So it might have taken roughly around five minutes striding down the dirt-beaten path for my dumb brain to realize that I've been walking shoeless. I know I've displayed my obliviousness time and time again, but this is just beyond absurd. It makes me more shamefaced to admit that I've been wondering why the path felt rockier than usual those past five minutes.
Because of this, I had to leave Dinky with my daughter so I could race back to the cottage, while grumbling minced curses to myself, slip on my shoes, and hurry right back in a flash. Before grabbing the shoes, however, I've rushed up the stairs into my daughter's bedroom to grab Silver from the case, stashed it in the back of my pants, and bounded down the stairs in a carefully-hasty fashion.
Why am I bringing my gun? Just for precautionary reasons, should something problematic happens. Although that could be my paranoia talking. Still, it doesn't hurt to be prepared for anything.
Getting there and back only took less than half the time walking, but man, I almost pushed my lungs to their limit; by the time I've gotten up to Fluttershy and Dinky, I'm panting like a thirsty dog. I take a needed breather to collect myself.
"I think you need to cut the sweets from your diet, Father," my daughter titters.
"Yeah, I probably should," I agree in a pant, a faint blush glowing on my flushed cheeks.
Dinky then hops in front of me, standing on her hind legs as she stretches her forelegs up to me. I gingerly lift the filly and saddle her on my shoulders. We finally resume our toddle towards Ponyville.
The three of us barely exchange any words during the journey, except give each other fond smiles. Dinky stares at the few clouds in the ocean-blue sky while I do the same. I take a deep breath of the clean and fresh air, finding it novelly refreshing, no matter the many times I've done so since my arrival here. I then pivot my attention to the grassy fields right of me, impressed by the vibrant colors, albeit a bit sore to look at, given how bright it is.
The steep green hills stretch far as the eye can see. A gentle wind blows and causes the tall grass to wave as if it were an emerald sea. It's breathtaking.
The trip doesn't take long for we're now on the outskirts of Ponyville, and from here I can see that today is a busy day as the streets are teeming with the town's locals. I suppose it would make sense, considering it's a Sunday.
Sure, there are a few with similar colors or styles, but never are they the same. Some even have unique patterns such as pinto, roan, and there's even one who has a leopard complex.
I'm heavily breathing through my nose, with sweat accumulating on my brows. It also doesn't help that I'm giving Dinky a piggy-back ride, but I haven't the care at the slightest long as she's having fun.
Fluttershy trots alongside at a leisure pace similar to mine. She looks up to me, a bright and fond smile adorning her muzzle. She lightly brushes her face against the side of my thigh. I keep one hand holding Dinky while I lower the other to pat my daughter's head softly. She beams at me radiantly and nuzzles my palm.
The natives around us are eyeing me with expressions that vary from wariness to interest? Well, maybe not exactly that. I don't know. At times like this, I wish I hadn't squandered my adolescent years playing video games had I known I'd later develop a pursuit for literature. I've clearly shown my lack of knowledge in the field if the poor choice of words hasn't been evident enough.
What I'm getting at is some of the ponies we pass by would talk amongst themselves in hushed whispers like: "Isn't that the 'thing' that played the solo at Canterlot?" and "I didn't think that 'creature' could play the violin."
Well, I'm content with being labeled a 'thing' or 'creature' rather than 'monkey'. That's a big fat plus in my book.
There have been other things they've said in louder whispers, especially these two mares I walk by, but the details I'll omit since it involves, um, inappropriate language.
And by inappropriate, I mean carnal.
I internally gag and stare ahead without so much as batting them an eye in fear that if I do, they'll maybe mistake it as me having a sudden interest. Thankfully Dinky seems to have been too absentminded that she didn't hear what those mares said.
I couldn't help but notice my daughter's narrowed eyes are tracking the mares until they're beyond her peripheral vision. Now, call me crazy if anyone will, but I swear my daughter muttered an expletive or some form of insult under a growl.
I don't say anything. I just look at her, pride in my eyes and smirk.
"Look at all the strangers staring at you, Daddy," Dinky says.
"They're just curious, is all," I reply as the marketplace slowly comes into view.
We haven't crossed paths with Fluttershy's friends. At least not yet, anyway. I'm sure we will run into Applejack around here; it's not too uncommon to see her in the marketplace since she sells her apples on the same spot every Sunday, based on what my daughter told me prior to our departure this morning.
"Why are they curious?" Dinky asks.
Ah, right. Dinky's at that curious stage at her age, huh? Head full of questions, and answering one leads to another. A slight annoyance, sure, but that's just how they are. I've raised Fluttershy long enough to know this.
"Well..." I briefly trail off to think up an explanation. I couldn't, so I give her a half-assed answer, "They just are, Dinky. It's nothing to worry over."
We're several meters away from the marketplace now. There are many stalls lined up on both sides of the dirt road, leaving a clear, big passage of the center for buyers or tourists to meander through freely. I must say, this place is abuzz with commercing activity. Some ponies go in with empty bags, and some ponies go out with bags stuffed.
"So, what else will we be doing here besides shopping?" Dinky asks another question.
"After we do our shopping, I might leave you with my daughter so I can go visit somepony named Twilight Sparkle. We're going to read together for our first date," I explain to her.
"You're talking about that mean purple unicorn pony, right?" Dinky says.
I cock a confused brow and my dear Shy echoes with a cock of her own.
"Mean? What on Ear- I mean Equestria makes you think she's mean?" I ask.
"Because she's keeping you away from Mommy," Dinky replies. "I think you and Mommy would be happier together."
I answer carefully, as I should to the child, "You may think that now. But later on, when you get older, I'm sure your mother will have found a stallion that would make her even happier. Heck, that stallion might end up being a better dad than I am."
Sometimes I may be too modest for my well own being, ashamed to admit.
"No way!" Dinky exclaims. "There's nopony better than you! You're like the best dad I know!" Fluttershy bobs a confirming nod to Dinky's remark.
My dear Shy, you certainly can warm a grown-up man's heart.
"That's rather nice of you to say that, Dinky," I say with a smile.
My nostrils soon catch the familiarly-sweet, fruity scent of oranges, watermelon, bananas, and various other fruits lingering in the air. My eardrums are assaulted by the bleats, whinnying, braying happening around me. It's that active.
Like I have mentioned earlier, it's not just the ponies browsing around the marketplace: there is a griffin. By the eye shadow on her eyelids, she's female. Moreover, the long eyelashes and elegant dress are a dead giveaway. I'm amazed simply on the fact I'm gawking at a mythical creature said to be, well, a myth- An actual griffin who sticks her beak up in the air as we cross paths.
...Fuck you too, lady.
As we tread a little further down the marketplace, the ponies keep themselves at a fair distance, which is convenient as Fluttershy slows to a stop in front of a peach stand.
The seller behind it appears to be an earth pony stallion who has had his fair share of lunches. Too many lunches, I would dare say because the guy has quite the bloated gut on him. His maroon-colored fur glistens in the sunlight, and his eyebrows are slightly darker in color, making them partially invisible if you aren't squinting hard enough like I am. Blue bore the irises of his abnormally-large eyes.
"Top of the morning to you, lass!" the peach merchant greets my daughter. There is an Irish accent to his voice, oddly to say. "How can I help a beautiful mare such as yourself?" he adds with a flirtatious wink.
I swear I'm not making this shit up. I mean, who the fuck wrote this show's script, anyway?
Fluttershy faintly blushes. Like the protective father I am, I shoot the merchant a deathly glare. He just ignores my presence entirely.
Fluttershy looks over the peaches with interest. "Yes, um, I'd like to buy some peaches, please," she says. It's adorable seeing her act shy and whatnot.
She digs her muzzle into her saddlebag and pulls out a smaller pink bag (which I presume is the equivalent of a coin purse) with her mouth. She rests the pink bag on the counter, snaps it open, and takes out the bits one at a time with her teeth until there's ten of them laying across the counter.
"How much can I get with these?" Fluttershy asks.
The stallion's eyes intently stare down at the shiny coins as he silently mouths the estimations.
"For you miss, I can give you three peaches!" he answers.
"Oh... Um. Do you think I can get five?" Fluttershy asks.
"Sorry, missy," the merchant says apologetically, "it's three bits per peach. No less." The stallion slightly leans over. "But, uh," he begins, chuckling (under my sharp observance, his eyes are scanning my daughter meticulously), "I can give you a discount if you can help me with a favor."
Oh, the nerve of this motherfucker. This crook can pretend like I'm nonexistent, but if he thinks he can woo my daughter, he's got another thing coming.
When I was just about to bark an insult, my daughter speaks up. "That's a shame, really," she says, sweeping the bits back into her coin bag with a hoof. "I suppose I'll take my money elsewhere." She looks several stalls down, where a mare is also selling peaches. "Like her over there." Fluttershy points. "Her peaches seem like they're cheaper."
As she prepares to leave, the merchant raises a hoof. "Er, wait, miss, please. Perhaps we can compromise," he offers.
"I'm listening," Fluttershy says.
"What do you say two bits a peach?" he bargains.
A smile creases my lips. Aha. So that's what you were planning.
Fluttershy's sly smile widens a smidge. "Hmm. I don't know," she says, tapping her chin.
The merchant's demeanor has changed, almost desperate-like. "Okay, okay. Then how about two peaches for the price of three bits? That's fair, right?"
There's the nibble...
My daughter hums to herself for some time, tapping her chin again.
Steady... Steady...
"It's a deal," Fluttershy nods as she gives the merchant nine shiny bits.
And there's the catch. Got to say, my daughter sure knows how to do business.
Greedily, the peach salesma- salespony (damn pony slangs) swipes the bits off the counter. He sinks behind his stall, then rises with a paper bag with the six peaches inside.
"There you go, miss!" the peach merchant says happily, waving us off.
"Thank you," Fluttershy replies. She takes the paper bag and stashes it into her saddlebag. Just like that, we're off to find another stall.
"He seems like a good pony," Dinky remarks.
I roll my eyes with a snort. 'Tch. Good pony, my ass.'
The ruthless sun continues beating down on me like some wrathful god(dess). To make matters worse, it gets hotter as time passes by.
For the love of Pete, Celestia. I get that raising the sun is your ritual, or princess duty, whatever, but maybe you should tone it down before you inadvertently roast someone alive! If not, then the heatstroke will be the cause of my death.
Okay, I may be exaggerating. I just hate the heat. It often throws off my way of thinking.
Dinky trots alongside, occasionally doing a skip after two steps or three to keep up. I, being the thoughtful parent, am carrying two hefty bags of healthy contents -- one full of tangerines and one full of carrots, in each arm -- for my precious daughter so her spine won't ache from holding every burden she purchased. Like the peaches, she got these for a steal of a deal.
Fluttershy was stuck confabulating with a pegasus mare she once met at the Flight Academy. This Flight Academy might have been some school where pegasi attended, or whatever; I remember something about it on the wiki. Memory's way too fuzzy to recollect every detail, but I know it's where Fluttershy and Rainbow Dash became friends.
While this pegasus mare implored to hold their friendly conversation, Fluttershy had to bid farewell.
We resume trekking down the crowded marketplace. My daughter looks up to me with a grateful smile. "It's very nice of you to hold the groceries, Father," she says.
I reciprocate with a warm smile. "Anything for you, my dear Shy," I reply. "There'd be no reason why I shouldn't."
"Hey! I'm helping too, you know!" Dinky exclaims. Fluttershy and I pivot our attention to the unicorn filly balancing a peach on her head.
Fluttershy giggles, whereas I chuckle, at the filly's enthusiasm.
"Oh, yes, little one," Fluttershy says sweetly, "you're being such a great help!" Dinky perks a complacent smile at the two of us. "Now," Fluttershy continues, "all we need is-"
"Apples! Get yer quality apples here! Fresh and ripe from the trees of Sweet Apple Acres!" A southern-accented mare shouts several feet ahead of us. The owner of the voice is none other than the earth pony mare, Applejack, showing off her bright and juicy-looking red apples.
Applejack is relatively more than just your average earth pony. I say this due to her being one of the "main characters" of this here show (and perhaps several other reasons, but I'll get to that at another time). She's orange as an orange cream popsicle.
What? I'm dying of heat here! And the first thing that popped into my mind was a mouth-watering popsicle. Putting that awkward comparison aside, this earth pony mare has an attractive blonde mane and tail -- tresses golden as corn itself -- tied up into "ponytails".
Attractive? Obvious that it's the heat throwing me off, like I mentioned.
Dotted on her face's cheeks are her white freckles. As usual, perched on her head is a light-brown stetson cowboy hat. I need to detail this just to be safe, in case I haven't included a description of her in a past log.
She showcases her rows of shiny-red apples to the customers, and wow can she draw in a crowd. A sextet of ponies gathers around the stall and eagerly exchange their bags of bits for her produce. Heck, some of the other competitive neighbors to our left and right are gaping at the apple farmer in mounting envy.
Either Applejack injects her products with drugs, or they're just that amazing.
We move towards Applejack's stall leisurely, and, as we approach, the customers milling the area disperse, satisfied with their purchases. Applejack waves off to each of them, eyes sparkling at the numerous bags of bits piled in front of her. Okay, now I'm a bit envious of her success. Once Applejack has seen us, she waves at the two of us jubilantly, a broad smile blooming on her face.
"Howdy there, Sugarcube!" Applejack hollers. "Ah wondered when ya were going to show up!"
"Hello, Applejack," Fluttershy and I greet in unison, stopping right in front of her.
"Wow, Applejack," Fluttershy says, surveying the bits with a touch of astonishment, "it looks like your apples have been selling well."
"They sure are!" Applejack confirms gleefully. The farmer rounds up her spoils with a foreleg, sweeping them off the counter and right into an empty bucket beneath her, a series of metal clunking against the wood. "If this keeps up, Ah'll have enough spare money to last through fall and maybe even winter! Got to sell many as Ah can before that happens, though." Applejack submerges below her counter and then shortly reemerges with a bucket full of fresh apples held between two hooves. She deposits the heavy bucket onto the counter and the wooden stall rattles slightly. "So, what can Ah do fer ya, Sugarcube?"
Fluttershy points to the red delicacies. "I'd like to purchase five of your delicious apples, please," she replies.
"Sure thing!" Applejack says. She whips out a paper bag from underneath the counter and hoofs it to Fluttershy. Or is it hooves it? Whatever. "Don't worry about the cost. These are on the house."
"Why, thank you," Fluttershy says gratefully. My daughter diligently bites the stems of an apple with her teeth, dropping them into the bag one at a time. Afterward, once she's finished bagging the apples, my daughter asks, "Where's Apple Bloom? I've noticed she's not with you."
Applejack rests an elbow on the stall's wooden counter, chin resting on the sole of her hoof. "Same old, same old: she's out cutie mark crusadin' with Sweetie Belle and Scootaloo," she chuckles with a dismissive roll of her other hoof. "But Ah'd like to know how y'all are doing." Applejack's gaze slowly floats down to Dinky. "Oh? Isn't that Ditzy's daughter there? Dinky, is it?"
"Yes, she is," Fluttershy replies. "Father is foalsitting her while Ditzy's at work."
Applejack snorts, a tad surprised, yet remains smiling. "Foalsitting, huh? Ah must honestly say that Ah never took you fer the foalsitting type, Rick," she remarks, pointing her attention to me now.
I readjust my hold on the paper bags and shrug. "Yeah, I tend to surprise."
"Yeah, and Daddy's like the best foalsitter ever!" Dinky chimes in with a joyful hop, still balancing the peach on her head.
Applejack's eyes slightly widen as she arches a bemused brow. "Ah don't know if these ears of mine are full of wax, but, did Dinky just call you 'Daddy'?"
"Yes, she did," I reply in honesty.
"So then that means yer're married to Ditzy?" Applejack asks.
"Oh! No, no, no. That's not what it is at all!" I say quickly, shaking my head. "It's kind of a funny story."
Applejack fixes me with a dubious expression, but she gestures for me to explain. I clarify the circumstances best to my ability while keeping the story short since there are ponies lining up behind us. The farmer attentively listens with a few understanding nods.
"And that's the gist of it," I finish, once more readjusting my hold on the paper bags as my arms begin to sore from carrying them prolongingly.
"Ah get ya, and Ah think it's generously kind of ya to foalsit fer free," Applejack says with another comprehensive nod. She steps back to stand on her fours behind the stall. "Well, it's been nice chatting, but Ah've got customers! Hope the rest of yer day goes by swimmingly!" The mare hollers us farewell, smiling as we make way for home.
Fluttershy and Dinky wave back to her while I smirk.