An Apple that Fell Far From the Tree

by Comet Tail

Sweet Apple Acres' AppleJack Daniels

Author's Note:

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P.S. The following chapters will all be at least two thousand words, more in most cases.

(\o.O.o.O.o.O.o/)

The only clear memory Mal had from the past three months was getting fired. He woke up with a hangover that felt like he’d been bucked in the head a few dozen times by a Clydesdale.

“Ughhhhhhhhh...” he groaned, searching blindly for the bottle of whiskey he fell asleep drinking. It wasn't very bright outside; the sun must be setting. Mal didn't open his eyes; he knew even that small amount of light flickering through his closed blinds would cause him unimaginable pain.

“Where the buck is that Celestia damned whiskey,” he said sleepily, still hoofing around for the bottle. Suddenly his hoof grazed glass. “Yes!” he shouted in his mind as a mile wide smile appeared upon his face.

“Nothin’ like a little hair o’ the dawg that bit ya,” Mal grumbled. That’s what his uncle Red used to say. Mal’s smile disappeared at the thought of his uncle Red. He sat up, tears welling in his closed eyes as he pulled the bottle to his lips and lifted, ready to drown out the sadness. Nothing. He opened his eyes to see an empty bottle of five bit whiskey in his mouth.

“Motherbucking stupid… piece o’ shit!” Mal shouted while throwing the bottle against the wall. The loud crash of glass breaking filled Mal up with a hurricane of emotions. He sat there on the floor of his empty rental, all of his stuff pawned off to pay for his drinking. Everything he owned except his pa’s hat, a single blanket, a pillow, and a bag of the genetically perfect apple seeds he managed to hide from the R.C.B.R.C. Mal's thoughts flooded with the memories of his uncle Red Apple, his pa Crab Apple, his favorite cousin Macintosh, and Mac’s two little sisters, AppleJack and AppleBloom.

With a ragged, breath Mal started to sob. He sat there for a few hours, hating himself, hating what he did all those years ago, hating how he couldn't do anything to change it. After wallowing in sadness for a good long while, Mal couldn't sit idly any longer. Wiping the tears from his face, Mal got up. “I need a damn drink,” he huffed angrily.

Mal grabbed his measly bit bag, trying to think of any Canterlot bar or club he hadn't been kicked out of. He trotted out of his rental, and sighed as he realized the only place he could go was The Rusty Horseshoe down in the Canterlot slums.

“Well, they got booze, Ah guess Ah can’t complain,” he mumbled. Mal did not care anymore. He just needed the whiskey; he needed to forget about his life, his family, and everything else he had managed to ruin.

***

Mal cantered on through Canterlot, passing all of the fancy shops and restaurants. He noticed that the farther away from the castle he got, the crummier everything around him became. After about an hour of walking through the capitol, Mal came into the Canterlot Slums. The Slums were where the lowest of the low, the ex-cons, the criminals, and every piece of scum that Canterlot had to offer lived, gathered, and thrived. He noticed a huge rusty horseshoe on top of a rundown dingy looking building.

“Ah’sppose this is The Rusty Horseshoe,” Mal said with a hint of disgust in his voice. He let out a long dissatisfied grunt and forced himself onward.

Mal couldn't believe he was really stooping so low because he needed a drink. He needed a drink, he didn't want one, he didn't think he could use one, he needed one. Hay, he needed as many drinks as he could handle before passing out, which was usually about two bottles too many.

He didn't think it was possible; the inside of the bar actually managed to look worse than the outside and it smelled of putrifaction. The carpet looked like a foal ate some crayons and had an accident all over the place. The walls probably had a similar story behind them, maybe even a few bodies judging by the smell.

Mal slowly approached the empty bar. The bartender was a grey unicorn with a dirty blonde mane and light blue eyes. He was so obsessed with the hoofball game on the tiny magic screen he was projecting up above the bit register, that he didn't even notice Mal’s entrance. Mal sat down at the end of the bar on the only stool that looked sturdy enough for a stallion of his size.

“Hey barkeep, lemme get four shots of the strongest whiskey ya got,” Mal said, impatiently tapping one of his back hooves against the hoof rail. He had spent an hour walking here from his rental in upper Canterlot, and was chomping at the bit to get smashed.

“You sure bout that, bub?” the bartender said in a heavy Manehattan accent, never looking away from the magic screen.

“Eeeeyup!” Mal said a little more aggressively than he intended.

Slowly turning around, the bar pony looked at Mal and his eyes widened. “Sorry guy, I’m used to ponies a little smalla' than yous are commin' in. We don’t get ponies of your … ah… particular stature.” He laughed uncomfortably. Mal glared at the bar pony silently. “Here yas go,” he said, hovering four glasses full of a honey colored whiskey over to Mal. As soon as the shots hit the bar top the tender was back to his hoofball.

"Thank ya kindly," Mal said with a hint of relief in his voice.

Mal had been looking forward to this since he woke up this morning. He would revel in that sweet burn of his guilt and sadness dying for a short while. He had the first shot down before he even thought about it. Picking up the second, he stops.
This whiskey tastes familiar, he thought. It kicks like a Minotaur, burns like dragon fire, and has the subtle aftertaste of freshly picked apples.

Mal knew what this whiskey was, he knew where it came from, and he knew exactly who made it. The realization struck him like a knockout punch from Whinny Pacquiao. This was AppleJack Daniels; this was his family’s signature whiskey.
“Ah’m sorry but Ah gotta go!” Mal said abruptly, holding back tears. He threw down some bits on the countertop, picked up his hat, and bolted out of the bar galloping off into the night. Mal didn't know where he was going. He just knew he had to run. Run from his thoughts and feelings. He just had to run.

(\o.O.o/)

Mal sat before his front door, out of breath and emotionally distraught. All three of his belongings sat on his old porch. He thought things couldn't get worse, but somehow they always did. He read the pink notice taped to his door for what must have been the hundredth time.

Dear Mr. Apple,

on behalf of the Upper Canterlot Housing Administration, we regret to inform you that you are being evicted from your current residence; 221 Starlight Ave, for failure to pay rent on multiple occasions. You have the next 48 hours to vacate the premises with all of your belongings.

Thank you, and best luck.
-Management-

"Ah guess there's only one thing Ah can do now..." Mal said despondently. "Ah s'ppose that Celestia was givin' me a sign at the bar tonight." Mal didn't want to go back.well, he did, but he was terrified of how his family would react to his return. What else am I going to do? he thought to himself. With a heavy sigh and an even heavier heart, Mal picked up his bag of apple seeds, popped them inside his hat for safe keeping, and wrapped his blanket around himself. He looked up to the moon and whispered, "Luna and Celestia, keep me safe on this journey and please give me the strength to face my family." He then trotted off into the night, headed for Ponyville and hopefully redemption.