Sour Apples
Chapter 27
Sour Apples
“Say what?” Applejack asked.
Big Mac took a deep breath. A stallion making this much fuss over a doll was something of an odd thing, but he was somewhat of an odd pony sometimes. “How did she know about Smartie Pants, AppleJack?”
Applejack blinked. “Wait, Smartie Pants..? Twilight’s old doll that-” She caught herself and remembered when her sister and her friends had been running ‘Gabby Gums.’ There had been a picture of Big Mac and a small plush doll.
Big Mac turned his head and looked at the hay pile behind him. “Eeeyup.”
“Well, ah-” Applejack started.
“It just seems mighty strange that a pony from a rather distant part of Equestria would know something like that there, A.J.” Big Mac turned and looked at his Sister. “After all, it’s not like ah go around telling every pony about...her...”
“What are ya implying there Mac?” Applejack asked.
“Ah’m not implying anything, other than somepony would have had to have told her about Smartie Pants for her to know,” Big Mac replied.
“Of all the dern obscure things for her to bring up! Why would she even do that?! If she knows us like she says she does, she’d know that bringing something up like that would make Big Mac uncomfortable! Unless that’s what she wanted to do. We’re going to have to have words about this sometime later when ah’m not so busy,” Applejack thought to herself.
“Well?” Big Mac asked.
“Ah didn’t tell her about yer do- ah mean Smartie Pants. Heartbreak is kinda like that. She knows a bit about all the ponies here. She had to because she is going to be here for a year and while she was back home, she figured that she would learn as much as she could about Ponyville!” “Yup! That works! Ah can’t believe I’m lying ta ma own brother for that bratty little filly! Ooooh that burns me up like- No A.J. Today is a clean slate. But come tamarrow...” “Ma guess is that she came across one of the copies of the Foal Free Press from years back.”
Big Mac thought this over. “Where exactly is she from, Applejack?”
Applejack rubbed her head. “She told me, but the name was so hard ta pronounce that ah’m not terrible sure what it was called. Ain’t important, ah reckon. After all, she doesn’t like talking about it too much.” Big Mac nodded and Applejack turned to walk away.
“Ah just have one more question, Applejack.” Big Mac said. Applejack gacked, that first fib to her brother felt terrible, telling him any other lies with questions that nagged that the loose threads that tangled about Heartbreak just ran against her grain.
“And what's that?” Applejack asked.
“Why’s she have a hole in her hoof?” Big Mac asked.
“Ah that, well, from what I understand. Twilight accidentally gave her some rather special tea. It made her kinda loopy and the next thing we know, she had a hole in her hoof.” Applejack rubbed her head. “Ah don’t know the full story, seeing that ah wasn’t there. Now, ah’m gonna go start on the harvesting. Them trees ain’t gonna buck themselves, right?”
“Nope," Big Mac replied as Applejack walked out the barn door. He waited for her to leave the barn before plucking Smartie Pants out of the hay. He nuzzled the little doll with a blush on his face. “It’s all right there, Smartie Pants. Ah’d never let a pony like Heartbreak come between us.”
==============================================================
I flop face down crosswise on the soft fluffy guest bed before me. I’m tired, sweaty, confused and downright conflicted. I wanted to scream at Applejack. I wanted to yell at her. I wanted to berate and degrade her. I wanted to ask snide questions that would insinuate that she was actually selling more than just cherries when she was working for, ‘Miss Cherry Jubilee.’
I put an arm over my face. “UGH! That’s horrible! Why?! You are not that bad of a person! You are not that bad of pony! What the hell!” My mane tickles my face and I become aware of how long it actually is. “Not now, I am wallowing in self-pity about how bad of a pony I am. How I keep trying new beginnings but seem to be nothing but an emotional train wreck that can barely leave the train station. And to boot, you are sickened by the very notion of sex, which is understandable. Good grief! Why did that conversation have to come up with Applejack of all ponies!?” rolling over, I nab the corner of a pillow in my mouth and pull it to me. Using my ankles, I put it over my head. “There is a better way, there is a better way, you aren’t a bad p-p-pony, you aren’t a bad p-p-pony...” I whisper to myself. I hear a pattering on the ground. Looking down I see a small wet spot. “Fetlocks! Not again...” Tears. I am getting sick of just crying almost on cue. Sniffing, I rub my nose and sigh. “Look H.B., like it or not, certain things coming out of a mares mouth and out of context will sound just wrong.” I roll my eyes and look around the room. “‘Look at the size of those apples.’ What the fet was I thinking?!” I feel ill when repeating that sentence. I sigh. “Enough of this, H.B. No more wallowing. Come on, you’re better than this. We can be better than this...”
Laying on my side, I spy my saddle bags. I want my sketchbook. Last I checked, to my surprise, there were a few clean sheets waiting to be drawn on. The page I told Derpy that I would draw her on is still there. I waggle my hooves at the bag that is but a few feet out of reach.
“Uuuuuh! Uuuuuh! Come on bag! Get over here!” If I were still human, I would have found an ultra lazy way of getting that bag to me. I used to have a walking stick of sorts with a right bend at the top from where I had broken the dead wood off the tree. It was useful in all sorts of situations. Now without anything to grasp, I am faced with the dilemma of actually getting up and getting the bags or scooting across the bed to get them...fuck. I scoot over and waggle my hooves more at the bag. Still nothing. “Awwww! Come on! Get! Over! Here!”
I grumble and stretch some more. “Almost! Almost! Aaaaaaalmos-Wha!” I feel my body mass shift and suddenly my face is greeting two old friends of mine. The Floor and Pain Hurtzalot. They have the gifts of a row of stars in my eyes. “Fet! Ooooouch....Oh, hi floor. Make me a sandwich!” I snort at my own joke as a means of fighting off the pain.
Looking over, I see that my saddle bag is now within reach. I push myself up and nab it with my ankle before getting back up on the bed. Fetching my sketchbook and pencil from the bag is a much easier task. As my sketchbook hits the floor it opens to a random doodle, some exercise in how to draw pony bodies. I slip my pencil into my hoof-hole and set the dial. It makes a soft whirring and *zttt!* noise. I smile. I feel complete all of the sudden. I feel whole. Leaning over the bed, I use the pencil to flip a few pages until I find a clean one. Then I begin writing.
“‘Things I can do to be a better,’” My hoof wants to write, ‘pony.’ It is already making the loop for a ‘p’, but I don’t want to write pony. I want to write something else. Come on, something other than pony, please something other than what I currently am...”Individual.” Yeah, that works. I let my Twilight Sparkle out to play and start writing up a list of things I can do to better myself. The first thing I write down is something I should have known all along.
“Just because I know a great deal about everyp-p-pony here, doesn’t give me rights to act like a know-it-all, or the authorization to use that knowledge against them.”
That’s the good start I need. Alright, let’s see if we can think of some more things to add to this thought.
==============================================================
It was getting dark when Applejack trudged her way up to the house. Bucking those trees did her some good. Getting out any hard feelings she had due to the whole incident with Heartbreak was just what she needed. There were no troubles, no worries about having to get some other pony in order. Just her, the trees and sound of falling apples into apple buckets. She was sweaty, exhausted and pleased with herself. She had been joined by Big Mac and they had harvested at least a quarter of the south field. Bucking apples had got her to think things over; work them out in her mind.
“Ah know Spike said to just let her talk, but ah got one or two storms still in ma mind. Hay, ah was able to survive hurricane Heartbreak when she ran through ma thoughts regarding ma brother. Anythin’ else I get her ta fess up about should be a mild summer rain in comparison,” She thought, looking tiredly at her house. The light in the guest room was still on. Applejack sighed, those feelings she had just spent bucking away were starting to reassert themselves.
Applejack slowly walked upstairs and peered into the guest bedroom. She was about to shout that dinner would be ready pretty soon, when her gaze was met with the sight of Heartbreak sleeping.
She was sprawled over the bed with her front hooves hanging over the side and her face pointed down. Her eyes were tightly closed and her breathing was calmed and relaxed. Her leg kicked and twitched over some unseen dream she was having. “She looks so peaceful. If it weren’t fer that thing sticking through her hoof, ah’d swear she was just another pony.” Applejack grimaced. “Almost seems a shame ta wake her up.” That’s when Heartbreak turned over in her sleep. Her head tilted back and a loud snore emanated from her mouth. Applejack stifled a snicker. “Almost,” she thought to herself as she walked over to the bed. “H.B?” She asked quietly. “Hey, H.B.?”
Heartbreak groaned in her sleep. “Hmmmphrzzle...”
Applejack chuckled and rolled her eyes. “That’s almost cute.” “Hey, H.B.!”
Heartbreak shot up and gasped. “Huh?! Oh...Applejack, it’s you...” She muttered, yawning and about to lift her hoof up to rub her face.
“Whoa nelly!” Applejack shouted as she stopped Heartbreak in time.
“Huh?! What? Oh...” Heartbreak said, realizing that she still had her pencil embedded in her hoof.
“Right, ah don’t want ya going and stabbing yerself in the eye. Best take that thing out,” Applejack said.
“Oh, right..” Heartbreak replied, still half awake. She tapped on a small colourful dial on the pencil and it made a soft whirring noise. She took it out and placed it in her saddle bag.
“Ah just came up here ta let you know that dinner is guna be ready pretty soon,” Applejack said.
Heartbreak stretched out and forced herself up. “Soup’s on everyp-p-pony?” She asked still not quite aware of anything happening around her.
Applejack blinked and was taken back at what she had just said. “Uh, yeah. Ah guess soup’s on.”
“Alright, I’ll be down in a few, after I actually wake up,” Heartbreak replied.
==============================================================
Opening my eyes, I vaguely remember that Applejack had come into the room a while back. After she left, I almost found myself just passing out once more. I haven’t a clue for how long, but I feel like I have overslept. And as such, I am feeling more tired than I should. This of course will make sleeping tonight, and waking up in the morning more difficult than it most likely should be.
Looking around, I become aware that it is dark outside. A crescent moon hangs low in the window, while wispy clouds make their way across its face. Turning back over, I stretch and grit my teeth as best as I can, attempting to chase the tiredness from my being. The sketchbook lays open before me and seems to stare back at me in disapproval as there is only but the one sentence scrawled in its page about not being an up-stuck, bitchy know-it-all. I feel disappointed at my lack of actually doing something with my writing. “Oh well, at least it’s a start to something.” I push myself up and stretch myself out one more time.
“Right H.B., get up! Get up! Get! Up!” I slip backwards out of bed and then head downstairs to see what is cooking. Reaching the stairs, there is that awkward dizzy moment at the top. I so don’t need this right now. So I do what I always do when facing stairs. Turn around and backpedal downstairs. Looking up I am met with Big Mac giving me a weirded out stare. “Uhm, I have a terrible fear of heights.”
“Okay,” He replies, nodding.
Backing away, I head to the kitchen and sniff the air. The aroma of what could be described as rustic cooking wafts out from the kitchen. Familiar smells. Corn, potatoes and possibly a few greens. I lean against the kitchen door frame. Applejack is stirring up something in a pot. The table has been set for three and there are a few things already set out. Mashed potatoes, a small tray of butter, green beans, corn on the cob, rolls, a bowl of applesauce, a plate of apple slices and of course, a couple of apple pies. A small salad with apple chunks and raisins is on the plate. There are glasses of apple juice and bowls next to the plates, so I can only guess that soup will be served with dinner.
Applejack turns and looks at me. The scene is almost too fucking quaint, too fucking homey, reminds me too much of coming to visit my Grandma Dana’s house. Though that place was only vaguely country at the best. They did have some farm animals. Mostly chickens, ducks, and a peacock or two. I sigh a bit, I feel like I am a useless lump here. Like I am just dotting about and not really going anywhere. Like useless fluff in a story.
“Well, look who found their way out of bed,” Applejack said. “Ya can take yer seat if ya like,” she tells me, tasting the hot soup with a spoon that is somehow held in the crack of her ankle. “Dinner will be done here pretty soon.”
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Aww... that sounds like a nice dinner.
All the better to ambush you during
Reading these are fascinating, in the same way watching somepony left alone in a room with a big red button rigged to a bomb is fascinating. You know that sooner or later, they’ll press the darn button and then all hell breaks lose.
Love it, keep it up.
My goodness... I cant get the image of Big Mac nuzzling on Smartie Pants out of my head...
At least its quite cute from my imaginative view.dl.dropbox.com/u/31471793/FiMFiction/emoticons/shrug_Derpy_Hooves.png
Man I feel sorry for Anthony next chapter... dude can't hold anything in his hoof, if that glass doesn't have a handle whelp no easy apple juice for him, and let's not forget him eating like a dog... yep, dinners gonna suck for him, but all the lols it will bring!
I read that last line of Applejack's I lot more forebodingly than I should have...
"Dinner wil be done pretty soon." and look what's gonna burn.
And I suddenly remember HB eating like a dog.
I have the most hilarious (and horrifying) image of HB eating from the floor and Winona at the table.
1503818
Think all of em gonna eat like dogs. Sour about that Applejuice though.
1504628
Damn, your right... my point still stands!
1504644
Well H.B is the only one who actually minds so it still sucks.
Poor HB. It's can't be easy remembering what is and is not public/private knowledge. Especially when you're distracted by things like unfamiliar surroundings, work, ponies, people - or when you're the wrong gender.
...wait, did she actually write the stuttering on the paper too?
1505480 Eeeeyup.
1505638
Stutter-writing?
Interesting.
What if she wrote each individual letter on a different piece of paper and taped them together?
Would she get sent to the moon?
A Gir joke? Next thing you know, Mini Moose is meeping across the sky
1506760 Noooo. See the reason she was 'stuttering' in her writing was cause she wasn't writing to the princess. She wouldn't have been fighting to write another word then..
I always seem to struggle with getting something started... I'm not a starter, I'm better at picking up on projects that are on their way, and seeing how I can help. I think HB's done a good job at starting the list with item 1. Best start.
Gir... I approve.
I'm waiting for one of the Mane 6 to catch Heartbreak sleeping like Applejack did but instead of doing something kinda cute in her sleep she cries out "Whyyyy?" as a single tear is rolling down her cheek.