• Published 3rd Mar 2015
  • 2,946 Views, 224 Comments

Not another Pony in Equestria - Admiral Biscuit



A collection of short, random, vaguely comedic stories, for when an idea isn't worth a thousand words.

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Mother

Mother
Admiral Biscuit

"It's time we came clean with you. You're old enough to know."

Pipsqueak jerked his head up, one solitary strand of sauced spaghetti still stretching down to his plate. He hated it when his parents got serious. Usually, unpleasant things were about to happen when they did.

Not unpleasant in a novel sense of unpleasantness, of course. He'd read all sorts of contemporary Bitish novels where the poor hapless colt or filly—usually an orphan—suffered every manner of indignity at the hooves of his or her adoptive parents, or been forced to work in the mines. His parents had never been abusive, nor had they tried to sell him into servitude. His father had even made him a wooden sword for Nightmare Night, and his mother had given him an old scarf and made his pirate jacket.

"Old enough ta know what, mum?"

"You're adopted."

His ears fell. The mines would be coming next.

His father nodded. "We weren't able to bear any foals." What came next was an unfortunate—for such a young colt—insight into the reproductive process, or lack thereof. If he had been dazed by his mother's pronouncement, he was only confused by his father's enthusiastic presentation. Especially when visual aids came into play, largely drawn from what happened to be on the table at the time.

After his mother had finished wiping a bit of stray hoof-made Alfredo sauce off her muzzle, she continued where his father had left off.

"We thought it best at first to take you far away from your birth mother, just in case there was any . . . unpleasantness. One never knows in cases like these. . . . "

"What your mother is trying to say," his father said, oblivious to the fact that he wasn’t really helping the discussion at all, "is that we thought it prudent to put some geographical distance between you and your birth mother."

"Got it," Pipsqueak said through slightly clenched teeth.

"And there was a great job opportunity in Trottingham as well.

"But we decided that we ought to move back to Ponyville at some point. Just in case you wanted to . . . oh, what's the word?"

"Reconnoiter?"

"Reconcile."

"Yes!" His mother smiled. "Reconcile with your mother."

He twitched his tail. "Who is she?"

"Well." His mother leaned across the table. "You know Applejack, right? She found you when you were just a wee little baby."

• • •

"Ah always knew this day'd come." Applejack stepped out on the porch and closed the door tightly behind her. "Best just you an' me do this. Ain't no need to get anypony else involved.

"Awful brave of ya to come on your own," she commented as they walked across the front yard of Sweet Apple Acres.

"It . . . it didn't see right to bring them," he muttered. "Cos. . . ."

"Ah know." She reached down and patted his head gently, then stuck a hoof to her lips and whistled loudly.

A moment later, a brown and white collie came charging around the corner of the yard. As soon as she saw Pipsqueak, she stopped in her tracks, barked once, and then began wagging her tail.

"Well, there ya go. I expect y'all have a lot ta talk about, an' I'll leave ya to it." Applejack tipped her hat and headed back to the farmhouse.

Author's Note:

Click HERE for an apology.