//------------------------------//
// Cider 
// Story: Discord Writes a Ship Fic 
// by Phoenix Quill 
//------------------------------//


Cider


By Discord


Not too far from Canterlot, lies the hamlet of Ponyville, home to a little over a thousand ponies, a nut, and two squirrels.
This story begins with a nut.

It all started on an atypical bright and sunny day, because Ponyville's mayor has been bribed by Celestia to keep the clouds out of the sky more often than not. Pinkie Pie was happily trotting away from town to go to Sweet Apple Acres, and was singing to herself. "Apple apple in the sky, falling down from up real high, lands on a rock and it goes splat! Its apple sauce now think of that! Apple apple under hoof, pile them to reach the roof! But I think apples taste the best, when changed to cider from a press!"

It was really a nonsense song, the kind that Pinkie like the best, just something to sing happily to herself to keep boredom from striking her while walking.

Not too far ahead, Big Macintosh was moving some crates into the back of a cart at a steady pace, not really caring too much for this job. "I wish Applejack took this job instead, how did I get stuck with boxing up the cider? I could be tending to the new trees but no, she had to go help Fluttershy with a stray animal." He thought to himself with a small frown.

As he continued his work, he looked into the open barn and saw that most of the cider was already bottled, but there was still about two or three bottles worth he had to finish before he could crate them. "Applejack said that somepony was coming over to help, I wonder who it is."

Just then, the sounds of singing reached his ears. Big Macintosh looked up over the hills and raised a hoof over his eyes to block out the sun (That is again so super bright because of a certain alicorn princess that does not understand the concept of less sunny than usual, or partly cloudy) and saw a bouncing pink mare. 

He froze suddenly, and looked around, "Nope! Nope nope nope nope nope! He shouted in a semi whisper as he looked around for a place to hide from Pinkie Pie. "Not her, anypony but her. That mare's crazy!" Finally, after a few moments of debate with himself, he ran into the barn and slammed the doors in hopes that he could hide from her.

He could hear her as she came closer to the barn. "Big Mac! I came to help! Where are you?" Quickly, he threw his hooves over his mouth to help silence his breathing, praying to Celestia that she would not be able to find him. 

For a few tense moments, he could hear the sounds of the pink pony of parties trot around the barn, then suddenly she turned away to look for him somewhere else on the farm.

Big Macintosh looked around the barn for a few seconds and sighed, finally safe, he began to pour the last of the cider into a few glass bottles before taking them to town. As he began to grab a bottle from a table, the cupboard underneath suddenly burst open. "Hi!" He jumped back at the sudden closeness of the pink mare that had popped out of a supply cupboard. "I'm here to help!"

He looked at her frozen for a few moments, not sure of what to say and only tilting his head. Pinkie looked back at him for a few moments before continuing, "Dash was supposed to help you today, remember? But she can't because she had to go to court. Something about the father of her tugboat refusing to see their son Borealis." (HA Return of the tug boat pegasus baby!)

Mac nodded and said, "Eeyup," in a simple agreement as he thought back on the strange events of her sister's friend Rainbow Dash.  (If you don't understand, read my past story, Out To Sea!)

"However," Pinkie Pie began again, "There's been talk going on about how laws state that she can't have a tugboat as a son, even if she is technically the mother, but that one pony, Cave from Aperture wants to put Borealis to work, something about secret cargo that will stop someone called Cave Prime from stealing his test chambers. Anyhow, what do you need me to help you with today?"

Big Macintosh stood there with his jaw hanging open for a few moments before shaking his head and pointing at the bottles of cider. "Just put the bottles, in the crates."

Pinkie nodded and began to do so.


****


I would like to, if I may, to take you to a different perspective. Not too far away from Pinkie and Mac sat, a bottle. One out of many exactly the same, who knew nothing more about love than he knew about equine speech. Oh sure, he knew that they could talk, but really all he cared about was being cool around the other bottles and not getting his contents spilled out before they could be drunk.

The pink one had finally stopped prattling on, letting the big red one explain what she was there for. She seemed to like the prospect of whatever it was she had to do, and approached closer to grab a few bottles. The red one yelled something at her, making her face fall into a frown before he disappeared. Only to return with a small cart with crates.

The bottle, (who we shall call Jim) stopped chatting with the other bottles for a few moments, to pay attention to what was really going on once the crates came in. There was nothing too exciting other than the obvious prospect that he would finally serve his purpose by getting sold, and his contents drunk by a pony. Who knows, maybe they would even reuse him as a water bottle, or a display. Or if he was really lucky, a makeshift flower vase!

As he watched the big red one unload the crates, he suddenly was struck with awe at the sight before him. She was square, the perfect symmetrical shape. All wood with smooth sides, and no splinters. A classy kind of crate that while it wasn't painted up like some street fair goods holder, she was still was tastefully stained to retain her natural beauty and moisture.

As Jim watched her come in, with several that were almost exactly the same, the pink pony said something, grabbed a crate, and began to place bottles in, much to the enjoyment of the bottles. Shouts of, "YAY we're going to go to market!" rang about the room from the other bottles. Yet Jim just sat there, hoping that he would be able to be placed in the classy crate.

"Jim, what are you looking at?" Paul asked him with a bubbly smirk.

"It's that crate, do you see her? I think, I feel something for her." Jim said with a dopey look on his label.

"Well don't look now Jim, but the pink pony is about to grab us."

"Wait what?" Paul was right of course, the pink pony grabbed Jim, and several of his friends and placed them in a crate. "No, NO. NOOOOO!" He screamed as he was placed with several others in the wrong crate. As he sat in the wrong crate, he watched as the classy crate was put aside, with nothing to go within her. "This can not be! I must be with my beloved, I MUST!"

"Jim, we're bottles not a pony! We can't just get up and walk away whenever we want to!" Lenard said with his usual gruff attitude.

"Cracks on you, I'm not going to miss out on my chance to meet the crate of my dreams!"

"What about me?" The crate they were currently in asked.

"No one asked about you, have your way with the other bottles."

The crate they were in suddenly began to crackle. "I can't believe it, less than a minute and we're breaking up!" As she spoke, the pink pony picked up the crate, only for part of the bottom to fall out leaving Jim to tumble through the air and land on the hard, cruel floor.


****


Big Macintosh turned to the sound of a bottle dropping, and quickly slid his way out from under the cart with a screwdriver in his mouth. He quickly spat out the tool and looked at Pinkie. "Hey, what do you think you're doing?"

Pinkie smiled bashfully as she put the crate she was carrying on her back into the cart. "I'm not doing anything, the bottles just shifted suddenly and this one broke out!"

Big Macintosh looked her over for a few seconds then grunted to himself before going back to adjusting the axle under the cart. "You overloaded that crate. Put that bottle in a different one." As she went on to do so, the leaf spring on the cart suddenly gave out and collapsed. "Great, something else for me to fix before I can go to town."


****

He looked up at the ceiling, barely able to keep his contents under pressure as the pink pony fell under the verbal assault of the red one again for nearly smashing Jim on the floor. She put the rest of the crate in the back of a cart before snapping something back at him. 

He continued to lay there, hoping that he did not get any cracks, and that his crown cap will be able to hold back the building pressure of the carbonated cider within him. The red one slid back under the cart before mumbling something to the pink mare. Jim watched as she stuck her tongue out at him, which he had learned fairly recently was a rude gesture that ponies do to each other sometimes.

Finally, she turned around and picked Jim up, placing him in  the first crate she could. Jim stood silent and watched the pink pony. She looked around to see if there were any other bottles, when she discovered that  there weren't any, she left him alone and placed the crate holding him in the back of the cart.

After several moments of silence, Jim looked around and sighed. "I guess I'll never see her again."


****


"Okay Big Mac, I got all the bottles here done." Pinkie said with her usual trademark smile.

He nodded and moved to the front of the cart to hitch himself up. "Thanks." He was going to leave things at that as he pushed the barn doors open, then looked back at Pinkie. She just sat on the ground smiling at him. "Maybe she isn't that crazy after all, she certainly works hard." He gave her a smile and began to step out of the barn, when suddenly he was struck with an idea. "Do you want to walk back to town with me?"

Pinkie smiled as she came next to him and gave him a playful nudge to his side. "I thought you would never ask." And the two headed back to Ponyville together in the beautiful sunlight. (That was again, so abundant because there are never any clouds in Ponyville. IT'S A CONSPIRACY I TELL YOU!)


****


Jim couldn't help but feel distraught as he looked up into the clear sky. "Maybe it just wasn't meant to be. I mean, what would a classy crate like that want with a bottle like me?" He looked at his surroundings as they were constantly moving and asked aloud, "Where am I anyway?"

"You, are in me. And it's just you, and I." Jim looked around and saw he was surrounded by slats of tastefully stained wood. Not too dark, and there was not one splinter or bit of warped wood in sight.

If Jim had had eyeballs they would have bulged, he suddenly realized where he was! Jim was being carried by the classy crate. Quickly he adjusted his stance and made sure to look as cool as possible by adding a little condensation to his surface. "Hey, my names Jim. What's a classy crate like you doing in a cart like this?"

The crate giggled slightly before answering. "Oh, you know. Carrying you in a cart to town. What about you? What's a nice cool bottle like you, going to do with all that cider?"

"Oh, you know. Get sold to a pony then get my contents drunk."

Suddenly, a shout of, "YOU GO JIM!" came from the next crate over, followed by the clinking sound of bottles laughing.

"Don't pay any attention to them." The crate said. "It's just you and me, they don't matter any more. My name's Sherrie."

Jim smiled with his cap and bounced from the bumps in the road until he landed in one of the corners. "Well my name is Jim, but most bottles call me... Jim."

Suddenly, the cart came to a stop. The pink pony had come back, and laid a blanket down over the crates of cider, casting them in a dark shadow.

Jim and Sherrie looked around in the shadows, and found that the rest of the crates of cider could not be seen anymore because of a fold in the blanket. "Great, now we can't see anything!" Jim lamented out load.

"Don't be so upset Jim dear," Sherrie said with a slight giggle. "I think that this might be the best thing to ever happen to a crate like me, and a bottle like you."

Jim stood puzzled for a few moments before asking, "What do you mean?"

"I mean," She said with a sudden husky tone, "That we may not see them, but nobody can see us either."

Jim continued to stand dumbfounded for a few moments, when suddenly it began to dawn upon him. "Wait, are you saying that-"

"Yes Jim. I may be a classy crate, but when it comes to a love like this, time is short." She shifted suddenly as the cart began to move again. "Come on Jim, we'll paint the town red with the stories they'll tell about what we did in the back of this cart!"

And then they-