Granny Smith, the beloved matriarch of the Apple Clan (Ponyville sector) had learned pretty quickly to take advantage of the Good Days. Good Days, for the elderly mare, were those rare convergences of mental sharpness and physical stability. All too often there were days that she could barely think her way out of the mental fog that consumed her thoughts. There were other days when her body, new hip or not, simply refused to function properly. But when mind and body worked in tandem (such as it was) she learned this was the best time to get as much accomplished as possible.
This was the reason why Granny Smith was hard at work over no less than three different pots of apple-based soups, preparing them to be portioned and frozen for future meals. Sure, she could have allowed her youngest grandson Peppermill whip up something. But she missed cooking for her family.
…well, maybe she didn’t miss having to do it seven days a week. After all, standing at a stove for hours at a time wasn’t exactly easy on the old bones. But she still considered feeding her family to be one of the few chores she could still manage to do at Sweet Apple Acres. The day she became so weak and/or mentally instable that she might be ‘put out to pasture’ would break her heart. Until then, she was going to carry her weight as best she could.
*SLAM*
Granny Smith jumped in surprise (which caused a noticeable twinge in her back, much to her dismay) at the loud sound behind her. She turned just in time to see a thrashing jet-black tail as it stormed by her. She watched as her youngest grandchild stomped up the staircase just outside of the kitchen and slammed another door on the second floor of the farmhouse.
Ah reckon this here is somethin’ ahm good at too… With a silent prayer to Celestia that those dag blasted stairs wouldn’t be her downfall (literally and figuratively), Granny made her way to Peppermill’s bedroom. Once at the top of the stairs, no worse for wear, she pondered her options. She had quite a bit of experience in deal with angry young ponies, going all the way back to her grandchildren’s own parents. And while some more…modern folks might have their ways Granny preferred her tried and true methods.
“Ifin you don’t open this here door, I’ll start singing.”
Three…
Two…
One…
*click*
Works every tahm…good thing I can’t sing ta save mah life. With a small grin of triumph, the green mare nudged the door open and peered inside. Sitting on the colt-sized bed, forelegs folded tightly against his body and a glower on his face was Peppermill.
“Ya look ornery enough to bite through a horseshoe sonny. Is everything all right?”
“I…have had a bad day…”
“Well shoot, even with these old eyes o’ mine I could have figured that out.”
“I…got into…an altercation…well…two of them actually.”
“Oh, anyone ah know?” Peppermill gave the elderly mare a dark look, debating whether or not she was joking or legitimately unsure. “Well…Twilight invited me…to join her for…a snack at…the Golden Horseshoe…”
“Hold it right there sonny. I reckon I ken already figure out wut happened.” Peppermill raised a surprised eyebrow at the outburst, having not expected such a…strong reaction from the mare. “It’s got somethin’ to do with that Horty Cousin or whatever he calls himself…”
“Horte Cuisine…yes, he…is part of all this. I take it…you’ve been…to his…restaurant?”
“Yep. The younguns’ took me out there fer Grandmares Day a while back. Was quite possibly tha worst meal I ever had.” Granny Smith’s face puckered at the memory. “Somepony didn’t tell that fella that we go to places lahk that to have fun, not work. I swear, I ain’t never chewed so much in mah life, not even when Great Uncle Strudel messed up his pie recipe and used wallpaper paste instead of flour. I never did ask him why he had paste in that cupboard…”
“So what you…are saying is that…this isn’t the…first time…they have done a…poor job on…a dish?”
“Heck no. And I told that feller where he could take that stuff he fed me an’ what to do with it. Told me I was blackballed or banished or wutnot. And believe me sonny, ahv been tossed out of better places than that.” For a brief moment the colt felt better about the situation. At the very least he now knew that somepony else felt the way he did about the questionable establishment. He almost smiled, until another memory of the day came back to the forefront of his mind.
***
Thank Celestia…I didn’t actually eat…anything… thought Peppermill as he bounced, flopped and tumbled inside Twilight Sparkle’s magical bubble. He wasn’t entirely sure where the lavender mare was taking him, as long as it was away from that…that place. The grey colt had lost track of time as he struggled to get his bearings, the bouncing and the fury he felt not helping his cause. He vaguely noticed the slowing down of his forward momentum, but he didn’t miss the sudden jolt his body took when he bounced off of a vertical surface, and then a horizontal one. The bubble that encased him vanished with a *pop* as he found himself upside down and in a heap on the floor of what he presumed to be the Ponyville Library.
“Holy guacamole! What the hay is going on?’ was the demand from Spike.
“Oorg…” was all that Peppermill could manage. While it had been a while since his own breakfast, the burning sensations of it trying to race up his throat took precedence over giving an explanation. He made a Big Macintosh-sized effort to get upright…and immediately regretted it. That was due to the panting, but clearly livid unicorn mare looming over him.
“I have never, ever been so humiliated in all my life!” seethed Twilight. Peppermill swore he saw a wisp of smoke come from the mare’s horn, but decided it was just a by-product of the spinning room.
“Twilight, what happened?” Spike pushed himself in-between the two ponies, trying his best to take charge of the situation.
“Peppermill got into a fight with Horte Cuisine!”
“Really?”
“It wasn’t…a fight. It was…a yelling match.” groaned Peppermill. “It would…have been a fight…if I had gotten a…chance to take…a swing at that…smug smile of his.”
“Huh, I didn’t think you had it in you.” announced an impressed Spike.
“I didn’t…know it either…” mumbled the colt.
“That’s not the point!” bellowed Twilight. “You don’t just start yelling at another pony for no reason, especially in a place like that.”
“I had…plenty of reasons…to yell at that…slop artist!” snapped Peppermill indignantly.
“You called Horte a slop artist? Oh man I wish I had been there.” laughed Spike.
“Twilight…the food there…is way overpriced. It is…poorly made, the hosts and cooks…are slow to the point…of lazy and no…restaurant owner spends…more time chatting up…pretty faces than…making sure his…customers are happy.”
“Gee, that really familiar. I wonder where we’ve heard that before…” began Spike with a smirk to Twilight. His smirk vanished when the mare gave him a furious glare.
“Spike…basket…NOW!” A single hot flame leaped from her horn as the dragon raced away in alarm. Peppermill held in a squeak of alarm as well, partly from the anger the mare was showing and party from the open flame that he couldn’t take his eyes off of. Even after it vanished, he didn’t feel any better given the same angry flames seemed to be in Twilight’s eyes when she turned her gaze back onto the colt.
“Just because the Golden Horseshoe is not your family’s restaurant is not an excuse to do something like that!”
“This has…nothing to do with…comparisons. This is…about Horte Cuisine…tricking all…of Ponyville into thinking…his restaurant is…’the best’. If he…even considered doing…things like that in…Canterlot he…would have been…laughed out of the…city in a week. But he…has managed to have…a stranglehold on…you all.” Peppermill, by this point, had managed to get his balance back and was up on his hind legs as he stood his ground. It was then that he made, what he would admit much later, was his crucial mistake.
“I thought you…were supposed to be…a smart pony. I would…have thought you…would have had noticed…all that. And for that…matter why…are you so…embarrassed? You don’t actually…think that eating…at that…place…makes you special or…something? If anything it makes…you a…a…silly pony!!!”
Granted, this was probably as strong as an insult the colt was capable of giving. Even in the rare fury that he was currently in, his language was not nearly as colorful as some ponies (he still wasn’t sure how to include some of the more…interesting terms he had heard from Granny Smith or Applejack when they got frustrated) But the point was that one didn’t just tell a super-smart pony who took herself extremely serious she was ‘silly’.
…not unless you wanted to be changed into an entirely different creature…or a statue…or reduced to a smear.
“Silly? Silly!” Twilight roared, a full-blown column of flame erupting from her horn. Peppermill gave a squawk of alarm and felt onto his back. “Get out of my library, NOW!!!” Peppermill scrambled to his hooves and raced past the mare, not even bothering to close the door behind him.
***
“By the time…I got over my…fright I was…angry all over…again.” sighed Peppermill. He lay on his side, looking forlornly at Granny Smith. “I pretty much…stomped my way…all the way back…to Sweet Apple Acres.”
“Well, I reckon yer smart enough to know ya did wrong by that Twilight girl. An’ I know that you’ll go an’ apologize when the time is right.” sighed Granny, patting the colt on the head. “An’ hopefully by then she’ll realize she wuz wrong herself fer getting all hot-headed.”
“I just…got so mad. Everything Horte Cuisine was…doing was the opposite…of what my father…taught me. And it seemed…like every pony in…Ponyville was…letting him do that.”
“Ya cain’t expect every pony to know wut you do sugar britches.” smiled Granny. “If they did, we’d be up to our withers in fancy vittles. And as fer making ponies pay more fer his grub, well, that’s their choice. “
“I suppose so…” Peppermill closed his eyes as the mare gently stroked his dark mane.
“I tell ya wut. How about we keep this between you an’ me fer awhile. I reckon the rest of the clan don’t need to know it’s now four outta five of us…” The colt’s eyes snapped open, having caught the odd comment.
“Four out…of five? What…do you mean?”
“Well,” began Granny, scolding herself for her loose lips. “I ain’t allowed back cause I complained about the grub. Ah know Applebloom cain’t go back on account she and her little friends done tore up the kitchen over thar when they wuz lookin’ fer their cutie marks. You pretty much told Horty Cousin wut you thought of him, and as fer AJ…well…”
“Applejack…is banished from…there too?” Peppermill asked incredulously.
“It ain’t so much as she ain’t allowed as she won’t go there. The honest truth is I don’t know why she won’t go there, but it ain’t my place or yours to ask…” Peppermill knew a direct order when he heard one, so he made a mental note not to bring up the topic with his elder sister.
“And Big Macintosh ain’t interested at all in fine dining since he gets enough of it around here thanks to you. Mind you, even Horty Cuisine ain’t dumb enough to try and tell Big Mac not to do something without a good reason.” Despite himself, and knowing fully well how unlikely the scenario would be, the image of Big Macintosh intimidating Horte Cuisine pleased the colt.
“I promise…to keep it…under my chef’s touque…” agreed Peppermill.
“Good. And I suppose ifin you feel ya need a bit o’ help, AJ might be willing to lend a hoof when you decide the tahm is right to go an’ apologize to that Sparkle girl.”
“Thank you…Granny.”
“Yer welcome sugar britches. Now, I gots ta see ifin I can get back down them stairs. I gots soup ta jar before I can get supper started. And don’t even think about askin’ ta help. I can do myself…”
“I know…you can Granny.” The green mare hobbled away, leaving the colt alone with his thoughts. He was tempted to go to the small writing desk in his room to come up with an appropriate apology to Twilight when…
“Um…sugar britches?” It sounded as if Granny Smith was still outside his door. Peppermill crawled out of his bed and poked his head into the hallway. He found Granny Smith at the top of the stairs, placing one forehoof onto the step before her, then pulling it back.
“Ah reckon ah might need a bit of help, come to think of it. Ah should have remembered it’s a heck of a lot easier going up than down these things. Remind me to ask Big Mac ta look at making a railing or something…”
“Coming Granny.” announced the colt with a small smile.