Living in Equestria

by Blazewing


Letters, Bullies, and Harvesting

Pinkie hadn’t had another nightmare, but when I woke up the next day, she did seem preoccupied about something. She was sitting at a desk in one corner of the room, one littered with many papers containing what looked like party ideas, some of which were crossed off. That indicated that she didn’t repeat the same type of party each time. That was quite smart, actually.

She sat with a fresh piece of paper in front of her, and chewed meditatively at a feather quill held inexplicably in one hoof. The wastebasket sitting at the foot of the desk was filled with crumpled paper balls. Was she trying to write a novel or something? I approached her.

“What’s up, Pinks?” I asked.

“Words," Pinkie mumbled.

“Huh?”

“I never thought words could be so shy,” she said, putting the quill down and resting her elbows on the desk. “I’m trying to make them come out, but they won’t come. It’s like there’s a wall in my head keeping those poor words back.”

She tapped her forehead with one hoof.

“That’s called ‘writer’s block’, Pinkie,” I explained. “Everyone gets it sometimes. You’ll get over it eventually.”

“But I don’t have eventually,” said Pinkie, petulantly, “I need it now.”

“Need what now?" I asked. "What are you even trying to write?”

“I can’t tell you!” she said, sharply.

She covered the blank sheet with her hooves, as if she were taking a test and didn’t want anyone to copy off of her .

“Pinkie,” I said, dryly, “that only works if there’s something actually written on it.”

“You still can’t see!” said Pinkie, protectively. “Mine! Get your own words!”

“Pinkie-”

She actually hissed at me, like an angry cat.

“Ok, ok, settle down,” I said, in a placating tone. “Not asking for trouble here. Just, try to take it easy, ok? I’ve dabbled in writing before, and it’s not always simple. Stories just come and go.”

“But I’m not writing a story,” said Pinkie. “I’m writing a letter.”

She then gasped and clapped a hoof over her mouth.

“Oh no! I spoiled it!”

“What’s so bad about writing a letter?” I asked. “People write letters all the time. Well, technically, back in my world, we correspond through Facebook and other things nowadays, but still.”

“What’s a ‘Facebook’?” asked Pinkie, tilting her head. “Is that where you make a whole book that looks like your face? Sounds fun!”

“Er, not quite like that," I said, although the imagery of such a thing was pretty funny. "It’s just a way of communicating with people through computers.”

“Ooh, neat! Maybe I ought to try this ‘Facebook’ thing someday, if I can find a computer.“

She then sighed in resignation.

“But yeah, you got me. I’m trying to write a letter to…”

She paused, uncertain.

“To?” I prompted, gently.

Pinkie glanced pensively at me, then sighed again.

“To my family.”

“Really?" I asked, intrigued. "Pinkie, that’s great! What made you decide?”

“Well, after my nightmare yesterday, I had to spend some time to think it over," she said, sadly. "It was awful. it made me realize that I might never see my family again if I don’t do something now.”

“Aw, Pinkie," I said, putting a hand to her shoulder consolingly. “So, what’s the problem?”

“I told you: words. I want to tell them how I’ve been, but what do I say? What do I tell them? There’s so, so much!”

“That’s true,” I said, contemplatively. “You have lived a very active life: saving the country more than once, becoming an Element Bearer, making friends of everyone you’ve met.”

“So what do I say?” asked Pinkie, in desperation.

I rubbed my chin in contemplation for a moment or two, weighing my answer.

“Well, a good start always lies in, well, the start. A good introduction helps pave the way for the rest of the letter.”

Pinkie paused, looking at the paper in front of her, and the quill in her hoof, then turned to me and asked,

“Will you write it for me? I'll say it and you write it.”

“Me?" I asked, startled. "Well, gee, I don’t know, Pinks. I mean-”

“Please?”

Pinkie clasped her hooves together and looked at me imploringly. Now that was just plain cheating.

“Aw, come on, Pinkie, don’t do this to me.”

Her eyes became huge, sad, and soulful, complete with quivering irises.

“Aw, no. No-no-no, not the eyes. Anything but the eyes!”

Her lip quivered.

“Aw, jeez, not the lip, too!”

And then, the coup de grace: she actually whimpered like a little puppy.

“Aww, dang it!” I groaned. “All right, all right, I’ll do it.”

Pinkie’s entire sad face swapped places with a beaming grin that, I swear to God, actually made a squeak noise.

“You really know how to fight unfair, you know that?” I asked, half in jest, as she moved for me to sit down.

She got behind me and, putting her hooves on my shoulders, rested her chin on top of my head.

“I’ve never actually used one of these before,” I added, picking up the quill and dipping it into the ink well, “but I’ve always wanted to. Just tell me what to write, and I’ll write.”

“Okie-dokie-lokie!” said Pinkie.

As she dictated, I wrote.

“‘Dear Mom, Dad, Marble, Limestone, Maud, and Grammy,…how have you been?’”

“Good, good. Keep it up.”

“‘I’m super-duper-extra-humongo-sorry that it’s taken me so long to write to you, but so much has happened since I came to Ponyville. I got a job at the local bakery: Sugarcube Corner. Mr. and Mrs. Cake, who run it, are super-duper nice! And they even have foals of their own! They’re my little playmates! I’ve also got six super-wonderful friends: Twilight Sparkle, who’s Princess Celestia’s super-smart student; Fluttershy, who’s really nice and loves animals; Rainbow Dash, who’s super-fast and super-cool; Rarity, who makes amazing dresses; Applejack, who works on a farm full of yummy-rific apples; and Spike, who’s a dragon, but just a baby one.

“‘I wish I could tell you everything that’s happened here since I moved, but it would take so long to put into one letter. Hopefully I’ll be able to write to you more often and tell you what I’ve been up to. I really just wanted to see how you’ve been, and to tell you that I still love you all, even if it has been a long time...’”

Pinkie paused, and I felt a drop of something wet land on my scalp. She was starting to cry.

“Stay strong, Pinkie,” I said. “Stay strong.”

“‘So, I hope this letter finds you all safe and sound, and I hope to see you all again someday soon. Love-’”

“Hold up, Pinkie. You should sign it yourself. At least do that.”

“You’re right.”

We swapped places, and Pinkie, fighting to hold back her tears, wrote, in very loopy letters, ‘Pinkamena “Pinkie” Pie’.

“I’m proud of you, Pinkie,” I said, once more putting my hand to her shoulder.

She sniffled and smiled.

“Thanks, Davie. Now I’ve just got to send it off to them via Derpy.”

So saying, she took out an envelope and began scrawling an address on it.

“Hang on a sec, Pinkie,” I said, as she wrote, “do you even remember where they live?”

“Of course, silly! Dad used to tell me that the Pies have always had that plot of farm land, for at least 8 generations of Pies!”

“8?!" I said, surprised. "That’s…pretty dedicated for rock farmers.”

“My great-great-grand-Pies sought long and hard for that land, and by Celestia, they earned it!” said Pinkie, proudly.

She finished addressing the envelope, stuffed the letter inside, and plastered a stamp to the corner.

“Now, if I’m lucky, Derpy can have this delivered ASDSAP.”

“Huh?”

“As Super-Duper Speedily As Possible!”

“Ahh, I see. Well, if we see her during the breakfast rush, we can hand it off to her.”

“Yeah! Good idea!”

At that moment, there was a loud rumbling, like the growl of an angry beast. Both of us started at the abruptness of it, but then Pinkie looked down at her own stomach.

“Whoopsie! My tummy’s trying to tell me I’m hungry. Rainbow Dash was right: it does pay to listen to your gut!”

“Couldn’t have said it better myself, Pinks," I said, grinning. "Now, let’s go get some breakfast.”

***

After filling up on another hearty breakfast, Pinkie and I went out to search for Derpy, as Pinkie's trying to write the letter, and my intervention, had occupied a good portion of the morning rush. When we first came downstairs, Mr. Cake told us Derpy had actually been among the earliest patrons that morning, something surprising given her habits, but she looked like she was in a very good mood. We decided, therefore, to try and catch her on her route today and see if she could deliver Pinkie’s letter.

At last, we found her as she was stuffing a letter into Berry Punch’s mailbox. The purple-pink mare wasn’t around yet (probably sleeping off another bottle of her brew), so we had the mail mare to ourselves to speak to.

“Oh! Hey, guys!” she said.

“Hiya, Derpy,” I said. “How are the girls?”

“Great! Scootaloo took Dinky with her to school on her scooter, since she usually goes after she runs her paper route. That way, I was able to grab an earlier breakfast.”

“Oh? Well, that’s good to hear.”

“You know what else? She actually wanted me to ask Rainbow Dash if she could give her flying lessons on the side, besides the Sunday lessons I already agreed to give her.”

“That’s great!” said Pinkie.

“I know! I’m sure Dash will only be too happy to agree!”

“Oh, I hope so," I said, "considering how much Scoot looks up to her.”

“Yeah," said Derpy. "If I do so say so myself, I always did think of Rainbow Dash as part of the family, like the sister I never had.”

“Aww, that’s so sweet,” I said, “but I think we’re getting a little sidetracked here.”

“Huh? Oh! Yeah!" said Pinkie, catching on. "Derpy, we have a special delivery that we need you to make.”

“Oh? What is it? I love special deliveries!”

“Can you deliver this to the Pie Family Rock Farm ASDESAP?” Pinkie asked, brandishing the letter.

“Huh?” asked Derpy, tilting her head.

“As Super-Duper-Extra-Speedily As Possible!”

(She must have added that ‘Extra’ in at the last minute.)

“Oh! I’ll certainly do my best," said Derpy. "Let me see the address.”

Pinkie handed her the letter, and she rapidly roved her lopsided eyes over the address.

“Hmm…That’s quite a distance from Ponyville, but I can manage that no problem! You can count on me, Pinkie!”

“Great! Thank you so much, Derpy!”

Pinkie threw her hooves around the mail mare’s neck, and Derpy patted her back with a smile.

“Anytime, Pinkie. I’ll take care of it as soon as I can. Later, guys!”

We waved goodbye as Derpy gathered up her mailbag and soared off again.

“Well, that’s done,” I said. “So, what do you want to do today?”

“Do? There’s only one thing to do!”

And before I could say anything, Pinkie zipped off back down the street toward Sugarcube Corner, leaving me by myself and quite bewildered.

“Probably planning to throw an ‘I Sent a Letter to My Folks’ party,” I muttered as I headed after her.

***

When I got back, however, it was to find Pinkie plunked down on her hindquarters right in front of a dark pink mailbox I hadn’t noticed before. She was staring at it with the utmost intensity.

“Uh, Pinkie?”

“Shh!”

She held up her hoof to silence me.

“Pinkie, honestly, we just gave the letter to Derpy. It’s not like Spike’s fire-delivery service. Give it some time!”

“I know, but I wanna be here when it gets here, so I’ll be able to read it right away, because if I don’t read it right away, I won’t be able to reply right away, and if I don’t reply right away, they might think the letter got lost in the mail or that I forgot, and if that happens, then they might get worried and lose focus, and if they lose focus, they might not get the autumn rock rotation in on time, and if they don’t get the autumn rock rotation in on time, they might lose the farm, and if they lose the farm, they’ll be thrown out into the cold, cruel world with nowhere else to go, losing that plot of land my great-great-grand-Pies worked so hard for!!”

Her voice had gotten much more panicked as she pursued this compound stream of events, pacing and stomping around in a frenzy, and now it had reached a fever pitch as she reared up, leaning into my bewildered face further with each next emphasized word she spoke.

“And it’ll be All! My! FAULT!!”

“So, in other words, you’re not moving a step from that mailbox,” I said, nonplussed.

“Nope!” she said, cheerily, as she restored herself to her original position, while I re-straightened up, my back hurting from the sudden arching I had to do from her freak-out.

“Pinkie, don’t you think you’re stressing yourself out about this a wee bit?" I asked, delicately. "I mean, I’ll admit I often worry about worst-case scenarios, but nine times out of ten, those scenarios never come true. It’s the worrying that makes the experience worse, not the actual prospect.”

“I just don’t want anything to ruin this for me, Davie,” said Pinkie. “I took such a risk writing to them after so long. I have to do this right.”

“I understand, Pinkie,” I said, patting her back consolingly. “Do you want me to sit here with you?”

“No, Davie, that’s fine. I couldn’t ask you to do that. I want you to go have fun today.”

“Well, all right, if you’re sure. Just don’t overdo it, ok? At least get some sleep and something to eat when you have to, all right?”

“Okie-dokie-lokie!” she said, brightly.

“Good. I’m gonna go see if I can find a few odd jobs. These bits I got from recycling Berry Punch’s bottles won’t last forever.”

“Gotcha. Have fun!”

I didn’t really want to leave Pinkie that way, but it didn’t look like anything was gonna budge her from that mailbox, so what could I do? I walked off back down the street as she sat there, staring doggedly at that metal post receptacle, as if it were engaging her in a staring contest. God preserve that poor pony.

***

As I wended my way down the road, my thoughts occupied in thinking of ponies I could help out, I found that I had come within range of the Ponyville schoolhouse, and could hear fillies and colts laughing. Must have been recess. God, I miss those simple days.

I was drawing near, and was passing by a tree that stood near the school fence, when I saw something that made me double back.

Scootaloo and Dinky were standing at one part of the schoolyard, and the pegasus filly was standing protectively in front of the unicorn, her face set with belligerent dislike as two Earth pony fillies approached. One was pink, with a purple and white mane and tail, the former of which was crowned by a tiara, exactly like the one on her little flank. She also had light blue eyes, which were narrowed in a smug sneer. Her companion was gray, with a silvery white mane and tail, her mane styled in a ponytail. She wore blue-framed glasses and a blue pearl necklace, and her cutie mark looked like a silver spoon.

It nearly made me want to face-palm and groan as I realized these must be Diamond Tiara and Silver Spoon, the bullying fillies the Crusaders had told me about; their names were literally their own cutie marks. What did that even mean, though? Diamond Tiara looked like a stuck-up princess, maybe even a daddy’s girl, but what kind of talent was supposed to be represented by a tiara? Silver Spoon’s was probably based on the phrase ‘born with a silver spoon in my mouth’, meaning she must have grown up in the lap of luxury. Still, what kind of future could you have with cutie marks like those? Perhaps I didn't know enough about cutie marks to make assumptions.

“Well, well, if it isn’t Little Orphan Scoot,” said Diamond Tiara, in an irritatingly condescending voice.

Scootaloo’s eyes narrowed.

“I’m not an orphan,” she growled, wings bristling.

“Oh? Then where are your parents?” asked Diamond Tiara, leaning in close, but Scootaloo only continued to glare at her. “Well?”

“Y-You see her mom every day!” piped up Dinky, defiantly.

Diamond Tiara and Silver Spoon looked at her, raising their eyebrows.

“Who asked you, runt?” asked Silver Spoon.

It was all I could to keep from leaping out and giving those brats a piece of my mind. Now they were picking on Dinky!

“You do!” said Dinky, obstinately. “She delivers the mail every day!”

Scootaloo shot her a warning look, though whether it was for her own sake or Dinky’s, I wasn’t sure. However, the damage was done. The two stuck-up fillies looked at each other, and then burst into a gale of laughter.

“You’re telling me,” said Silver Spoon, after she’d laughed herself stupid for some seconds, “that you had to borrow a family? And Dinky’s at that?”

“That is so pathetic!” said Diamond Tiara.

“It is not!” snapped Dinky. “She’s a Hooves now, and she’s my sister! If you don’t stop picking on her, I’ll-”

“You’ll what?” asked Diamond Tiara, coldly.

Dinky’s steam ebbed away under her glare, and she shrank down.

“Hmph. That’s what I thought.”

“You leave her alone,” said Scootaloo, in a low and dangerous voice.

“What are you going to do about it?” asked Diamond Tiara, and the two antagonists began walking around the infuriated pegasus and the cowed unicorn like a pair of lionesses. “We should have known you’d end up this way, Scootaloo.”

“You can’t fly, you’re still a blank flank, and now you have to borrow somepony else’s family because you don’t have one of your own,” said Silver Spoon.

“And not just any family,” said Diamond Tiara, “but that klutzy mail mare of all ponies. How sad.”

“Take that back,” Scootaloo growled.

“Or what? Is the little baby blank flank about to cry?”

This was too much! Feeling like my blood was on fire, I stepped out from behind the tree and began marching my way over. I had to show these two that they couldn’t just push around Scootaloo and her new sister!

“Is there a problem here?” I asked.

I was doing my utmost to keep my anger out of my voice. It would have looked pretty bad if a grown man in his 20s started yelling at two grade-schoolers he didn’t even know. The four fillies looked up, Diamond Tiara and Silver Spoon gazing up at me in mute astonishment, Scootaloo and Dinky looking grateful.

“Mr. Dave!” chirped Dinky.

“Hi, Dinky, Scootaloo,” I said, complacently, before turning to the two bullies. “I take it these are Diamond Tiara and Silver Spoon?”

“Uh-huh,” said Scootaloo.

“Nice to meet you both,” I said, civilly, whilst crouching down to be on their level.

The two ponies still looked befuddled.

“Uh, likewise,” said Diamond Tiara.

“Yeah,” said Silver Spoon.

“Now, I don’t claim to have perfect hearing,” I said, digging one pinky finger into my ear by way of dumb show, “but I could have sworn you four were having a bit of a disagreement about something.”

“They were making fun of Mama and Scootaloo!” squeaked Dinky.

The two bratty fillies shot her a swift glance.

“Is that so?” I asked.

I admired that Dinky was being honest, but in a more dangerous situation, she’d be in some pretty hot water if she didn’t keep a lid on it.

Diamond Tiara chuckled nervously.

“Oh, she doesn’t mean that. Why would we say anything like that?”

“Well, I’ve only been here a little while,” I said, “but I can’t say I’d imagine Dinky or even Scoot here lying to me, would you, girls?”

“No way!” said Scootaloo.

“Nuh-uh!” said Dinky.

“Look, kids,” I said, levelly, to Diamond Tiara and Silver Spoon, “I’m not blind or deaf. I could pick up the gist of what you were saying to these two. Plus, I know what happened the day Scootaloo got lost in the Everfree Forest.”

Diamond Tiara, looking even more nervous than before, was about to speak, when I held up my hand.

“Hold it. If you think I’m going to just rat you out, that's not my intention. Instead, I just want the two of you to know that these two are my friends, and that I'll know if they're being mistreated again. It might mean I'd have to have a chat with Miss Cheerilee, and no one wants that, right?”

I spoke civilly enough, but the effect was still the same. It was clear that neither of them wanted to be told on for what they did, and were scared that the fillies they'd been picking on had such a big protector. Silver Spoon looked like she wanted to say something, but I cut her off too.

“You might be asking yourself, ‘Why is this guy on their side?’ Well, here’s my answer.”

I reached into my pocket, pulled out and tied on my Crusader bandana for them to see. They blanched.

“I’m an honorary Crusader, and we Crusaders...”

I put one arm each around Scootaloo and Dinky and drew them in close to my sides.

“…stick together. Get it?”

The two bullies nodded, then Diamond Tiara said,

“Uh, come on, Silver Spoon. Let’s go play on the swings.”

“Yeah, good idea.”

The two trotted off, not looking back even once.

“That was amazing!” said Scootaloo. “You totally showed them!”

“It was nothing,” I said, grinning from ear to ear. “But now listen, kids, if they start picking on you again, come to me or Miss Cheerilee, all right? Never let bullying persist.”

“Got it!” said Dinky. “Thanks, Mr. Dave.”

“You’re welcome, kids. Now, I’d better be off. You two have a good day, all right?”

I ruffled their manes, making them giggle.

“Ok. See you, Dave!” said Scootaloo.

I straightened up and exited the schoolyard, but only walked about a dozen paces from it before bumping into something level with my face. A moment’s disorientation later, I saw that it was Rainbow Dash, hovering in the air.

“Oh! Sorry, Rainbow, I didn’t see you there.”

“No sweat, pal," she said. "I saw the whole thing."

"Did you?"

"Yeah. Gotta say, the way you stood up for Scoot and Dinky like that, I’ve got a lotta respect for that kinda loyalty."

She compounded this by giving me a cuff on the shoulder.

“Thanks," I said, grinning. "What brings you around here, though?”

“Derpy talked to me while delivering my mail, and said Scootaloo wanted me to give her flying lessons during the week. Do you know who put her up to it?”

She asked this in a would-be suspicious tone, hooves on her hips.

“Don’t look at me,” I said, innocently. “I had nothing to do with that decision. Besides, didn't you say you'd be more comfortable teaching her than raising her?”

Rainbow raised an eyebrow, then chuckled, her voice cracking in the process.

“Yeah, I did say that. I was just messing with ya. I’m totally down with giving the kid some pointers. I just came by to tell her that before recess ended. She’s gonna have to be ready, though, cuz I don’t slouch around.”

“Oho, I’d bet not,” I said. “Just don’t be too harsh. She’s just a kid, remember.”

“Yeah, I gotcha. See ya round, Dave!”

“Later, Rainbow.”

Rainbow Dash flew off toward the schoolhouse, and I continued my course to…where was I going? Well, at this point, the closest thing was Sweet Apple Acres.

Hey now! There was an idea! Maybe Applejack would have some farm work that needed doing. I’d had experience hauling furniture from the few times my family and I moved, so perhaps I could put some of that to use there. With this resolve in mind, I directed my steps more resolutely toward Sweet Apple Acres.

***

When I arrived, I was surprised to find Applejack and Big Macintosh in what sounded like a heated argument.

“Yer what?” asked Applejack, sharply.

“Ah told ya, AJ, Ah’m goin’ bowlin’ tonight with the fellahs,” said Big Mac.

“And who in tarnation are ‘the fellahs’?”

“Y’know, Caramel, Meadow Song, Magnum.”

“Y’all never missed one day of work, and now suddenly ye’re playin’ hooky?”

“It ain’t hooky, AJ. The boys just wanna have a stallion’s night out. They said Ah need it, besides.”

“Well, Celestia knows you’ve hardly ever got time for yerself," conceded Applejack. "Still, Ah hate to think of getting the last of the bumper crop in without yer help.”

“Aw, now, AJ," said Big Mac, slyly. "Ah’m pretty sure you could do fine all by your-”

“Oh, no! You ain’t pullin’ the wool over mah eyes this time," said Applejack, sternly. "Ah was wrong to do it myself that one time, Ah admit it, but Ah ain’t plumb stupid enough to try it twice. Ah need ya this time!”

“Well, thank you. Was that so hard?”

“Oh, shut up, Big Mac.”

Big Mac chuckled and cuffed her on the shoulder, and AJ couldn’t help but reciprocate.

“Ah’ll put in as much as I can before Ah go," said Big Mac. "Besides, what are ya worried about? You’ve got Apple Fritter helping ya, right?”

“Yeah, but we’ve always relied on your muscle, Big Mac, meanin’ no disrespect to Fritter.”

“'Course not.”

I cleared my throat, startling the two and causing them to whip their heads around to look at me. Surprise gave way to pleasantness.

“Dave! How are ya?” said Applejack.

“Hey, Applejack, Big Macintosh. Sorry to interrupt.”

“Aw, no worries, sugarcube," said Applejack, sweetly. "What’s on your mind?”

“I was just wondering if you had something I could help you with on the farm," I said. "I’m hoping to get a few bits from some odd jobs, but I'm still willing to go pro bono, too.”

“Well, Ah’ll be a pig in a truffle patch!" said Applejack, eagerly. "Y’all couldn’t have picked a better time to come! Big Mac and his ‘fellahs’-”

Big Mac rolled his eyes and said nothing.

“-wanna go bowlin’ tonight, but we need to finish harvestin’ this bumper crop of apples.”

She pointed out toward the miles of laden apple trees.

“If you can help us with that, Ah’m sure Ah could set ya up with a nice reward.”

“Great! What do you want me to do?”

“Well, Big Mac and Ah’ll be workin’ on this patch here-”

She gestured to the cluster of trees in their vicinity.

“-so why don’t you help our cousin Apple Fritter over yonder?”

She pointed to a patch of trees eastward, easily discernible, for they were the only cluster in that area still bearing apples.

“Can do!” I said, with a salute.

“Swell! You’ll know her when ya see her. Good luck!”

Wasting no time, I headed off in the direction Applejack had pointed out, and soon enough, arrived to find a pony giving a nearby tree a vigorous kick, sending several apples plummeting into buckets placed around the trunk. She was a mare around Applejack’s age, with a pale yellow coat, green eyes, a green mane done up in pigtails, and a tail the same color, both decorated with pink bows. Her flank depicted an image of three rectangular things that reminded me of a McDonalds apple pie. I suppose those were apple fritters.

As I approached, she looked up and smiled sweetly.

“Howdy, pard! Who are you?”

“Hello. It’s Apple Fritter, right?”

“Mm-hmm!”

“I’m Dave. I’m friends with your cousin Applejack.”

“Well, put ‘er there! Any friend of Applejack’s is a friend of mine!”

She held out her hoof, but as soon as I took it, she gave my arm such a vigorous shake that it felt like my shoulder was dangerously close to dislocating. These Apple family ponies seemed to have some hereditary Herculean muscle.

“So, what can I do for ya?” she asked.

“Well, Applejack sent me out here to give you a hand. Er, or is it hoof?”

“Well, that’s just swell! Ah could use some help. Ya’ll ever bucked before?”

“Er. can’t say I have.”

“Aw, don’t sweat it. It’ll come natural to ya, Ah’m sure. Just pick a tree and get kickin’.”

Well, what could I do but what she told me? That's how they did things around here. Besides, maybe Equestrian trees were easily kick-able. I crossed over to a tree with several ripe, juicy apples dangling from its branches, pulled my leg back, and gave the trunk a swift kick.

It took only a moment, but the pain struck my foot like an express train at rush hour.

“YEEEOW!!!”

Holding my injured foot in my hands, I hopped about on my free foot, uttering exclamations of pain and suppressed minced oaths as I did so.

“Ohh, boy. You ok, pard?” asked Apple Fritter, concerned.

“Not…quite…peachy keen…” I said, through clenched teeth.

“Sorry. Guess I shoulda reckoned you weren’t used to buckin’. You got some regular stilt legs there, but they ain’t got much muscle in them. No offense.”

“None taken. I wasn’t raised to be an athlete,” I muttered, gingerly putting my smarting foot down.

“Well, if you can’t buck, maybe you can haul.”

“Haul?” I asked.

“Yeah! You can take these here full buckets and put them in that cart.”

She pointed to a wooden cart with two large wheels and two long shafts in front for a horse to be hitched to.

“Then we’ll wheel them over to the barn.”

“That sounds like something I can do,” I said. “Yeah, I’ll give that a shot.”

“Super!”

Apple Fritter went back to kicking trees, and I began picking up the full apple buckets, which were considerably heavier than I imagined. I guess I’d never really taken stock of how heavy a whole bushel of fruit could be. Be that as it may, I hauled the buckets, one by one, to the apple cart sitting nearby, and dumped them in until the cart was full.

“So, we just need to do this until this whole part of the orchard’s apple-free?” I asked, when Apple Fritter strode over.

“Yep! Now let’s get this load up to the barn.”

“Right.”

I put myself in between the shafts, gripped them, and gave a good heave…which sent me tumbling face first into the ground. I heard Apple Fritter giggle as I spat a patch of grass out my mouth.

“This is gonna be a long day,” I muttered.