Pinkie Consistency Pie
“They found out who did it yet?” Applejack asked. She nodded her thanks to her final customer of the day, giving up the last bushel of apples for four bits. “Thank you kindly, Cheerilee.”
Rainbow Dash waved at Cheerilee before shaking her head and leaning against Applejack’s stall. “Nah. It would take a whole team to do this. They’re probably just drifting clouds from the Everfree. It was Thunderlane’s week to keep an eye out, but these things never happen. Plus, he’s really lazy, so no wonder he didn’t catch it.”
“You callin’ him out on being lazy? Now there’s a laugh.” Applejack chuckled and started stacking the empty apple baskets atop one another. Truthfully, she was glad for the company. Last Friday market of the season was always the busiest—even when winter started early. The market and all of Ponyville’s surroundings were covered in a hoof-deep blanket of snow a week ahead of schedule. Ponies bustled to and fro the market square in scarves and saddles hastily procured.
“Whatever, point is, it’s not my fault. They’re not blaming anypony, really.” Dash leaned down to wedge her snout under one of the baskets left by the side of the apple cart, tossing it onto the stack Applejack was building. “I got a letter from the weather office and they said we could just go with it. Keep it snowing and end winter a week earlier instead, maybe. I guess Mayor Mare gets to decide.”
“Well, that’s gonna ruffle more’n a few feathers either way, I imagine. I’d be powerful mad if applebuck season wasn’t past, I’ll tell you that,” Applejack said.
“Sure. And that’s exactly why I’m glad it’s not my call.” Rainbow shrugged and craned her neck to look past Applejack. “Hey, Rarity. What’s up?”
“A rather sudden winter, that is what’s ‘up,’” Rarity replied. Applejack grinned and nodded by way of greeting when the unicorn sauntered up to the two. It was hard to imagine Rarity ever being caught unprepared, and indeed, she wore a hooded cloak lined with faux rabbit fur, complete with matching purple shoes. Despite her words, their tone—and her smile—betrayed at least some pleasure in being able to bring out her winter collection.
“That’s what we were talking about, matter of fact,” Applejack said. “You got any plans for the weekend? I heard Twilight was talking about maybe heading on over to Canterlot for a week. Seems everypony’s running off on account of a little snow.” She couldn’t quite hold back a snicker at the thought.
“Everypony? Whatever do you mean?” asked Rarity, reaching up to pull down her hood.
Applejack shrugged, giving the side of her cart a determined kick, just hard enough to make the roof fold. With a satisfying whump, the apple cart was ready to go home.
“Just since Pinkie’s away to see her family and all. She usually always heads home for a few days right before winter, remember?” Applejack said. “Gonna be mighty quiet here.”
Rainbow Dash tilted her head. “Uh, AJ? All trains were cancelled when the snow hit. They’re still working on switching teams and putting the ploughs on or whatever it is they do.”
Applejack furrowed her brow, trying to make sense of it. When she again looked up, Rainbow Dash wore an expectant frown, and Rarity stood still and quiet with one brow raised. The market square was almost empty now, dozens of cart tracks and hoofprints leading from profit to the safety and warmth of home. Applejack nudged her hat back on her head and glanced southwards over her withers in the general direction of Sugarcube Corner. “She usually always comes by for Friday market. Wonder what’s keeping her.”
“Huh. I haven’t actually seen her today,” Dash said. “I’ve been so busy being shouted down by ponies who think the snow is my fault, I never thought about it.”
Rarity gave the barest hint of a shrug. “It’s Pinkie Pie, dear. Celestia knows what’s going on inside her head half the time. She’s probably trying to do something silly that we will no doubt know about soon enough.”
A smile tugged on Dash’s lips. “I don’t think Celestia knows what she’s thinking, either. Seriously. Besides, Ponyville is way too boring without her.”
“Got that right,” Applejack said with a chuckle felt but not heard. She slipped into the harness of her cart when nopony else spoke up. “Anyway, I better head on home. That’s last day of both fresh apples and cider for a while though, so I guess I’ll be bothering you girls a lot in the days to come.”
“You’re welcome any time, of course,” Rarity said, waving.
“Seeya!” Dash added, the three splitting up and going their separate ways.
Winter didn’t bother Applejack much. Or rather, the cold didn’t. Being confined to the farm with nothing useful to do around the orchards always made her a little stir crazy, but the weather was fine. She was hardy, even for an earth pony, and the cold that made others shiver or dress up didn’t usually bite on her. She wasn’t one for scarves and other accessories anyway.
The snow itself wasn’t a big hassle either, at least not until it was time to get rid of it all. She grunted as she passed between the last of central Ponyville’s buildings, pulling the cart up and over the bridge that passed the brook. Her smile only lasted until her thoughts strayed from winter to what did bother her at present. To one specific friend of hers.
For all that she was a hard-headed loudmouth, Applejack could at least relate to the way Rainbow Dash worked, and while they had their differences, she liked to think that she and Rarity had come to an understanding. Pinkie Pie, though, was impossible to read. There were a heap of things she could say about that pony. She was more unpredictable than the most flighty of pegasi and she spouted more gibberish than Twilight in her laboratory. Usually. But not when it came to Friday market.
Sometimes Pinkie would come by alone. Sometimes she would be in the company of a pony, or a dozen ponies. Often, she’d be singing when she arrived, and if she wasn’t, she’d start a song when she saw Applejack—how many Friday market apple-selling songs Pinkie Pie had made to this day Applejack didn't know, but she'd never heard the same song twice. Fact remained that Pinkie Pie always came by.
She would pop by to share an apple, forget to pay, and later visit Applejack with a smile, an apology, and a lunch muffin or some other treat for the trouble. It had come to the point where Applejack relied on that muffin, and when she saw the calendar declared it the last Friday market this fall, Applejack had planned her own lunch knowing Pinkie Pie would be heading home to visit her family as she always did around this time. An oddly predictable journey Pinkie made every year, like clockwork. That made it two constants in the life of a pony more chaotic than a twister in a berry patch.
The newly fallen snow crunched underhoof, accompanied by the constant and steady rumble of her apple cart. The sun was not quite yet done with the day, but the sky was a deep dark blue where the heavy clouds did not cover it up. Ahead lay Sweet Apple Acres, the farmhouse’s windows glowing with lights to ward off the coming darkness.
Applebuck season was over, and the cider was all sold. For a few months, she would have all the time in the world. She wasn’t worried about Pinkie Pie, but perhaps with winter coming, she could at least spare the time to be a little concerned.
It was a common misconception and an expectation become myth that the Apple family only ever ate apples. While it was most certainly a staple ingredient in nine out of ten dishes Granny Smith or any of the others knew, today’s main course was oatmeal porridge, sweetened with just a touch of sugar. That wasn’t to say there was no side dish of apple soup in case somepony got a craving, and the dessert was caramel apples. Fridays meant there was dessert, and nothing made without apples ever quite registered as proper dessert.
Applejack put the pot down on the table and spat the oven pad out. As the last one to take her seat, she nodded her thanks to Granny Smith for her part in making dinner. Apple Bloom, Big Mac, Granny Smith and Applejack herself let the silence hold for a few seconds as they always did before dinner. Equally true to tradition, Apple Bloom was the first to speak.
“D’you think this means we get winter break early?”
“Nope,” said Big Mac, nudging the pot of porridge a little closer to Granny Smith. The venerable mare immediately set to scooping herself a good helping.
“It ain’t winter on the calendar,” Applejack said, grinning at her little sister’s pout. “It ain’t like we’d have Sunday dinner if the usual Sunday summer drizzle came on a Wednesday, is it?”
“We should have Sunday dinner every day,” Apple Bloom muttered. The little filly grimaced as she watched the other take their turns with the porridge pot, finally reaching over to seize the smaller pot of steaming hot apple soup instead.
Granny Smith arched a brow at the smaller filly, leaning back in her chair. “What’s that, young’un? If you want your caramel apple after dinner, that better be a compliment on my special Sunday apple pie, and not a single bad word about this oatmeal porridge we made.”
“I don’t mind. I’ll have her dessert if she doesn’t want it,” Applejack said, grinning wide and patting her belly. “I’m sure I can make room for two, and if I can’t, I’ll split it with Big Mac.”
Apple Bloom’s eyes went wide as dinner plates. In the blink of an eye she dropped the soup ladle and whisked the porridge pot away from Big Mac. “Nuh-uh!” she said, speaking around the ladle as she scooped up more and more onto her plate. “I ‘wove your pow’idge! S’the bef’ht!”
Applejack couldn’t hold the chortles back, and Granny Smith’s cackling laughter didn’t help. Even Big Mac launched into a hearty chuckle, and it was only then that Apple Bloom seemed to consider that maybe she was being had.
“Oh give me a break,” she muttered, glaring at the porridge that threatened to overflow her plate. “I really wanted the soup.”
“I’ll be watching you eat all that anyway. Waste not, want not,” Granny Smith added, helpfully nudging the cinnamon and sugar bowls her way with a grin. For a moment, the only noises were those that went with eating, sprinkled with the occasional request to pass the sugar. Applejack pushed her plate away after her second helping, leaning back on her stool. Outside, the false winter continued; small snowflakes drifted past the dining room’s windows, every bit as tranquil as the Apple family dinner. What more could a pony possibly ever want? Applejack mustered up a content sigh.
“So. What’re you gonna do this winter?” she asked when Big Mac looked up from his third battle with the porridge pot.
“Don’t know. Might shore up the apple cellar next month,” he replied, shrugging. “Guess I can’t count on Caramel for helpin’ with that this year.”
Applejack winced in sympathy at the mention of that name, but Big Mac didn’t even flinch, and their elder wasn’t similarly cowed by the attempted deflection.
“That all?” Granny Smith asked, glancing towards Big Mac, somehow managing to squint and raise a brow all at once. There wasn’t the thing in the world that could make Big Macintosh blush, but the sole stallion in the room did shift in his seat, looking decidedly uncomfortable.
“Well. Might be Miss Cheerilee asked if’n I could see about maybe helpin’ her out with a chore or two, too. I won’t be lackin’ for things to do.”
“I’m sure boredom’s the only reason you’re going along with that.” Applejack smirked, but she got precious little reaction from her brother. Ribbing him about his ongoing flirt with Cheerilee was harder than ploughing bedrock.
“There ain’t gonna be no more Apples without anyone adding to the family, anyways,” Granny Smith said.
“Ew,” Apple Bloom said, sinking halfway below the table so only the top of her head showed. “It’s weird enough that you’re my brother, but she’s my teacher. If she ever asks me to bring you a love letter or somethin’, I’ll be laughed outta school I will! Why can’t we talk about something else?”
“What’d you want to talk about then, young’un? Yourself?” Granny Smith asked. “Anypony caught your eye, hum?”
“Ew, ew, ew!” Apple Bloom cried. Applejack laughed so hard at the face her sister made, she feared she’d cramp. Apple Bloom rested her hooves on the table, and her head on top.
“Let’s not talk about me. Or Big Mac. What about Applejack?”
“What about me then, sugarcube?”
Granny Smith waved a hoof as fast as her age permitted, a gesture probably intended as a dismissal, but instead ending up reminiscent of the steady swing of a pendulum. “Her? I’ve been pokin’ and proddin’ for years, but I’m startin’ to give up on that one.”
Applejack felt her cheeks flush, the earlier comment about adding to the family fresh in mind. “Granny, ain’t a single one of my friends who’re even thinking about that sort of stuff yet. Well, ‘cept Rarity, and I told you how that all went last year.”
“So. What plans’ve you got this winter, sis?” Big Mac asked. Applejack could’ve hugged her brother right there and then for the rescue. She cleared her throat and shook her head, thankful when Apple Bloom slid off her seat to start rounding up the dishes. Some semblance of normalcy was restored.
“None just yet. Rainbow Dash was talking about wanting us all to head up to Quarter Hill to ride sleighs and such, and Twilight might skip town for the week. Fluttershy’s probably got her hooves full with animals going crazy on account of the weather, but I reckon if she needs help, she’ll ask.”
“A few snowflakes, and the whole town’s spit its bit,” Granny Smith muttered. “Back when it was just us earth ponies here, we didn’t get to choose our own gol’durn weather.”
Applejack rolled her eyes, slipping off her seat. “They’re my friends.”
“Settle down, young’un. I know they’re fine girls all. Don’t know where we’d be if Fluttershy hadn’t taken care of Winona’s leg that one time.”
“What about Spike, then? And Pinkie Pie?” Apple Bloom asked, struggling to get the empty porridge pot balanced onto her back. Applejack leaned over to give her a helping hoof.
“Spike’d go with Twi to Canterlot I reckon, but I don’t really think they will. She’s just complaining because the seasons ain’t going according to plan.” Applejack scratched the top of her muzzle, the chuckle petering out before it made it to her lips. “Pinkie Pie... Pinkie I don’t know about,” she said, sighing. “Right. Let’s get you ready for bed, then.”
“Aw, already? But I was gonna—”
“Tomorrow,” Applejack said, tousling her sister’s mane. “You can play with your friends tomorrow. I got errands in town early in the morning, so we can head out together. Don’t that sound nice?”
“Aw, I guess,” Apple Bloom muttered, scuffing the floorboards with a hoof. Her dejected act lasted all of a second before curiosity made her perk back up. “What’cha doing in town anyways?”
“Just checking up on a little something,” Applejack said. Big Mac was already cleaning the last of the dinner off of the table, so there wasn’t a whole lot for her to do. She started herself and her sister for the stairs, wondering which bedtime story to tell her this time, but it was distressingly hard to keep her mind on task. In truth, her thoughts had been on repeat since this afternoon.
Pinkie always came to Friday market.
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Looks promising so far.
Onwards to chapter 2!
Well then you should have thought about that before suborning their will under the weight of a potion with the idea of getting them together, then, shouldn't you Filly?!
3022997
... Muffins!
Ah it's finally here!
Good start so far.
Yeesh, rarity's worst nightmare
This is truly exceptional. Have a fave and like!
3025085
Next to all her outfits.
I love the family banter. Excellent as always, Cloudy.
There's a certain... level-headed-ness to your writing. You're not rushed, you're not loping along. Its just right.
It feels natural, nicely detailed and your syntax is both educated and refreshing. You have a voice in your words, and I can most certainly hear it. This is a head above most of what I've been reading lately, and while this chapter was little more than set-up for the story itself, it felt very natural and slice-of-life-y. I'm comfortable with the characters you've made in this short time, and the attention to detail you have at the Apple Family dinner table was sublime.
Really enjoying this, so far.
This is now confirmed incest.
I swear to god I know I've read this before, but I don't remember what is going on...
Sounds like an excuse for a second read-through!
Perfect pacing and characterization, this is slow enough to pull me in, and fast enough to keep me there
3775301
Good thing incest is wincest.
3775301
Bruh moment where you get that idea???