//------------------------------// // Applejack // Story: Wingmanicide // by shortskirtsandexplosions //------------------------------// “Thanks for the lift, partner,” Applejack said as she shut the passenger door of her family truck and buckled up. “Not so much for my sake—but for the apples.” Flash nodded, shifting the vehicle in reverse and performing a K-Turn. As he looked behind, he craned his neck to look past the baskets full of apples stacked up in the back of the truck. “I'll make sure you get them to the market on time.” “Usually this would be a task for Big Mac...” Applejack squirmed guiltily in her seat. “...but with him bein' down with the flu and all, it's either ask Granny Smith or call in a Goober.” “An Uber,” Flash corrected. “Whatever—I'm sure they dun do freshly-picked fruit deliveries no-how. Plus—Granny Smith hasn't driven a vehicle under twenty miles per hour in over two decades! And we can't afford to lose any of the produce as she tries to pull some Duke Boys hogwash!” “Good thing you've got me.” Flash winked as he backed the car out of the east field of Sweet Apple Acres. “I happen to be so careful of a driver that squirrels scamper loops around my wheels.” He shifted again, turned the wheel, and banked onto the dirt road leading towards the main path out of the subdivision. “Which... kinda makes you wonder why I own a muscle car, but that's a tale for another time...” “I'm awful sorry to be botherin' you with this, Flash,” Applejack said with a sigh. “Each time I try to find the time to study up for fetchin' my own license, I get caught up in one gul-durn thang or another! Why—just last week—all my free time got filled with helpin' try on dresses for Rarity! Heh! Can you imagine that?!” Flash took a deep breath. He paused the car and signaled before turning onto the main asphalt path. “I guess I can...” “She can be so dag-blame'd demandin' at times! I swear!” Applejack rolled the window down and hung an arm lazily outside the car as the trees and countryside blurred by. “It's almost like she's lookin' for excuses to have me around her Boutique!” “Uh huh...” “Which is a hoot—cuz I have absolutely no hankerin' for dresses and all that other fru-fru-y nonsense...” “Uh huh... …” “Still... the way she gets herself worked up so much about fashion and whatnot...” Applejack brushed her blonde bangs back, only for the wind to kick them loose once more. She gazed thoughtfully into the passing scenery. “...it's awful enchantin'. And she's always wantin' to share her passion with me when she's... she's at her happiest.” “Uh huh... … ...” Applejack weathered a calm breath. The freckles on her face swam in a brief, rosy sea. Not long after, she turned to look at the good samaritan driving her family truck. “Flash, I dun reckon you think that maybe—just maybe—a gal like that and I could—?” “Rarity is madly attracted to you to the point that it's driving her to distraction and her subconscious is forcing her to experience sensual bodice-ripping fantasies about you as either a vampire or a pirate sweeping her off her feet every night.” Applejack blinked. “Oh.” She blinked again. “Well, alright then.” Flash nodded. Applejack nodded. They drove onto the highway and cruised in silence... ...until someone shoved in a cassette tape of Lynard Skynard to drown out the awkwardness.