All these young’uns that hang around the streets these days; always complaining it seems to be. It’s all ‘cutie mark’ this and ‘cutie mark’ that. In my day we didn’t think too much about our cutie marks as they seem to nowadays; we thought about ‘em, that’s true alright, but we didn’t think about them to the extent that that was all we could ever think about. Why I remember the day that I first got the mark on my flank...but then you youngsters wouldn’t want to hear a boring tale like that. It wouldn’t be nearly enough exciting compared to all of your fancy books and those magical moving pictures that you have around here nowadays. I doubt you’ll even of heard the first line I ‘appened to say to you. Unless I’m hosting a funeral or saying hello to Miss Pinkie I never really get too much attention from the young ponies. Why, in my day I was known as one of the ‘andsomest, most gorgeous young colt foals around.
Well maybe I over exaggerated a bit on that point. I was ‘andsome and I was gorgeous but nopony else would have realised back then. They was far too polite to say anything to me about it ‘cause to be honest I was really rather shy before I got my cutie mark. I had friends though; a lot of friends and they much ‘ppreciated all that I ever did for them. I always helped out anypony who would ask, most of the time without them knowing ‘cause I was too shy to tell them out front I was helping them. And you know what, now I come to think of it, they helped me a mite too. Why, I think they helped me on the day I got my mark if I recall correctly. At least, I think they did anyway. Ah yes, there was a right mystery the day I got my cutie mark, that there was.
I remember it like it was just yesterday...though of course it wasn’t you’ve got to understand. That was just a figure of speech like, I’m actually quite an old pony though you may not rightly believe it with the way I do my hair and wear my fancy bow ties. Ah, Miss Pinkie ‘ppreciates a good tie, that she does. Not many ponies do anymore; sad really, I love a good tie. Anyway what was I talking about again? Oh, about the day I got my Cutie mark you say...erm...How did I get my cutie mark again? You know for the life of me I can’t remember. You see, cutie marks weren’t so important in my day...Oh I already told you that. I’m sorry, I forget things quite easily. Why, I’d forget my head if it wasn’t attached to my body.
Anyway, cutie marks. You want to know how I first got mine don’t you? Ah, it was a strange but special day that day. I had just woken up and set off to go speak with my oldest and dearest friend at her family’s farm.
Smithie was always a good’un, right from the start. She could make you feel better after a crisis, buck some apple trees, plant some seeds and bake some good ol’ apply pies in no time at all. ‘Course that was all I wanted in a friend back then; someone who I could count on to help me out in a crisis.
Now, I wouldn’t entirely say that Smithie was as pretty as many of the youngsters around Ponyville now, but back then fillies didn’t come that pretty; in fact for the time Smithie was one of the most attractive workers around these here parts. I, myself, couldn’t help but blush when she asked me to dance one of her country jigs with her.
Smithie was something else. Something so ungraceful and uncouth that you couldn’t help but just fall for her down-to-earth qualities...and her radiant smile; how it gleamed at me when I arrived on the ranch in the morning. It was as if Celestia’s own sun resided in her mouth like a sweet, sweet gobstopper. Yes indeed, I cared and admired Smithie more than any other pony around Ponyville. Not that anypony had been living there very long though; I myself had only moved over there when a blight killed all of the crops in my old village. We moved to Ponyville in the hope that there would be fertile land in which we could gain our food. Father and Mother always hated Ponyville; can’t say I ever understood why. They were uppety I guess; right complainers they could be sometimes. Me? I was happy. And Smithie only made me downright happier.
If I remember rightly on that day I took up the same proceedings I did everyday in the village. Trotted on up to Apple Acres with a big wide ol’ grin on my face, and there was Smithie baking a pie right in front of me. If her cutie mark didn’t tell you what her special talent was then her pies should certainly help make it clear for you. They were delicious; a sweet pastry for the ages was that pie.
“Why howdy there Waddy,” she called to me as I stood watching her. Right perceptive she was Smithie; could see an escaping rabbit from a mile away. Always amazed me it did, the way she could see so clearly. I did my usual tip of the head to show that I didn’t want to get in the way of anything she was doing. Smithie smiled at me and then turned to put her unbaked pie into the old aga. The mere thought of Smithie’s baked pie made my mouth water, it did. Even now it makes me hungry to think of it.
Smithie then walked over to me, not even washing all of the flour off of her body. She was always a tad messy when she was baking and you could be as sure as sugar that her Mom would come and tell her off for it fairly soon. The flour never covered her mark though, that shone as clear as day. It never made me envious, seeing all of the other ponies with their cutie marks; even if I might have been a tad bit old to not have one. Like I said, cutie marks just weren’t so important in them days.
“So, still got a blank flank then Waddy? Ah thought you were gonna go try some stuff down at the river yesterday.”
Okay, so maybe we thought about them a tad bit...but not to the extent that that was all I thought about. It’s not like it was too rare that a pony my age didn’t have one...why I once knew a stallion who was as old as the hills before he even got his mark. He was a shepherd pony looking after all of them lambs and ewes. A shy feller if I remember correctly...What? Oh right, the story.
Well, I answered back to Smithie I believe. If Smithie asked a question then it was always rude not to answer. Though Smithie had this problem whereby she would switch off while you were answering and then come back with a random comment. Happened a lot and didn’t fail to happen then either.
“Yes I went,” I told her, tugging on my new bow tie, “still nothing though.”
Then out of nowhere she shot off to a tree in front of me yelling at the top of her voice.
“Hay! Where’s that there plum I saw growing here the other day?”
Now to be honest, I most likely had no idea what she was talking about, such was the price of being around the farm mare for too long, but I must say that I joined in this new line of interest with a lot more enthusiasm than the last subject we had been leading onto. Explaining to an adventurous mare like her why I am still a blank flank was not on my ‘to do list’ of the day. It was only embarrassing in the fact that most ponies didn’t consider you an adult until you had gained your mark. I was essentially still classed as a foal to everypony; though I felt it was slightly unfair considering I was older than the foals who went to the newly built local school.
The plums were of keen interest to the young green mare it seemed, and to me as well. As far as I knew the family orchard only really grew apples, so a plum seemed like a strange oddity to have appeared around these parts. There was certainly no plum growing on any tree on that day. Nor should there be any plums growing on the trees on any other day. Smithie spat onto her hooves, preparing for a courageous climb up the large trunk. Sadly she never made it that far. Her Mother shot around the corner, worriedly searching over the ground. Her eyes peered up onto her young daughter and she snapped:
“Smithie! Get down off that tree immediately and go and wash yourself; you’re absolutely coated in flour.” Smithie frowned, but it made me grin from ear to ear. I knew that her Mother would find her and say it eventually. It happened nearly every day and yet Smithie had still never caught onto the idea of washing straight after baking so as to avoid her Mothers harsh tongue on the matter.
It seemed on that day, however, that her Mother didn’t have the time or patience to scold her daughter to the extent she usually did. The ground seemed to be of much superior care for her at the minute. It made you want to laugh seeing her muttering to herself with her nose almost dragging on the floor; although I couldn’t laugh because I didn’t want to be rude. Smithie didn’t mind though, she practically collapsed onto the floor, she was laughing so much. Her Mother didn’t even pay a blind bit of notice. Whatever she was doing, it was serious business. I strode forward slightly, tugging on my bow tie (something I often did as a nervous tick).
“Excuse me Miss,” I said, ever the formal gentlecolt, “Is there something wrong?”
Her eyes shot upwards to look at me. Scared me right and proper that did; jumped backwards slightly like a terrified frog being stared at by a Hydra with drool coming out of its mouth. At first I thought she was going to tear me a new one and cut me to shreds with some nasty words (even Smithie seemed to think so and stepped next to me to back me up), but it seemed that she wasn’t trying to hurt me after all; instead she simply just sighed and stood up properly.
“I’m just looking for my jewel encrusted necklace; the one my husband gave me after the last boom sale of Zap Apple Season.”
“That’s strange,” Smithie spoke up, “Your necklace went missing, and ma plum seems to have vanished as well.” Got to admire Smithie for her strange list of priorities. Still, it was unusual that the necklace should have disappeared. I’d seen the thing just yesterday. Smithie had shown me it in the box in her parents’ room; without permission of course, but she had said that it hardly ever came out of the box. How did it ever get out? I asked Smithie’s Mom the very same.
“I was wearing it outside yesterday when that nice Mr Rich came over for dinner. I know I took it off and hung it on the peg of my windowsill last night...I’d left the box outside you see, and the Timberwolves were about so I couldn’t go get it until morning. The next thing I knew it was morning and the necklace had gone.” Her Mother looked very downtrodden about the precious jewellery going missing; I knew that it meant a lot to her being a gift from her husband and everything. Poor dear, I couldn’t help but feel sorry for her. Smithie didn’t especially seem to share my sentiments; still trying to unravel the mystery of her disappearing plum from the apple tree. I must admit I didn’t admire her compassion towards her Mother’s feelings, but her commitment was commendable.
“Well, where do you think they could have gone Miss?” I asked with red cheeks. Speaking out loud to her Mother was not a usual task for me; her Mother frightened me at the best of times. Not to mention relationships between Smithie’s parents and my parents had been somewhat ...disagreeable. I couldn’t even expect that Mrs.Seed would answer my question, yet she obliged me with a polite, if offhand, utterance.
“Well...besides the thought that I could have left it out here near the box without realising...which I suppose I knew wasn’t true in any way; I can’t really think of where else it could have gone.” Again she sighed. She seemed to be doing a lot of sighing through our conversation. I recall an image of her collapsing from lack of air left in her body popping into my mind. I pondered for a few moments, pushing back my long locks of wispy hair before startling both mares with my next exclamation.
“Unless it was stolen.”
Now I don’t suppose I ever considered that I would get either one of them to believe me; in fact I believed that I would be told to stop speaking nonsense and be quiet, but my revelation had sparked quite the opposite effect. Both Mother and daughter...believed me. This was something entirely new to me, I had never managed to get anypony to believe that an idea I had was right, especially not one as outlandish as that had been, but it seems that they found some truth in my words. Indeed, the necklace...and of course, the plum (Smithie added that accusation) MUST have been stolen by somepony who had been there, in the farm, that evening. But who would have had the opportunity, that’s what I needed to figure out.
“What sort o’ pony comes and nicks a plum and a neckylace?” My agitated friend seemed to grow more uncomfortable the more she thought about a certain thief in our mitts. I, myself, was not really pleased to think that somepony would stoop so low as to steal a necklace; the plum I would worry about later. It just depended on who would have had the means and the opportunity to actually be able to take the piece of jewellery without any other pony realising.
Now, I had never been like Smithie; I had never been so perceptive I could spot a ‘thieving varmint’ from a mile away, but I knew a lot about other ponies. I considered myself friendly with almost everypony in Ponyville, but I had gained a tinge of cynicism that I inherited from my parents; so I wasn’t afraid at looking towards the dark side of pony’s characters...the desperate, greedy side as it were. I know this is probably a foreign language to you young’uns but friendship isn’t all about caring and loving, at least it had never been when I grew up. No, friendship was all about knowing the innermost depths of the pony’s character.
For example, I consider myself to be friends with Miss Pinkie and she has very good tastes in bow ties I have to agree, but I also know that she would not be afraid to jump to conclusions about what her friends were up to. She is as cynical as any other pony; yet she chooses to rebel against that fact. I once knew another pony exactly like that...Speckled Hen was his name; fond of a drink was Henners, quite often seen down in the ditch after a big night out; never could hold his drink down really. I remember once when we were out at night and he was cursing and swaying all around and then he...what? Oh, the story. Right. Sorry youngsters, I forgot where I was for a moment then. Now, where was I? Oh right, so me and Smithie went to talk to Mr Rich while Mrs Seed carried on hunting over the orchard.
Mr Rich was a nice middle-aged pony back then. Come into a good deal with Mr Seed and now had managed to buy himself a nice little storefront with which to sell his goods. Ponies came from all over to buy the Zap Apple Jam from the Apple orchards and you could bet Mr Rich would be the first one buying the bunch. We went to see him at his store but it seemed that he’d scurried off after an opportunity he had heard about a couple of miles away. Ever since his good fortune with the Jam he had perused for other products everywhere; he was very much coming out of his shy shell and into the big wide world of buy and sell.
Thankfully his son Tad Rich had been left in charge of the store front. Tad was a nice young colt he was, awfully locked up in himself a lot of the time; much the opposite of his twin sister Dolittle, who frankly annoyed everypony in town with the amount of gossip she liked to spread. I was very fortunate that it was only Tad in the shop today, I was fairly sure that if Dolittle and Smithie even stood in the same room together they would rip each other to shreds. You see, Dolittle and Smithie were polar opposites of each other, and though differences often work in friendships, these two were so different that one could easily be an angel pony and the other a pony from the underworld. I’ll let you decide which was which.
Tad was sat reading a book when we entered I believe. Well, he usually was whenever anypony came into the shop. Obsessed with reading was Tad; could speak as many foreign languages as a pony that was born to them. If ever you needed information on something Tad was the colt to go and see. He was cleverer than lots of ponies ever gave him credit for, and as business savvy as his Father seemed to be. Tad could sell a wig to a lion, that he could (if there had been any lions living in the area that is).
“Howdy Tad.” Smithie was the first one to alert the grey colt to our arrival. He looked up over his book carefully; checking who it was in front of him. He seemed at ease when he saw it was only us two. He smiled at us with his dazzling white teeth. I always wondered how he and Smithie managed to get their teeth so startling perfect while I always seemed to have an ugly pair of choppers in my mouth.
“Hello Smithie. Hello Waddy. What can I do you for today? You want some of our apple taffy? Just came in yesterday from Canterlot itself.” He pointed to a large array of sweets arranged in a specially decorated box on the table.
“No we’re fine thank you Tad,” I answered politely. Unfortunately Smithie didn’t quite agree with me as she walked over to the treats licking her lips hungrily.
“Mmmm...Speak for yourself Waddy. Ah wouldn’t mind one.”
Tad beamed and bent down to pick up his trusty scoops and paper bags. He carefully spooned a few of the special new apple sweets into a bag for Smithie; to which she was very grateful.
“How much?” she enquired taking hold of the special paper parcel.
“Tell you what; I’ll make you a deal. I’ll give you these for free if you give me a couple slices of your famous apple pie.”
“Apple Pie!” Smithie shrieked, causing both of us stallions to jump nearly out of our skins. Smithie pelted out the door as fast as her legs could carry her, yelling ‘thanks’ to Tad as she exited through the door. Tad looked shocked at her strange outburst, but it only caused me to smile once more. Smithie was so forgetful and random when it came to her remembering. It didn’t take long to explain to Tad that Smithie had in fact forgotten that she’d left her latest baked goods in the oven and was running home to stop it burning. Tad understood, he knew Smithie more than any other pony in the whole town; after all their families worked very closely together. It was now up to me to question Tad about the activities of the night before.
“Last night? Me and my folks went to Apple Acres for Dinner.”
“What time did you leave?” He considered for a moment.
“About ten o’clock I believe. We would have left earlier but Mrs Seed had made her popular tarts...and well, we couldn’t refuse them.” That was true, Mrs Seed did cook an awful lot of tarts. However, not all of them were so ‘popular’ as he put it; she had a habit of trying to create new flavours that just didn’t work together. Her peach, peanut butter and spinach being just one of these ‘baked bads’ that terrified the household into working late and avoiding dinner. I had to assume that Tad was being polite with his speech about his hosts the night before.
“Did any of you go back after leaving?” This question clearly perplexed my friend, and I found myself embarrassed even seeing his reaction.
“No. All of us came home and went to bed. We had to get up early because of Father’s trip you see.” I saw Tads eyes shift back onto his book for a second as if he wanted to get back to his new novella desperately. Patience was not one of Tad’s greatest virtues. I decided I’d better finish with my line of enquiry quite fast.
“What about Dolittle? Did she go to Apple Acres?” I figured that if anypony in this family would want the beautiful necklace it would be the prissy, greedy mare that fancied herself more than she should.
“No, my sister's out of town at the minute. She’s gone to stay with one of my Aunts in Canterlot. I could have gone as well but well...I don’t particularly like that Aunt.” He blushed as if he had done something wrong. I had known many ponies like that, who were embarrassed when they had any small mean thought about another living being; me quite often being one of those scarlet cheeked few. His eyes moved to his book again.
“I’ll go now and let you carry on reading. Thanks for everything Tad.” I began to head towards the door.
“Tell you what though Waddy.” I turned, expecting some kind of wonderful new piece of information. “I left my bird book when watching some maggies and crows yesterday so I’m going to go back there soon. Tell Smithie would you?” I don’t know how I felt, but I knew that I was disappointed with this new tidbit. This necklace looked further and further away the more I searched. I had turned into a Tatty Matt, who was another colt who constantly lost his items and never ever found them again. Tatty Matt was nice but very clumsy he was. Why I can recall when he...I was talking about what? Oh right. Sorry, my train of thought fell off its tracks again. Now, where did I go next?
I decided to go and take a look at the crime scene; namely the peg on which the necklace had been hung the night before. Smithie was busy when I reached Apple Acres. Her pie had luckily not burnt at all, but she was now making a special apple cake out of the bruised apples she had dropped making the apple pie. I didn’t dare go into her parents room without permission. I was sure her Mom would not go so easy on me if she found me uninvited in her bedchambers. I seemed to be stood in the hallway for an exceedingly long time debating what to do, before Apple Strudel turned up to help me in my endeavours.
Apple Strudel was the oldest of Smithie’s two older brothers, and a very friendly stallion as well. He could often be found in the orchard whistling one of his merry tunes, or in the kitchen eating the last piece of Smithie’s latest pie. He was very good at eating was Strudel, won many eating competitions in his time and enjoyed every single one of them. I was one of his competitors in some of them, and it fair astounded me to see how much food he could fit in his stomach. I suppose that’s why he had a piece of pie with cream on his flank; to commemorate this special (if not peculiar) ability.
Anyway, Strudel always treated me like I was one of the family and so he was not against letting me into his parents room whilst he guarded the door. Finally I might be able to get something done.
The room was as it was the day before when Smithie and me had been in there looking at the necklace. The window was open, as it usually was, for Mrs Seed didn’t like the room to get too stuffy at night. The desk and bed were exactly like any other pony’s would be; there was certainly no clue as to a thief coming in. My eyes were not the keenest so I could have easily overlooked something important. However, I was sure that I had not found anything and that I never would.
The sun shone through the right hand side of the window, glaring down onto the side of the window pane. A glittering light reflected into my eyes creating an ambiance most spectacular. I loved the shininess of the sun in the late morning, and soon it would be lunch time. I was wishing upon wish that I would be allowed to stay and sample the cake and pie that I had seen Smithie make this morning. My parents went out often at lunch time and so I always knew I could not expect much to eat at home; even the larder would be empty because my Mom hardly ever did her weekly shop on time. She hated going into the stores and so she avoided doing it as long as she possibly could. I could never understand my parents obvious hatred of Ponyville, and I still have yet to figure out what was wrong.
My face grew cold in the bedroom as a large gust of wind rattled through the open window. It was freezing; I wasn’t so keen on being cold even then, it made my teeth rattle. Now the problem is when my teeth rattle it usually means that for a while any sound from far away would not be heard by me. For example, I cannot hear the wonderful compliments that Miss Pinkie gives me when I am cold; nor can I hear the Mayor’s speeches when I am cold. I also cannot hear a faint knock of warning on a door followed by a quick set of footsteps coming straight into a room where I should not be.
“What are you doing in here?” was the first thing I heard behind me. Even peering over my shoulder I could tell that Mrs Seed was not happy and did not approve of my spying in her bedchambers. Then again, I suppose I wouldn’t really like anypony looking through my personals either. I started tugging at my bow tie again, trying to find a suitable answer that would avoid my immediate dismissal from the house.
“Erm...I - I - don’t know. I...” That’s when it hit me. The answer was quite clear. I knew who had stolen the necklace, and I knew where we could find it and get it back. I tried telling Mrs Seed this but her anger did not evaporate as much as I would have hoped. Thankfully I was saved by a wonderful mare. A most wonderful mare indeed. The door opened and who should be stood there but Apple Strudel and Smithie.
“Oh there you are Waddy,” Smithie exclaimed, noting her Mother’s angry expression, “ah told you ages ago to go and get a bit of that special sugar from ma’ Mom’s draws.” I had no idea what she was talking about, and clearly Mrs Seed was as lost as I was about this ‘special sugar’. Apple Strudel trotted over to the table and pulled open a draw. His hoof moved swiftly through it, looking for something. It was very clever, very clever indeed. You could only see from over where I stood that the sugar he pulled out was in fact not from the drawer, but had been carefully hidden in his sleeve all along. His Mother was duped into believing that this sugar had been in her bedside cabinet all along.
Fairly soon a large crowd had gathered in the dining room of the small little house. Smithie, Mr Seed, Mrs Seed, Strudel, Shoe Horn (The youngest brother in the family. Nice stallion, bad hat), a very lost Tad, a tired Mr and Mrs Rich, and...Oh, who am I missing? I’m sure there was somepony else in the room...Hmmm...Me. That’s right, it was me.
I did what any other great detective would do. I behaved just as Sherlock Hooves, Hermule Poirot, and Miss Maple had done before me: I went around the room explaining and pointing my hoof at everypony in the room and told everypony why they would have done it...before ending this speech with:
“But alas, none of you committed the crime.” That shook ‘em up a bit I can tell you. They hadn’t seen that one coming at all; I had actually begun to enjoy all of this detecting lark. It definitely had some element of fun in its title.
“In fact there are three things that point to the only one that could have taken it:” I began to list the things of which I had discovered about the case in a most dignified manner (Oh, I do love a good list or two, don’t you).
“A. A new suspect has just moved into the area and does not live too far away from Apple Acres.” They all accepted that without speculation though I had hoped it would have caused some form of arousal. “B. The moon at the moment shines directly onto the area in which the peg was located. The necklace would be made quite visible to the thief at night time.” Again, they accepted this without a worry or care. I had hoped to startle them more but still I carried on. “And finally: C. This thief had a certain taste...for plums.” Now, that one made them all jump that I can tell you. Finally their minds started to go into overdrive of what I could mean. I saw many puzzled looks in the room, and somehow this made the event even more thrilling to me.
I may have seemed smug when I walked over to the window and placed the tiny plum (that I had instructed Tad to bring over with him from the shop), but I was genuinely enjoying all of this malarkey.
“Now watch!” I told my fellow ponies. They stared towards the window and it wasn’t long before they saw what I had meant for them to see. A friendly magpie landed gracefully on the windowsill; its tiny formal vest shimmering over its body and its feet waltzing over to the tiny fruit I had placed there. I always had a thing for maggies; they always seemed like they were going to some fancy occasion or something, and of course they always dressed in the nicest of....
“Jewellery,” I told the watching crowd, “is one thing that these creatures cannot stay away from. It seems that if something shiny catches their eye....they want it more than anything. So for example,” I carried on, “if the moon happened to gleam onto a bright jewel, they would have no choice but to take it really.”
I trotted over to the chest by the kitchen door. I had carefully planned out this entire act and now was the time to make my bows. I pulled out the object that I had carefully placed in there only ten minutes before and lo and behold...there was the necklace right in front of them. I had never felt so much pride in my life up until that moment. Mrs Seed practically squeezed me to death, she was so happy. I had made everypony in the room smile and that was good.
You see only fifteen minutes before when I had asked Smithie to run and get the Rich family, I myself had gone in search for the nest. It had only taken a little walk and a small climb before I had managed to get the necklace back ready for the big showcase. And it had all been worth it in the end. Everything was good again on Apple Acres farm. The End.
What? What did you say? How did I get my cutie mark then? You young’uns. All you ever care about is cutie marks don’t you. Why in my day we didn’t care so much for them at all. I even remember when I got my cutie mark; it wasn’t such a big deal. Do you want to hear that story? No. Well that’s a bit rude. What did you say dear? Oh, my cutie mark...Well, you see it came onto my flank right when I did my first mystery case. ‘The case of the missing necklace’; it was a good one. After that first case, and after getting my detectives pipe cutie mark I quickly decided to train to be a detective. Had many cases right up until my retirement day I did.
Smithie? Well, she got married and had a few young’uns of her own. Still makes the best apple pies this side of Equestria. Ah...we had some good times she and I. Even solved a few more mysteries together in our youth.
But then, that’s another story.
