Chapter 2
Somehow Big Macintosh found the day went by more quickly than usual. Maybe the sense of apprehension seemed to move the clock faster. Nonetheless, he went about his business as best as he could, all the while wondering how he would deal with Pinkie Pie’s private party.
Probably the same way he dealt with everything when it got crazy: he stood there with a straight face and said, as he always did... ‘Eeyup’ (or ‘nope’ when the context called for it).
Pinkie Pie would not marry him, of this he was fairly sure. She still lived with the Cakes, and given that their own home was filled to capacity with three full-grown ponies, two foals, and a toothless baby alligator, it would likely not do to add another pony. The alternative would be for Pinkie Pie to move into his home...
On the plus side, it’d be a subtle way of getting back at Granny Smith.
As it happened to be convenient, Sweet Apple Acres had a cozy old picnic table by the chicken coop. It was supposed to be a nice bright red, but the paint had almost completely peeled off. Another addition to the to-do list, Big Macintosh decided.
The basket had been filled to the brim with eggs, carefully placed so as not to break them. The hens took a great deal of pride in their laying, and would be sorely hurt to find their efforts gone to waste.
He placed a small basket on the old table, sitting down beside it to take a lunch break. As he did so he saw somepony merrily trotting his way over in his direction.
“Heya there, Big Mac!” he called. Big Macintosh waved a hoof as he approached.
He was a young stallion with a light yellow coat and sky-blue mane. The green grape cutie mark on his flank gave a hint to the job he did for the Apples, tending the vineyards.
“Howdy, Colton,” said Big Macintosh. “You seem chipper today.” Indeed, Colton trotted with a spring in his step and a smile on his face for everypony to see.
“Well, it’s a chipper kind of day,” he said, sitting down on the opposite end of the table.
“More than usual?” Big Macintosh asked. “Did something special happen?”
Colton nodded.
“Care to... tell me?”
Colton looked from side to side, before leaning towards Big Macintosh. His cheery expression did not leave his face, but instead coloured itself with the slightest air of caution. “Can you keep a secret?” he asked.
“Eeyup.”
Colton took a deep breath, and said, “Daisy has agreed to marry me!” Big Macintosh remained silent at the news, and Colton continued, “we just want to keep it a little under wraps, so she can pop the news to my parents. So they can hear it first. Well, for all intents and purposes, I mean.”
“I won’t tell nopony,” Macintosh assured. “Daisy... the flower mare, right?”
“That’s right,” said Colton, nodding eagerly.
“Well, that’s great news, Colton,” he said. “Congratulations.” He opened the picnic basket and took out a piece of cornbread. “This calls for a celebration.”
“Yes, but not too loudly,” said Colton. “I mean, with Daisy’s parents...”
“Eeyup.”
Colton happily munched away at the cornbread, as Big Macintosh sat and thought about it. He was a reliable worker, and he knew he loved working in the fields with the grapes. He had to wonder what sort of impact the marriage would have. And he wondered what it’d mean for himself.
“So you still gonna work on the vineyard?” he asked. Colton stopped chewing and looked up.
“Gee, I...” He swallowed. “I didn’t really think about that. I guess I won’t really need to, will I? Daisy and her friends have the flower shop. They make a nice living on it. I don’t really know.”
He looked out at the fields. Farther than either of them could see there were what seemed like miles of apple trees, cornfields, and grapevines long enough to make into a fruit-filled jungle.
“If we have foals I’ll have to take care of them. And she’ll probably need me to help around the shop.”
“And... you’re okay with that?”
Colton looked at him. The look of elation he had initially come with had been replaced by another, one of the utmost earnestness. “Yes,” he said. “Yes I think I am. She’ll be good to me, and I’ll be there to do my duty. And it’s the best thing that could’ve happened to me, you know why? Because she’s beautiful, and she’s kind, and she...” He laughed and looked over at the chicken coop. “She’s just got everything a guy like me could want.”
He looked back at Big Macintosh. Macintosh face had never changed. Never consoling, never confirming... never contradicting, nor condescending. “I’ll be a good husband, Mac. I will.”
***
Big Macintosh was not averse to the prospect of marriage. Once he found the right mare, he would marry her, provided she would have him. But at this point in his life, marriage was not important to him. He placed a higher priority on helping his family.
It was as he took an errand to the library to return a book Applejack had checked out that he started to realize he was spending less and less of his spare time at home lately. Part of him felt bad that he was so consciously avoiding his Granny, but another part of him didn’t want to keep hearing about her now near-constant nagging about him getting married.
He had a date that night with Pinkie Pie. A “private party,” as she put it. Big Macintosh didn’t try to put too much thought into what that would entail.
The door to the library closed, but unlocked. Peculiarly, a chariot sat outside with two statuesque royal guards before it. Big Macintosh paused to look it for a moment before proceeding to the library, and when he opened the door he was greeted with a radiant light.
There, standing in the middle of the room, was Princess Celestia, the ruler and radiant sun goddess (as some of her more enthusiastic subjects called her) of Equestria.
Her back was to the door, as she was engaged at that moment in conversation with Twilight Sparkle. Twilight’s eyes, however, flicked to the door, and she looked at him, at which point Big Macintosh realized he must have been staring and looking quite the fool.
“Oh, Big Macintosh!” she said.
“Ahem.” He cleared his throat. “Applejack sent me to return this book,” he said, prodding the saddlebag at his side.
“Oh, that’s just great,” said Twilight, levitating the book out of the bag from across the room. “Thank you.”
“You’re Applejack’s brother, yes?”
Big Macintosh looked at the princess. She was addressing him, looking down curiously at him.
“Eeyup,” he said, bowing politely, not looking at her. How was a stallion like him to address her?
“You may rise, Big Macintosh,” she said. “If you’re anything like your sister, I am honored to meet you.”
“Much obliged, your highness.”
“It’s funny you walked in when you did,” said the princess. “Twilight Sparkle and I were just having a conversation.”
“Yes,” said Twilight. “We were discussing affairs around the court of Canterlot, and we realized that most of the important ponies, and the ones in high positions, are mares.”
Big Macintosh stood there, not understanding what they were getting at. Mares were in charge. That seemed simple to him.
“I try to be considerate of all my subjects,” said the Princess. “And that means knowing how they feel. But it occurs to me that I don’t have a lot of feedback from a very significant portion of my kingdom.” She smiled at him. “Big Macintosh, do you have anything to say, as a stallion and a regular citizen of Equestria?”
“Nope,” said Big Macintosh a little too quickly. “Er, what Ah mean to say is Ah haven’t really put a lot of thought to that. Ah consider myself content with what I do.”
“Content?” asked the Princess. “Not happy?”
Big Macintosh just stared at her, unsure of what to make of that question. Finally, after a pause, he spoke up. “If you’d permit me, your highness, Ah’d be happy to think on it some more and tell you later.”
“I would be happy to hear what you have to say, Big Macintosh,” said the princess, before turning back to Twilight. “It’s good to hear your studies are going well, Twilight. I look forward to reading your letter this week.”
And with that, she walked to the door, her ethereal mane floating behind her. Big Macintosh just stood and watched as she passed by, captivated by her royal, seemingly divine presence. The light in the room seemed to dim a little when she left and the door closed behind her, leaving Big Macintosh to just stand and think.
“This could be fascinating!” said Twilight Sparkle. Big Macintosh turned his head and saw her facing the bookshelves, floating some books towards herself. “I’ll have to talk to Spike when he gets back!”
“Fascinatin’?” asked Big Macintosh.
“We’ve never really given a critical examination to the role of stallions in pony society,” said Twilight Sparkle. She turned to him, an eager, expectant look on her face. “Ooh, I should ask you some questions!”
Big Macintosh paused. “Can’t say Ah’d know what to tell you,” he admitted. “I just do work. And Ah guess someday Ah’ll marry and give my Granny some great-grandfoals. She’d like that a lot.”
Twilight peered at him, tilting head and humming quizzically. “Fascinating. The only male in your household.”
“It’s... not a very big household,” said Big Macintosh. “Lotta land, though...”
“I’ll have to study this some more,” she said, returning to her floating mass of books. “Why don’t we meet later this week and talk about it over lunch?”
“Umm...”
“How about next Tuesday at two?” asked Twilight. “That should be easy to remember.”
“Ah’ll...” Big Macintosh started. His work schedule might have posed a problem, as he had to work long hours in the day. However, when she turned back to him, smiling as though proud of an imminent future accomplishment, he couldn’t help but feel he just couldn’t say no. “Ah’ll see what I can work out,” he said.
“Excellent!” said Twilight, unraveling a long parchment and making a note on it. Big Macintosh took advantage of the break in the conversation and scooted out of the library.
***
“Uhh, Granny?”
“Hmm?”
“Ah don’t think this is ‘xactly necessary.”
“Oh, fiddle-faddle!”
It had not taken Granny Smith long to catch the news that Big Macintosh had been set to go on a date. As such, she had insisted that he make himself as presentable as possible, and this included a nice black suit.
“This was your father’s, you know,” she said wistfully. “Oh, you look just the spittin’ image of him. Right handsome stallion he was, and sure as shootin’ this filly you’re seein’ tonight’ll think the same!”
“Granny,” said Applejack, “this is Pinkie Pie we’re talking about. I don’t think this is exactly high-falutin’.”
“Oh, silly filly,” said Granny Smith. “There’s no such thing as overdressed for a pretty young mare.”
Applejack merely sighed while Granny Smith looked him over. The old mare smiled and nodded.
“Why, don’t you look handsome?” she asked. “I say, if Pinkie Pie doesn’t propose to you by the end of the night, why, I just don’t know what’s wrong with the world!”
Big Macintosh remained as calm and unreadable as ever. He just looked at himself in the mirror and wondered if the outfit really... suited him, so to speak. Considering his usual activities tending the farm, wearing a suit that needed to be kept clean didn’t really fit.
“What if he gets crumbs all over it?” asked Applebloom.
“Eh?” asked Granny Smith.
“Well, Pinkie Pie’s got all these... cakes n’ stuff,” said Applebloom. “What if he gets crumbs on it?”
“She has a point, y’know,” said Applejack. “Like Ah said, it’s Pinkie Pie. Knowing her it’s definit’ly more relaxed.”
“Hmm...” Granny Smith chewed over it, raising a hoof to her chin. “Maybe we don’t need to be too fancy.”
Big Macintosh nodded in agreement. It’d be a shame to stain his father’s nice suit with cupcake frosting.
***
Fortunately for all those involved, Granny Smith relented, and Big Macintosh could leave without the suit. So out he went, wearing nothing but a tie. It was nearing the end of the afternoon, so few ponies were out in the streets of Ponyville. Most of them were returning to their homes from work, disappearing behind wooden doors into lit houses.
And he came up to one of them – a big gingerbread house on the road, not too far from the town well. He’d been here before, and sometimes wondered if the house was actually made of gingerbread.
He stepped through the door into the brightly lit bakery that was Sugarcube Corner, where all manner of cakes, pies, pastries, and sweets were there for the consumption of the town.
And there was Pinkie Pie, just... bouncing in place.
“Hi!” she said exuberantly. “So you could make it?”
Big Macintosh looked at her. “Eeyup...”
Pinkie Pie bounced around in circles a few times before crossing over to him. “Ooh, we’re gonna have fun!”
He looked around. “Where are the Cakes?”
“Oh, they went out to see a play!” she said. “Took the foals, too.”
“So it’s just us?” he asked.
“Uh-huh!” she said. “And I go upstairs all set up for a party!”
She bounced up the stairs, and he followed. Apart from the springy sound Pinkie Pie made every time she left the floor, it was silent. Pinkie rounded the corner at the top of the stairs, before disappearing behind a door. Big Macintosh sighed, took a deep breath, and stepped forward...
It was just that. A party. Chocolate cake. A bucket full of water and apples. Confetti. Streamers. A record player blasting cheery music. And Big Macintosh was wearing a pointy hat all of a sudden.
His attention, however, was mostly drawn to the tiny alligator sitting on the table. It wasn’t doing anything, just... staring. Staring at nothing at all. He was wearing a pointy hat, as well.
“Come on!” shouted Pinkie Pie, jumping out from under Big Macintosh’s party hat. “Let’s cut some rug!”
She jumped down from his head, and before he could figure out how she had gotten under his hat in the first place or even fit in there, she had grabbed his front hooves and was whirling him around the room in a frantic, impromptu dance.
He’d never considered himself much of a dancer. He was a strong pony, no doubt about that, but he’d never considered himself very flexible or graceful. He was also slightly concerned that he’d accidentally kick a hole in the floor.
And yet, he found a grin creeping on his face. Pinkie Pie certainly seemed to be having fun, with a big dopey grin on her face and she laughed almost in time with the music from the record.
Whatever the tune was on the record, he couldn’t make it out. It wasn’t his kind of music, in all honesty, but then his kind of music wouldn’t make for much of a party.
Well, it would have made for a party, but only a hoedown. Which he wondered...
“Pinkie?” he asked.
She abruptly stopped dancing, her demeanor instantly changing to an attentive expression. “Yes?” she asked.
“Have you ever been to a hoedown?” he asked.
“Have I?” she asked, instantly jumping off to the other side of the room. “I’ve had all kinds of parties!”
Big Macintosh balked as she wheeled in a massive chart. She got up on her hind legs, pulling a large pointer out of what seemed like thin air, and began pointing.
“Why, I’ve had hoedowns just like every other kind of party! Birthday, surprise, homecoming, going away, welcome back, block, political...”
“Wait, what?”
“All kinds!” she repeated, grinning. “It’s my area of expert-ties!” She bounced over to the record player and gave it a kick. The needle sputtered for a second, before the music changed to an uptempo fiddle.
Big Macintosh gave a little chuckle. How did she do these things, he wondered?
“Why don’t you try bobbing for apples?” she asked.
He looked dubiously over at the large bucket of water off to the side of the room. However, seeing no reason to turn down her suggestion, he approached and looked at the apples floating in the water. He followed the usual process: close the eyes, dunk the head, and hope that you catch an apple in your teeth. He did, and he lifted his soaking head from the water and opened his eyes.
Pinkie Pie was sitting in the bucket, looking up at him from beneath the surface of the water, a thin stream of bubbles trickling out of her mouth and nostrils.
“Hee!” she squeaked as she broke the surface. “I got those apples from Applejack! And you bobbed for them! So it’s like an Apple is bobbing for apples, huh?” She asked, pressing her nose up against his.
Even if Big Macintosh did have anything to say, there wasn’t much he could with the apple fit snugly in his mouth. He just stared at her and bit down on the apple, the audible crunch giving him ample excuse to not answer.
“Oh well.” She bounced out of the bucket, splashing water all over him. “Applejack didn’t find it funny, either.”
Big Macintosh snickered.
“That got a laugh,” said Pinkie, ribbing him lightly. “I like you, Big Macintosh. You’re like a big lug and you always look like you’re thinking about something.”
“Oh...” said Big Macintosh. “Not really. Not thinkin’ ‘bout anything interesting. Just stuff.”
“What kind of stuff?”
Big Macintosh paused.
“See, you’re thinking again!”
“Well, Ah guess Ah just think about whatever anypony else thinks about,” he said. “What Ah see, what Ah say, what Ah’m doin’ or will be doin’. What other ponies say.”
“Can you think about cake?”
Big Macintosh blinked. “Beg pardon?”
Pinkie Pie stood on her hind legs and made a grand gesture to the giant chocolate cake on the table. “Cake!” she cried, bouncing over to it. “Want some?” She pulled out a large knife and began carving the cake into sizeable slices.
Big Macintosh chuckled and walked towards it. “Eeyup.”
She giggled as she placed three large slices onto plates and laid them out: one for her, one for him, and a third one. Big Macintosh wondered what she was doing, but then she bounced over to Gummy and picked him up. The alligator maintained his usual blank stare as she bounced back and plopped him down on the table in front of the slice of cake. He appeared not to notice.
“There!” she said. “Enjoy!”
Big Macintosh chuckled, and she looked back at him.
“I’m glad you came,” she said. “It’s been nice getting to know you better.”
“Well, Ah’m glad Ah came, too,” said Big Macintosh. “You’re a fun mare, Pinkie Pie.”
She tossed her poofy mane and said, “Well, duh!”
Big Macintosh chuckled again and turned to his cake. It was an unusual date. But still, it was fun.