Shooting the breeze
Big Macintosh looked out down the road heading to Sweet Apple Acres, his eyes scanning the horizon expectantly.
It was a wonderful afternoon. The skies were clear and let Celestia’s sun shine down unimpeded. The increased sunlight brought with it a pleasant warmth that made the other Apples drowsy and retreat to their rooms to take a nap.
Big Mac was tempted to take a nap himself, but this meeting had been planned for about a week. He shook himself to stay awake, wondering how long it would take before his company arrived.
Thankfully, he wasn’t kept waiting long. It came faintly at first, but the vision at the edge of the road became clearer. A cloud of dust was slowly making its way along the road until it parted to reveal a strange figure. It looked rather ape-like and moved its arms like an ape might move along the ground, but it was hairless except for its head and the arms turned the wheels of a giant wheelchair.
The human checked his speed as he allowed himself to coast down the hill. As soon as he reached the valley where the farmhouse stood, Big Macintosh got up from his spot on the porch and trotted over to him. Despite the fact that the human could have easily cleared Big Mac’s head standing, the pony currently stood taller than the human sitting in his wheelchair. Mac noticed a pair of straps attached to each of the limply-hanging legs, as though trying to keep them in place.
“Hey there, Mister McAvoy,” he said. “I see you got yourself a new pair of wheels.”
“It’s been a while, Mister Macintosh,” the human said, wiping the sweat off his brow and flicking his brown hair out of his face. “The doctors switched out my other one after the wheel fell off. They said I was probably due for a new one anyways.”
Big Macintosh nodded. “Certainly brought you here fast,” he said. “You came so fast you almost looked like a dust devil or a stampedin’ herd comin’ down here.”
“I thought I’d be late with how long it took the hospital,” McAvoy said. “So many release forms for a simple chair.”
Mac motioned to the chair. “You want me to push you along?”
“Nah,” McAvoy said. “I can wheel myself. I still got a little energy even after that run.”
McAvoy started to gently push himself alongside Big Macintosh as they made their way across the farm.
“So any chance of gettin’ feelin’ back into those legs of yours?” Macintosh asked.
“Sadly, no,” McAvoy said, a sad smile on his face. “The tree falling severed too many nerve connections; not even magic could fix them all. I’ve thought about surgery to cut them off.”
“Just because they can’t be used in their original fashion don’t mean they still have a use.”
McAvoy nodded. “I still think I would feel weird without them. Like I’d lost something.”
Big Macintosh dropped his head. “I’m still sorry about droppin’ that tree on your leg. I shoulda looked to make sure you were out of the way.”
“It’s no problem,” McAvoy said. He patted the busted legs. “I didn’t use these for too much anyway. Working as a clerk doesn’t need me to have legs. I can get around the office in my chair.”
By the time McAvoy had finished, the two had made their way to the barn, dark and cool with shade. A large bale of hay was leaning against the wall of the barn and a large pile of grass had been laid out next to the hay bale. McAvoy baked himself against the wall and waited for Big Macintosh to sidle up alongside him before undoing the leg straps and swinging onto Macintosh’s back. The stallion gently carried McAvoy to the pile of grass and sat down, letting him slide back until he flopped gently on the grass pile, back against the hay bale.
“Let me get you a drink,” Big Macintosh said. “I got a couple of ciders chillin’ in the fridge.”
“Thanks,” McAvoy said. “It’s damned hot out here.”
Big Macintosh left for inside the house and pulled out two bottles labeled with an apple on them and a small box. Carrying them steadily on his back, Macintosh left the house and crossed back to the barn, where McAvoy had arranged himself so that he was reclining against the hay bale. His legs were arranged so that one was straight out and another was at a slight angle, the bottom of his foot resting against the side of the straight leg.
Big Macintosh handed a cider to McAvoy, who took it graciously and immediately cracked it open and took a large gulp. He sighed.
“That feels good with how hot it’s gotten out here today,” McAvoy said. “It’s nice to just be able to have the afternoon off and relax with a good bottle of cider.”
“We Apples pride ourselves on it,” Big Macintosh said proudly. He opened his own and took a seat next to McAvoy. “As do we our fritters.”
McAvoy’s eyes brightened as Big Macintosh opened the box, revealing a pack of six doughy cake-like pastries covered in a mild glaze. Macintosh let McAvoy pull out one before taking one for himself and they spent a few minutes taking their time taking a bite of fritter and washing it down with a sip of cider.
“So,” Macintosh said once the first fritters were finished and a second was passed around, “how’s work been at the government office?”
“Well, we’ve had a lot more papers than recently,” McAvoy said. “So many party permits handed out to Pinkie Pie alone, and then there’s all of the service areas that needed updated permits for selling wares around this time.” He turned to Big Macintosh. “Sweet Apple Acres’ permit is restored for another three years. I made sure of it.”
Big Macintosh smiled and nodded. “Granny Smith’s been goin’ on about makin’ sure I got that turned in.”
“Well, it’s already been done and filed. It should be along in the express mail by tomorrow.”
Macintosh nodded.
McAvoy looked at the barrels of apples on the opposite side of the barn. “Looks like you’ve been plenty busy yourself.”
Macintosh nodded proudly again. “We’re almost done with the harvest. Just got a few more acres to go in the western parts. Soon it will be cider season again. And don’t worry; I’ll make sure you got a spot for it.”
McAvoy nodded and finished off his own bottle of cider with a sigh. “You know, ever since coming here, I’ve spent more time in the simple pleasures.”
Macintosh looked at McAvoy with interest. He never talked much about where he came from. “What do ya mean?” he asked curiously.
McAvoy wiped the sweat off his brow again. “Back where I came from, it was all about moving. Move to work, move to lunch, move to errands, move to home, move to projects, move to errands again, then move back to home, then go to bed only to repeat the same thing over again the next day.”
“Don’t you do that here?”
“I have time to do things that I didn’t at home. Like head down to Sugarcube Corner and get something for myself.”
Big Macintosh nodded. His cider was now finished and he extended his back legs, putting his front hooves behind his head and reclining next to McAvoy on the haybale. “Eeyup, this place ain’t in much of a rush,” he said. “Now, if you went to Canterlot, you might be busy and movin’ all day.”
McAvoy shook his head. “My legs don’t have the strength to keep up with them anymore. And I like having free time. I actually feel like I have days off here.”
Big Macintosh smiled and closed his eyes. “Have you ever thought about goin’ back?”
“Seriously?” McAvoy said. “…yeah, to be honest with you. There’s certain things that I can’t get here.”
Big Macintosh knew what he was talking about without him even having to ask. “Nope,” he said. “I mean you could, but it ain’t like you.”
“Not at all.” He could hear McAvoy sigh. “But you know what I do have here?”
“Hmm?”
Big Macintosh felt an arm go around his shoulders. “You know how hard it is to find friends when you never slow down to find time to make them?”
Big Macintosh shook his head. “I’ve never had the honor,” he said sarcastically.
McAvoy took it in stride. He patted Big Macintosh once on his shoulder before bringing his arm back around. He yawned.
“You tired?”
McAvoy nodded. “This warmth just makes you drowsy, doesn’t it?” he said.
Big Macintosh could see his eyes starting to droop. He closed the box with the two remaining fritters and pushed it aside. “You mind if I lay on ya?”
“Huh?”
“Like lay on my back across your legs.”
McAvoy shrugged. “It doesn’t matter to me anymore,” he said. “They can’t get crushed any more than they already have, I think.”
Big Macintosh took it as a yes and gingerly positioned himself lying on his back across McAvoy’s legs. The human barely moved while Macintosh settled himself down so that he was lying in the triangular stand created by his busted legs. It wasn’t long before Macintosh had found himself a comfortable position and sighed.
The relaxation only increased as he felt McAvoy begin to gently rub his belly. Ever since the accident he’d let him do it. It relaxed the human much like petting a dog would and Macintosh himself actually enjoyed the feeling of letting McAvoy’s fingers gently knead at his stomach. He was never too hard or too soft. He felt the human heave a gentle sigh as he closed his eyes and thought about kicking his leg like a dog.
“Mac?”
“Yeah?”
“Thanks for being my friend,” McAvoy said.
Macintosh sighed. “Eeyup.”
A short while later, Big Macintosh noticed that McAvoy had stopped scratching his chest. He rolled off the human’s legs and stood up and looked at him curiously only to smile when he saw that he had become so drowsy he had fallen asleep in the warmth of the sun coming through the barn door.
Big Macintosh laid himself next to McAvoy, with his head on the hay bale and a single hoof stretched across McAvoy in a hug. For a moment, Big Macintosh thought he could see a faint smile come across McAvoy’s face. But that soon faded away as the sun’s drowsy spell soon took over him and he too fell asleep.