The Ecstacy of Apples
The sun was riding high that day in Appleloosa, hot and sweltering. It was like Celestia had drunk a whole bottle of chili sauce, and was letting all her little ponies know about it. It was the sort of day where you would find every reason to stay indoors and wait till Luna came to the rescue with a cool night breeze.
But if the ponies of Appleloosa were sweating, it was for a completely different reason today.
Because high noon was just five minutes away.
And somepony had been called out.
In the old saloon, Big Iron sat alone at the bar — well, not completely alone. The sable stallion had a glass of apple cider with him, into which he stared forlornly. It was, he knew, his only real friend at the moment.
There was also the barkeep, Whiskey Business, but she wasn’t really his type, and she knew better than to get between a stallion and his – potential – last drink. Whiskey let him be, and focused on cleaning another glass with a rag and her unicorn magic.
Potentially, she’d fill it up for his killer.
He wasn’t looking forward to this. Iron had considered roping in a few of his colts to shoot down the troublemaker as she came to town, but decided against it. In the first place, it was downright dishonorable to shoot somepony in the back or in an ambush.
And in the second place, they’d all said no.
“Jes’ cause she’s the ‘fastest gun in the south’,” he grumbled, settling his chin on the countertop. “An’ she’s already killed ten of us. Cowards…”
The saloon doors slammed open, and an orange and blue-maned pegasus stallion zoomed straight to the back of the room.
“Boss!” Flash Pan cried out. “She’s here!”
Big Iron didn’t hardly move. He blinked a few times, to be sure, but for a few seconds at least, his mind was a blank.
Then, he sighed.
“Son of a mare,” he said at last, and took the cider glass in both hooves. He knocked the glass back, and downed it all in a single swig.
“See ya, Whiskey,” he called over his shoulder, as he strode out the doors.
The sun was boiling. Big Iron was almost glad for the heat, however. If this was his last day, then at least he’d feel like it. And if he went to that fire down below, at least he’d have something to compare it to.
Iron looked left. Through the shimmer and heat-glimmer, he could see a dot on the horizon.
“Never been scared of a dot,” he told himself. “Ain’t startin’ now…”
He tilted his hat brim down, and got to work. His piece was hitched up beside the saloon itself. It took a fair bit of doing, but he’d had Little Iron at his hip for so long now that hooking up was second nature to him. And once the straps and harness were in place, he walked out into the middle of the street, wagon behind him.
A hot wind came in from the west, carrying dust with it that stuck to Iron’s sweaty hide. He finished hitching himself with the odd taste of leather, cider, and dirt on his lips.
Not the best thing to taste right before a gunfight. But that just meant he had to live long enough to get a salad later.
The dot had grown bigger. Soon, it almost looked like a pony. A pony dragging something behind her.
Big Iron glanced at the clocktower.
One minute to high noon.
He licked his lips, and found them more parched than he could remember.
The dot was now visibly orange, with just a bit of gold peeking out from under another Stetson hat. He’d know that hat anywhere, from the stories about its wearer.
Thirty seconds, and the other pony, the one who’d called him out, was only a dozen or so yards away.
“That’s far enough!” Iron called out. “Any closer, an’ we’ll have a hoof-fight on our hooves…”
The clock struck noon, and let peal a sonorous clang. And then another.
And another. All the while, that dang mare just kept walking.
When they were only ten paces apart, the bell finished chiming the hour. The mare finally stopped just as the last echo rang out, her own piece lurching on its wheels as she came to a final rest.
“You ready?” Iron called out again, though not as loudly as before. “Or is the famous Applejack all talk?”
Applejack tilted her hat brim up… and Big Iron felt his knees shake a little. There was a fire in that mare’s emerald eyes.
“I ain’t come ta talk,” she said in a tone that was as quiet as it was fit to burst with rage. “I come ta put you in the ground fer what you did ta Braeburn.”
Big Iron scoffed, and snorted. “Yer cousin didn’t get the first message. So we sent him one that he couldn’t ignore. Not my fault he got hurt—”
Applejack stamped the earth, cracking the road in a terrifying display of her absurd earth pony strength.
“I said,” she snarled, “I ain’t here ta talk. I see yer hitched ta yer piece.”
Iron glanced to the wagon trailing behind Applejack. He caught a glint of sunlight off a barrel, and swore inwardly.
“Same as you, filly.”
“Then I s’ppose we both know how this ends,” she said, before her stance widened.
Big Iron nodded, slowly, and followed suit.
What few ponies were out today ducked behind barrels and fences. Yet, dozens of eyes were on the two ponies facing each other in the center of town, each hitched to a wagon fitted with a fine piece of flying artillery.
Applejack’s cannon was shorter, and bronzed. Big Iron had, true to his name, an iron howitzer set on his wagon. His Little Iron was fully prepped, loaded and ready to fire, while his flank shivered slightly with anticipation.
Or was it fear?
He licked his front teeth, and swallowed a dry mouthful of spit and dirt.
Applejack didn’t move. She didn’t flinch. The Mare from Ponyville just stood like a rock in the center of town, and stared down the pony who’d hurt her family.
Oh, yeah… it was fear.
The clocktower’s minute hoof ticked, once.
High noon. Plus one.
Big Iron moved first. He spun himself around, his tree trunk-like legs propelling him with earth pony strength. He wrenched himself so hard that Little Iron’s wheels wheezed and groaned with the effort.
All he needed was a clear shot…
But Big Iron had to stop! He nearly ran right into the hitching post in front of the saloon before he realized his wagon’s turning radius was just too wide!
Gasping in terror at his lack of spatial awareness, Big Iron started his K-turn, backing up the wagon and trying to inch out a few feet of space before Little Iron’s barrel kissed the sign of the dentist’s office across the street.
Applejack had started her turn at a more leisurely pace, and she could surely afford it. Big Iron gasped again as he watched her complete a one-eighty-degree turn as easily as any pony not hitched to a twelve-pounder might, her wagon being smaller and its axle more skillfully engineered.
Heck, it might have had rear-wheel drive!
Applejack, with all the calm and steadiness of a practiced hangpony, leapt out of her harness, and onto the wa-gun. Her forehooves quickly spun the aiming gears, lowering Brutal Honesty’s sight to point directly at her target.
She stared down that barrel, right into Big Iron’s widening eyes as she took the cannon’s lanyard into her teeth.
Big Iron took his one and only chance. He gave his wagon another hard twist, flinging Little Iron to the side. He caught his own lanyard in his teeth, and pulled with all his might.
There was a thunderous boom, throwing up a wall of sand and dust. A second followed, almost as soon as the first, and the local dentist’s office found itself with a new window.
The residents of Appleloosa flinched away from the explosions, only to turn back as soon as possible. They stared and stared, looking for any signs of the victor.
And then they had it.
As the dust settled, Big Iron lay in the street, a pumpkin-sized hole clean through his side, his Little Iron smoking beside him.
He was still in the harness. Dead, yet still hitched. Like he was married or something.
Applejack seemed to think that was enough. To everypony’s amazement, she simply nodded once, and got down from her gun. She hitched herself back up to the wagon, and pulled right out of that town without a word.
“Geez louise, Sunset,” Applejack groaned, and held up the thin paperback to wave it about. “What in tarnation is this? This is… awful stuff.”
Sitting at lunch, Sunset shrugged and took another bite of salad.
“It’s pretty popular back in Equestria,” she said, somewhat defensively. “Your counterpart there is basically a legendary figure already, so you can’t be surprised somepony would write about her.”
Applejack frowned. “And… Braeburn?”
“I’m told there were liberties taken with that story…”
“Liberties! My foot!” the cowgirl bellowed, and slammed her fist down on the table. Not even checking her strength, Applejack put a hole through it like the table was made out of butter. “This thing’s ridiculous! It’s lit’rary trash!”
Rarity tittered at this outburst, and spoke up. “Oh, it is indeed trash, dear Applejack. But trash can be quite amusing! At least, I think so…”
“This ain’t like one of yer Romancy schmancy books, Rares,” Applejack snapped. “This here’s a bona fide penny dreadful!”
Sunset blinked.
“How did you guess the author’s name?”
Applejack snorted, and shook her head. Then, looking back at the flimsy book in her hands, her brows knitted together as a thought occurred.
A thought that Rainbow Dash, of all people caught onto right away.
“Why are they lugging around artillery?” she asked in between sips of her soda pop. “I mean, don’t cowboys have, like, those old spinny guns?”
Applejack’s frown deepened. “Those are called revolvers, Dash…”
Sunset just laughed, almost choking on an unforgiving crouton. After a few seconds of hacking and coughing, she turned an upraised eyebrow on her rainbow-haired friend.
“Dash? They’re ponies.” She held up one hand in a little ‘hoof’ shape, for emphasis. “How would we pull the trigger on a gun like that?”
“But… you have cannons?” Twilight asked, putting down her second burger at the far end of the friends’ table. “I don’t understand the technological development there.”
Fluttershy, sitting beside her, sighed wearily.
“Why do ponies need guns?”
“How’s it end?!” Pinkie cried, nearly jumping on top of Applejack in an attempt to get at the book. “Does she ride off into the sunset? There’s gotta be a sunset scene!”
“Well, hang on there, Sugarcube!” Applejack protested. When Pinkie backed off, she sniffed, and snapped the book open again.
“Ahem… Applejack only got ta the end of the street…”
“Applejack!” a voice called out. Applejack stopped, and half-turned back towards Appleloosa.
Behind her, one of the buffalo children was racing to catch up with her. Swifthoof, Applejack recalled her name, came riding up to the side of her wagon, panting.
“Miss Applejack!” she cried, “Are… are you leaving us?”
“I gots ta, Sugarcube.” Applejack nodded solemnly. “Y’all have yer town back, and yer sheriff avenged. It’s time I was moseying on home.”
As tears streamed down the child’s face, Applejack smiled, and reached out one hoof to dry her eyes.
“Now, don’t you fret none,” she said, low and quiet. “Whenever you need me again… I’ll be there.”
Swifthoof’s eyes swelled with joy. “You will?”
“I will,” Applejack nodded. “Wherever a filly cries out in fear, I’ll be there. Wherever a no-good desperado rears his ugly mug, I’ll be there…”
The deep pinks and reds of the sunset began to fall all across Appleloosa, and to Swifthoof – and the half-dozen or so townsponies who’d crept up to listen to her speech – it only made Applejack seem larger in her eyes. Bigger than life.
“An’ wherever tha… uh…”
Applejack stared at the setting sun.
“Isn’t it only like, twelve-oh-five? At best?” she asked herself. “I better git going… Somethin’ ain’t right.”
Applejack raced away, forgetting to finish her speech. And as she rode across the desert wastes, cannon bouncing along behind her, she had no idea of the adventure in store for her. But that is a story for another time!
Send Five Bits to the address on the back of this book to subscribe to Penny Dreadful’s Wild Tales of Adventure Stories, and receive the next chapter of Applejack: Mare of the West on the first of each month!
This book is protected under the copyright laws of Equestria and other countries throughout the world. Country of first publication: Equestria. Any unauthorized exhibition, distribution, or copying of this book or any part thereof may result in civil liability and criminal prosecution. The story, all names, characters, and incidents portrayed in this production are fictitious. No identification with actual ponies (living or deceased), places, buildings, and products is intended or should be inferred. No creature or entity associated with this film received payment or anything of value, or entered into any agreement, in connection with the depiction of apple products. No animals were harmed in the making of this book (seriously, Fluttershy, stop writing to me).
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I mean, south becomes west if you tilt the compass 90 degrees
Neither do we, Twilight. Neither do we.
Delightful bit of silliness, but I don't see that disclaimer holding up in court when Penny didn't even bother to change any of the names. In any case, definitely a more dentist-friendly answer to the question of equine firearms than Kkat's. Thank you for a delightful little tale.
This was hilariously silly, and I mean that in the most geniune of ways. It does the genre of the Wild West well, while also taking the typical tropes of the genre, and keeping it fresh, unique and charming.
Funny, but somehow, I don't that disclaimer going to keep Fluttershy from writing to the author of that book; she might be too sad to head the tiny words. I also loved the little extra comedy in the author's notes and did they actually hang up on Discord? Bad move if they did
10762273
There you go! That's the right attitude!
10762282
"Since our entire civilization seems to have a very limited pool of names, all based on puns - see case: Discord v The Fourth Wall - it would be creatively limiting to authors, writers, and others if we couldn't use such ubiquitous names such as Applejack, or Pinkie Pie in our fictional stories. Do you know how many newborn fillies and colts were named Twilight Sparkle after our Glorious Leader's ascension? I rest my case."
10762289
Thank you!
10762362
Luckily, she's too bust writing fanfiction to complain all that often.
Save for a few evil commas appearing from the void, this was written very well.
I enjoyed it and liked how you flipped it to make it what we experience, but not.
I've gotta give props for the substitute for revolvers and their names, and overall it's a nice little wild west type story. Good job!
10762946
Commas are not evil! They're misunderstood!!
10762959
Thank you! Felt like the mouth-guns were a bit... overdone.
Alright, now that was pretty fun! Fast and loose with the comedy here, and I can tell a few wild west things you played around with even though I've never been much into westerns myself. Affectionate parody?
And you've somehow managed to make parking and unparking a car relevant to a cowboy duel. On that note, I had to look up what a K-turn is.
Thanks for this, and keep up the good work!
Quite fun! Quite ridiculous, and quite fun. Good work!
10763225
I am continually surprised by how many people don't know what that is. Maybe I'm the problem?
thewrap.com/wp-content/uploads/2017/04/simpsons-memes-no-its-the-children-who-are-wrong.jpg
10765008
Glad you liked it!
I love it. I wonder how these ponies would react to Pinkie brandishing her party cannon in other's faces.
10765841
Panic at how fast she can draw.
These are very good questions.
10798025
Cannons were the first real "guns", and a staple of party-ponies to this day.
I mean, Cheese Sandwich has a bloody TANK mounted cannon.
Guns, guns and guns.
BLAST EM ALL!
10814561
All such tech is closely maintained by the huge and corrupt Party Industrial Complex. The Guard get aluminum for their armor, while Cheese Sandwich has a party tank.
10827039
"You tell your boss that I'm coming! And Tartarus is coming with me!!!"
10827066
After all, "fun" and "gun" are next door neighbors by one letter!
This was a lot of fun and really well written. The only thing I would have preferred would have been a final wrap up with the girls with one last comment after the end of the novel, but otherwise, it was great.
Great story bud!
11008542
Thanks bud! Glad you liked it!
Howdy, hi~!
A review from the mansion to you.
This comment is written because this story was placed in the "I Just Want a Comment Group" (presumably by you?) and then someone signed it up for a different comment group, so I presume the following is desired and will be welcome.
If not, just let me know!:
The starting Westernism was evocative and well placed!
The sentence-length variety subsequent to the above works artfully well like a six-shooter cocking toward someone being "called out."
This is a concept that Equestrian authors would have?
It is hilarious that the duel is via cannons.
The analogy might benefit by being described a little more or removed. I figure you were going for a breezy comment, however, although there are dual meanings of being hitched and it is funny to recall them, there is a bit of a disconnect since while he is clearly tied to the cart, he's also clearly not married to the cart. The joke does not *depend* on him being blown apart and dead--he would be hitched to the cart whether he was blown to pieces or not. Thus, it seems like that aspect of the humor could be improved to something bespoke that is inherently special to the particular scene. If the image is kept, maybe alter its description to something along the lines of: "like he was entwined in a marriage-hug, body plastered to his still-smoking cannon. As the saying goes: ponies who live by cannonballs, die by the balls." That said, I do realize this is by: Penny Dreadful, so some pulp sensibilities are to be expected. And... that is also why the suggested replacement includes that awful final sentence "saying."
The sun's behavior and the footnote were amusing.
An enjoyable tale.
11141602
Thanks so much for taking the time! I really appreciate the comment!
Just to clarify: Being hitched = being married. The joke is that marriage = being dead. It's a joke against being married. That was all it was.
Hi there! Found your story recommended in this group (but you probably already knew that) and decided to check it out.
I enjoyed this story for what it is, though it wasn't quite what I was expecting. Your pacing was well-suited for a trashy western story, and I liked the way you worked in the tropes of the genre. I also liked your take on guns in Equestria, though I'm not that familiar with the idea, so that may be the bias of a new reader. I particularly liked your repetition of the word potential/potentially in this passage:
One thing that bugged me was your paragraph structure. You had a lot of short paragraphs, which are great for emphasis or creating a "punchy" effect, but can be overdone. I'm not sure if this was intentional given the characters themselves don't think highly of it, but I thought grouping some of your one-sentence paragraphs together would ease the flow, particularly in the beginning. For example:
This one struck me as odd because that second sentence doesn't seem to need a punch. I already expect a "second place," after all.
I thought all of these would work together as a single paragraph. I think it would introduce a feeling of relative calm before all Tartarus breaks loose.
I'm not generally a fan of stories that, TWIST, turn out to be fiction themselves in the world of the narrative. For that reason, I didn't find this particular story all that compelling, but I have to emphasize that this is not something I think needs correcting. That aspect just wasn't for me. I did enjoy the rest of it, especially the silly bits at the end and the gunfight itself.
Keep up the good work!
11143767
I will die defending my use of that “second place” line. It’s meant to be the punchline of a joke, after all!
Good copy on the other notes, however. Paragraph length and placement is always something I worry about, though more often I get concerned if paragraphs start to all share the same length. Sorry that the “genre” didn’t appeal to you all that much. I hope the next story you comment on is more to your liking. And please do comment on other stories! This was wonderfully insightful!
I’m guessing you never read Fallout Equestria. Otherwise, you might have your fill of guns and ponies.
11144221
Nah, I’ve never been a fan of Fallout. Heard it’s good, just not my thing. I’m glad you found my comments helpful.
it is funny that everything i had to remark on in the first section was also said by the exasperated EqG humans of the second. the pony names were great here! Whisky Business, and especially the joke with Penny Dreadful. i really enjoyed the pulp parts as they were, as the idea of ponies replacing revolvers with Napoleonic era artillery that they have to personally cart around was a very delightful mental image, so thank you for that. yes, it doesn't make sense in terms of material culture, but what else is new in Equestria?
and the meta bits definitely elevate this tale! a fun read and idea, thank you for it
You got me excited for the western, then got me to stay for the comedy. Bait and switch, but a welcome one at that!
With insights towards the other reviewers, I’m starting to see more and more meta jokes. With the metaphor of Celestia drinking chili sauce and names like “Whiskey Business”, the tone is set. This is going to be comedic.
A lot of detail goes into the type of pony Big Iron is.
Having the audacity to ask shows one of two things: arrogance or desperation. Maybe a mixture of both. As we see later, there is another mixture:
Anticipation and fear.
There are points where the story itself doesn’t take itself seriously, like the pun, ‘wa-gun’, or this sentence:
Overall, this story is not just a good example of narrative in a western, but also AJ dialogue:
Lastly, finished in a coat of meta:
No no, she’s got a point.
Like the nod towards the sudden time change. One minute it is high noon, the next, sundown.
Lastly,
Looks like Sunset already broke that law.
11147899
Glad you liked it!
11149987
Ah, copyright jurisdiction! Now that's a topic I haven't heard in a loooong time. A long time...
I mean, technically, all stallions in Equestrians are sons of mares, so...
Yep. Purely original characters, names, descriptions, and all. Never heard of this "Applejack, hero of Equestria" before it just popped into my head randomly. What? Ya mean to tell me there's a real town called Appleloosa? Next thing, you'll tell me that we really are ruled by a real alicorn princess named Celestia! Ha! That'll be the day! Never heard of this so-called Celestia before now, and that's final!
...What? N-No, I didn't attend that anti-tax protest and wave a sign saying "Down with Celestia!" That's not me in that photo, Your Honor, I swear! That's just another pony with my same color and mane-style and cutie-mark!
An oddball ghost happened across your fic and read it. Have a review!
You can has review!