they bought a new one since you've been here."
Suddenly, the very Earth beneath them began to shake. It trembled, as something approached. It felt as though a stampede was approaching the town, and in a sense, they were right. For, riding right towards them, was a vast convoy of cars and trucks, and even a helicopter! They rolled into the parking lot near the station and stopped, people piling out of their vehicles and looking around. There were young and old, tall and short, thin and... somewhat less thin, energetic and slow. Some had city attire and smart suits, others had jeans and checquered shirts. From everywhere they seemed to have come, and the crowds were great. Before long, they reached the Apples, and people were shaking hands, greeting old friends that they hadn't seen in years, and chatting about the old days, and the glories of reunions long, long ago. Apple Bloom looked desperately through the crowd, looking for one particular person. There were lots of people from a place called Dodge Junction whom she didn't recognise (something about cherries and Humbrol paint), a crowd of Pears from elsewhere, and even some other folks she couldn't place. As she went along, she mentally ticked people off.
"Apple Fritter, Apple Bumpkin, Red Gala, Red Delicious, Golden Delicous, Caramel Apple, Apple Strudel, Apple Tart, Baked Apples, Apple Brioche, Apple Cinnamon Crisp, Apple Cider, Apple Cobbler, Apple Honey, Apple Munchies, Gala Appleby, Jonagold, Lavender Fritter, Peachy Sweet, Perfect Pie, Apple Strudel, Brown Betty, Braeburn, Chili Pepper, Goldie Delicious, Pine Apple, but where is she?"
Suddenly, a hand touched her on the back of her shoulder. Apple Bloom swung around, only to find herself being pulled through the crowd. "Hey! Watch it! Ah still want mah arm in its socket!"
"Don't worry, I know how tough you are," replied a familiar Bronx voice. Apple Bloom finally got a clear look, and saw who the voice belonged to. Her favourite cousin.
"Babs!" she cried, throwing her arms around the New Yorker.
"Cuz'!" Babs replied, a massive grin on her face. "I know it's only been four months since we last met, but-"
The two of them chorused together. "It felt like forever!"
"So, what's been goin' on in New York?"
"Oh, you wouldn't believe it," Babs said with a smile. "I'm sure you know that Silverstream is back in New England, but her dad is looking at getting a transfer to Norfolk for an engineerin' job. Not to mention it brings them back closer to their roots in the US Navy. As for the East Coast Crusaders, what can I say? Still jammin', and those bullies haven't been a bother." As is well observed, that trip to see her cousin had done Babs Seed a world of good, made clear by her interactions with Apple Bloom here. "How about you, apart from stoppin' train robbers?"
"It's been pretty crazy!" Apple Bloom smiled. "We've-"
"Now, c'mon, y'all!" Applejack called. "You'll have plenty o' time fer talkin' later. Pa has put me in charge of the kids, and as such Ah've got some really fun stuff fer y'all ta do!"
Apple Bloom looked annoyed, but let herself be dragged along.
"Is wantin' to talk too much around here?" Babs asked, rhetorically.
Elsewhere in the crowd, Granny Smith and Grand Pear found a group of older women sat around a table, with glasses on that sat upon their noses. "Goldie!" Granny Smith called. "How are ya, dear?"
"Well, well!" Goldie Delicious laughed, looking up toward the sun. "The last time Ah saw ya, you were only Mrs Smith! How has that grandson of yers been?"
"Not just one grandson, but two granddaughters!" Grand Pear added. "True, they were a handful at first, but we wanted ta help them, and so we did in the only way we could."
"And that was?" asked another woman, Apple Rose, glancing away from her knitting for a split second.
The look on Granny Smith's face said everything, as she took a seat. She glanced around, as another series of whistles echoed. "Now, where has that son of mine got to?"