Haters Gonna Hate

Chapter Three: Partaking Of The Offered Cup

You can't call yourself a man, if you're not willing to man up.

In my case, I couldn't call myself a pony if I wasn't willing to (Fuck, I'm really going to say this, aren't I?) pony up.

No pun intended.

My parents did a good job raising me. They taught me responsibility, self-reliance and self-confidence, and, most importantly, self-reflection. When I look at myself in the mirror before I go to bed (Which I was really missing at this point), I ask myself what my regrets are. I ask myself what I've done right and wrong today. Then, if I've a clear conscience, I lay my head down on my soft pillow, turn off the lamp, pull up the covers, and doze off to dream of whatever story my subconscious can concoct for me.

Man, I fucking miss my bed.

There's a Johnny Cash song that was inspired by a dream. "The Man Comes Around". Outwardly, it's a gospel song inspired by a dream the man in black had, where Elizabeth II called him, "a whirlwind in a thorn tree". Allegedly, that's what inspired him to write the song about Revelations, Judgement Day, and the wicked being sent to Hell.

I think I would accept that punishment over this one any day.

~#~

I might just be a masochist.

I had to be.

Why else was I going to do this? My hooves (fuckIhatesayingthat) made a quick pace across the down. I couldn't help but notice I was a little faster now. I still felt god-awful, but I had something kicked into me during the fiasco at the boutique. Maybe it was the shame of what I'd done the night before, or maybe it was a part of me that's far softer than the rest of me that said, "Give them a second chance. It's something you always ask for."

They weren't the ones who needed the second chance. I was. I had to apologize, make amends, and then get my (hopefully human) ass the hell out of Ponyville. There was a sense of foreboding in the air as I sped up to a brisk trot, and I knew the source.

Spike.

That little nut had flipped when he found out I wasn't the real Hatesteed, whatever that was. He'd called it, "the ponyfication of all the hate in the world". Hell, I felt plenty hateful: Enough to qualify as a Red Lantern and Sith Lord simultaneously. But I knew I wasn't the Hatesteed. I couldn't be. Could I?

In any case, his panic had let me deduce something; there was a rebuke coming on for me. TS must have been scared half to death by what I did, or even half-dead. And whom would she run to? Whose wings would she cower behind?

The answer was easy: The motherfucking Princess.

I felt a fresh surge of anger at the thought. That title had never made a damn bit of sense to me. She had to be a Queen, or an Empress. But, no. In order to sell toys, they called her "Princess", because all girls should want to be a pretty, precious, fucking princess.

There's only one princess I can respect, and her name is Wonder Woman.

In any case, on top of that punishment, I had to suffer something far worse than the wrath of a vengeful princess pretending to be a deity.

I had to suffer the righteous fury of a pony by the name of Applejack.

I had to be a masochist. I absolutely had to be.

It didn't take long for me to cross the town. Ponyville, while populous, is a modest place, despite the fucking cookie-cutter architecture and neon-colored ponies. Seriously, when God made this planet, did he just use the brightest fucking paints he could find for the ponies? The brightness and cutness still made my eyes burn. So, on top of whatever bruises Applejack was going to do to me, I had to see the doctor for eyedrops.

And then, I realized with a sinking heart, I had to find a way home.

The stall seemed quite crowded. I wasn't sure what it was usually like, but even I know a crowd when I see one. I slowed my pace, and stood at a distance. My ears tilted (FUCK THAT WAS WEIRD) forward, picking up as much of the conversation as I could.

"—lucky you didn't get killed!"

"Shucks, s'only a fracture. Doubt that varmit had the gumption t' try an' take me down!"

"Applejack, that was the Hatesteed. You know the history behind that maniac."

"Doesn't that make her brave, then? I mean, she took a beating for a friend. That's loyalty if I ever saw it."

"C'mon, now, it weren't that impressive. Feller looked right scared out of his hide, too."

My eyebrow twitched at that. Well, no fucking shit, Sherlock. You try waking up a different species, and then you tell me how terrified you are. Especially one with wings. Which I still didn't know how to use. And magic. Which again, I hadn't a clue how to use. I was lucky I hadn't reduced Happytown to a crater with a sneeze…

"Well, what do you think you'll do if you see him again? You can't exactly fight him like this."

"Uh…'Bout that. We maybe 'bout t' find out. Sis?"

My sight suddenly returned to the crowd. It had parted. Applejack's eyes were wide, seafoam green locked on mine. There was terror in her gaze, and trepidation. I could see a small red and gold shape slip behind her. Her little sister?

Then, her face shifted. Her eyes furrowed, and a hoof raised to lower the brim of her hat. Her eyes were screaming wrath and murder, promising pain and retribution. I would like to imagine mine were cold as ice, and calm as a paradise sea. But I knew that was a total load of ponyshit.

…Well, fuck, now I'm started to TALK like I'm one of them.

"You got some nerve in you, 'beast, I'mma give you that." Her voice was dripping with malice and venom. "Come for another whuppin?"

"You know what else you can give me, Jack-ass? A chance to explain myself! Don't' jump to conclusions and pretend you know what's what!"

…Is what I would've liked to say. But, unfortunately, my mouth makes a habit of speaking for itself when I'm not looking. I scowled, and my eyes narrowed. I felt a crackle run down my leg. "I'm sorry, who's the one here with the fractured bone? Or are you just upset that your ego got a little boo-boo?"

I'm a fucking idiot.

An angry snort left her nostrils, and she pawed the ground. "You better be watchin that wagglin' forked tongue of yers, Hatesteed. You ain't gonna be so smug when I'm through with you."

"Oooh, I'm shaking in my hooves." I extended a wing and shook it sarcastically. "See? I'm terrified."

Actually, I was. I was also coming to the realization that my mouth was going to a lot of trouble to make me sound as vicious as possible. I had to reign it in. I closed my eyes, and took a deep breath. "Look, I-"

WHAM.

The force of the hooves that impacted on my face must have been enough to crack bone. I felt my jaw shudder at the impact, along with the rest of my body. My head was pushed aside, as Applejack's rear hooves slammed into my jaw. Lowering them, she smirked.

But that smug grin faded fast. When my eyes opened, lightning was crackling down my figure. I could hear it, I could taste the ozone in the air, and I could see the fear in her eyes as I slowly turned to look at her. Again, I saw that look of finality in her eyes: She thought she was about to die.

Had it not been for the fact I was already fucking miserable, and a small voice in the back of my mind reminded me why I was here, she might have been.

I lowered my wings, and exhaled heavily, the crackling of static fading from my fur. Normally, I'd comment on how strange it felt to say that, but I was far too tired. My eyes opened again, to find her looking nothing short of confused.

And then, I did the most painful thing I have ever done to myself. I lowered my head, and said, "I'm sorry."

Let me take you through that. I was bowing my head to a fucking pony. I was telling her I was sorry. You could probably hear every bit of ego and dignity I had left in me from the fucking nightmare that was the past two days shatter a mile away. There is nothing harder for me than apologizing to someone I hate, even to someone who I hate with baseless prejudice. I'm not the kind of guy to turn the other cheek. I'm not the kind of guy who would apologize for anything, ever. But here I was. And it hurt more than any kick to the head.

Applejack stepped back, and looked me over. It was like she was seeing a whole new pony in front of her. It took her a moment to speak. In fact, the small crowd that had gathered in hopes a fight was dead silent. "Wha," She sputtered, "Wha'd you just say?"

My teeth bit my lower lip, and I looked back up at her, fire in my eyes. Hell, if I was going to apologize, I was going to do it my way: the right way. "I said I'm sorry! I'm sorry you wound up getting hurt because I was afraid. I'm sorry I gave you lip earlier. I'm," I sighed, looking down at my hooves, "I'm sorry."

Her hoof came up, tilting my head up by the chin. She looked me dead in the eye. I could see the calculations in the emerald eyes, the scales tipping one way, then the other. Then, she lowered it. "Land sakes," She murmured, eyes looking me up and down again, "You really are sorry, ain't chu?"

I sighed. "Don't make me say it again."

"I-I ain't," She said, shaking her head. I never thought I'd see Applejack end a confrontation this way. In the show, she was (though it pains me to say this) the only one I could respect. Honesty goes a long way with me. Honesty to others, and to one's self. Right now, she looked like she was fighting her own battle inside. One side of her wanted to bring the smackdown on my rear end, while the other wanted to forgive me.

Luckily for me, the other one out, and she nodded. "Yeah. I reckon I ought t'pologize too."

I shook my head. I was surprising myself with my honesty. My mouth was working on it's own today. But, at least it was being honest. "You don't have to."

"Nah," She said, and, to my surprise, I saw her smile a bit, "But I'm gonna anyway."

To my surprise, I smiled too.

Applejack's emerald gaze fell on the crowd, and her face turned serious. "If you ain't here to buy, clear on out!" They didn't need to be told twice. I gave her a thankful grin, and my stomach spoke for me. "Lookin' fer a bite, stranger?"

I grinned, and, to my own surprise, I nodded and replied. "Yeah, I 'reckon' I might be."

I had a new respect for Applejack. It took courage to fight, but it took an even greater courage to know when you should pony up (again, no pun intended), and say you're sorry. I wasn't used to it. But, if I wanted to do right by me, and by the way my parents raised me, I had to change that.

And, as I sunk my teeth into my first meal in twelve hours, and felt juice run down my chin, I gave a pleased sigh. Yeah, my ego was hurting, and so was my pride. But it felt good to be humble, for a change. And it felt even better to know I was being honest.

And, to be honest: That was the best fucking apple I've ever had in my life. Even if it cost me my pride.