Strange Tales from the Bedroom

“Ya see, a couple of years back…” Big McIntosh paused and frowned, wondering how to begin. It wasn’t that long ago, but he doubted too many ponies knew about it, even if they paid attention to the news. He paused and let his eyes wander around the room; it was certainly a lot different than any of the rooms back in his home. The walls tended to be sparsely decorated, and what pictures they did have usually were of the family. Not that Cheerilee didn’t have pictures of her folks, of course, but her walls told a story.

“Well?” Cheerilee asked, shifting her head so she could look up at him.

Big Mac grimaced, he’d let his thoughts get the better of him again. “Well, ya see… do you remember a couple of years ago when I was injured right in time for Applebuckin’ season? And my sister had to look after that all on her own?”

“Of course I do,” Cheerilee said, “as I recall, it was a rather interestin’ week, what with the stampedes of cattle and rabbits.” Big Mac narrowed his eyes slightly, as she slipped into an imitation of his accent. She smiled crookedly and gave him a hug—perhaps she was just slipping into it by accident. He had that effect on ponies sometimes. “But I mostly remember it for how worried Apple Bloom was,” she continued. “First her big brother hurts himself, then her big sister goes and tries to kill herself doing all that work.” Cheerilee nuzzled his neck. “She was worried sick for the two of you.”

“I know,” Big Mac shifted uneasily; he had spent most of that week doing light work around the house, and he was well aware of how stressed Apple Bloom had been. “Well, in the end all the apples got harvested, and that was that, but it made me feel…”

“Huh?”

“Lookit, I love my sister. Both of ‘em, and don’t you ever think I don’t, but Applejack, well she’s something else altogether sometimes.” Big Mac felt his thought process jumping around erratically. Ponies thought he was stupid because he didn’t like to say much, but the truth was he found it embarrassing when he tried to explain something and he ended up babbling. “I mean, she done gone and harvested the whole farm all on her own, with no help at all from me.” Big Mac felt his lips draw together, “kinda makes a fella feel useless, ya know?”

“’Harvested the whole farm’?” Cheerilee propped herself up on the bed, mirroring his expression with a frown of her own. “That’s not the way I heard it.”

“I know in the end she got her friends to help her out, Cheerilee, but I also know she would have kept goin’ even if she didn’t have nopony to call on. Not to mention she still found time to save the town and help her friends out and everythin’” Big Mac held up his hoof to cut off Cheerilee’s objection, “I know, ah know, but like ah said, the story’s kind of embarrassin’, and that’s why.”

“Because your sister made you feel useless?” Cheerilee’s voice sounded sceptical, and Big Mac couldn’t blame her. He suspected most ponies wouldn’t get all worked up about some sort of simple thing like this, but the Apple Family had deep roots, and sometimes they were more than a little bit stubborn and all. But they were a family first and foremost, and feeling like you weren’t needed and shirking on your duties just wasn’t done. Nor was feeling jealous of your sister.

“Nope,” Big Mac sighed. “’cause I was jealous. See, I suppose you could say it started when Applejack went off and put that Nightmare Moon character in her place. Don’t get the wrong idea, I couldn’t be happier—apple trees need the sun to grow, after all, and more importantly, AJ came home safe ‘n’ sound.”

Big Mac smacked his lips and reached for his glass of water, drinking it as he thought. “Farmin’ my whole life, it’s in my blood, you could say, and it never once occurred to me that I might be missin’ something in my life, not like Applejack and how she went off and discovered she’d rather be on the farm. I never doubted it, never questioned it, and then AJ starts goin’ off on adventures ‘n’ well… I guess you could say I wanted a bit of an adventure myself. I wanted to be somepony, not just a farmer, not just a dumb hunk of stallion everypony thinks me to be.”

“I don’t think you’re dumb,” Cheerilee said, then kissed him on the cheek. In spite of what they had just finished doing, Big Mac blushed, then tilted his muzzle down to kiss her right back.

“Plenty of ponies do, though Miss Cheerilee. I know they do, and it didn’t used to bother me really, but after Applejack started being more than her cutie mark, I wanted a bit of that too.

“So, after Applejack was all rested up, I left…

***

“I’m leavin’ tomorrow.” Big Mac said finally, as Applejack sat back down at the table.

The four of them—Applejack, Apple Bloom, Granny and himself—had just finished their evening meal, and Big Mac had finally managed to say what he had been trying to force out for nearly two weeks. Better late than never, he supposed.

It had been nearly two weeks since the crop was bucked out of the trees, although it had been by no means a lazy two weeks. Even with the crop in, there was still plenty of work to do around Sweet Apple Acres, especially with the winter coming up. Roofs needed fixing, along with the fences and tools. Never mind what other sorts of work might crop up unexpectedly, like beavers getting into the orchard or some crazy adventure with the locals. And of course they needed to sort all the apples and squirrel them away for the winter… Cider press probably needed a new flywheel too.

Still, Big Mac had finally made up his mind; he was going to leave, and that was that. But he did feel a bit guilty leaving his sister with all the work, so he had tried his best to do more than his fair share while he could. Naturally, though, that just let him avoid the necessary business of telling the family he was packing his bags.

Applejack twitched her ear, obviously hearing Big Mac but probably not paying attention, as she started to go through the bills. He had already done that, of course, and knew which ones needed to be paid and by when, but Applejack had always insisted on going over them herself too, whether it was needed or not. Big Mac knew it was because she was trying to be responsible, but it wasn’t as if he couldn’t read or do math.

The other apple family members reacted much the same way; Apple Bloom was staring in her math homework, and Granny was dozing her meal off. Big Mac snorted, and opened his mouth to repeat what he had just said, when Applejack’s eyes snapped up off the bill between her hooves to stare at him.

“Did you say somethin’, Sugarcube?” Applejack asked; her voice roused Granny and Apple Bloom glanced up at her sister—and by extension him.

“I said, ‘I’m leavin’ tomorrow,” Big Mac repeated, trying not to frown. If ponies weren’t going to listen to him, what was the point in talking?

“Leavin’?” Granny weezed out, “’morrow ain’t market day… is it?”

“No, it’s not. Big Mac, what are y'all on about?”

Well, at least he had their attention now.

“I’m leavin’ Sweet Apple Acres,” Big Mac scuffled his hoof against the table’s surface. “Goin’ out on mah own.”

“What?” Applejack’s eyes grew wide with shock—as did Apple Bloom’s. Granny looked more like she was wishing for her hearing horn, probably because she assumed she had misheard him. “What sort of tomfoolery are you goin’ on about, Big Mac?”

Big Mac took a deep breath. “I don’t know how else to explain it, sis, in the mornin’ I’m be heading out, probably won’t be back, at least not this year.”

“But… why?” Apple Bloom asked, her voice trembling slightly. Big Mac glanced at her briefly and instantly felt guilty; he didn’t care what the school’s teachers were saying about her grades, she was smart as a whip when it came down to it. she obviously knew what was going on. Didn’t make explaining to her that living the simple farm life wasn’t enough anymore. Apple Bloom was too small to remember Applejack leaving for Manehatten, but Big Mac did, and he had a reasonable idea of what his littlest sister was feeling.

“Forget th’ why,” Applejack butted in, “what about the farm! y'all can’t just up and run off to Celestia know’s where, we need you around here Big Mac.”

“Do ya?” Big Mac asked rhetorically, “do ya really need me, Applejack?” He shook his head violently—he didn’t want to argue, and he didn’t want to leave his family on a sour note. “Lookit, the apples are in, and y'all have a long winter to look forward to. I ain’t needed around here, everypony knows it.”

Before either of his sisters could reply, Big Mac stood up, and headed towards the door. “I’ve got a few things to pack, if y'all want t’ talk—and talk mind, not argue, I’ll be in the barn.”

Truthfully, he really wasn’t planning on doing much packing just yet. Big Mac didn’t own all that much, and he certainly didn’t have much in the way that he’d feel right taking away with him when he left. But being out in the night air was a welcome change if nothing else and he had always found the relative peace and quiet of the barn to be relaxing. He went out there to think, and to do simple work while he was at it. Unless his memory was failing, there was a bent pitchfork out there with his name on it. It was just one last thing he could do before he left. Of course, he mostly went out to put away his collar.

He wore the collar almost consistently, whether he was actually using it or not, simply because it was such an absolute hassle to get on… or off.  Most ponies required at least another pony to help them in and out of such a thing, but when ma and pa had passed away, Big Mac hadn’t exactly had that luxury, so he knew how to do it by himself.  Still, it wasn’t exactly what he’d call easy work—or at least it wasn’t exactly graceful. Eventually though, he managed to slip out of the collar and set it aside against the wall of the barn, before grabbing the bent pitchfork off the rack and sitting down to straight the tongs out. He wasn’t exactly surprised when Applejack kicked open the barn door.

“What the hay do you mean you’re leavin’?” Applejack stood silhouetted against the night sky looking in for a moment before she stomped the rest of the way in and bumped the door closed again with her hoof. “You think you can just decide to pack your bags and gallop out of here?”

“Eeyup,” Big Mac snorted through his nose as he gave the pitchfork a once over. Most ponies would need a forge to fix it—the poor thing had been an unfortunate bystander in one of his sister’s latest harebrained attempts to get a cutie mark. How the three of them managed to twist the tongs around like that while trying to get cutie marks in cooking, he’d never be able to guess. Fixing it though, that was simple enough. “’nd I decided two weeks ago, Applejack, it just wasn’t so easy to tell y'all. I am sorry for that.”

“Two weeks ago?” Applejack’s voice took on a thoughtful tone, although Big Mac was certain the shift in his sister’s mood was only temporary. Using one of his hooves, he held the pitchfork in place and started straightening the tongs. Lucky he was so strong. “Why, that would’ve… does this have anything to do with you bein’ injured? You’re not still sick, are ya?”

Big Mac hesitated, then shrugged. “Sort of.” Applejack looked askance at him, and Big Mac sighed as he explained a bit further. “I realized you don’t really need my help runnin’ this place, AJ.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Applejack’s voice ratcheted back up into anger. “’course I need your help, if it weren’t for Twilight and em, I wouldn’t have gotten the harvest in at all.”

“Ya came close though,” Big Mac said, “closer than I thought you would’ve.”

“So you missed one Applebuckin’ season, it ain’t the end of the world! And we still need ya plenty around here,” Applejack added resolutely, “I just don’t know what’s gotten in to ya. This ain’t like you.”

“Maybe,” Big Mac frowned. Of course it wasn’t like him; he was always the pony who was sure what he wanted to do. And did what he had to do. He didn’t even have an interesting story about how he had come by his cutie mark—he was just bucking trees one day and poof, there it was. “Maybe that’s a good thing.”

“That’s the stupidest bunch of hooey I’ve ever heard, and I have to listen to Rarity goes on about her mane,” Applejack snorted gustily. “You’re stayin’ and that’s that.”

“Nope,” Big Mac shook his head and picked up his hammer with his mouth, before placing the pitchfork on a small anvil that had been in the family since before Ponyville was founded.

Applejack didn’t say anything while Big Mac pounded the hammer against the pitchfork to get out the last of the kinks that he simply couldn’t bend out with brute force. It wasn’t until he had finished that he realized his sister hadn’t bothered to interrupt—Celestia knows his sister could speak loud enough to be heard over the forging. Nor had she left. Applejack was just standing there, staring at him—maybe her eyes were a bit wetter than normal, but she wasn’t crying. At least as far as he could tell.

“Why are ya leavin’, brother?” Applejack asked again. “This just ain’t like you. I want you to stay, and I know Apple Bloom and Granny do too.”

“There’s…” Big Mac groped for the proper word, “I want to see a bit of the world, I guess. I never have and I figure I’m missing a lot.”

“Where will ya go then?”

“I figure Canterlot first, probably head on down to Manehatten and visit our relatives.” Big Mac paused and shrugged. “After that, I don’t know. Maybe I won’t like it out there, and I’ll be right back here in a jiffy, but at least I can say I was out there.”

Applejack sighed something Big Mac didn’t catch, then bucked the barn doors open and stomped out. He wished she’d stop doing that, she’d only be making more work for herself when the winter came and she suddenly found herself needing to replace part of the door because of all the abuse it had suffered. Clearly she wasn’t exactly happy with him, but he had expected that.

Big Mac set aside the pitchfork, and looked at the other tools hanging on the wall, seeing if there was anything else that needed doing There was, there always was something else that needed fixing, but there wasn’t anything he could do in a couple of hours, and not at this time of night. He might be strong but not everything could be solved through brute force, he’d have to go out to the blacksmith to fix some of the more pitted tools, for example.

So he glanced around the barn once more before blowing out the lantern and trotting back to the house.

The house was dark by the time he reached it, but it wouldn’t be the first time he had gone to bed after all the other members of the household had hit the hay, so Big Mac was perfectly fine with moving through the farmhouse quietly and carefully, even in the pitch darkness. He doubted Applejack had gone to bed just yet, it was much more her style to do her own work when she needed to cool off—or go for a walk. But Apple Bloom was probably tucked in by now, and Granny, well who knew? She could fall a sleep almost whenever the mood took her, and be up at odd hours besides.

Or at least, that’s what he thought; when he finally made his way up to his bedroom he found himself staring face to face with Apple Bloom. The filly had obviously been sent to bed—her mane was brushed out and her red bow, which she wore everywhere, was out of her mane—but she didn’t look like she was ready to turn in just yet. Even if she did look tired.

“How can ya be leavin’ tomorrow, Big Mac?” Apple Bloom asked. “Did… did I do somethin’ wrong?”

Big Mac blinked in surprise; why would Apple Bloom assume he was leaving because of her? “’Course not, Apple Bloom.” Big Mac paused for a second before adding: “That’s a darn foolish notion.”

“B-but,” Apple Bloom stammered, and blinked hard. “Are you mad at us?”

“Nope,” Big Mac said, then closed his door and sat down on his bed next to Apple Bloom. It wasn’t the biggest room in the world, but it was his. Lately though, he was beginning to realize maybe it was a bit too small, in more than one way. “Ain’t no point in gettin’ mad at family, Apple Bloom, not in the long run at least.” He wrapped his forearm around her and gave her a hug. He was only using one leg but he was so big and she was so small she practically vanished against his chest.

“I just want to see a bit of the world,” Big Mac continued, “one day you’ll want to do that yourself. I just want to, I don’t know, discover a bit about myself, I guess.”

“Ya mean like a cutie mark?” Apple Bloom’s voice was somewhat muffled against his coat, but Big Mac heard her all the same. Lately more and more of her classmates were getting their cutie marks, and it had started to get to his sister since she didn’t have one yet. But he was sure she’d get hers soon. “You already got a cutie mark!”

“I do, but a cutie mark ain’t the beginnin’ and end’ of a pony,” Big Mac said, then released Apple Bloom from his hug. “And don’t you worry none, I’ll be home sooner than you know it, I’m sure.”

“Really?”

“’Course.” Big Mac didn’t bother to mention if he did come home, he might only be doing so as a visit. “Now it’s late and I’d like to see you up tomorrow before I go, so y'all better go to bed.”

Apple Bloom looked up at him for a moment before giving him a hug of her own. “I love ya, Big Brother.”

“I love you too, Apple Bloom,” Big Mac tried to ignore the pain in his chest as she hopped off his bed and hurried out the door—almost running into the last member of the Apple household, Granny.

Big Mac frowned of course, although he had been expecting her to come around too. Granny Smith was one of the oldest living members of the Apple Family, but despite her advanced age little escaped her notice. In fact, over the past two weeks as he struggled with making up his mind and then struggled to confront the family with his decision, he had begun to suspect she knew something was going on with him.

“Come to try and get me to stay too?” Big Mac asked finally, after Granny had said goodnight to Apple Bloom and shooed her away, closing the door behind her.

“I reckon there ain’t much point,” Granny said, “youl made up your mind, and there’s few things more stubborn than an Apple with her—or his—mind set on somethin’. Your ma was the same way.”

Big Mac nodded and scuffed his hoof against the floorboards, trying to think of what to say. Even after all this time, it wasn’t easy talking about their parents, especially for Applejack and him, although Granny sometimes brought them up. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to remember them, of course, he missed them dearly, and… well remembering wouldn’t get much work done, he supposed.

“I wanted to say I’m proud of ya, Big McIntosh.” Granny said finally after a long period of awkward silence. “And your ma and pa would be too.”

“’Cause… I’m leavin’?” Big Mac’s heart froze in his chest as a horrible irrational fear gripped him; maybe Granny was trying to tell him that they didn’t need him—in fact, they’d be better off without him!

“Shoot, no ‘course not, sonny!” Granny crackled and sat down beside him on the bed. “I’m proud of ya cause you’re makin’ a choice! I remember when you were just a lit’colt, always goin’ around askin’ for permission for everythin’ and…”

Twitching his ears, Big Mac got up from the bed and started to go through his drawers to find what he was looking for while Granny spoke. It wasn’t that he wasn’t listening, of course, but he knew when Granny got into the mood she could ramble for an hour or more before getting to her point. Better to work and get things done than just spend the time listening.

Mostly, he wanted to bring a couple of photographs along with his best clothing, in case he needed to dress up fancy-like for a job interview or something. Of course, he was hoping his bits would last him long enough that it wouldn’t be much of a problem, but it was better to be safe than sorry.

Folding it up all nicely, Big Mac pulled his saddlebags out from under his bed. His pa had given to him right after he had gotten his cutie mark all those years ago. They were hoofmade with a stitched version of his cutie mark over the clasp. While they weren’t particularly fancy, they had always been special to him. And mostly unused. Most of the time, if Big Mac was headed into town, it was to get something done. He rarely did anything besides work, and certainly nothing that would require saddlebags.

“…mah point is, sonny,” Big Mac shook his head and refocused on what his grandmother was saying. “you’ve all grown up on me—you and Applejack both—and I couldn’t be prouder, and I know your ma and pa would feel the same way.” Granny reached over and scooped Big Mac into a hug with surprising swiftness—and strength. “You’re a fine young stallion, Big McIntosh.”

“Thanks, Granny,” Big Mac said as he pulled away. “I should probably get some sleep though.”

“’Course,” Granny nodded, before getting unsteadily to her hooves. “I’ll see ya in the mornin’, sonny, and don’t you try to sneak out on us or some darn foolishness.” Granny paused at the door and winked at him. “I may be old, but I ain’t stupid.”

Big Mac stared at the door for a while after Granny had left, before taking his own advice and curling up in the bed. It’d probably be the last time he’d get a good night sleep in his own bed—perhaps for the rest of his life, depending on how things went. So he might as well enjoy it while he could.

Plus he should have known sneaking past Granny wouldn’t work; it hadn’t worked when Applejack had tried it all those years ago when she was just a filly, so of course she’d be wise to such things. If his grandmother was to be believed, though, it was apparently something that ran in the family.

Big Mac grunted and thumped his head back against the pillow. It was going to be a long night, and an even longer tomorrow.

**

By noon the next day, Big Mac was starting to wonder if the universe was trying to tell him something; namely, telling him not to travel anywhere for any length of time for any reason.

The first problem had come in the form of trying to say goodbye to the family. He hadn’t expected it to be easy, even without Applejack frowning at him when she thought he wasn’t looking, or Apple Bloom’s worried expression that told him she probably still thought it was all her fault. But he hadn’t been expecting it to be as hard as it was. How Applejack made galloping off into the unknown look so easy he’d never know, but eventually he persevered and managed to extract himself from everypony’s hugs and get on the road.

Which is where he ran into the second problem of his trip; Ponyville’s trains weren’t working. Big Mac rarely ventured into this part of the town, but even he had heard how the rails connecting Ponyville and Canterlot were blocked. How the landslide had happened was anypony’s guess, at the least the way he heard it, but the fact remained that the main, and easiest way of getting to Canterlot wasn’t available to him. This left walking.

In truth, it wasn’t as much of a problem as it might otherwise have been for another pony, but having worked literally all his life on the farm, bucking trees and ploughing fields, Big Mac was more than capable of trotting at a reasonable pace for most of the day until he reached the Lonely Mountain.  Except, by the time he got there, he was tired, sweaty, and to top it off, the last train for Manehatten had already pulled out of the station.

Getting a room wasn’t a big deal, even if he disliked spending the money when he could have avoided it had he left sooner, and at least this way he wasn’t rushed when he got up the next morning and bought his ticket.

That however, proved to be the source of his third hiccup he had thus far encountered on the trip. Motion Sickness.

Having never traveled before, Big Mac had never been on a train before, and except for when he was a little colt, if there was any wagons being hauled around, he was usually the one doing the hauling. So now he was slumped over in his seat, trying his best not to throw up as the train sped towards Manehatten.

Only six more hours to go, Big Mac thought, trying to comfort himself. It didn’t exactly work.

The train swayed rather dramatically, and Big Mac wondered if he should seek out the train’s washroom before he vomited all over the carpet, when he felt a hoof tap him on his shoulder. Looking up he found himself face to face with a gray mare, an earth pony like himself.

“Are you alright? You look a bit… green.” Big Mac stared at the mare for a moment, trying to figure out what she meant. His coat was red, not green and—

A particularly violent stake of the train caused him to clench his teeth as the mare’s eyes grew wide with horror. Luckily at the last minute he fought down the urge to vomit all over her and just shook his head.

“If you’re feeling motion-sick, you should look out the window.” It took him a moment to realize there was a second pony in the compartment—another mare, but a unicorn this time. If the first mare’s voice was cultured and warm, her voice was much more brash and to the point. Still, he didn’t have much to lose, so Big Mac quickly looked out the window at the landscape as it rolled by. Every nerve in his body was telling him to curl up and whimper like a foal, but after a few minutes of watching the blurry trees and mountains, he slowly found his nausea subsiding.

Meanwhile, the two mares decided to take the seats opposite him, although when he glanced at them, the grey-brown mare seemed to be more than a little wary sitting across from him. The same couldn’t be said for the white unicorn, who was laid out on her side, almost forcing the other mare off the seat. Big Mac couldn’t really watch them, except with quick glances, but it was clear to him it didn’t take long for the earth pony mare to forget about worrying about Big Mac’s sickness and trying to keep her seat.

Eventually, though, he pulled his eyes away from the landscape and to his guests. Well, he supposed they weren’t really his guests, but he still felt like he was being rude.

“Thanks,” Big Mac said after a moment, trying to figure out if he was feeling the sensation of nausea rising again. However, he distracted himself by taking in the two ponies in front of him. Besides the way they sat, which was very different, their manes seemed to be polar opposites too; the earth pony’s black mane was long and straight, clearly carefully maintained, whereas her unicorn companion’s was shorter, wilder, and a shade of blue that reminded him of lightning.

“And thank you from refraining from throwing up on me,” the earth pony of the pair said; Big Mac didn’t exactly blame her for taking that tone with him, but still, he couldn’t help but feeling a bit disgruntled. It wasn’t his fault he got motion sick. “My name is Octavia, in the Canterlot Symp—ouch!” Octavia glared at the Unicorn who had just kicked her in the thigh “Vinyl, must you be so difficult?”

“With you? You bet.” Vinyl grinned madly, before assuming a more conservative position in her seat. “So what’s your name?”

“Uh, Big McIntosh. Most call me Big Mac though,” he said with a shrug, then felt his cheeks burn with embarrassment. Even though these two ponies clearly had very different outlooks on life, they were clearly more cultured than not. He, on the other hoof, sounded like an idiot.

“Geez, your parents must have been psychic!” Vinyl said with a laugh, “I mean look at you! Dang, they don’t grow’em like that where I’m from, I can tell you that.” She licked her lips, “kind of sexy, if you ask—oof.”

Vinyl turned to glare at Octavia, who was sitting primly and clearly pretending she hadn’t just smacked the other mare with her hoof. Which was good, because Big Mac suspected his blush was starting to become visible, red coat or no, and it gave him an excuse to look out the window again.

“What did you do that for?”

“It seems that hitting you is the only way to get you to be anything but an uncouth hooligan!”

“You’re just a stick in the mud, you need to relax, pony!”

Big Mac snorted gustily; despite traveling together, the two mares didn’t exactly seem very friendly to one another—although he supposed it might be one of those relationships where the two ponies continually sniped at one another. Too bad the terrain outside wasn’t exactly interesting. It’d be a while before they headed into the Manehatten valley, and until then everything outside the train was just trees or rocks.

“…fine!” Big Mac blinked and turned back to his traveling companions, in time to see Octavia get to her hooves and trot towards the carriage’s exit. She paused at the door and looked back at him. “Can I get you anything to drink, Mister McIntosh? Perhaps a Ginger Ale? It might help your stomach.”

“Uh.” He thought for a brief moment, and then nodded in her direction. It probably would be pricey, given it was on a train, but it would help settle him down, that’d be helpful too. Thankfully, he’d have the money to repay her when she got back.

“That girl needs to chill out,” Vinyl commented, unbidden by Big Mac. With Octavia gone, she stretched out even further, completely dominating the seat meant for several ponies… and exposing herself slightly in the process. It wasn’t much, but from the angle he was sitting at, he could see almost everything… with a blush he turned away—and crossed his legs slightly.

“I suppose,” Big Mac thought quickly—last thing he wanted to do was embarrass himself further—he had to change the subject. “If the two of you don’t get along, why are y’all traveling together?” As he spoke, a thought occurred to him; “or are the two of you sisters or somethin’?”

Vinyl laughed, “Sisters? Us?” The mare doubled up laughing as if he had said the funniest joke in the world—although he really didn’t see what was so funny about asking that. “No, no,” Vinyl managed to wheeze out after what felt like a minute.  “We’re co-workers. Well, sort of.”

“Sort of?”

“Well, I know you’ve probably never heard of any of the boring shit Octavia makes—” Big Mac’s ears twitched—very few ponies swore back in Ponyville. “—but you’ve probably heard of me? I go by the stage name DJ Pon-3?”

Big Mac tried to think if he had ever heard the name before; it did sound familiar, to a degree, but not in such a way that he could pin it down to anyone or thing. Finally, he shook his head, “I’m afraid not, Miss Vinyl.”

“Really?” Vinyl’s eyes grew slightly wide, and for a brief moment, he wondered if he had insulted her by not knowing her name. “Wow dude, I’ve got to let you listen to some of my wubs, they’re awesome! And just call me Vinyl, please, there’s no need to be so formal.”

“I think it’s rather sweet,” Octavia’s voice came from the doorway and Big Mac looked up in time to see her walking into the cabin on three legs as she carried a tray of drinks in her other hoof. Without a second thought, he got up to take the tray—it was only polite—but before he could grab it in his teeth, a light blue corona erupted around the tray and drinks, levitating it out of both of their grasps. He turned back in time to see Vinyl set the tray one of the fold out tables—and to see her switch seats, hopping over to the one he had just been in. Unlike before, however, she didn’t seem interested in forcing him off his seat, and she left the window side open for him.

Good thing too, his sudden movement had made him a touch dizzy.

Vinyl continued as he took the offered drink and sipped it. “As I was saying, the two of us have contracts with Pony Music Entertainment, our record company. Part of the deal involves promoting our music and the company—unfortunately, that means traveling together.”

“It’s not so bad,” Octavia murmured demurely, “after all, we do get to travel more than most ponies.” She turned her pink eyes onto Big Mac, “If I might pry, why are you headed to the fair city of Manehatten, Big McIntosh?”

Lookin’ for adventure, was the first thought that popped into his head, but instead he said; “Family.” Big Mac blushed as Octavia frowned ever so slightly. Don’t clam up, Big Mac, a voice whispered in his head. All too often, if he wasn’t tripping over his own tongue trying to put his thoughts in order, he’d find himself giving one word answers, especially when he was dealing with a mare. Granny called it shyness, but he just found it irritating. “I mean, I’m going to visit my cousins, the Oranges, at least for a little while. Don’t rightly know what I’ll do then.”

“The Oranges?” Octavia’s eyes grew wide and her polite frown turned into an equally measured and slight smile. “You wouldn’t happen to mean the Oranges of the Tropical Orange Emporium, do you?”

Big Mac nodded after a moment’s thought. The Oranges were sort of the black sheep of the family, and really, he wasn’t that closely related to them. Years ago, before he was born, they had moved down south to one of Equestria’s colonies to grow oranges, of all things—even changing their family name. Still, he didn’t begrudge their hard work—they had built the company out of nothing and now they were relatively well off, not even living on their plantation anymore, but in Manehatten.

“Pff, guess you’d fit in real well with Octavia here,” Vinyl said, shaking her head and sipping her own drink, some dark liquid Big Mac had never seen nor smelt before.

“We’re only distantly related,” Big Mac grumbled, suddenly feeling the need to defend himself. “I’m only staying with’em ‘cause I ain’t got no other family to stay with in Manehatten.” His voice was a bit more heated than he intended.

“Whoa there, big guy,” Vinyl said, raising her hooves up in front of her face as if she was fending off an attack. “I’m just teasing you is all. I’m sure you’re a cool cat.” She paused and slowly a grin crept onto her face. “I bet you’d like my rubs!”

“Uh, Pardon?” Big Mac gave the mare a sharp look of surprise. Vinyl’s eyes grew a bit wide, before taking on a predatory gleam as she clued into his confusion, . McIntosh felt his heart beat a little bit faster.

“I meant my music, Big Stuff.” Vinyl’s grin grew a little wider, “But I wouldn’t say no…”

“Oh for…!” Octavia’s voice took on a sharp tone, giving McIntosh a reason to look away from Vinyl, if only for a second. He could feel his cheeks heating again and this time he was sure it was visible through his fur. Ponies back home simply didn’t act like this mare did. At least not in his experience. “You’re awful Vinyl, truly.” Octavia’s eyes narrowed as she glared at the unicorn, before softening as she turned back to Big Mac. “But if you’re going to pull those banshee-screams you call music out, would you be so kind as to retrieve my Celestial Concerto in D Major from my case? I wouldn’t mind showing him my own work too.”

He didn’t have the heart to tell them he really didn’t listen to music that much. It wasn’t as if McIntosh had never heard a lick of music or something. Of course he had. But those instances were few and far between, typically only when the extended family got together. Several of his cousins liked to pick up the fiddle or whatever and play some dance music—even he sometimes would pick up an old banjo or whatever and strum it—but that was it. Still, it was only polite to listen to them, regardless of his own appreciation for music.

Vinyl jumped up onto the seat, balancing on her hind legs—not that Big Mac spent any time looking, of course—and unzipped several of their bags in the top rack. He wasn’t really sure what to expect, but she pulled out a set of speakers and a flat boxy device of some sort. It wasn’t very big, nor were the set of discs Vinyl dropped on top of it. When Vinyl had talked about records—and combined with her name—Big Mac had been expecting records, but these were far too small and shiny to be such things.

Unexpected or not, he wasn’t too surprised when she popped them into the machine and it started playing music.

Even though it had been Vinyl’s idea, Octavia’s record ended up in the machine first, and even to his unpractised ear, he could tell there were far more ponies playing instruments than just Octavia—unless she had one of those contraptions he had seen Pinkie Pie trotting around town with. Regardless, it seemed to be primarily stringed instruments—although he thought, he could hear a wind instrument or two.

“Is that a fiddle?” Big Mac asked, as the music finally faded. It wasn’t bad to listen too, but it seemed to be a very long piece of music, almost completely unbroken. Much longer than most of the songs that got played at Family Reunions, that was for sure.

Octavia blinked, then smiled. “You mean a violin? But yes. I’m surprised you were able to pick that up, most ponies have trouble separating different instruments in a concert.” Octavia’s eyes narrowed slightly and Big Mac got the feeling he was being studied. “Have you ever studied music?”

McIntosh barked a laugh, and shook his head. “Not me, Ms. Octavia, I’m just a farmpony.”

“Yeah yeah,” Vinyl said. To Big Mac’s surprise, she sounded rather short—even when she was arguing with Octavia, she seemed to be half-joking, rather than truly hostile. Now she just seemed irritated, but by what, he had no idea. “Enough of this old stuff.” Vinyl tapped the machine and the disk spat out. “Here’s the good stuff!”

At first, Big Mac wasn’t sure what he was hearing. It was nothing like Octavia’s music, and something he had never heard before. Part of him almost didn’t want to call it music at all. He couldn’t pick out any instruments, and many of the sounds seemed to be distorted or outright strange, not to mention that vocals were a large part of the music too. And even they were distorted and altered somehow. It wasn’t until he realized it was Vinyl singing—if you could call that singing—that he realized the singer wasn’t stuttering, but simply repeating words and such was done intentionally. There was also an awful lot of cursing and profanity, which made McIntosh’s ears flick back and forth uneasily.

But he also kind of liked it.

Octavia’s music was lovely, and it wasn’t that he didn’t appreciate all the work she had put into it, but there was something primal about Vinyl’s music. It seemed to get inside his head and chest, making him want to… dance? Maybe? He wasn’t sure what he wanted exactly. As the song finished up and faded out, Big Mac found himself wishing he could listen to it again. Of course, if Granny ever caught him listening so such music, she’d probably wash his ears out with soap—even if one ignored the swearing, a herculean task in and of itself, he was pretty sure the ‘message’ or ‘story’ behind the lyrics was about sex or something like that.

“We don’t got nothin’ like that back in Ponyville,” Big Mac commented when the song finally ended. Or at least, he had never heard anything like that back home. To his surprise, both the mare’s faces lit up in recognition.

“Whoa dude, you never said you lived in Ponyville!” Vinyl gushed, and McIntosh couldn’t figure out why—until she continued. “Do you know any of the Elements of Harmony?”

“Uh, well…” Big Mac’s good mood suddenly turned sour; it figured he wouldn’t be able to escape his little sister’s shadow even out here. He hadn’t stopped to consider that the mares would be world-famous, rather than just local heroes, but he supposed that made sense. But the last thing he wanted to do was talk about his gosh-darn sister. But then… they didn’t know he was one of the Elements’ siblings so… “Well, I’ve heard of them ‘course, but most of them from reputation only, you understand.” Thank goodness he wasn’t a terrible liar like Applejack.

“Wow!” Octavia bounced slightly in her seat, in such a way that seemed at odds with her uptight personality. “But I guess Ponyville isn’t as small as the media makes it sound.”

“Uh, right.” It took him a moment to realize she meant that it wasn’t small enough that everypony would know every other pony.

“So anyway, what did you think of my wubs there, Big Stuff?” Vinyl shook her head, then leaned in towards him.

“I kind of liked that.”. Big Mac smiled slightly at Vinyl, who returned it with a grin. “What did you say that was called? Rubs?”

“The genre is Hip-hop, if that’s what you’re asking,” Octavia answered before Vinyl could. Now it was her turn to sound annoyed. Big Mac wasn’t sure what was going on—it wasn’t like he had much of a chance of understanding how a mare’s mind worked, after all—but he had the sneaking suspicion that it was probably about him. Somehow. Maybe she wasn’t happy that he seemed to like Vinyl’s music more than hers?

“I liked your music too, Ms. Octavia,” Big Mac said, hoping it might defuse the situation. It wasn’t a lie, of course, but Octavia’s just wasn’t his mug of cider. “You both seem like mares who are passionate and all about your music, and uh, it shows.”

“Thank you!” Both mares said exactly the same time, which for some reason caused them to stare daggers at each other.

“…I just wish I could make music like that,” Big Mac added hastily without thinking. He didn’t want to be caught between some sort of catfight between the two ponies.

“Why can’t you?” Octavia sounded surprised, and Vinyl nodded in agreement.

“Well, uh, what I meant was, I’ve never really tried to, I can’t play nothin’, after all.” McIntosh tried to cover up by taking another sip of his drink, only to realize it was empty.

“Well, what about singing?” Octavia asked, “I’d think with such a deep voice like yours, you’d make a lovely baritone in an Opera.”

“Yeah dude, I bet you could belt it out with the best of them,” Vinyl added, as she started to unhook the disc-playing machine. “And don’t worry about training or any of that bull, most artists in my field are self-taught.”

“And it shows,” Octavia snorted.

“Can it!”

“That’s—” For once, his brain caught up with his tongue, and Big Mac found himself thinking about what Vinyl was saying. Maybe the first step to having an adventure is taking risks, he thought to himself. “Are you offerin’?”

Vinyl blinked and looked at him as if she was surprised, and for a second he was sure she was going to turn him down—or brush him off or something like that. Then she smiled like a filly who had gotten an extra slice of cake. “Well, sure! Come by the studio and we’ll hang out, maybe we’ll hit a show or two.”

The unicorn’s enthusiasm was infectious, and McIntosh found himself grinning back. In all likelihood, nothing would come of it, but it was exhilarating to try—and suddenly he couldn’t wait to get to Manehatten. He had always been looking forward to it, of course, but now it just seemed so much more… exciting. At the very least, he’d have a story to tell when he got back to Ponyville. Then Vinyl said something that shocked him.

“It’s a date!”