//------------------------------// // Chapter 3 // Story: Macintosh Must Marry // by BillyColt //------------------------------// Chapter 3 It was nearing midnight as Big Macintosh reached the front door of the house on Sweet Apple Acres. The skies were clear, leaving the stars to shine down on the farm, unbroken by clouds. The lights were off in the house, as he expected. His granny and sisters should have gone to bed hours ago, he reasoned, so he took care to be as quiet as possible in opening the front door. The house was still, and he progressed on tip-hoof through the hall, to the base of the stairs... “Well?” asked Granny Smith. Big Macintosh jumped, and upon landing a deafening thud resounded through the house. Granny Smith was reclining in a large chair, a candle sitting on the table next to her. The look on her face was expectant, self-satisfied, as though expecting good news and somehow taking pride in it. “Granny!” “Well, how’d it go?” she asked. “Must’ve gone purty well for you to be back this late.” She leaned forward. “Well, think she’s a keeper?” “Granny,” said Big Macintosh, “Ah don’t think she’s interested in that.” “Hmm...” She leaned back, the old wheels in her head turning. “She’s just a nice pony,” he said, pre-empting whatever follow-ups he thought she might be asking. “She’s a very nice pony and a good friend. But I don’t think she’s interested in marriage.” “Well, I suppose it’s all for the best,” she conceded. “After all, she can’t even support herself! How’d she support you?” Big Macintosh, sensing a way out of the conversion, nodded. “...‘xactly mah point,” he said, excusing himself and heading up the stairs. Pinkie Pie was a nice pony, and a very nice one at that. She was fun and he’d had a wonderful time. But marriage just didn’t seem to fit... they might be able to have a friendship, but they didn’t have enough in common to sustain a serious relationship. But then again, he wasn’t sure Pinkie Pie would be interested. Even if she did marry him, he got the odd feeling that she’d treat it more like a game than a real commitment. And if Pinkie Pie didn’t want to marry him, then he was absolutely fine with that. Now he just had to worry about Granny Smith. *** Parties with pink ponies was a break in the routine that Big Macintosh was all too eager to return to the next day. He had a clipboard hanging by his side, while Applejack trotted next to him, a pencil in her mouth, checking items off as they inspected the trees. “The red galas seem to be blooming a little late,” he observed, gazing over the trees nearby. “Hmm...” said Applejack, jotting a note down on the clipboard. “They’ll need a little extra attention.” “Eeyup.” Apple trees weren’t always predictable—you never knew if a tree was overgrown or infested with a parasite or whatnot, but the routine always comforted him. If the tree was overgrown, it could be pruned. If there was a pest problem, it just took a little spraying. And it occurred to Big Macintosh that he himself was a very simple pony in many respects. Maybe even a little boring. Then again, a lot of ponies would find farm work boring. That’s why it took ponies like the Apple family to do it. His mind went to Colton. He’d probably leave the farm to do his duties as a husband, once he and Daisy were married. Big Macintosh could tell that he loved the mare dearly, ready to dote on her for the rest of his life. He imagined that when he got married he would feel the same way. Granny Smith, unfortunately, either didn’t care or just took it for granted. “Ah heard Princess Celestia was in town the other day,” said Applejack, preparing to buck one of the trees. “Eeyup,” said Big Macintosh. “Ah even spoke to her.” “You what?” Applejack’s kick slipped, and an apple fell on her head. She didn’t notice. He shrugged. “Went to take that book of yours back to the library. And... she was there. Talking.” “About what?” “Ah dunno,” he said. “She said she’d ask about my opinions.” “Opinions?” asked Applejack. “Opinions about what?” “I dunno. Stuff... Ah guess,” he said. “She’s doing some kind of study with Twilight...” “Ah should’ve guessed...” “...who, uh...” Big Macintosh mumbled, “Wants to interview me. And have lunch.” Applejack cocked her head and peered quizically at him. Then a smile crept onto her face. “Why, Big Macintosh,” she teased. “You’ve landed yerself a another date already?” Big Macintosh chuckled a little bashfully, his eyes looking away and a soft smile on his face. “Eeyup.” She resumed bucking the tree, chuckling to herself as the apples fell into the buckets. Then more apples fell into the bucket, despite her not kicking it. “Huh?” “Ow...” groaned another voice. “Rainbow Dash!” exclaimed Applejack. Her friend stepped away from the tree, wavering slightly. “Just what in tarnation–” “Fell out of a spin...” Rainbow Dash groaned some more, massaging her head. “Lost control...” “Well, Ah guess Ah should thank you for helpin’ out a bit,” said Applejack wryly, looking to the now slightly more filled buckets. Rainbow Dash didn’t respond, but simply shook her head, shaking off the stars floating around it. Big Macintosh just stood off to the side, watching and setting up buckets by another tree. “Hey, Applejack, you’re kinda athletic,” said Rainbow Dash. “What about your brother?” “Mah brother?” asked Applejack. “Mm?” he grunted, his attention more drawn to the conversation. “Ah dunno. I’ve never really done much sportin’.” “Well, he’s strong as an ox,” said Applejack. "We actually tested that, once. Hoof-wrassle…" Big Macintosh looked at Rainbow Dash. She was peering at him, sizing him up for reasons he wasn’t sure about. “Raw strength but no training, huh?” she said. “Hey, I got an idea – why don’t we have a contest?” “Beg pardon?” both Apples asked in unison. “Yeah,” said Rainbow Dash, her eyes narrowed as a mischievous look crossed her face. “You and me,” she challenged, looking him dead in the face. “This Thursday, noon. Be over on that hill.” She pointed off to the tallest hill in the orchard. She spread her wings and jumped into the air, proclaiming, “Be there or eat air!” And with that, she flew off in a streak of rainbow color. “Well, that’ll keep her attention for a while,” said Applejack. “Eeyup.” *** Big Macintosh’s walk into town was leisurely—he was told that it was bad to show up early for a date. So he walked at a slow pace, looking around at the others. He saw Colton walking by with Daisy, his fiancée. They were chatting and smiling. They seemed happy, Big Macintosh thought. Plenty of ponies were out. Mr. Cake was out with some bags on his back, Pinkie Pie bouncing beside him. The Mayor was out on a walk, talking with a few other mares, and behind her trotted Time-Turner. She turned back to look at him. “That will be all, Time-Turner,” she said. “Thank you.” “Alrighty!” he replied. He broke off from them and went off in another direction, before spotting Big Macintosh. “Oi!” he called, cantering up to him. “What are you doing off the farm?” “Not much,” said Big Macintosh. “Just on my way to a date.” “Oh?” asked Time-Turner. “Who?” “Twilight Sparkle.” “Ohhhh…” He nodded. “Never really fancied her the dating type, myself.” “Nope,” Big Macintosh concurred. “Still, very pretty.” “Eeyup.” Big Macintosh nodded. “So, how’s the new job going?” Time-Turner through his head back and laughed. “Oh, it’s great!” he said. “The Mayor says I’m the best secretary she’s ever had! Says her last one couldn’t keep a schedule if his life depended on it.” “Wonder how he got hired in the first place.” “Oh, I’ll tell you,” said Time-Turner, turning and stopping him. He smirked and tapped the ground with his hoof. “You see, a lot of secretaries don’t get hired because they’re really good at typing or organizing. I’ve seen plenty of secretaries get passed over for someone who happens to be cuter. That’s how the other guy got the job. Mayor took him on a recommendation, and he turned out to disappoint. Great to be me, ‘cause not only am I great at my job, but I’m also cute!” “I see…” said Big Macintosh. He looked off down the road, up at the clock tower. “Not running late, are ya?” asked Time-Turner. “No, no,” said Big Macintosh. “It’s all fine.” Time-Turner tilted his head. “You don’t sound very enthusiastic.” “Well,” said Big Macintosh, “Ah’m not really ‘nthused. Don’t see where it’s gonna go, really.” “Could be fun?” “Ah guess,” said Big Macintosh. “Just… you ever do something not ‘cause you want to do it or ‘cause it’s good for you, but ‘cause it’s what the other ponies want?” “This about your granny?” “Eeyup.” “Ah,” said Time-Turner. He looked down the street at nothing in particular. “Yeah, I get what you mean there.” “It’s just not something Ah wanna do,” said Big Macintosh. “But Ah guess that’s everything with this whole marriage thing. You ever think about gettin’ married?” “Are you kidding?” asked Time-Turner, giving a snort of laughter. “I’m a career stallion. I ain’t settlin’ down while I’ve got stuff to do!” “Mm…” Big Macintosh just looked up at the clock. “I gotta go now. See ya.” “Alrighty, then,” said Time-Turner, “but hey, it could be worse—she’s very pretty!” *** Twilight Sparkle waited outdoors at the cafe. Other pony couples were sitting, along with one other pony sitting all by her lonesome, apparently cranky. She happily sipped her tea and nodded to the waiter. Big Macintosh arrived on time as expected, looking around for Twilight. She spotted him and caught his eye, waving to him and beckoning him to approach her table. “Hello!” she said. “Well, good to see you could make it.” “Eeyup.” “Have a seat!” she said. He did so, placing himself opposite her. He couldn’t help but smile as he looked at her. Time-Turner was right—she was very, very pretty. He wondered… “Now, here is the menu,” she said, floating one in front of him. “And here is a survey.” Big Macintosh stared at the packet of papers before him. The first several lines were things asking him his name, birthdate, cutie mark, home address, occupation… “Just a little thing to get us started,” said Twilight happily. “You just fill that out and we can begin!” She floated a pen over in front of him, which he took awkwardly in his mouth. He filled out the form as best as he could, though when it asked for his medical history he had to leave a few areas blank. He nudged it back to Twilight, who was cheerfully humming to herself as she read the menu. “I think I’ll order a sunflower salad,” she said. “And a sandwich. You?” The form had substantially lessened Big Macintosh’s appetite. “Eey… I’ll have the same.” Twilight Sparkle nodded. Then, to Big Macintosh’s confusion, she pulled out a pad and a quill, scribbled something down, and then put it away again and took a sip of water. “What was that?” asked Big Macintosh. “Mm?” asked Twilight, the straw still in her mouth. “That,” said Big Macintosh, clumsily gesturing with his hoof, “thing you just wrote down.” “Oh, that?” asked Twilight Sparkle. “Nothing. Just taking notes.” “Uhh…” “Waiter,” she said, flagging a mustachioed server, “two sunflower salads, please. And the sandwich of the day.” “Oui, madame,” said the waiter, departing. As soon as he was gone, Twilight looked back at him and, in a flurry, whipped out a stack of papers and notes. “Now,” she said, as a fluffy quill emerged from the papers. “When your younger sisters were born, did you feel like they received more attention and consideration than yourself?” “Well…” Big Macintosh said, blinking. He didn’t think dates usually went like this. “When a foal’s born, they need lotsa care. Nothin’ strange ‘bout that.” “Interesting…” Twilight said, the scratching scribbles from her notepad answering back. “What about when they got older? Did you ever feel that Applejack and Applebloom were more privileged than you were?” “Uhh…” said Big Macintosh. “Ah dunno. Never thought of it like that. Applebloom’s still a foal, and Applejack’s got a lot of responsibilities.” “Hm…” muttered Twilight, peering at her notes. “Am I, uh…” His eyes flicked back and forth nervously. “Are these the right answers?” “Oh, no,” said Twilight. Big Macintosh’s eyes widened. “There are no right or wrong answers to this.” “Oh…” he said, deflating slightly. “‘Kay.” The two of them sat there, he a clueless-looking statue and she cheerily sorting through her notes in a flurry of paper. “So…” said Big Macintosh. “What is it you do for Princess Celestia?” “Oh,” said Twilight. “I’m her student. I send her reports every week on what I’ve learned about the magic of friendship. But Applejack’s probably already told you that.” “Eeyup.” Big Macintosh eyed his water glass, wondering how quickly he’d drink it and have to ask the waiter for a refill. He wondered what the waiter would think if he asked for one. His eyes flicked back to Twilight, who was still happily jotting down notes. “She hasn’t told me a whole lot else, though,” he continued. “‘cept when she heads off to Canterlot. Said yer brother married a princess?” “Mm!” Twilight said through a sip of water. “Yes, he did.” “Sounds mighty big,” he said. “Marrying into royalty like that.” “Daunting?” she asked, raising an eyebrow. Big Macintosh paused. “I s’pose…” “Oh, Twilight!” called Rarity’s voice. They turned their heads. Rarity was walking by, with Spike carrying a basket a little ways behind her. “Hi, Rarity,” said Twilight. “Running some errands?” “Oh, yes,” said Rarity. “I had a fright earlier today—I found I was running low on silk bolts. Thankfully the markets were still open. And you are…?” “Oh, just having lunch with Big Macintosh here,” said Twilight, turning back to him. “Eeyup.” “Say, Twilight,” said Rarity. “Dear Fluttershy has unfortunately had to cancel her trip to the opera with me this Saturday. Angel’s come down with something, it seems. And so I have an extra ticket…” Big Macintosh saw Spike’s head peak out from above the basket. “I was wondering if you’d be able to come?” “Oh, sorry, Rarity,” said Twilight. “I have a paper I have to proofread that night.” “A shame,” said Rarity. “Who can I…” Her eyes slowly fell on Big Macintosh. “Why, Big Macintosh, you wouldn’t happen to be interested, would you?” “Eee…” Big Macintosh started. “Op’ra?” “Yes,” Rarity explained, floating a ticket over to him. “It’s a production of Most Art’s The Magic Flute.” Big Macintosh looked at the ticket. He wasn’t much of an opera-lover himself, as he’d always been more drawn to folk and country tunes, but it was only polite of a gentlestallion to accept such an invitation. “Ah’d be glad to, Miss Rarity.” “That’s wonderful,” said Rarity. “So, I’ll be stopping by at Sweet Apple Acres on Saturday afternoon to pick you up, then?” Big Macintosh looked from her, then to Twilight, then to Rarity again. “Eeeeeeyup,” he said at length. “Wonderful,” said Rarity. She tossed her mane, letting her curls bounce a little. “Come along, Spike, back to the boutique!” “Here’s another question,” said Twilight, already back to her notes. “Do you feel a disconnect between your rural life and the occasional trips your sister takes to royalty?” Big Macintosh blinked. “That question makes no sense.” Twilight deflated. “Yeah, I don’t know why I thought that was a good one.” The note crumpled itself up and flew over her shoulder. “Ah mean, no,” said Big Macintosh. “Applejack goes to Canterlot. That doesn’t make me feel any ‘disconnects’ or nuthin’. Applejack leavin’ for Manehattan as a filly, that was sad, but that was ‘cause she was leavin’ us.” “Okay,” said Twilight Sparkle, flipping over another sheaf. “Applejack is the one who’ll inherit the farm. How does that make you feel?” “Ah…” Big Macintosh blinked. “Uh… Ah dunno.” “You’ve given a lot to it. Do you ever feel you’re not getting, well, your fair share?” Big Macintosh looked at her. She peered at him, her quill hovering just above her paper. But her eyes weren’t eager or inquisitive. She just looked at him, waiting for his answer. Then, the quill shook a little and she put it down. “I’m sorry,” she said. “That was…” “No, it’s alright,” said Big Macintosh, leaning forward slightly. “To be honest… sometimes Ah do feel a bit upset. Like it’s not my farm, even though I’ve worked on it all my life. Ah…” His voice trailed off. “Sorry if Ah’m not very good at this. Ah’m not very good with… words.” “It’s okay,” said Twilight, “it’s nothing important. Just a little thing to help with my report to Princess Celestia.” “The Princess?” asked Big Macintosh. “Is this about when Ah saw her in the library?” “Yes,” said Twilight Sparkle. “Princess Celestia is always out to see what her subjects want, and lately she’s been wondering about stallions. We live in a matriarchal society, after all, so it’s important to know how that affects ponies.” “Ah see,” said Big Macintosh. “Well, Ah dunno. I love my family and the work Ah do. But lately Ah guess…” “What?” “Well, Granny’s been a bit on my case lately, about, well…” “Getting married?” asked Twilight. Big Macintosh looked at her. “Yeah,” he said after a break. “Applejack told us,” she said. “Sounds like a hassle. Getting married isn’t something you just do all of a sudden because you think you should.” “Ah know,” said Big Macintosh, hanging his head slightly. “Ah just… feel kinda trapped is all. Goin’ on these outings is keeping Granny offa my back, but…” Twilight Sparkle simply nodded. “Sorry I can’t really help with that,” she said. “Have you tried talking with her?” “Ah have,” he sighed. “But Ah don’t think she’s listenin’.” “Mm…” said Twilight Sparkle. “Well, for what it’s worth, I don’t think a stallion like you will take long to find a special somepony.” She looked down at her notes. “I think the princess will be interested to hear about this.” She looked back up and gave him a reassuring smile. “Things will get better.” The waiter arrived, carrying their sandwiches on a tray. “Here you are,” he said, an odd guttural sound coming from his throat on the last syllable. Big Macintosh took his and resisted the temptation to just gulp down the whole thing. He looked down at the sandwich. It just seemed so tiny. “Thank you,” said Twilight, taking hers and setting the notepad aside and clipboard. Big Macintosh, realizing that staring at his food was unbecoming of him, looked back up at her. “You come here often?” Twilight didn’t answer immediately, having taken a small bite, but she did nod her head. After swallowing, she answered, “yes. It’s a nice place and it’s only a short walk away from the library. Spike loves the hay fries. He likes it more now they’ve added some gems to the menu. Just for him.” She chuckled. “You asked them to?” Big Macintosh suggested. “Well… I may have written them a short letter, yes,” said Twilight. “Ah imagine that helped,” he said. “Can’t see a lot of ponies sayin’ no to you.” Twilight laughed. *** Twilight Sparkle was nice, Big Macintosh thought, though the excessive note-taking was off-putting. But, he reasoned, that was just something she did. Some ponies calm their nerves by pawing at the dirt, some ponies eat their flowers one petal at a time, and Twilight Sparkle takes notes. After she put the notes aside, however, it wasn’t so bad. The lights were on in the house, even though it wasn’t very late. The sun was just starting to dip down over the hills. He could smell the sweet scents of home cooking wafting out from the kitchen window, and he stopped to take a sniff. Apple pie, of course. Always a comfort. And then he heard voices talking—Applejack and Granny Smith. “…I just want to be sure he’s taken care of,” said Granny Smith. “He seems to be doin’ well enough himself,” said Applejack. “It’s not about that!” said Granny Smith. “This is about his position!” “How ya mean?” “Applejack, I’m not going to be around forever. After I’m gone, it’s gonna be you runnin’ the farm.” “Ah don’t see what—” “Big Macintosh is listed as a dependent,” she said. “My dependent. When I’m gone, that won’t be there.” “So?” asked Applejack. “He can support himself.” “Yes, but not as well as I’d like. He can’t just stay on the farm,” she said. “Why not?” “Applejack, while I support you two on the farm, I can list you as dependents. There’s tax considerations in there… Filthy Rich helps me with those. As long as I’m in charge, any money I give you as allowances ain’t taxable ‘r somethin’.” “And?” “Aaaaand,” Granny Smith said, “you can’t do that. You can’t list him as a dependent, and so any money you give him counts as compensation. An’ everything he has is here on the farm. It’s not eh-kahn-ah-mik-like. No, he needs a wife who can support ‘im.” “Then just give ‘im a stake in the farm,” said Applejack. “He can afford t’ pay taxes. This is about something else, isn’t it?” Big Macintosh heard a pause and a sigh. “I…” said Granny Smith. “There’s a lot to this. Sure, y’could hire him. But could you support him? What happens when you have a husband? Big Macintosh is a strong, handsome fella—any mare’d be glad to have him. There’s no reason Big Macintosh shouldn’t have a buncha fillies after him. You know, Apple Rose was telling me about how her grandson fell in nicely with a shopkeeper and they’ve got twins on the way. And Apple Sauce—” “Is that what this is about?” asked Applejack. “Great-grankids?” Big Macintosh heard a long, sad sigh. “Applejack, I’m an old mare,” said Granny Smith. “I just want to make sure that you’re alright and can take care of yourselves. I want you to take over the farm, and I want Big Macintosh to settle down with a nice mare who loves and appreciates him. I don’t want him to become an old bachelor. And… yes, I would like great grand-foals before I go.” Big Macintosh heard enough and just walked around to the front door. He thought about his date with Twilight Sparkle. Despite knowing about his predicament, she hadn’t exactly asked for his hoof. She was smart, pretty, and certainly high-up on the social ladder. Though she took too many notes. He liked her well enough, but he wasn’t completely sure. Well, he figured, two down, three to go...