//------------------------------// // Chapter 3 - Sweet Apple Acres' Theme // Story: An Equestrian Patriotic Hymn Book // by PensacolaRanger //------------------------------// By now some stirrings and whinnies of discontent were beginning to stir, but not much. Most just crossed their forehooves, cast sidelong glances at each other, or tapped a hind-hoof impatiently. Some even checked their timepieces to see how far into the show it had been already. Some of the older ponies were whispering and grumbling about why it was even necessary to start changing the old hymns and anthems they had lived with and passed down through the ages. *** Back stage, production crew-hooves moved old scenery off and new scenery on, and the manager called out: “Okay, ponies, let’s go! Applejack and Rarity, on next! Trot-trot!” “I still don’ see why I ‘gotta carry this dad-blamed pitchfork. It belongs in the barn, not on a stage!" AJ griped. “Because we are recreating classic modern art, you country-bumpkin!” Rarity retorted in a stage-whisper. “Them’s fightin' words, Miss Prissy…” Applejack hissed. "BE QUIET, YOU TWO, AND JUST DO IT LIKE WE REHEARSED!!" Twilight ordered in her own stage-whisper. The two sniping ponies just glared at each other, and trotted to their marks. “Good thing this is classic modern art, so we don’ have ‘ta smile!"Applejack side-mouthed to Rarity. “Not until the music starts!” Rarity side-mouthed back. “(*Moan*) Maybe this whole thing wasn’t such a good idea after all, Spike…” a weary Twilight admitted. “C’mon, give it a chance…” said Spike, “…if it was good enough to write, it’s good enough to perform." Spike said that partly to comfort Twilight, and partly to comfort himself. *** Meanwhile out front in the pit, the orchestra was fitting straw hats to their heads. Vinyl Scratch liked hers and beamed a bright smile. Octavia simply donned hers with a combined look of revulsion and resigned obedience. “This could be the end of both our music careers, you know?” she said softly to her roommate. Vinyl just shrugged, then lifted a Jew’s Harp to her teeth and started twanging. “Oh, please…” said Tavi in disgust, as she laid down her bow and started plucking the strings of her cello like an acoustic bass. Soon, Fancy Pants trotted out from the wings again to center-stage, to announce the next number. “(Ahem) And now, a bit of rural Equestriana: a hoof-stomping country hoedown anthem, about the most famous apple farm, this side of Ponyville. Here to perform it for ‘yall,’ (I say, that was rather good, what? Ahem…) please welcome: Miss Applejack and Miss Rarity!!" Polite applause rose, and so did the curtain-----to reveal a painted backdrop of the Apple Family gate, barn and orchard. Standing before it, framed in an oversized picture frame depicting the famous farmer & wife painting Equestrian Gothic, stood AJ & Rarity, as the music chimed up in bright country-bluegrass twangs, fiddles, guitars, mandolins, snare drums, a harmonica, Jew’s Harp and string-bass! SWEET APPLE ACRES' Theme* Applejack: “Sweet Apple Acres is the place to be Apple farm livin’ is the life for me Apple trees spreadin’ out so far and wide Keep Manehattan, I’m cravin’ that countryside…” Rarity: “Manehattan’s where I’d rather stay… I get all sneezy smelling hay… I simply love a high-rise view… Darling, just give me ol’ Steeple Park Avenue…” Applejack: “Big chores!” Rarity: “Big stores!” Applejack: “Clean air!” Rarity: “Chimes Square!” Applejack: “Street muggers with knives!” Rarity: “(*Gasp*) Ta-ta, city life…” Both: “Sweet Apple Acres, we are there!!” And with two taps of the pitchfork handle, the curtain came down! But all that followed… was the sound of chirping crickets, from the hedges of the Canterlot Gardens. The Crusaders, Babs, and even the Two Alicorn Sisters, all simply face-hooved themselves. *** Back stage, Twilight looked as though she’d just spotted a cheese quesadilla on a banquet table. “Well…the crickets liked it.” said Spike. “And the critics did not…” Twilight swooned again back into the chair, as tiny stars began to spin in tiny orbits around her head. “Um…critics don’t know everything…” said Spike, shrugging. He knew that was weak. “Spike, that’s not helping…” Twilight scolded, also weakly. The little dragon simply trudged over to Twilight’s seat, grabbed a spare piece of paper from a backstage podium, folded it, and used it to fan Twilight’s stressed and perspiring face. “Ooooh…this is going to be the longest night of the year for me…” said a very unhappy Twilight. CONTINUES NEXT CHAPTER….