The Honeymoon

by CrackedInkWell

Chapter 2

Acrylic’s eyes glanced over to his spouse, “Is this another Equestrian custom? Having complete strangers bust into hotel rooms like…” He trailed off as he got himself back on all four hooves. “Hey wait a minute, I think I’ve seen your face before from someplace… You don’t happen to live in Appaloosa by any chance, do you? Your face looks familiar but I can’t remember the name for the life of me.”

The yellow stallion standing at the door gave him a wide smile, “Why Ah do usually take residence in the town of AAAAAPLEOOSA! But, Ah’m here for the ann-u-al Cherry-Apple get-together! Oh! Ah’m sorry, where are mah manners, the name’s Braeburn, and Ah couldn’t help but overhear some new folks were in town for Ah while, givin’ em the proper introduction since Ah used ta live here before.” He beamed.

Acrylic stared at him for a moment, “Oh! Now I recognize you! You’re… that stallion, yeah I know you now.” He paused to quickly change the subject, “Sorry, but your face has left a strong impression on me. Come to think of it, I have seen you at the train station whenever a train comes rolling into Appaloosa.”

“Yep, that’s me! So uhh, what brings you to this town anyway, here for tha festival as well?” Braeburn asked.

Fancy tilted his head, “What festival?”

The yellow cowpony chuckled, “Didn’t Ah tell ya? The get-together with Cherries and the Apples pretty much counts as a festival around these here parts. Sure, it’s like a glorified unofficial family reunion, but who’s ta say that nopony outside of tha family could come join in? There’s plenty ta do of course like pie eatin’ contests, cider drinkin’, ultimate hide-and-go-seek jus’ ta name a few.”

“See honey! I told you we would have something exciting to do whilst here! What an excellent idea Mr. Braeburn, thank you!” Fancy gave Braeburn a hoof shake as the gears in the cowpony’s head began to slowly turn.

“Honey?” he blinked. “Fella’s, not ta make any wrong assumptions or anythin’, you’re with one another right?” When told that not only they were, but they’ve recently got married, Braeburn’s ears drooped. “Ohh… shoot. Well, good thin’ ya told me ahead of time then. To be honest, I was almost ready ta ask ya out fer a couple of drinks at the bar.” He said as he pointed to Fancy.

“Well we could still have such an occasion, you seem friendly enough.” Fancy smiled. “Why not? If you’re free of course Mr. Braeburn?”

“Really?” He glanced over to Acrylic for a moment, “You sure that he wouldn’t mind? With you two gettin’ hitched and all.”

“I think he’s referring to having you as a drinking buddy more than anything else.” The artist pointed out, “Considering that I don’t really drink alcohol (heck, I don’t like that taste of it), I think it would be best if he had someone to fuss over with when I’m not around.” He raised an eyebrow, “But be warned, Fancy is a little too good at drinking, if you get what I’m saying.”

“Well, that sounds like a mighty fine offern’ if ah do say so mahself.” Braeburn jumped in between the couple and slung his forehooves over their shoulders. “But as fer this afternoon, Ah really do recommend having a look around this wonderful town. I grew up here after all.” He beamed and looked between the two, having over-the-top grins on their faces. Fancy looked behind Braeburn’s back to glance across at Acrylic, he mouthed the words ‘Who is this stallion?’ and raised one eyebrow. Acrylic just shrugged as Braeburn marched them out of the hotel room under his arms.

“Sir, what are you doing?” Fancy inquired as his hooves were being dragged in the dirt. “If this your attempt at foalnapping, I’m sorry that I’m not in the mood for it, so would it be possible that I bribe you not doing that ahead of time?” However, Braeburn only laughed as he dragged the couple to the train station.

“Why you are quite the funny stallion Mr…” he blinked, “Why Ah don’t believe Ah allowed you to introduce yourselves! With me caught up with my yammerin, where are mah manners?”

“Oh! Oh of course, yes.” Fancy smiled as he cleared his throat. “My name is Fancy Pants, and this here is my spouse, Acrylic Brush.”

“Nice ta meet ya both! Anyways,” he stopped in front of the shack of a station. “Now Ah know this is gonna be shorter than my usual tours. However, that doesn’t mean that Ah can’t make this one interestin’. This right here’s the station.” Then as quick as lightning he let go of the stallions and pushed them to their hotel. “And this is the only grand hotel in town,” then he shoved them to the next building. “This next door is the saloon which is conveniently connected to the hotel,” suddenly the couple were across the street. “This is the good ol’ post office,” another shove, “The grocers that have everythin’ except hair gel,” another unexpected jerk. “That there’s the sheriffs. And waaaaay over here,” before either stallion could take a breath (which was quickly filled with dust), they were zipping down a dirt road and into an orchard of cherry trees. “Last but not least is the farm of Cherry Jubilee is where we’re havin’ the festival!”

Acrylic coughed a lungful of dust, “Sorry, I just blinked, what happened?”

“You have seen everything worth noting!” Braeburn yipped in excitement.

“Well, thank you very much for the… grand? Grand tour of the town.” Fancy said, “It was nice to see everything, so one more question before we go our separate ways, when is this festival?”

Before Braeburn could answer that question, they heard a bell ringing from somewhere, and the next thing the couple knew, the orchard was flooded with ponies. It was so unexpected, that Fancy yelped and Acrylic had to catch him as they were swept away in the sudden flash flood of the festival being set up. What followed was a blur of apples, cherries, pies, water balloons, darts, and the ever-present smile of their yellow acquaintance.

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“I must say, that was excellent timing, them getting their big festival ready during our stay. And when they do finish setting up, we will have a jovial time.” Fancy beamed as he sat in the empty bar with Acrylic, eating a pie with a knife and fork at one of the tables.

His spouse on the other side, however, had his head resting on the wood of the table, rubbing his forehead. “Celestia Fancy, if that’s just them getting ready, I’m not sure if I’m interested to see what the festival is actually like. I think I have a pretty good idea of what getting mobbed is like. Heck, I’m still dizzy from… whatever that was.”

“Oh don’t be such a spoiled stallion. They seem quaint and exuberant, and full of life! How often do you see such love and attention without even knowing the pony yet? That Braeburn character does seem a bit rambunctious, but let’s just give it a go. This is our honeymoon after all.” Fancy took another chunk out of his pie whilst Acrylic sighed and rolled his head over.

“I for one would like to have some buildup before leading to something like that. However, at least I’ll give you some benefit of the doubt that, again, I don’t know how this whole honeymoon thing works.” After raising his head, he finally took up a fork and began to dig into his pie. “It has been quite a day, it has happened so fast in such a tiny place as this. So are you really planning on having a drink with Braeburn?”

“If he is up for it, I suppose. Whilst we are having a jolly old time down here you should go and paint a little. The desert around these places looks most beautiful at dusk I hear.” Fancy gave him a smile and nudged the lukewarm pie in Acrylic’s direction. “You should eat you know, you’ll waste away.”

His spouse raised an eyebrow, “It’s because these pies are only seasoned with salt and pepper. Isn’t it?”

“Why Brushie, whatever gave you that impression?” he smirked and this got his spouse laughing.

Acrylic got up and started making his way to the room. Fancy sat twirling his bottle around while he waited for Braeburn to make his appearance. It didn’t seem to take long, he heard a loud slam from the reception, the yelp of his husband, and the sound of Braeburn apologizing. Eventually, he heard somepony rushing up the stairs as Braeburn made his entrance into the bar.

“Howdy there,” the yellow Apple sat down beside him. “It’s been quite the day ain’t it? Sure we were jus’ tryin’ ta set things up over there but then again, you know that it’s gonna be so much fun when we’re in a rush ta get it done on time.” He turned to the barpony, “Ah’ll start off with a pint of pale.” Then he turned back to Fancy, “So how’ve ya been doin’? Hope my little tour wasn’t that overwhelmin’.”

“No it’s fine, I thought it was quite engaging and to the point. And, uh, I’m surprised you took having a drink with me that seriously. You seem really busy with that festival set up anyway.” Fancy replied, finishing off his bottle of Western brew with as little grimace as possible.

“Well shoot, Ah’m jus’ glad that everypony showed up on time ta do all of that,” at that moment the barpony sat down his glass in front of him. “Thanks. Anyways, yeah, whenever anypony asks me fer a drink or if Ah ask them that they say yes, Ah keep mah word. It’s bad luck drinkin’ alone y’know?”

Fancy raised his hoof over to the barpony and looked across. He only leaned against the counter with a glare on his face. Fancy slowly lowered his hoof and slowly meandered over to the bar. “Apologies, uhhh. As much as I… en-enjoyed that lovely brew you recommended, I was wondering if you had a Manhattan per chance?” Fancy received nothing but a blank stare. “How about just a regular martini?” Sort of menacing blank stare. “Gin and tonic?” His stare didn’t get any less menacing. Fancy sighed and bowed his head. “I’ll take a whisky, sour on the rocks.” He nodded, albeit reluctantly, poured in the whiskey, and gave him another blank stare. “With ice! With ice!”

“Gonna cost ya extra ‘round these parts.” The bartender said. Fancy sighed and threw another bit on the table as she began pouring in ice. He looked over to Braeburn giving him a sheepish smile.

He on the other hoof just gave a low whistle, “Goin’ fer the fancy stuff Ah see? Though might as well since yer on yer honeymoon.” He paused as he looked around the tavern and the reception area beyond. “Speakin’ of which, where’s your spouse anyways?”

“At this point, dragging his essel somewhere, getting set up to paint. He’s making himself as the last great Impressionist artist with the way he paints his colors. Knowing him, it may take him… hour-and-a-half, maybe two hours for him to get done.”

“Ah’d be not so artistically inclined, but Ah must say that does sound fast for somethin’ like that, do they usually take him that quick to do?” Braeburn asked as he took another swig of his beer.

Fancy shrugged as he sipped his glass, but his eyes widened as soon as the fiery liquid slid down. One coughing fit later he said, “Wow, excuse me… Well, I suppose it all depends on how detailed he wants his picture to be. This one time I remember him spending four hours on a painting of a street corner. He felt like he was ready to collapse, but the work he produced was simply marvelous. Other times, however, he can really throw all that paint on quickly and still come up with something stunning.”

“Well that sounds like a mighty talent he has there, I would have to see what he comes up with when he gets back. And what about you? What sort of business are you into?” Braeburn asked.

“I’m a sort of patron in Canterlot, but really, I’m considered there as the critic’s critic. In other words, if there’s anything that I see value in like say a suit, a painting, or a musician that has promise, I would sponsor them. And if they turn out successful, they pay me a little fee in return. Where I come from, the elite looks over to me in anything new or tasteful. As to where if I buy something from this or that artist, composer, or fashion designer, others follow suit. Or to put it simply as the younger generation puts it: I set up trends. Not to say that it’s the easiest or most relaxing job in the world.”

“How come?”

Fancy rolled his eyes, “Because do that too long enough, and even the critics are too afraid to disagree with me to risk their careers. There’s not much of a challenge when everypony agrees with you all the time to the point of annoyance.” He cleared his throat. “But I think I’m talking a little too much, what about you? You did say that you’re from Appaloosa didn’t you?”

“Ah like to travel every now and again but yes, Appaloosan in the flesh.” Braeburn proudly beamed.

“So you like it here in Dodge Junction? When you visit of course.” Fancy replied, sniffing at his drink.

“Ah suppose I guess. Like Ah said, I had grown up here once, now Ah usually just down for the festival. Much prefer Appaloosa if ah’m to be perfectly honest with ya.”

“Oh? But they would be quite similar wouldn’t they?” Fancy asked.

Braeburn grimaced for a second, picking his next words closely. “Well, ya see, my main quarrel with good ‘ol Dodge here, is that they have a little bit of a salts operation going down. Their supplies sure ain’t settlin’ down neither, it’s been mighty frustratin’, settin’ us all back a few paces out here.” Immediately after saying that he smacked his hooves over his mouth. “Ah shouldn’t have told ya that.”

Fancy narrowed his eyes at Braeburn, both not really knowing what to say. “Well… Have no fear, I’m not one to repeat, but I’ll keep my eyes peeled.” Fancy smiled, getting his glass closer to his face. “What’s it like over there? Appaloosa I mean.”

“It’s nothin’ too fancy like what you describe, but it does the job. Worth a quick visit if ya got the time for it.”

Gingerly, Fancy took a tiny sip of his whiskey and tried as hard as he could not to cough, “Celestia, they make these strong,” he said in a hoarse voice. “So what sort of job do you do anyway?”

“Depends, Ah just do the odd jobs mostly. Mainly with the apple trees, carin’ for em, bucking them when it comes to apple pickin’ season. Ah help out the sheriff sometimes with the odd job. Nothin much, whatever pays the bills.”

“Oh… It sounds awfully a lot what my husband used to do. You see until I found him, he wasn’t exactly known as an artist at all. So you do jobs for the sheriff huh? What does that entail?”

“Jus’ the odd jobs like Ah said, nothin’ fancy.” Braeburn glossed over. Fancy raised an eyebrow as Braeburn took another swig of his beer, finishing it off. As soon as he placed the bottle on the table the entrance swung open, Acrylic in a frazzled state. He held a broken easel in his hooves and his paints bag slung over his shoulder. As soon as he tried to run upstairs he was trampled by a mass of townsfolk storming into the bar after a long day of festival set up.

“That’s the last time I’m painting in the middle of a dirt road,” he moaned.