• Published 19th Feb 2013
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My Stallion - DylanDragon

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Mares are Creepy

My Stallion

Chapter 2—Mares are Creepy


“Yes, Rose?”

“Nightmare Night isn’t for another eight months. Why are you dressed like a mummy? And badly, too…” The cream-colored Earth pony rubbed her mane, thoroughly confused.

“I scraped up this foreleg while carrying this hay bale, and then I tripped right after and sprained this hind-leg.”

“Oh um…sorry, that should have been pretty obvious. So can you still work today? You only have two hooves left.” You have a firm grasp on the obvious once again, Rose.

“I think so—as long as I just sit somewhere and do the arranging there.”

An empty pink vase was set before him, and he picked out bundle of pansies, daisies, and cosmos as his material. Using his good hoof, he began his second favorite job in Equestria. He was paid by the hour, and earned a bonus if more than five ponies bought his arrangements in a day. He began working, choosing each flower carefully and inserting it into the sea-green foam.

Cosmos—peace. He placed lined the edges of the bell-shaped container with these pink flowers, making sure the stems were firmly planted into the foam. Daisies—innocence. He picked out a couple of yellow ones and placed these in the center of the vase, making a target shape. Pansies—unrequited love. Although the pansies before him came in yellows, purples, and even blues, he was strangely attracted to the red ones and filled in the empty space in the vase. He packed these in almost tightly to make sure there was no darkness—only shades of pink, yellow, and red.

Finally, he placed a single green leaf in the thick red ring of posies in the vase. It needed some green…

He leaned back to admire his work. Huh…with all the reds and yellows, looks kind of like Big Macintosh…it’s even got that pretty green eye. “Ugh!” he cried, realizing what he had just thought. He desperately wanted to pluck out all the flowers, but he couldn’t just yank them out again, as that would destroy the foam, which was quite expensive. Instead—with a blush on his face—he gave the vase to Rose, who accepted it and place it on the stands for ponies to buy.

“Hey!” she exclaimed, “This looks like Big Macintosh!”

“Oh really? I uh…I never noticed. Heh…”

“Yeah! It’s got that red, the yellow, and even the little spark of green in his eyes.”

“Oh, well now that you mention it…”

“Pansies! Well, this is perfect! I know plenty of mares whom this bouquet was made for.”

“What do you mean?” he asked, although he sort of knew the answer already.

“Well, all the mares love Big Macintosh, don’t they? Well, with the obvious exception of some of Ponyville’s more…filly-oriented individuals, but they can’t all have him!”

“Yeah…no one can have him.”

Rose scoffed. She reminds me of Rarity. “Well, some lucky mare’s going to get him someday!” If only I were…No—no, that’s silly.

“For Celestia’s sake, I would love to snag that bit of perfection. He’s just so sensitive and caring.” Yeah…yeah he his… “Plus, he has the most perfect physique!” Oh yeah… “Can you believe he’s never had a fillyfriend? I personally think it’s because of all that work on the farm. Anyways…what do you think?”

“He’s my best friend,” Caramel blurted out, putting extra emphasis on “friend.”

“Oh…oh! So does a certain colt here have his eyes set on such an eligible bachelor?”

“What? No…I’m not…” Caramel stuttered, taking a step back (although with difficulty due to his injuries).

“A coltcuddler? You may have everypony else fooled, but it’s quite obvious, my dear!”

Oh buck…buck…buck…buck…BUCK.

“How did you…know?” Caramel asked softly, refusing to look into her eyes.

“A stallion happily working at the florists’? Even Luna knows it. But don’t worry. Luna will keep your secret, and so will I.”

Caramel looked up to see Rose’s smile. “Thanks…” That was a close one…

“Okay, now get back to work, you flaming stalliosexual,” she winked.

The colt giggled and once again began the process of creating bouquets. Silly Rose…I don’t have a crush on Big Macintosh…I may be a coltcuddler, but that doesn’t mean I like every stallion. He would never feel the same way, though. Lucky mare, though—the one who gets him. He sighed. Ugh! I’m never going to get any work done like this! Stop thinking of your friend, and just go out there and dazzle everypony with your flowers!

The rest of the day was relatively uneventful. Within minutes, somepony had bought his “Big Macintosh” arrangement. Caramel made more arrangements and was pricked by the roses a total of only three times—a personal best. At the end of the day, Rose waved him out and he began the walk home.

When he arrived at his doorstep, there was a small basket with a red blanket over it. A little cautious, he uncovered the cloth to find an assortment of apple strudels and pies that nearly turned his mouth into a working replica of Yellowtail Falls. There was a note inside, although some of the sugar and apple jelly had smeared on it:


I hope you get better soon. In case you can’t cook for yourself, here’s some food. If you need anything, just tell me. Get well soon.

D’aww…he’s so nice! Caramel opened the door and pushed the basket inside. After a quiet dinner with (thankfully) no cleanup, he began his nightly routines, including a difficult shower and struggled teeth-brushing.

As he climbed into bed, his mind filled with thoughts of a certain stallion. This imagination ran every night. He would think of a stallion—one who would care for him and hold him. He didn’t have a face; he barely had a body. He was an idea—a ghost of desire that flooded his every fiber. He fantasized about how wonderful it’d be to have somepony. He fantasized about how that stallion would be his perfect knight. Tonight, however, the stallion seemed to be more realistic. It seemed more material. It said “Eeyup.”

“Hi Caramel!” Derpy shouted, flying upside down with her mailbag hugged tightly on her stomach.

“Hi Derpy!” he said cheerfully, waving at her.

The gray pegasus was just leaving for her daily mail-route. Caramel’s route wasn’t daily. He operated on it twice a week, and shared it with two other ponies. I hope there isn’t too much today. I really want to go to Sweet Apple Acres again today. He picked up his mailbag from the office and began his route.

His hooves carried him across the west side of town, from the cottage off in the distance to the library. He usually saved the library for last (unless there happened to be a heavy shipment of books), for the librarian—Twilight Sparkle was her name—usually invited him inside to chat for awhile.

“Here’s your mail for today, Ms. Sparkle.”

“Oh, you don’t have to call me Ms. Sparkle! Just Twilight will do!” the purple unicorn exclaimed, “Well come in, Caramel! Would you like some tea? I was just finishing the most fascinating report on electric flux through higher dimensions.”

I love Twilight, but she really makes me feel kind of stupid sometimes. “Oh, that’s really interesting.”

“So!” she said after levitating a white cup over to him and sitting down on the wooden floor, “How have the recent events in your life been unfolding? Do pray tell.”

“Well…all I did this morning was delivering the mail. I think I’ll go to Sweet Apple Acres later.”

“Oh! When you do, say hi to Applejack for me.”

“I will.” Caramel took a ginger sip from his cup, before scalding his tongue on the hot amber liquid. He set the cup down again and pushed it further away from him. Twilight didn’t seem to notice.

“Do you ever see Big Macintosh around?” Her voice became quiet, almost like a whisper, forcing the tan stallion to lean forward slightly to hear what she was saying.

“Uh…yeah. He’s in charge of what work I do when I volunteer.”

“Does he ever talk about me?”

“Um…not really…no…actually, not at all…he barely talks if it’s not work-related.”

“Oh.” She seemed slightly disappointed. “Well, does he ever talk about his personal life? His hobbies? His family? His [cough] marefriend?”

“Not really…he doesn’t really reveal much about himself. But I do know he doesn’t have a marefriend.”

“Okay, I was just curious. Nothing to it!” the unicorn said, leaning back and resuming her normal volume. “I really must get back to studying. There’s a certain dating book that has captured my attention and requires my immediate perusing!”

This left Caramel awkwardly sitting on the floor. He slowly got up and exited. Well that was weird. One good thing about being a coltcuddler: I don’t have to deal with mares.

Caramel began his walk home after dropping off his mailbag at the office. He was slightly confused. What’s with this whole Big Macintosh craze? It’s as if everypony were suddenly in love with him or something. I wish everypony would just stop talking about him! He’s just a bucking farm-pony and nopony should give a flying feather what he does on the farm. Nopony should give any bucks that he’s never had a marefriend. And nopony should care in the slightest about how he’s so sensitive and caring and protective and kind and sweet and friendly and courteous and loyal and self-disciplined, and how he has the most perfect muscular body but with the softest belly and how he’s so strong and beautiful and amazing and how he’s the image of perfection in every way and BUCK BUCK BUCK.
I like Big Macintosh. No, buck that. I’m bucking in love with him.

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