Granny Smith wants Big Macintosh to attract a suitor.
In a matriarchal society such as Equestria, sometimes the social position of a stallion can be difficult.
Big Macintosh has things going fairly well for himself. He does his share of the work at Sweet Apple Acres and helps to support his family along with his sister.
But Granny Smith has been talking lately. She thinks an eligible stallion such as himself should find a well-to-do mare and get married before he's too old. And now she's gotten an idea: why doesn't Applejack introduce him to her friends?
Applejack was nearby, bucking the trees and letting the apples fall into the buckets. Her brother, Big Macintosh, was at work on another batch of trees, while Applebloom, too young to do the work herself, just watched.
“What?” asked Big Macintosh, looking at the tiny filly.
“Well, you’n Applejack both run Sweet Apple Acres, right?” Applebloom asked.
“Eeyup.”
“Well, it seems like Applejack does a whole lot more runnin’ than you do,” Applebloom said.
“Ah guess she does,” Big Macintosh responded, “but she’s the eldest daughter, so Ah guess it’s more hers than mine.”
“But...” Applebloom said, trying to work it out in her head, “you’re older.”
“Eldest daughter, Applebloom,” sighed the stallion.
“Ohhhh...”
Big Macintosh left Applebloom to think over that, simply returning to his work. He was good at working, and he always prided himself on that.
“‘ey, Mac!” called his sister, Applejack, “Coulja help me out here with these red galas?”
“Sure thing, sis,” said Big Macintosh, taking a measured walk over to the tree.
“Thanks,” said Applejack, setting up the buckets, “this one’s got a lotta apples on it, so it’ll need that much more buckin.’”
Applebucking was simple, but there was more to it than most ponies gave credit for. Sure, you had to hit the trees to shake down the apples, but there had to be care taken. The trees were living things, themselves, and if they were bucked too hard they would hurt. Not a lot of ponies gave the Apple family a whole lot of credit when it came to intelligence, but they knew their job better than anypony around for miles.
Big Macintosh never really minded anything. He did his work, he was good at it, and he was proud of it. It was quiet, steady, hard work that not a lot of ponies were willing to do.
The two siblings carried on bucket apples from the trees while little Applebloom watched. Almost silently, old Granny Smith trudged up to them, supported by her walker. Her grandchildren didn’t really notice her, engrossed in their work as they were.
“Apples are coming nicely,” she said after a break, in that just-loud-enough-that-it’s-conspicuous voice.
“You betcha they are!” said Applejack, “Dunno about you, but I’d be darn shamed if they weren’t!”
“Eeyup.”
Granny Smith, however, made it clear that she was not actually interested in the apples. “I met a really nice young lady earlier today,” she said, looking at Big Macintosh, “I think you should meet her.”
Macintosh sighed. He knew what this meant.
“Don’t you sigh at me, young man!” Granny Smith snapped at him. “You’re in your prime, it’s best you start thinkin’ about marryin’ before it’s too late. She’s a respectable filly. She even has her own business, running a flower shop.”
“I’ll think about it, Gran...” Big Macintosh said, really just wanting to get back to work.
“Oh, it’s always think, think, think,” chirped Granny Smith, “you’re always thinking about it, but never doing it! You shouldn’t be on the farm, you should be married to some well-off young mare and making foals.”
“Gran...” said Applejack, starting to feel a little embarrassed for her brother.
“Don’t you ‘Gran’ me, young lady,” said Granny Smith, “why don’t you introduce your brother to some of your friends. That Rarity seems like a fine young lady...”
“Oh, fine...” sighed Applejack.
“That’s better,” said Granny Smith, and with a satisfied smile on her face, she walked off, slowly, but with an odd little spring in her step.
“Sorry about that, Big Mac,” Applejack said.
“‘Salright,” said Big Macintosh, “you didn’t do anything.”
Applebloom, meanwhile, was confused. “Wait,” she said, “how does Big Macintosh make foals? I thought that was just mares.”
Applejack ignored her. “If it means anything, I think we’d sorely miss ya if ya weren’t here on the farm and were just sitting at somepony’s house.”
“I’d miss it, too,” said Big Macintosh.
“Tell ya what,” said Applejack, “howabout sometime you come over with me while I’m visitin’ my friends. That might keep Granny offa yer back.”
“I don’t know how much good that’ll do,” said he, “but thanks.”
Macintosh Must Marry
A superficial socio-political comedy-tary by BillyColt
Pinkie Pie looked around at the park, not completely sure what she was looking at. “So... is this a party or a non-party?” She asked.
“It’s a picnic, Pinkie,” said Twilight Sparkle. “We’ve been over this before.”
Pinkie Pie let out a “hmm” as she inspected the wooden table, knocking on it with her hoof and then putting an ear to it. Twilight wasn’t even going to ask what she was listening for. Pinkie pie had to jump back, however, when a brightly-colored tablecloth was thrown in front of her. Twilight looked up, surprised, at Rarity, who was starting to set the table.
“Rarity, what’re you–”
“Now, really, Twilight, you can’t expect us to just eat off of that old table.” Rarity explained, fixing the tablecloth. “No, it has to be cleaner than that.”
“Is there anything you’re not concerned with being ‘clean’ about?” groaned Rainbow Dash, who was sitting on a cloud above them.
“Well,” said Rarity, “cleanliness is close to royalness.”
“Iiiiiii don’t think that’s a word...” said Twilight Sparkle.
“Well the suffixes have to match.”
Rainbow Dash didn’t respond, as she was trying to figure out what “suffix” meant. She did, however, drop down from the cloud and sit down at the bench. “So,” she asked, looking around, “where’s Applejack and Fluttershy?”
“Where are,” corrected Twilight.
“Umm,” whispered Fluttershy, “I’ve been sitting here for the last five minutes.”
“Wearer of what?” asked Rainbow Dash.
“Well, howdy, gals,” called Applejack. “Sorry Ah’m late.” The other girls looked at her as she arrived, murmuring faint assurances. “I just wanted to get a little more applebuckin’ done before we came.”
“‘We’?” asked Rainbow Dash, before she saw what Applejack was talking about. “Oh. ‘We.’”
Big Macintosh followed behind his sister a short distance, not in any real enthusiastic rush. He didn’t see this as going anywhere. He could barely even call any of his sister’s friends “mild acquaintances.” Still, if it got Granny Smith to stop bugging him for a little while, it’d be worth it.
He walked up to the edge of the table. The girls exchanged glances. He wasn’t part of their little group, so the whole thing was rather unexpected, awkward, and - worst of all - silent.
“Weeeeeelllll...” started Applejack, “this is ma big bro, Big Macintosh. I believe we’ve all met.”
“You took my doll, right?” asked Twilight.
“Yyyy....”
Fluttershy let out a startled squeak, which prompted Big Macintosh not to finish that word.
“Do you...” Rarity mused, “do you always wear that harness?”
“It’s reliable,” Big Macintosh said simply, before sitting down. His calm, unflappable expression didn’t betray his feeling that this was all futile.
Pinkie Pie peered at him, tilting her head. “You’re a lot bigger than most of the other colts...”
Twilight, meanwhile, started opening the picnic basket, while Rarity laid out paper plates. Rainbow Dash’s face alternated between a suspicious look at Big Macintosh and a general expression of boredom, while Fluttershy was, well, Fluttershy.
“Applejack, did you bring the pie?” asked Twilight.
“Aww...” groaned Applejack. “Dag-nabbit! I knew I forgot somethin’!”
“I’ll get it,” offered Big Macintosh. The others watched as he turned to leave.
“Not to be rude, Applejack dearest,” said Rarity, “but mightn’t you have... informed us ahead of time?”
“Ahm sorry, Rarity,” said Applejack, “just wanted to get Granny Smith offa his back.”
“What’s Granny Smith bugging him about?” Twilight Sparkle asked.
“Uhh...” Applejack fumbled. She didn’t want to give an awkward explanation for anything. “Well, y’know... stuff.”
“Oh, I hate that,” said Rainbow Dash. “Ponies bugging me about stuff. It’s like, ‘just leave me alone!’”
“I hear ya!” concurred Pinkie Pie.
Applejack let out a sigh of relief. Twilight Sparkle, however, was not satisfied with that answer.
“What kind of stuff?”
“Well... She wants ‘im to get married,” Applejack said, not seeing any point in putting it off.
“Wait, what?” asked Twilight.
“So, you’re trying to hook your big brother up with one of us?” Rainbow Dash asked incredulously. “Waaaaay not cool!”
“He scares me...”
“The very idea!”
“I forgot the balloons!” Pinkie Pie exclaimed in despair. This managed to snap Applejack out of her horrible imagination. “It’s not a party without balloons!”
“Pinkie, it’s a picnic, not a party,” said Twilight.
“Oh. Then that’s okay.”
***
Though Big Macintosh loved his Granny dearly, she was bugging him more and more frequently about getting married. She kept talking about how he should make himself “presentable” at all times so as to catch the eye of a well-to-do mare. Big Macintosh thought it was a silly effort for two reasons: first, being neat and tidy didn’t work very well when he was doing dirty work on the farm; second, he considered it highly unlikely that an upper-class mare would take to marrying a simple apple pony from Ponyville. Of course, actually telling this to Granny Smith was like talking to a brick wall.
“Some high-tootin’-fancy not taking after my granson?” she would ask. “Nonsense! My Big Macintosh is worth any of them shiny horseshoe folks they got in Canterlot. My boy’s got integrity and heart!”
At least the sentiment was nice.
Big Macintosh sat down at a table under the shade of an umbrella. Today, at least, he was enjoying his time in Ponyville more than his time on Sweet Apple Acres, which was not a good thing.
He sat down in a nice outdoor cafe, near the edge of Ponyville (taking his chances, it was the edge closest to Sweet Apple Acres). It was a pleasant establishment with umbrellas over the tables and a menu of familiar, comfortable food. It was also a nice place to meet with friends, such as the two mares at the nearby table waving to him.
“Heya, Mac!” called one of them, a mint-green unicorn. “How’s it goin’?”
“Same’s usual,” he said. “You two?”
“Uh-huh,” said she. “Bon-Bon was a big hit over at improv night...”
“Stop it, Lyra...” said her partner. “That went horribly.”
“Oh, come on, it was hilarious.”
“It wasn’t supposed to be!” cried Bon-Bon. “That was supposed to be very, very serious!”
Big Macintosh smiled and looked back down at his menu. He considered having a sunflower pie. This establishment’s cooking wasn’t as good as Applejack’s, but it was still worth shelling a few bits if he could be free of Granny Smith’s prodding for an afternoon.
“What night’s improv night again?” he asked.
“Thursdays,” said Bon-Bon, still a little cranky with her smiling partner.
“I’ll have to come see,” he said. “I haven’t attended in a while.”
“Thank you,” said Bon-Bon.
“I’ll bring popcorn,” said Lyra.
Big Mac returned his attention back to his table, where he saw another stallion standing. It was Caramel.
“Heya,” he said. “Mind if I join you?”
“Nope.”
“Thanks,” said Caramel. As he sat down, Macintosh noticed the other’s slouched posture and downcast expression.
“Somethin’ wrong?”
“What?” Caramel looked up, almost surprised. “No, no, everything’s fine. Totally fine... Why?”
“Nothin’,” said Big Macintosh. If Caramel didn’t want to talk about it, he wouldn’t push it. Still... “How’s the new job goin’?”
“Oh, it’s going okay,” said Caramel. “Simple stuff, pulling carts. You know the deal.”
“Eeyup.”
Caramel sighed. “Well...”
Big Macintosh raised an eyebrow. “Uh-huh?”
“Earlier today, just before I got off my rounds, a mare walked up to me...”
“Oh?” asked Big Macintosh. “She purty? Like what she see?”
“Not exactly...” said Caramel, biting his lip.
Macintosh put his menu down. “What happened?”
“She said...” Caramel seemed uneasy, like it was hard for him to say it. “She told me...”
“What did she say?”
Caramel took a deep breath. “She told me that I shouldn’t have the job. She told me that the company only hired me so they could fill a quota, and because they did that, there’s a mare that can’t afford to feed her family.” He lowered his head. “And now I just feel awful.”
“Hmmm...” Big Macintosh thought on it. “Do you know this mare?”
“Huh?” Caramel asked. “No. Never seen her before. She just sorta... came out of nowhere.”
“Well, I think it stands to reason that if you don’t know her, then she doesn’t know you.” Big Mac smiled at him. “And if she doesn’t know you, then I think anything she says about you doesn’t matter.”
Caramel smiled weakly. “Thanks, Mac,” he said. “I think that helps.”
“Don’t mention it.” And with that, Big Macintosh returned to his menu. After a few seconds of looking, he remembered that he’d already decided on a sunflower pie, but when he lowered the menu, he found that Caramel was gone. In his place was... Big Macintosh blinked. It was Applejack’s friend Pinkie Pie. Staring very expectantly at him. “...Hi...”
“Hi!” said Pinkie Pie. “How ya doin’? Nice day?”
Big Macintosh blinked again. “Eeyup.”
“I just wanted to tell you I think it was super-duper of you to come to our picnic!” she asked, her seemingly perpetual yet oddly not-creepy smile still fixed to her face.
“Um...” Big Macintosh had no idea if this was supposed to be the start of a conversation. Pinkie Pie being Pinkie Pie, there were numerous possibilities. Some of them were simple and innocent enough, and others were outright horrifying. “Thank y-”
“And it got me thinking,” Pinkie Pie interrupted. “If you have to come along to our get-together, that might mean you didn’t have a get-together of your own, and if you don’t have a get-together of your own then you might not have a lot of friends!”
Big Macintosh had by now spotted Caramel sitting at an adjacent table. The other stallion was looking around with a confused look on his face, as though he were trying to figure out how he had inexplicably come to his new seating arrangement.
“Uhh...” said Big Macintosh.
“So I was thinking,” continued Pinkie Pie, “we should be friends! Like, moreso! So tell ya what, why don’t you come over to Sugarcube Corner this Friday for a party!”
“A... party?”
“Well, sort of. You can have a party with only two ponies, right?” she asked. “Oh, silly me, I don’t need to ask! I know everything about parties!” She beamed. “So, what do you think? We could have a two-pony party?”
Big Macintosh thought about it for a minute. As far as he’d attended them, Pinkie Pie’s parties were always fun, though there were usually plenty of other ponies there. Still, it gave him a chance to go out, and maybe it’d appease Granny Smith for the time being.
“Eeyup.”
“Fantastic!” cheered Pinkie Pie. “Well, see you on Friiidaaaay!” she sang as she bounded back off down the street.
“Dude...” said Lyra, who had been staring at the whole proceeding.
“You’re going on a date...” said Caramel. “With her.”
Somehow Big Macintosh found the day went by more quickly than usual. Maybe the sense of apprehension seemed to move the clock faster. Nonetheless, he went about his business as best as he could, all the while wondering how he would deal with Pinkie Pie’s private party.
Probably the same way he dealt with everything when it got crazy: he stood there with a straight face and said, as he always did... ‘Eeyup’ (or ‘nope’ when the context called for it).
Pinkie Pie would not marry him, of this he was fairly sure. She still lived with the Cakes, and given that their own home was filled to capacity with three full-grown ponies, two foals, and a toothless baby alligator, it would likely not do to add another pony. The alternative would be for Pinkie Pie to move into his home...
On the plus side, it’d be a subtle way of getting back at Granny Smith.
As it happened to be convenient, Sweet Apple Acres had a cozy old picnic table by the chicken coop. It was supposed to be a nice bright red, but the paint had almost completely peeled off. Another addition to the to-do list, Big Macintosh decided.
The basket had been filled to the brim with eggs, carefully placed so as not to break them. The hens took a great deal of pride in their laying, and would be sorely hurt to find their efforts gone to waste.
He placed a small basket on the old table, sitting down beside it to take a lunch break. As he did so he saw somepony merrily trotting his way over in his direction.
“Heya there, Big Mac!” he called. Big Macintosh waved a hoof as he approached.
He was a young stallion with a light yellow coat and sky-blue mane. The green grape cutie mark on his flank gave a hint to the job he did for the Apples, tending the vineyards.
“Howdy, Colton,” said Big Macintosh. “You seem chipper today.” Indeed, Colton trotted with a spring in his step and a smile on his face for everypony to see.
“Well, it’s a chipper kind of day,” he said, sitting down on the opposite end of the table.
“More than usual?” Big Macintosh asked. “Did something special happen?”
Colton nodded.
“Care to... tell me?”
Colton looked from side to side, before leaning towards Big Macintosh. His cheery expression did not leave his face, but instead coloured itself with the slightest air of caution. “Can you keep a secret?” he asked.
“Eeyup.”
Colton took a deep breath, and said, “Daisy has agreed to marry me!” Big Macintosh remained silent at the news, and Colton continued, “we just want to keep it a little under wraps, so she can pop the news to my parents. So they can hear it first. Well, for all intents and purposes, I mean.”
“I won’t tell nopony,” Macintosh assured. “Daisy... the flower mare, right?”
“That’s right,” said Colton, nodding eagerly.
“Well, that’s great news, Colton,” he said. “Congratulations.” He opened the picnic basket and took out a piece of cornbread. “This calls for a celebration.”
“Yes, but not too loudly,” said Colton. “I mean, with Daisy’s parents...”
“Eeyup.”
Colton happily munched away at the cornbread, as Big Macintosh sat and thought about it. He was a reliable worker, and he knew he loved working in the fields with the grapes. He had to wonder what sort of impact the marriage would have. And he wondered what it’d mean for himself.
“So you still gonna work on the vineyard?” he asked. Colton stopped chewing and looked up.
“Gee, I...” He swallowed. “I didn’t really think about that. I guess I won’t really need to, will I? Daisy and her friends have the flower shop. They make a nice living on it. I don’t really know.”
He looked out at the fields. Farther than either of them could see there were what seemed like miles of apple trees, cornfields, and grapevines long enough to make into a fruit-filled jungle.
“If we have foals I’ll have to take care of them. And she’ll probably need me to help around the shop.”
“And... you’re okay with that?”
Colton looked at him. The look of elation he had initially come with had been replaced by another, one of the utmost earnestness. “Yes,” he said. “Yes I think I am. She’ll be good to me, and I’ll be there to do my duty. And it’s the best thing that could’ve happened to me, you know why? Because she’s beautiful, and she’s kind, and she...” He laughed and looked over at the chicken coop. “She’s just got everything a guy like me could want.”
He looked back at Big Macintosh. Macintosh face had never changed. Never consoling, never confirming... never contradicting, nor condescending. “I’ll be a good husband, Mac. I will.”
***
Big Macintosh was not averse to the prospect of marriage. Once he found the right mare, he would marry her, provided she would have him. But at this point in his life, marriage was not important to him. He placed a higher priority on helping his family.
It was as he took an errand to the library to return a book Applejack had checked out that he started to realize he was spending less and less of his spare time at home lately. Part of him felt bad that he was so consciously avoiding his Granny, but another part of him didn’t want to keep hearing about her now near-constant nagging about him getting married.
He had a date that night with Pinkie Pie. A “private party,” as she put it. Big Macintosh didn’t try to put too much thought into what that would entail.
The door to the library closed, but unlocked. Peculiarly, a chariot sat outside with two statuesque royal guards before it. Big Macintosh paused to look it for a moment before proceeding to the library, and when he opened the door he was greeted with a radiant light.
There, standing in the middle of the room, was Princess Celestia, the ruler and radiant sun goddess (as some of her more enthusiastic subjects called her) of Equestria.
Her back was to the door, as she was engaged at that moment in conversation with Twilight Sparkle. Twilight’s eyes, however, flicked to the door, and she looked at him, at which point Big Macintosh realized he must have been staring and looking quite the fool.
“Oh, Big Macintosh!” she said.
“Ahem.” He cleared his throat. “Applejack sent me to return this book,” he said, prodding the saddlebag at his side.
“Oh, that’s just great,” said Twilight, levitating the book out of the bag from across the room. “Thank you.”
“You’re Applejack’s brother, yes?”
Big Macintosh looked at the princess. She was addressing him, looking down curiously at him.
“Eeyup,” he said, bowing politely, not looking at her. How was a stallion like him to address her?
“You may rise, Big Macintosh,” she said. “If you’re anything like your sister, I am honored to meet you.”
“Much obliged, your highness.”
“It’s funny you walked in when you did,” said the princess. “Twilight Sparkle and I were just having a conversation.”
“Yes,” said Twilight. “We were discussing affairs around the court of Canterlot, and we realized that most of the important ponies, and the ones in high positions, are mares.”
Big Macintosh stood there, not understanding what they were getting at. Mares were in charge. That seemed simple to him.
“I try to be considerate of all my subjects,” said the Princess. “And that means knowing how they feel. But it occurs to me that I don’t have a lot of feedback from a very significant portion of my kingdom.” She smiled at him. “Big Macintosh, do you have anything to say, as a stallion and a regular citizen of Equestria?”
“Nope,” said Big Macintosh a little too quickly. “Er, what Ah mean to say is Ah haven’t really put a lot of thought to that. Ah consider myself content with what I do.”
“Content?” asked the Princess. “Not happy?”
Big Macintosh just stared at her, unsure of what to make of that question. Finally, after a pause, he spoke up. “If you’d permit me, your highness, Ah’d be happy to think on it some more and tell you later.”
“I would be happy to hear what you have to say, Big Macintosh,” said the princess, before turning back to Twilight. “It’s good to hear your studies are going well, Twilight. I look forward to reading your letter this week.”
And with that, she walked to the door, her ethereal mane floating behind her. Big Macintosh just stood and watched as she passed by, captivated by her royal, seemingly divine presence. The light in the room seemed to dim a little when she left and the door closed behind her, leaving Big Macintosh to just stand and think.
“This could be fascinating!” said Twilight Sparkle. Big Macintosh turned his head and saw her facing the bookshelves, floating some books towards herself. “I’ll have to talk to Spike when he gets back!”
“Fascinatin’?” asked Big Macintosh.
“We’ve never really given a critical examination to the role of stallions in pony society,” said Twilight Sparkle. She turned to him, an eager, expectant look on her face. “Ooh, I should ask you some questions!”
Big Macintosh paused. “Can’t say Ah’d know what to tell you,” he admitted. “I just do work. And Ah guess someday Ah’ll marry and give my Granny some great-grandfoals. She’d like that a lot.”
Twilight peered at him, tilting head and humming quizzically. “Fascinating. The only male in your household.”
“It’s... not a very big household,” said Big Macintosh. “Lotta land, though...”
“I’ll have to study this some more,” she said, returning to her floating mass of books. “Why don’t we meet later this week and talk about it over lunch?”
“Umm...”
“How about next Tuesday at two?” asked Twilight. “That should be easy to remember.”
“Ah’ll...” Big Macintosh started. His work schedule might have posed a problem, as he had to work long hours in the day. However, when she turned back to him, smiling as though proud of an imminent future accomplishment, he couldn’t help but feel he just couldn’t say no. “Ah’ll see what I can work out,” he said.
“Excellent!” said Twilight, unraveling a long parchment and making a note on it. Big Macintosh took advantage of the break in the conversation and scooted out of the library.
***
“Uhh, Granny?”
“Hmm?”
“Ah don’t think this is ‘xactly necessary.”
“Oh, fiddle-faddle!”
It had not taken Granny Smith long to catch the news that Big Macintosh had been set to go on a date. As such, she had insisted that he make himself as presentable as possible, and this included a nice black suit.
“This was your father’s, you know,” she said wistfully. “Oh, you look just the spittin’ image of him. Right handsome stallion he was, and sure as shootin’ this filly you’re seein’ tonight’ll think the same!”
“Granny,” said Applejack, “this is Pinkie Pie we’re talking about. I don’t think this is exactly high-falutin’.”
“Oh, silly filly,” said Granny Smith. “There’s no such thing as overdressed for a pretty young mare.”
Applejack merely sighed while Granny Smith looked him over. The old mare smiled and nodded.
“Why, don’t you look handsome?” she asked. “I say, if Pinkie Pie doesn’t propose to you by the end of the night, why, I just don’t know what’s wrong with the world!”
Big Macintosh remained as calm and unreadable as ever. He just looked at himself in the mirror and wondered if the outfit really... suited him, so to speak. Considering his usual activities tending the farm, wearing a suit that needed to be kept clean didn’t really fit.
“What if he gets crumbs all over it?” asked Applebloom.
“Eh?” asked Granny Smith.
“Well, Pinkie Pie’s got all these... cakes n’ stuff,” said Applebloom. “What if he gets crumbs on it?”
“She has a point, y’know,” said Applejack. “Like Ah said, it’s Pinkie Pie. Knowing her it’s definit’ly more relaxed.”
“Hmm...” Granny Smith chewed over it, raising a hoof to her chin. “Maybe we don’t need to be too fancy.”
Big Macintosh nodded in agreement. It’d be a shame to stain his father’s nice suit with cupcake frosting.
***
Fortunately for all those involved, Granny Smith relented, and Big Macintosh could leave without the suit. So out he went, wearing nothing but a tie. It was nearing the end of the afternoon, so few ponies were out in the streets of Ponyville. Most of them were returning to their homes from work, disappearing behind wooden doors into lit houses.
And he came up to one of them – a big gingerbread house on the road, not too far from the town well. He’d been here before, and sometimes wondered if the house was actually made of gingerbread.
He stepped through the door into the brightly lit bakery that was Sugarcube Corner, where all manner of cakes, pies, pastries, and sweets were there for the consumption of the town.
And there was Pinkie Pie, just... bouncing in place.
“Hi!” she said exuberantly. “So you could make it?”
Big Macintosh looked at her. “Eeyup...”
Pinkie Pie bounced around in circles a few times before crossing over to him. “Ooh, we’re gonna have fun!”
He looked around. “Where are the Cakes?”
“Oh, they went out to see a play!” she said. “Took the foals, too.”
“So it’s just us?” he asked.
“Uh-huh!” she said. “And I go upstairs all set up for a party!”
She bounced up the stairs, and he followed. Apart from the springy sound Pinkie Pie made every time she left the floor, it was silent. Pinkie rounded the corner at the top of the stairs, before disappearing behind a door. Big Macintosh sighed, took a deep breath, and stepped forward...
It was just that. A party. Chocolate cake. A bucket full of water and apples. Confetti. Streamers. A record player blasting cheery music. And Big Macintosh was wearing a pointy hat all of a sudden.
His attention, however, was mostly drawn to the tiny alligator sitting on the table. It wasn’t doing anything, just... staring. Staring at nothing at all. He was wearing a pointy hat, as well.
“Come on!” shouted Pinkie Pie, jumping out from under Big Macintosh’s party hat. “Let’s cut some rug!”
She jumped down from his head, and before he could figure out how she had gotten under his hat in the first place or even fit in there, she had grabbed his front hooves and was whirling him around the room in a frantic, impromptu dance.
He’d never considered himself much of a dancer. He was a strong pony, no doubt about that, but he’d never considered himself very flexible or graceful. He was also slightly concerned that he’d accidentally kick a hole in the floor.
And yet, he found a grin creeping on his face. Pinkie Pie certainly seemed to be having fun, with a big dopey grin on her face and she laughed almost in time with the music from the record.
Whatever the tune was on the record, he couldn’t make it out. It wasn’t his kind of music, in all honesty, but then his kind of music wouldn’t make for much of a party.
Well, it would have made for a party, but only a hoedown. Which he wondered...
“Pinkie?” he asked.
She abruptly stopped dancing, her demeanor instantly changing to an attentive expression. “Yes?” she asked.
“Have you ever been to a hoedown?” he asked.
“Have I?” she asked, instantly jumping off to the other side of the room. “I’ve had all kinds of parties!”
Big Macintosh balked as she wheeled in a massive chart. She got up on her hind legs, pulling a large pointer out of what seemed like thin air, and began pointing.
“Why, I’ve had hoedowns just like every other kind of party! Birthday, surprise, homecoming, going away, welcome back, block, political...”
“Wait, what?”
“All kinds!” she repeated, grinning. “It’s my area of expert-ties!” She bounced over to the record player and gave it a kick. The needle sputtered for a second, before the music changed to an uptempo fiddle.
Big Macintosh gave a little chuckle. How did she do these things, he wondered?
“Why don’t you try bobbing for apples?” she asked.
He looked dubiously over at the large bucket of water off to the side of the room. However, seeing no reason to turn down her suggestion, he approached and looked at the apples floating in the water. He followed the usual process: close the eyes, dunk the head, and hope that you catch an apple in your teeth. He did, and he lifted his soaking head from the water and opened his eyes.
Pinkie Pie was sitting in the bucket, looking up at him from beneath the surface of the water, a thin stream of bubbles trickling out of her mouth and nostrils.
“Hee!” she squeaked as she broke the surface. “I got those apples from Applejack! And you bobbed for them! So it’s like an Apple is bobbing for apples, huh?” She asked, pressing her nose up against his.
Even if Big Macintosh did have anything to say, there wasn’t much he could with the apple fit snugly in his mouth. He just stared at her and bit down on the apple, the audible crunch giving him ample excuse to not answer.
“Oh well.” She bounced out of the bucket, splashing water all over him. “Applejack didn’t find it funny, either.”
Big Macintosh snickered.
“That got a laugh,” said Pinkie, ribbing him lightly. “I like you, Big Macintosh. You’re like a big lug and you always look like you’re thinking about something.”
“Oh...” said Big Macintosh. “Not really. Not thinkin’ ‘bout anything interesting. Just stuff.”
“What kind of stuff?”
Big Macintosh paused.
“See, you’re thinking again!”
“Well, Ah guess Ah just think about whatever anypony else thinks about,” he said. “What Ah see, what Ah say, what Ah’m doin’ or will be doin’. What other ponies say.”
“Can you think about cake?”
Big Macintosh blinked. “Beg pardon?”
Pinkie Pie stood on her hind legs and made a grand gesture to the giant chocolate cake on the table. “Cake!” she cried, bouncing over to it. “Want some?” She pulled out a large knife and began carving the cake into sizeable slices.
Big Macintosh chuckled and walked towards it. “Eeyup.”
She giggled as she placed three large slices onto plates and laid them out: one for her, one for him, and a third one. Big Macintosh wondered what she was doing, but then she bounced over to Gummy and picked him up. The alligator maintained his usual blank stare as she bounced back and plopped him down on the table in front of the slice of cake. He appeared not to notice.
“There!” she said. “Enjoy!”
Big Macintosh chuckled, and she looked back at him.
“I’m glad you came,” she said. “It’s been nice getting to know you better.”
“Well, Ah’m glad Ah came, too,” said Big Macintosh. “You’re a fun mare, Pinkie Pie.”
She tossed her poofy mane and said, “Well, duh!”
Big Macintosh chuckled again and turned to his cake. It was an unusual date. But still, it was fun.
It was nearing midnight as Big Macintosh reached the front door of the house on Sweet Apple Acres. The skies were clear, leaving the stars to shine down on the farm, unbroken by clouds.
The lights were off in the house, as he expected. His granny and sisters should have gone to bed hours ago, he reasoned, so he took care to be as quiet as possible in opening the front door.
The house was still, and he progressed on tip-hoof through the hall, to the base of the stairs...
“Well?” asked Granny Smith.
Big Macintosh jumped, and upon landing a deafening thud resounded through the house. Granny Smith was reclining in a large chair, a candle sitting on the table next to her. The look on her face was expectant, self-satisfied, as though expecting good news and somehow taking pride in it.
“Granny!”
“Well, how’d it go?” she asked. “Must’ve gone purty well for you to be back this late.” She leaned forward. “Well, think she’s a keeper?”
“Granny,” said Big Macintosh, “Ah don’t think she’s interested in that.”
“Hmm...” She leaned back, the old wheels in her head turning.
“She’s just a nice pony,” he said, pre-empting whatever follow-ups he thought she might be asking. “She’s a very nice pony and a good friend. But I don’t think she’s interested in marriage.”
“Well, I suppose it’s all for the best,” she conceded. “After all, she can’t even support herself! How’d she support you?”
Big Macintosh, sensing a way out of the conversion, nodded. “...‘xactly mah point,” he said, excusing himself and heading up the stairs.
Pinkie Pie was a nice pony, and a very nice one at that. She was fun and he’d had a wonderful time. But marriage just didn’t seem to fit... they might be able to have a friendship, but they didn’t have enough in common to sustain a serious relationship. But then again, he wasn’t sure Pinkie Pie would be interested. Even if she did marry him, he got the odd feeling that she’d treat it more like a game than a real commitment.
And if Pinkie Pie didn’t want to marry him, then he was absolutely fine with that. Now he just had to worry about Granny Smith.
***
Parties with pink ponies was a break in the routine that Big Macintosh was all too eager to return to the next day.
He had a clipboard hanging by his side, while Applejack trotted next to him, a pencil in her mouth, checking items off as they inspected the trees.
“The red galas seem to be blooming a little late,” he observed, gazing over the trees nearby.
“Hmm...” said Applejack, jotting a note down on the clipboard. “They’ll need a little extra attention.”
“Eeyup.”
Apple trees weren’t always predictable—you never knew if a tree was overgrown or infested with a parasite or whatnot, but the routine always comforted him. If the tree was overgrown, it could be pruned. If there was a pest problem, it just took a little spraying.
And it occurred to Big Macintosh that he himself was a very simple pony in many respects. Maybe even a little boring. Then again, a lot of ponies would find farm work boring. That’s why it took ponies like the Apple family to do it.
His mind went to Colton. He’d probably leave the farm to do his duties as a husband, once he and Daisy were married. Big Macintosh could tell that he loved the mare dearly, ready to dote on her for the rest of his life. He imagined that when he got married he would feel the same way. Granny Smith, unfortunately, either didn’t care or just took it for granted.
“Ah heard Princess Celestia was in town the other day,” said Applejack, preparing to buck one of the trees.
“Eeyup,” said Big Macintosh. “Ah even spoke to her.”
“You what?” Applejack’s kick slipped, and an apple fell on her head. She didn’t notice.
He shrugged. “Went to take that book of yours back to the library. And... she was there. Talking.”
“About what?”
“Ah dunno,” he said. “She said she’d ask about my opinions.”
“Opinions?” asked Applejack. “Opinions about what?”
“I dunno. Stuff... Ah guess,” he said. “She’s doing some kind of study with Twilight...”
“Ah should’ve guessed...”
“...who, uh...” Big Macintosh mumbled, “Wants to interview me. And have lunch.”
Applejack cocked her head and peered quizically at him. Then a smile crept onto her face. “Why, Big Macintosh,” she teased. “You’ve landed yerself a another date already?”
Big Macintosh chuckled a little bashfully, his eyes looking away and a soft smile on his face. “Eeyup.”
She resumed bucking the tree, chuckling to herself as the apples fell into the buckets. Then more apples fell into the bucket, despite her not kicking it.
“Huh?”
“Ow...” groaned another voice.
“Rainbow Dash!” exclaimed Applejack. Her friend stepped away from the tree, wavering slightly. “Just what in tarnation–”
“Fell out of a spin...” Rainbow Dash groaned some more, massaging her head. “Lost control...”
“Well, Ah guess Ah should thank you for helpin’ out a bit,” said Applejack wryly, looking to the now slightly more filled buckets.
Rainbow Dash didn’t respond, but simply shook her head, shaking off the stars floating around it. Big Macintosh just stood off to the side, watching and setting up buckets by another tree.
“Hey, Applejack, you’re kinda athletic,” said Rainbow Dash. “What about your brother?”
“Mah brother?” asked Applejack.
“Mm?” he grunted, his attention more drawn to the conversation. “Ah dunno. I’ve never really done much sportin’.”
“Well, he’s strong as an ox,” said Applejack. "We actually tested that, once. Hoof-wrassle…"
Big Macintosh looked at Rainbow Dash. She was peering at him, sizing him up for reasons he wasn’t sure about.
“Raw strength but no training, huh?” she said. “Hey, I got an idea – why don’t we have a contest?”
“Beg pardon?” both Apples asked in unison.
“Yeah,” said Rainbow Dash, her eyes narrowed as a mischievous look crossed her face. “You and me,” she challenged, looking him dead in the face. “This Thursday, noon. Be over on that hill.” She pointed off to the tallest hill in the orchard. She spread her wings and jumped into the air, proclaiming, “Be there or eat air!”
And with that, she flew off in a streak of rainbow color.
“Well, that’ll keep her attention for a while,” said Applejack.
“Eeyup.”
***
Big Macintosh’s walk into town was leisurely—he was told that it was bad to show up early for a date. So he walked at a slow pace, looking around at the others. He saw Colton walking by with Daisy, his fiancée. They were chatting and smiling. They seemed happy, Big Macintosh thought.
Plenty of ponies were out. Mr. Cake was out with some bags on his back, Pinkie Pie bouncing beside him. The Mayor was out on a walk, talking with a few other mares, and behind her trotted Time-Turner. She turned back to look at him.
“That will be all, Time-Turner,” she said. “Thank you.”
“Alrighty!” he replied. He broke off from them and went off in another direction, before spotting Big Macintosh. “Oi!” he called, cantering up to him. “What are you doing off the farm?”
“Not much,” said Big Macintosh. “Just on my way to a date.”
“Oh?” asked Time-Turner. “Who?”
“Twilight Sparkle.”
“Ohhhh…” He nodded. “Never really fancied her the dating type, myself.”
“Nope,” Big Macintosh concurred.
“Still, very pretty.”
“Eeyup.” Big Macintosh nodded. “So, how’s the new job going?”
Time-Turner through his head back and laughed. “Oh, it’s great!” he said. “The Mayor says I’m the best secretary she’s ever had! Says her last one couldn’t keep a schedule if his life depended on it.”
“Wonder how he got hired in the first place.”
“Oh, I’ll tell you,” said Time-Turner, turning and stopping him. He smirked and tapped the ground with his hoof. “You see, a lot of secretaries don’t get hired because they’re really good at typing or organizing. I’ve seen plenty of secretaries get passed over for someone who happens to be cuter. That’s how the other guy got the job. Mayor took him on a recommendation, and he turned out to disappoint. Great to be me, ‘cause not only am I great at my job, but I’m also cute!”
“I see…” said Big Macintosh. He looked off down the road, up at the clock tower.
“Not running late, are ya?” asked Time-Turner.
“No, no,” said Big Macintosh. “It’s all fine.”
Time-Turner tilted his head. “You don’t sound very enthusiastic.”
“Well,” said Big Macintosh, “Ah’m not really ‘nthused. Don’t see where it’s gonna go, really.”
“Could be fun?”
“Ah guess,” said Big Macintosh. “Just… you ever do something not ‘cause you want to do it or ‘cause it’s good for you, but ‘cause it’s what the other ponies want?”
“This about your granny?”
“Eeyup.”
“Ah,” said Time-Turner. He looked down the street at nothing in particular. “Yeah, I get what you mean there.”
“It’s just not something Ah wanna do,” said Big Macintosh. “But Ah guess that’s everything with this whole marriage thing. You ever think about gettin’ married?”
“Are you kidding?” asked Time-Turner, giving a snort of laughter. “I’m a career stallion. I ain’t settlin’ down while I’ve got stuff to do!”
“Mm…” Big Macintosh just looked up at the clock. “I gotta go now. See ya.”
“Alrighty, then,” said Time-Turner, “but hey, it could be worse—she’s very pretty!”
***
Twilight Sparkle waited outdoors at the cafe. Other pony couples were sitting, along with one other pony sitting all by her lonesome, apparently cranky. She happily sipped her tea and nodded to the waiter.
Big Macintosh arrived on time as expected, looking around for Twilight. She spotted him and caught his eye, waving to him and beckoning him to approach her table.
“Hello!” she said. “Well, good to see you could make it.”
“Eeyup.”
“Have a seat!” she said.
He did so, placing himself opposite her. He couldn’t help but smile as he looked at her. Time-Turner was right—she was very, very pretty. He wondered…
“Now, here is the menu,” she said, floating one in front of him. “And here is a survey.”
Big Macintosh stared at the packet of papers before him. The first several lines were things asking him his name, birthdate, cutie mark, home address, occupation…
“Just a little thing to get us started,” said Twilight happily. “You just fill that out and we can begin!” She floated a pen over in front of him, which he took awkwardly in his mouth.
He filled out the form as best as he could, though when it asked for his medical history he had to leave a few areas blank. He nudged it back to Twilight, who was cheerfully humming to herself as she read the menu.
“I think I’ll order a sunflower salad,” she said. “And a sandwich. You?”
The form had substantially lessened Big Macintosh’s appetite. “Eey… I’ll have the same.”
Twilight Sparkle nodded. Then, to Big Macintosh’s confusion, she pulled out a pad and a quill, scribbled something down, and then put it away again and took a sip of water.
“What was that?” asked Big Macintosh.
“Mm?” asked Twilight, the straw still in her mouth.
“That,” said Big Macintosh, clumsily gesturing with his hoof, “thing you just wrote down.”
“Oh, that?” asked Twilight Sparkle. “Nothing. Just taking notes.”
“Uhh…”
“Waiter,” she said, flagging a mustachioed server, “two sunflower salads, please. And the sandwich of the day.”
“Oui, madame,” said the waiter, departing. As soon as he was gone, Twilight looked back at him and, in a flurry, whipped out a stack of papers and notes.
“Now,” she said, as a fluffy quill emerged from the papers. “When your younger sisters were born, did you feel like they received more attention and consideration than yourself?”
“Well…” Big Macintosh said, blinking. He didn’t think dates usually went like this. “When a foal’s born, they need lotsa care. Nothin’ strange ‘bout that.”
“Interesting…” Twilight said, the scratching scribbles from her notepad answering back. “What about when they got older? Did you ever feel that Applejack and Applebloom were more privileged than you were?”
“Uhh…” said Big Macintosh. “Ah dunno. Never thought of it like that. Applebloom’s still a foal, and Applejack’s got a lot of responsibilities.”
“Hm…” muttered Twilight, peering at her notes.
“Am I, uh…” His eyes flicked back and forth nervously. “Are these the right answers?”
“Oh, no,” said Twilight. Big Macintosh’s eyes widened. “There are no right or wrong answers to this.”
“Oh…” he said, deflating slightly. “‘Kay.”
The two of them sat there, he a clueless-looking statue and she cheerily sorting through her notes in a flurry of paper.
“So…” said Big Macintosh. “What is it you do for Princess Celestia?”
“Oh,” said Twilight. “I’m her student. I send her reports every week on what I’ve learned about the magic of friendship. But Applejack’s probably already told you that.”
“Eeyup.”
Big Macintosh eyed his water glass, wondering how quickly he’d drink it and have to ask the waiter for a refill. He wondered what the waiter would think if he asked for one. His eyes flicked back to Twilight, who was still happily jotting down notes.
“She hasn’t told me a whole lot else, though,” he continued. “‘cept when she heads off to Canterlot. Said yer brother married a princess?”
“Mm!” Twilight said through a sip of water. “Yes, he did.”
“Sounds mighty big,” he said. “Marrying into royalty like that.”
“Daunting?” she asked, raising an eyebrow.
Big Macintosh paused. “I s’pose…”
“Oh, Twilight!” called Rarity’s voice.
They turned their heads. Rarity was walking by, with Spike carrying a basket a little ways behind her.
“Hi, Rarity,” said Twilight. “Running some errands?”
“Oh, yes,” said Rarity. “I had a fright earlier today—I found I was running low on silk bolts. Thankfully the markets were still open. And you are…?”
“Oh, just having lunch with Big Macintosh here,” said Twilight, turning back to him.
“Eeyup.”
“Say, Twilight,” said Rarity. “Dear Fluttershy has unfortunately had to cancel her trip to the opera with me this Saturday. Angel’s come down with something, it seems. And so I have an extra ticket…” Big Macintosh saw Spike’s head peak out from above the basket. “I was wondering if you’d be able to come?”
“Oh, sorry, Rarity,” said Twilight. “I have a paper I have to proofread that night.”
“A shame,” said Rarity. “Who can I…” Her eyes slowly fell on Big Macintosh. “Why, Big Macintosh, you wouldn’t happen to be interested, would you?”
“Eee…” Big Macintosh started. “Op’ra?”
“Yes,” Rarity explained, floating a ticket over to him. “It’s a production of Most Art’s The Magic Flute.”
Big Macintosh looked at the ticket. He wasn’t much of an opera-lover himself, as he’d always been more drawn to folk and country tunes, but it was only polite of a gentlestallion to accept such an invitation. “Ah’d be glad to, Miss Rarity.”
“That’s wonderful,” said Rarity. “So, I’ll be stopping by at Sweet Apple Acres on Saturday afternoon to pick you up, then?”
Big Macintosh looked from her, then to Twilight, then to Rarity again. “Eeeeeeyup,” he said at length.
“Wonderful,” said Rarity. She tossed her mane, letting her curls bounce a little. “Come along, Spike, back to the boutique!”
“Here’s another question,” said Twilight, already back to her notes. “Do you feel a disconnect between your rural life and the occasional trips your sister takes to royalty?”
Big Macintosh blinked. “That question makes no sense.”
Twilight deflated. “Yeah, I don’t know why I thought that was a good one.” The note crumpled itself up and flew over her shoulder.
“Ah mean, no,” said Big Macintosh. “Applejack goes to Canterlot. That doesn’t make me feel any ‘disconnects’ or nuthin’. Applejack leavin’ for Manehattan as a filly, that was sad, but that was ‘cause she was leavin’ us.”
“Okay,” said Twilight Sparkle, flipping over another sheaf. “Applejack is the one who’ll inherit the farm. How does that make you feel?”
“Ah…” Big Macintosh blinked. “Uh… Ah dunno.”
“You’ve given a lot to it. Do you ever feel you’re not getting, well, your fair share?”
Big Macintosh looked at her. She peered at him, her quill hovering just above her paper. But her eyes weren’t eager or inquisitive. She just looked at him, waiting for his answer. Then, the quill shook a little and she put it down. “I’m sorry,” she said. “That was…”
“No, it’s alright,” said Big Macintosh, leaning forward slightly. “To be honest… sometimes Ah do feel a bit upset. Like it’s not my farm, even though I’ve worked on it all my life. Ah…” His voice trailed off. “Sorry if Ah’m not very good at this. Ah’m not very good with… words.”
“It’s okay,” said Twilight, “it’s nothing important. Just a little thing to help with my report to Princess Celestia.”
“The Princess?” asked Big Macintosh. “Is this about when Ah saw her in the library?”
“Yes,” said Twilight Sparkle. “Princess Celestia is always out to see what her subjects want, and lately she’s been wondering about stallions. We live in a matriarchal society, after all, so it’s important to know how that affects ponies.”
“Ah see,” said Big Macintosh. “Well, Ah dunno. I love my family and the work Ah do. But lately Ah guess…”
“What?”
“Well, Granny’s been a bit on my case lately, about, well…”
“Getting married?” asked Twilight.
Big Macintosh looked at her. “Yeah,” he said after a break.
“Applejack told us,” she said. “Sounds like a hassle. Getting married isn’t something you just do all of a sudden because you think you should.”
“Ah know,” said Big Macintosh, hanging his head slightly. “Ah just… feel kinda trapped is all. Goin’ on these outings is keeping Granny offa my back, but…”
Twilight Sparkle simply nodded. “Sorry I can’t really help with that,” she said. “Have you tried talking with her?”
“Ah have,” he sighed. “But Ah don’t think she’s listenin’.”
“Mm…” said Twilight Sparkle. “Well, for what it’s worth, I don’t think a stallion like you will take long to find a special somepony.” She looked down at her notes. “I think the princess will be interested to hear about this.” She looked back up and gave him a reassuring smile. “Things will get better.”
The waiter arrived, carrying their sandwiches on a tray. “Here you are,” he said, an odd guttural sound coming from his throat on the last syllable.
Big Macintosh took his and resisted the temptation to just gulp down the whole thing. He looked down at the sandwich. It just seemed so tiny.
“Thank you,” said Twilight, taking hers and setting the notepad aside and clipboard.
Big Macintosh, realizing that staring at his food was unbecoming of him, looked back up at her. “You come here often?”
Twilight didn’t answer immediately, having taken a small bite, but she did nod her head. After swallowing, she answered, “yes. It’s a nice place and it’s only a short walk away from the library. Spike loves the hay fries. He likes it more now they’ve added some gems to the menu. Just for him.” She chuckled.
“You asked them to?” Big Macintosh suggested.
“Well… I may have written them a short letter, yes,” said Twilight.
“Ah imagine that helped,” he said. “Can’t see a lot of ponies sayin’ no to you.”
Twilight laughed.
***
Twilight Sparkle was nice, Big Macintosh thought, though the excessive note-taking was off-putting. But, he reasoned, that was just something she did. Some ponies calm their nerves by pawing at the dirt, some ponies eat their flowers one petal at a time, and Twilight Sparkle takes notes. After she put the notes aside, however, it wasn’t so bad.
The lights were on in the house, even though it wasn’t very late. The sun was just starting to dip down over the hills. He could smell the sweet scents of home cooking wafting out from the kitchen window, and he stopped to take a sniff. Apple pie, of course. Always a comfort.
And then he heard voices talking—Applejack and Granny Smith.
“…I just want to be sure he’s taken care of,” said Granny Smith.
“He seems to be doin’ well enough himself,” said Applejack.
“It’s not about that!” said Granny Smith. “This is about his position!”
“How ya mean?”
“Applejack, I’m not going to be around forever. After I’m gone, it’s gonna be you runnin’ the farm.”
“Ah don’t see what—”
“Big Macintosh is listed as a dependent,” she said. “My dependent. When I’m gone, that won’t be there.”
“So?” asked Applejack. “He can support himself.”
“Yes, but not as well as I’d like. He can’t just stay on the farm,” she said.
“Why not?”
“Applejack, while I support you two on the farm, I can list you as dependents. There’s tax considerations in there… Filthy Rich helps me with those. As long as I’m in charge, any money I give you as allowances ain’t taxable ‘r somethin’.”
“And?”
“Aaaaand,” Granny Smith said, “you can’t do that. You can’t list him as a dependent, and so any money you give him counts as compensation. An’ everything he has is here on the farm. It’s not eh-kahn-ah-mik-like. No, he needs a wife who can support ‘im.”
“Then just give ‘im a stake in the farm,” said Applejack. “He can afford t’ pay taxes. This is about something else, isn’t it?”
Big Macintosh heard a pause and a sigh. “I…” said Granny Smith. “There’s a lot to this. Sure, y’could hire him. But could you support him? What happens when you have a husband? Big Macintosh is a strong, handsome fella—any mare’d be glad to have him. There’s no reason Big Macintosh shouldn’t have a buncha fillies after him. You know, Apple Rose was telling me about how her grandson fell in nicely with a shopkeeper and they’ve got twins on the way. And Apple Sauce—”
“Is that what this is about?” asked Applejack. “Great-grankids?”
Big Macintosh heard a long, sad sigh. “Applejack, I’m an old mare,” said Granny Smith. “I just want to make sure that you’re alright and can take care of yourselves. I want you to take over the farm, and I want Big Macintosh to settle down with a nice mare who loves and appreciates him. I don’t want him to become an old bachelor. And… yes, I would like great grand-foals before I go.”
Big Macintosh heard enough and just walked around to the front door. He thought about his date with Twilight Sparkle. Despite knowing about his predicament, she hadn’t exactly asked for his hoof. She was smart, pretty, and certainly high-up on the social ladder. Though she took too many notes. He liked her well enough, but he wasn’t completely sure.
Granny Smith had, to Big Macintosh’s great relief, not pestered him with details about his lunch with Twilight Sparkle; Applejack had kept dinner occupied with an anecdote about a strange bunch of rocks she’d found while working in the fields.
The next day was reassuring. Granny Smith was more or less contented for the time being. She was actually helping them with the chickens, collecting eggs. She got along well with the chickens, chatting with them to pass the time.
“…And then you won’t believe what she said to me,” she rattled off to one chicken who looked up at her, clearly engaged in her story. “She says if I don’t like it, I can make one myself! So I says fine, I will…”
Big Macintosh and Applejack passed a relieved look to each other as they stacked cages onto a cart.
“Alrighty, there,” said Granny Smith, finishing her conversation with the chicken. “You just send them along to Fluttershy’s now, give ‘em a reward for all them egg-layin’s.”
“Will do, Granny,” said Applejack.
“Eeyup.”
“And while you’re at it, why don’t you say hi to Fluttershy?” asked Granny Smith.
Applejack rolled her eyes. Big Macintosh sighed, and nodded. “Alright,” he conceded.
Big Macintosh pulled the cart as usual, with Applejack trailing behind to make sure everything was fastened and wouldn’t fall out over the course of the bumpy ride.
“So,” said Big Macintosh, “what does Fluttershy do with the chickens?”
“Oh, tends to their needs,” said Applejack. “Lets them walk around the yard, feeds them, gives them a relaxing steam bath.”
“Eee… what?” asked Big Macintosh.
“Yeah, she also has different activities with the other animals,” Applejack explained, nonchalant as always. “s’like they’re off on a vacation all fancy-like.”
“Ah.”
Fluttershy’s cottage was on the outskirts of the town, but not too far of a walk from the farm; they both sat near the borders of the Everfree Forest.
It was a quaint little cottage, though Big Macintosh had never set hoof inside. In all honesty, he felt it seemed rather small for him. Looking at it he wondered if he’d hit his head on the ceiling inside.
He walked up to the fence next to the cottage, and Applejack went in front of him, opening the gate. “Fluttershy?” she called.
“I’m right here,” said Fluttershy, who to Big Macintosh’s surprise was standing right next to the fence.
“Oh,” said Applejack. “Sorry.”
“That’s okay,” said Fluttershy. “You can just park them in the pen and open the doors.”
Big Macintosh strolled on through, all the while the chickens clucked impatiently. “Yeah, yeah, hold your, um…” he said.
“Thanks a bunch, Fluttershy,” said Applejack. “Always a use to us. They been pumpin’ out a whole lotta eggs lately and need a bit of a rest.”
“Oh, of course,” said Fluttershy. “Angel’s on vacation, so I’ll be able to look after them.”
Applejack tilted her head. “Angel Bunny? Vacation?”
“Yes,” said Fluttershy. “He needs to have some time on his own, after all. He’s a grown bunny.”
“Uhh huh…” Applejack looked off to the yard. Fluttershy, it seemed, had set up a tea set on a stump. “Rarity meetin’ ya for tea?”
“Actually…” Fluttershy looked down. “She couldn’t make it. She had a meeting with… Hoity-Toity, I think. Something important.”
“Right, right,” said Applejack. “Had dresses and deals to make?”
“She was very sorry,” said Fluttershy. “She had to call off our tea party at the last minute.”
“Aw, shoot,” said Applejack. “And after you got everything set up.”
Big Macintosh listened to the conversation. He didn’t have that much else to listen to as he unlatched the chicken coops, letting the birds waddle on out. One of them stopped and looked up at him quizzically.
“Hi,” said Big Macintosh.
“Cluck,” said the bird.
“I don’t suppose you could join?” asked Fluttershy.
“Sorry,” said Applejack. “I got stuff to do.” She smiled. “Big Macintosh might be able.”
Big Macintosh’s head snapped back. “Beg pardon?”
“I’ll take over your workload,” said Applejack, trotting over to the chicken coop wagon. “I’m sure Granny Smith won’t mind. Have a nice day, Fluttershy!”
“Uhh… bye…” said Fluttershy, looking after Applejack as she hitched herself up to the wagon and merrily left. She and Big Macintosh shared an awkward look. “Well, it’s nice tea,” she said. “It’s herbal. Very relaxing.” She walked over to the stump, by the teapot. She lifted the lid off of the pot with her mouth, taking a nice, relaxed whiff of it, before sighing contentedly and replacing the lid.
Big Macintosh sat down opposite her on the stump, looking down at the teacup in front of him.
“Would you like some tea?” she asked.
“Eeyup.”
She leaned over, pouring tea into the cup. Somehow, he found himself compelled to lean back, just so that he didn’t risk crushing her with the weight of his shadow. Somehow, that made sense to him at the time.
When she retreated back to her side of the table, he looked down at his cup of tea. The cup was so tiny he wondered if he couldn’t just swallow the whole thing in one gulp. Including the saucer.
Fluttershy poured herself some tea and just sat there, contentedly watching the steam rise and smiling softly. Big Macintosh sat there, waiting for his own tea to cool, unsure of exactly what he was supposed to do. Fluttershy wasn’t doing anything, talking or otherwise. He decided he’d have to do something.
“So…” he started, and almost stopped when Fluttershy looked up at him in near-alarm. “Uh… You doing something on Saturday?”
“I have to pick up Angel from his Vacation,” said Fluttershy. “Why do you ask?”
“No reason,” said Big Macintosh. “I just remembered Rarity said somethin’ about opera.”
“Oh, yes,” said Fluttershy. “I wanted to go, but, well, I couldn’t.”
“Ah see,” said Big Macintosh. He really didn’t have anything else he could think of to ask.
“Would you like some milk?” asked Fluttershy, nudging a small pitcher of milk.
“Nope.”
“Oh. Sugar?”
“Nn…” Big Macintosh started, but upon seeing Fluttershy’s slightly dejected expression, relented. “Eeyup.”
Fluttershy plunked two sugar cubes into his cup and then backed into her own seat. She took a sip of her tea as Big Macintosh watched his cubes dissolve.
He took his cup, and took a small sip. This was, to his slight embarrassment, enough to completely drain the cup. He lowered it back down to the saucer, sheepish.
“Would you like some more?” asked Fluttershy, nudging the teapot over to him.
Big Macintosh did have to admit: Fluttershy was right about the tea. It was nice, and it did make him feel more calm. He found himself admiring the cottage; it had a nice earthy feeling.
“I like your house,” he said.
“Oh. Thank you. The animals like it. They feel comfortable in it.”
“Eeyup.”
Fluttershy blew on her tea a little as Big Macintosh watched. The animals around the place (namely the chickens) were making more noise, clucking away at nothing in particular. One of them slipped in the mud, prompting Big Macintosh to chuckle a little.
“You take care of our hens, Fluttershy,” he said.
“Oh, don’t worry,” said Fluttershy, smiling. “I’ll take real good care of them. When they get back, they’ll be ready for laying again.” She nudged the sugar bowl. “More sugar?”
“Eeyup.”
***
Fluttershy, Big Macintosh reasoned, was… nice. Very, very nice. He liked that. He wondered if she liked him. It was a little difficult for him to tell if she was shy or scared of him.
As he left the cottage, he saw the mailpony placing a package in the mailbox, along with a postcard.
“Hey, Stationery,” said Big Macintosh, addressing the mailpony. “How goes the mail job?”
“Good,” said Stationery. He shut the mailbox, though Big Macintosh got close enough that he could have sworn he saw a picture of a rabbit wearing sunglasses and an aloha shirt. “Hey, you mind coming with me for a moment? The dog at the next house is out to get me, I swear.”
“Sure thing,” said Big Macintosh. They headed on down the road back to the town. “Same ol’, same ol’?”
“For now, yeah,” said Stationery. “What was that you were doing with Fluttershy?”
“Oh, nothin’,” he said calmly. “Just a tea party.” Stationery snorted and rolled his eyes. “Somethin’ wrong with that?”
“Oh, tea parties,” said Stationery. “Never get me at one of those.”
“There’s nothin’ wrong with ‘em,” reasoned Big Macintosh.
Stationery turned around to face him. “Big Macintosh,” he said, “let me explain something to you—”
“Go ahead.” Big Macintosh said, nodding.
“Tea parties are a metaphor for the matriarchy that keeps us stallions doing what they like.”
Big Macintosh stopped and stared at him. “I don’t follow.”
“Listen, it’s like this,” said Stationery, drawing a line in the dirt with his hoof. “At a tea party you all sit at nice, pre-arranged places, where the host, which is the leading matriarch, or a stand-in for the princess, has complete authority. She’ll offer you the tea and be nice about it, but it’s always on her terms. And if you want milk or sugar, well then,” he snorted. “You have to ask nicely for it. It’s about submitting to the absolute authority of the matriarch. Well, I’m not submitting to any matriarchs. And of course, it’s invitation only,” he said, tapping the line, “stay on your side of the line. Can’t do anything unless the matriarch lets you.”
“So…” Big Macintosh looked down at the line, “I should come without being invited.”
“Ughh…” Stationery groaned. “Look, it’s a metaphor.”
“I see,” said Big Macintosh. “So if Princess Celestia came along, you wouldn’t bow?”
“No siree,” said Stationery. “Stallion’s gotta stand his ground if he doesn’t want to get pushed around by the mares. Like how your Granny’s pushing you around.”
“Well,” said Big Macintosh, “it could be worse.” He imagined if he were like Stationery he’d have an even harder time finding a mare who’d want to marry him.
“Oh, it’ll get better,” said Stationery. “Just once we start realising it.”
“Tea parties?”
“Yeah,” said Stationery.
They came up to a house surrounded by a white picket fence with a swinging door. Stationery cautiously approached it. “That dog… You help me out here?”
“Eeyup,” said Big Macintosh.
“Great.” Stationery slowly opened the gate and walked on tip-hoof up to the door, past a large and menacing doghouse. “Can’t get a mailbox…” he muttered. “Just a mail slot…”
Big Macintosh looked over at the doghouse and swore he could hear, or perhaps feel, a faint rumbling coming from within. He stared it, like looking into a deep, dank, smelly cave.
“That’s done,” said Stationery, passing by him. “Let’s get out quickly so he won’t…”
Grr… came a rumbling from the doghouse. “Oh no,” said Stationery. “RUN!”
***
As Big Macintosh ran back to the farm, he thought about what Stationery had said about tea parties. He guessed it made sense. But then, he could probably apply that to anything. He didn’t know.
He didn’t feel like repeating it himself, though. He suspected that if he himself started saying it it wouldn’t sound as convincing. Also, it probably wouldn’t help him with anything.
As it happened, Big Macintosh returned to the farm just in time for lunch. He was looking forward to getting back to work, thankful his tea party with Fluttershy had gone well.
Thinking on it some more, he couldn’t really apply Stationery’s tea party theory to his meeting with Fluttershy. Fluttershy was very sweet and kind—not the kind of authoritative matriarch Stationery was talking about. But then, Fluttershy had been expecting to meet with Rarity. Maybe Rarity was the matriarch. That might have made more sense. But then, Fluttershy was the host, and the host was supposed to be the matriarch.
He shook his head. Nothing there made sense.
“Howdy there, Big Macintosh!” called Applejack, waving her hat. “How’d your date go?”
“It was okay…” said Big Macintosh. He just stood there as Applejack cantered up to him. He didn’t know if there was anything to what Stationery had said about tea parties, but there might be something else. “Applejack?” he asked.
“Yeah?”
“Why’d you do that?” asked Big Macintosh.
“Do what?” asked Applejack. “Oh, you mean the thing with Fluttershy?”
“Yeah,” said Big Macintosh.
“I dunno,” she said with a shrug. “I thought you might like her. And it might help with Granny Smith.”
“But I didn’ ask for it,” said Big Macintosh. Applejack looked at him, a hint of realization creeping into her face. “I appreciate the sen’iment, but… you didn’t have to vol’nteer me.”
“Oh…” said Applejack. “I’m sorry. I didn’t think about it that way. Guess I got ahead of myself?” She gave a nervous self-deprecating chuckle.
Big Macintosh smiled. “It’s okay,” he said. “Just… somethin’ to think about?”
Big Macintosh looked across the table at the one empty chair. Applejack and Granny Smith had taken their seats, but Apple Bloom was late to breakfast. Big Macintosh and Applejack were already seated, serving themselves their plates of hay and hash browns. Granny Smith looked up at the ceiling.
“Apple Bloom?” she called. “Git yerself down here before breakfast gets cold!”
“I’m coming!” she called. “Just gimme a sec!”
“What’s she doing?” asked Applejack. She looked at Big Macintosh, who shrugged.
A few seconds later, Apple Bloom appeared in the kitchen dragging a large piece of paper. “Look at what I found!” she said, setting it on the table.
It was a poster of Princess Celestia. She was seated on her throne, looking at the viewer and smiling demurely.
“I found this up in the attic,” said Apple Bloom.
Applejack chuckled. “I recognize that.”
“What is it?” asked Apple Bloom.
Applejack gave a knowing glance to Big Macintosh, who seemed very keen not to pay attention to the conversation. “Well, that’s Big Macintosh’s old poster he used to have up as a colt. I didn’t know we still had it.”
“Really?” asked Apple Bloom, looking at her brother.
Big Macintosh looked back at her. There was a small voice inside his head, groaning inwardly at the resurfacing of some embarrassing memories. However, deciding he couldn’t simply ignore the talk, he answered, “Eeyup.”
“He used to have the biggest crush on Princess Celestia,” said Applejack, smiling. “We teased him about it a bunch as foals. That’s…” She looked at him. “Probably why you put the poster away, isn’t it?”
“Eeyup.”
Applejack smiled guiltily. “Well, sorry about that.”
“'Salright.” Big Macintosh shrugged.
“Sit yerself down and have yer breakfast,” said Granny Smith. “We got work to do.”
“Actually, I have school,” said Apple Bloom.
“Alright, alright,” said Granny Smith. “Well, better hurry so’s yer not late.”
Apple Bloom wolfed down her breakfast and ran for the door. Big Macintosh and Applejack ate their meal at a brisk, but slightly more measured pace. There were daily chores to attend to; apples that needed bucking, a gazebo that needed fixing, and the old chicken coop that needed a new coat of paint. After Applejack seemed to swallow her last apple turnover whole, the two of them set out the front door.
“That poster brings back memories,” said Applejack.
“Eeyup.”
“I just remember you saying that you thought Princess Celestia was the prettiest pony in Equestria.” She chuckled. “I suppose she is.” She looked over at him. “You mentioned something about her doing some kind of study, right? Something about your opinions?"
“Eeyup.”
“And?”
Big Macintosh stopped. “And what?”
“And what did you say?”
He paused. “I said I’d have to think about it. I don’t really put much thought into those things. I have some friends who have more to say about it, I suppose. I’m still thinking.”
“Fair ‘nough.”
Their chores were simple. Applejack bucked the trees. The apples fell into buckets. Big Macintosh loaded them into the wagon and they moved on to the next tree.
“So, you and your face-off with Rainbow Dash today. How are you feelin' about it?” asked Applejack. “You ready?”
“Eeyup," said Big Macintosh, shrugging.
“What do you reckon your chances are?”
Big Macintosh shrugged. “I don’t know. Probably not high.”
“Not high?” she asked. “What do you mean by that?”
He shrugged again. “She’s better at that stuff than I am. I mean, I’m strong, but I’m not an athlete. I could probably beat her at a hoof wrassle, but I sure can’t run like she can.”
“Well, I guess there is a reason her name’s Dash.”
“Then this Saturday I’m going out with Rarity.” He made a perplexed face. “I think she wants to take me to an opera.”
Applejack raised a hoof to her mouth, fighting hard to stave off a laugh. “I’m… sorry. That’s mighty unfortunate.”
“Mm.”
“Listen to your daddy warn you, ’fore you start a-traveling…” a voice sang. It was a relaxed, easy-going baritone song, wafting lazily through the apple trees.
Big Macintosh and Applejack looked up and around. Where was that voice coming from?
“Who’s that…?” asked Applejack, before the recognition dawned on her face. “Noteworthy,” she said.
She marched off in the direction of the singing. Big Macintosh paused, listening to the singing.
“Filly may borne ya, love you and mourn ya, buuuuuut…”
It was at this point that Big Macintosh noticed that his sister had left, and bolted off after her.
“A filly is a sometime thing, yes a filly is a sometime thing.”
Applejack and Big Macintosh found Noteworthy sitting underneath one of the trees, strumming a banjo and chewing on a piece of straw. He looked up at them and smiled. “Morning, Apples,” he drawled lazily.
“Blues,” said Applejack. “What are you doing sitting in our orchard?”
“Nothin’,” said Noteworthy, smiling congenially.
“Is that a nothin’ nothin’?” asked Applejack, tilting her head with a suspicious narrowing of the eyes. “Or a nothin’ where it’s ‘cause you don’t want to say?”
Noteworthy shrugged. “Well, I guess singin’ ain’t nothin’, depending on what you mean.”
“Mm.” Applejack regarded him coolly. “Long as you don’t cause any trouble.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it, ma’am,” said Noteworthy.
Applejack gave him another untrusting glance, before looking at her brother and walking off.
Noteworthy smiled wryly at Big Macintosh. “I don’t think she likes me.”
“Well, you did take our apples once,” said Big Macintosh.
“That was once,” Noteworthy protested. “I just took one apple as a snack. Didn’t think it’d be a big deal.”
“Well, it is our livelihood.”
“Mm,” said Noteworthy, musingly strumming out an idle tune on his banjo. “Fair nuff. I paid for it, didn't I?” He looked up at the foliage over his head. “So what’s this I hear about Colton?” he asked. “Heard he’s getting hitched.”
“Eeyup,” said Big Macintosh. “To Daisy.”
“Mm,” hummed Noteworthy. “Heard he might not be staying on the farm.”
“Ah don’t think he will,” said Big Macintosh. “Not if he wants to stay at home with his mare.”
“Tyin’ him down,” said Noteworthy. “Poor guy.”
“He seems happy enough to me.”
“Sounds like he’s outta his head.”
“Didn’t sound like that to me,” said Big Macintosh. “I talked to the guy.”
“Alright, alright,” said Noteworthy. “Just sayin’. Maybe I shouldn’t act like I know what’s goin’ on in his head. I’m just sayin’ I don’t understand it. But then, I guess I don’t understand a lot of things. I just see so many guys who seem to make themselves miserable. Like Caramel.”
“What about Caramel?”
“Well, I heard about his job and how rough he’s having it,” said Noteworthy. “I mean, why would you put yourself through that?”
Big Macintosh shrugged. “Life isn’t always easy,” he said. “You can’t just avoid it.”
“I’m having a fine enough time of it so far.”
Big Macintosh mulled that over before looking off in the direction Applejack had left. “I’d better get back to work,” he said. “Only so many hours in a day and I can’t spend all of ‘em chatting.”
“Alrighty,” said Noteworthy, beginning to strum on his banjo again. “You go to that.”
Big Macintosh went back to his sister and his work.
***
There were no further surprises or interruptions with their chores, save for a moment when Big Macintosh realized that he hadn’t brought enough paint to the chicken coop for a full coat, and had to make take a walk back to the barn. This had put him a little behind schedule for his meeting with Rainbow Dash, as he and his sister now had to keep up a quick trot to get to the hill in time.
“Just remember,” said Applejack, putting a towel over Big Macintosh’s shoulders before setting off ahead of him. “Rainbow Dash ain’t frail like most other pegasus ponies. She’s tough. It ain’t just a rush and winded deal like you might be thinking.”
“Uh-huh,” said Big Macintosh, looking at the towel, wondering why he needed it.
“Now, you gotta remember that she’s fast and she can move very well. She’s also strong, stronger than you might think, but she don’t got your muscles.”
“Okay,” said Big Macintosh.
“And don’t hold your breath. Sometimes I see you holding your breath when you do heavy lifting. Don’t do that here.”
“Okay.”
“And she’s gonna trash talk,” said Applejack. “She always likes to do that. Just don’t let her get you on edge. That’ll just set you back even mo—”
“Sis?” asked Big Macintosh.
“An—Huh?” asked Applejack, whose stop sudden stop almost felt like a thud.
“Ah think Ah can handle it,” he said. “Just some games. Don’t even really care about winning.”
“Oh,” said Applejack, resuming her walk, though at a slightly slower pace. “Well, alright, then.”
As they approached the hill, they could see Rainbow Dash, flying some lazy somersaults in the air. It seemed so easy for her, like she could do it in her sleep. Almost like she was doing it in her sleep, in fact.
Remember to breathe, thought Big Macintosh.
Rainbow Dash was upside-down in the air when she noticed them.
“Well, there you are,” she said, gliding down to the grass in front of them. “I was wondering if you forgot. Or chickened out. Nice towel.”
Big Macintosh glanced at the towel over his harness. It was red and dotted in a green apples pattern. He couldn’t tell if that remark was supposed to be genuine or snark.
“Hope you’re warmed up, Dash,” said Applejack, nudging Big Macintosh in the side.
“Of course I am,” said Rainbow Dash, her eyes closed and her mouth in a cocky grin. “It’s not like I enter games to not win, is it?”
Applejack rolled her eyes. “Well, tell me how it goes, Mac,” she said. “I gotta get back. See ya later.”
“See ya,” said Big Macintosh.
“Aww, scared to watch me win?” asked Rainbow Dash.
“Yeah, sure,” said Applejack, walking away without giving her a second glance.
Rainbow Dash turned her attention away from Applejack, and casually strolled over to the edge of the hill. “Well, come on. Let’s get this started.”
Big Macintosh slowly walked over to the edge of the hill next to her. Despite his stoic expression, his eyes went wide as he beheld a massive obstacle course.
“I got some help from Pinkie Pie,” Rainbow Dash explained.
“Ah see…”
“So, race ya there?” she asked.
“Ee… what?”
“Ready!” said Rainbow Dash, assuming a sprinting posture, her wings pressed to her side.
Oh, thought Big Macintosh.
“Set!”
Big Macintosh barely had time to get himself ready before Rainbow Dash shouted “Go!”, but as soon as it happened, he was off. His powerful legs beat against the ground, his body nearly gliding down the hill.
Woah, he thought, almost worried he might trip over his own hooves. He wasn’t much of a runner, by his reckoning. He walked at a slow pace, he bucked trees, and he did heavy lifting. Still, his legs launched him down the hill, leaving deep, dirty hoofprints in the grass beneath him.
He smiled. He could enjoy this. Not so bad at all.
Just keep breathing. Just keep breathing…
“Not bad!” called Rainbow Dash. Big Macintosh turned to look at her, and discovered to his surprise that although he put his all into running across what had since become a level plane, Rainbow Dash seemed almost casual in her stride, and swiftly overtook him.
He could only watch as his own legs seemed strangely impotent, seeing her casually confident expression as she just went further and further ahead of him. As the ground evened out and gravity stopped helping him run, he suddenly realized that he had been so busy watching Rainbow Dash that he had forgotten to breathe.
She got to the finish line in next to no time at all, turned around, and leaned against a flagpole, looking like the sprint had been the easiest thing in the world for her. When Big Macintosh approached her, his chest heaving as he gasped for breath, she looked at him through one open eye.
“Hey, big guy… wow. That took a lot out of you, didn’t it?”
“Ee…” Big Macintosh breathed. “…Yup.”
***
If there was one thing to be said for Rainbow Dash’s pride, it was that it afforded her a sense of fair play. So she allowed Big Macintosh to catch his breath, reasoning that she didn’t need to have him at a disadvantage the entire time to beat him.
Big Macintosh took a gulp of water, still a little embarrassed by how he had forgotten his sister’s incredibly simple advice.
“You ready to get back to it?” asked Rainbow Dash.
“Eeyup,” said Big Macintosh, looking at the obstacle course, looming over them like some kind of ominous comic clubhouse.
“Oh, we aren’t doing that yet,” she said, sitting down at a simple wooden picnic table. “C’mon, sit down.”
Big Macintosh silently took his seat opposite her as she laid out her hoof across the table.
“Alright,” said Rainbow Dash. “Time for a hoof-wrestle.”
“You mean a hoof-wrassle?”
“That’s what I just said.”
“Huh?”
“Huh?”
They blinked vacantly at each other.
You’re not making any sense, thought Big Macintosh. The look on Rainbow Dash’s face indicated that she thought the exact same thing. Nevertheless, he put up his hoof, and both of them set themselves up to begin their hoof-wrestle. Or hoof-wrassle. They were still going to disagree on that, for the time being.
“Alright,” said Rainbow Dash. The muscles in her arm tensed, and Big Macintosh couldn’t help but think of how small she seemed, compared to him. “On the count of three! One! Two! Th—”
Thud.
Rainbow Dash was almost thrown sideways by the force of Big Macintosh’s arm. Her arm was pinned, neatly and suddenly, to the table. She struggled at it. And struggled, and struggled, and struggled, but Big Macintosh’s hoof would not budge.
“Ah think Ah win,” said Big Macintosh.
“Grr…” Rainbow Dash struggled some more, but relented. “Okay, fine. You win this round.” She looked at him. “Think you could let my hoof go?”
Big Macintosh lifted his hoof slightly, and Rainbow Dash slipped out. “Next round.”
***
Big Macintosh found himself keeping up with her better than he had thought. True, he lost the barrel run, having knocked over every single barrel he was supposed to run around, but he set the Ponyville record for the caber toss, which left Rainbow Dash at a loss for words.
Finally it came down to the obstacle course that apparently Pinkie Pie had helped set up. Big Macintosh looked up at it, and a bizarre tingling of dread crept into his mind.
“So, it’s pretty simple,” said Rainbow Dash, heading over to two poles, both of which had a large stopwatch attached to them. “You climb up the rope ladder, then across the monkey bars, then down the zipline, through the mud pool, over the rope pit, then you have to stay on the ball-bearing platforms without falling into the river, then take the rope ladder, then the upside-down rock-climbing wall, then hitch a ride on the albatross to the Old Everfree Redwood.”
“And is that it?” asked Big Macintosh.
“No,” said Rainbow Dash. “Then you have to find the secret map. And the pony to reach the hidden treasure in the shortest amount of time wins!”
“How do we—”
“Zecora’s keeping score.”
Big Macintosh blinked. That did not answer his question. It did not answer any of his questions. However, before he could protest further, he found that Rainbow Dash had hit the button on a giant stopwatch on a pole and then sped off up the rope ladder.
“See you at the hidden treasure!” she called.
Big Macintosh watched as she zipped through the obstacles, before he looked at his own stopwatch.
If I married her, he thought, I don’t know I’d survive my honeymoon.
***
Rainbow Dash, cool as a cucumber, stood by a large wooden marker. Zecora stood a little off to the side, looking worriedly around them.
“Big Macintosh, it seems, is not yet here,” said Zecora. “He may have gotten lost, I fear.”
“Oh boy…” said Rainbow Dash. “He sure is taking his time. He must’ve read too many of those ‘slow and steady wins the race books’ as a foal. Fairy tales always give ponies the wrong idea, let me tell you.”
She could hear the heavy, plodding footsteps before Big Macintosh appeared. Rainbow Dash’s eyes widened as she watched him, scraggly and disheveled, with more than a few bits of wood in his mane.
“Woah,” said Rainbow Dash. “What happened to you?”
Big Macintosh silently walked up to them. He swayed a little. “Ah think Ah owe you a new obstacle course…” He said.