//------------------------------// // Chapter 43: Gray // Story: The Private Scrapbook // by Cadabra //------------------------------// Chapter 43: Gray Granny Smith pawed at Kizzy’s drawing in her scrapbook. “I thought 'bout Kizzy the whole time I was in Foalsom,” she said as she remembered the lonely nights she had spent behind bars. “I remember when I wrote that letter to Mr. Focus, and I just let everythin’ spill out into that there letter. He ended up writing it up fer his paper, and even sold the story to bigger papers. He wanted everypony to know what was goin’ on. He must’ve gotta big ol’ pay out fer sellin’ that there article. Ended up winnin’ a Mulitzer Prize fer it too.” Granny Smith turned to the article that Focus had published in the Hoofington Post, and to the subsequent copycat articles it inspired from other newspapers. “That photographer saved mah flank,” she explained. “Canterlot was up in arms as soon as mah story got published in the Equestria Times. Why if it hadn’t been fer him I might’ve never had a chance to talk to the princess at all…” A few weeks later, Smithy was rudely awaken by none other than Senator Carpet Bag himself. “We’re doing your trial today, Granny Smith,” he said as he tapped on the bars. “The guards will be by soon to pick you up for trial. I would like to remind you that whatever you say in a court of law can and will be used against you. It would be wise of you to choose your words carefully, especially with this ridiculous article of yours floating around the newspapers.” Carpet Bag threw down a copy of the latest Equestria Times at Smithy’s feet, whose headlines boldly read TRIAL OF THE CENTURY!!! He scowled as Smithy casually picked it up as if nothing special was going on. Smithy let out a low whistle as she scanned it over, finding out that her trial would be covered by all the newspapers in Equestria. “Lotta coverage on this,” she said as she skimmed the article. Carpet Bag was not impressed by the pony’s reaction to how serious this matter was. “May I remind you that your freedom is at stake,” he said, enunciating every word. “It would behoove you to cooperate with me. I am a very powerful man and I can make sure that you either walk free on insanity charges or never again see the light of day. The choice is strictly yours.” Smithy began to laugh at the notion of freedom. “Mah freedom?” she laughed almost maniacally. “I’m fightin’ fer the freedom of zebra slaves that y’all brought into this here kingdom, slaves y’all treat like common pigs, and yer threatenin’ mah freedom?” Senator Carpet Bag smacked the bars of the cell in frustration. “Clearly the economic freedom of our nation or the peace we have enjoyed with the Griffon Kingdom means nothing to you!” he hollered. “I will make you pay for your insubordination should you make a mockery of everything I have worked for to make Equestria prosperous. I will take from you everything that you hold dear! I can make sure that ziggler daughter you so brazenly wrote about is taken away, even if I have to do it myself!” The very mention of Kizzy made Smithy stop in her tracks. “Ya talk a mighty big threat,” she scowled. “Mark mah word ya dirty varmint, I will protect mah kin. Even if I gotta go to the gallows fer it.” Carpet Bag took a deep breath to try calming himself. “You have made a very powerful enemy today, Granny Smith,” he proclaimed as he looked down his nose at her. Smithy spat at his hooves before replying with, “Go to Tartarus.” As one final gesture, Carpet Bag threw a bag of toiletries into Smithy’s cell. “Clean yourself up, you filthy sow,” he sneered, disgusted at the sight of the unwashed pony. Smithy watched Carpet Bag trotting out of sight before digging into the bag of toiletries. While she did have a small sink in her cell, she grown unaccustomed to using it. She had almost forgotten what toothpaste tasted like at this point. Scrubbing the taste of the last few weeks out of her mouth was more refreshing than any glass of wine had ever felt, so much so that she brushed her teeth three times before deciding to move onto something else. It was difficult for her to wash her mane in the tiny sink, but she was at least able to get it wet enough to smear with a bar of soap. Rinsing was even more difficult, but Smithy did her best. Once she had rung and shook out her mane, Smithy began to brush it out. It was at that time that she noticed what looked like a gray hair. ‘Can’t be,’ she thought to herself as she pawed at the off colored hair. ‘Light’s playin’ tricks on me. I’ve always been blonde, so I betcha it’s the light.’ Just to make sure, she plucked the offending hair out from her head to better look at it in the light. She was shocked to confirm her first gray hair.