If only you knew...

Weeks passed, and now Big Mac once more trotted through an acre of trees on the farm, checking each and every one. If a tree had any new apples, they were to be picked, or bucked. If there were only a few, pick them. If there were many, they were to be bucked. Simple rules, for a simple stallion. In all truth, he longed for something else. Something more complicated. Anything more complicated than the daily drawl of kicking a tree, putting apples in a basket, and repeat. It was always the same thing, every day. He was sick of it. Now, most ponies guessed he liked it. It kept him busy. He wouldn't be dumbfounded by most of today's workings and mathematics and such. Why they made the assumption he was simple minded, he couldn't imagine. Most ponies knew nothing about him. Perhaps it is the stereotype, he wondered. Big, strong stallion, working out on a farm away from the city. Must be a retard. It angered him so.

If there was a good use for bucking trees, it gave him time to think. As he finished with his work, carried the apples to the barn, and walked. He usually took a walk after a long day of work. More time to think. He did his best thinking when he was walking, as most of the time he didn't have to pay attention to the world around him, and rather he could concentrate on his thoughts.

But this did not always play to his advantage, as he walked through town, he was not paying attention to his surroundings, thinking of course, wondering what would everypony think if he spent some time in the library, maybe checked out some books? And in the midst of his thoughts he bumped into Rarity, who was sporting a fancy dress for some occasion somewhere. She fell back, into a puddle of mud that Mac guessed she had just made careful to keep away from. She scowled, and glared up at him.

"Why don't you watch where you're going, you big, dumb, stallion!" he didn't say anything, didn't let the sneer form on his face, rather keeping his expressionless, emotionless tone. Rarity, on the other hand, sneers up at him in disgust. "Well, aren't you going to help me up?!" This spark more anger in him. Call him stupid, then expect him to be kindly in return? Openly say that you find him dumb, and then ask of him? One bitch she is... He reaches out a hoof, which she takes delicately, and he gently helps her out of the puddle.

She had not been looking where she was going either, and she had no reason to be so angry. The dress had not been particularly ruined. It could be cleaned quickly, actually it looked as if a towel could wipe the grime away, but Rarity was steaming. "How could you dash me at the rocks in such a way? Do you not have eyes?! Look where you're going you giant fool!" And with that, she trotted off. Mac held back the words, the anger.... but that brings another violent fantasy to his mind.... he hated them, every time he got angry at somepony, he got another fantasy, every time he dreamed, it was one of the fantasies, it was driving him mad....

in this particular one, he would shove Rarity back into the mud, then grab her mane, and pull violently, removing some of the bows that were in it, and then thrusting her face into the wet, brown dirt. He would then grab her again, this time by the hoof, and place one of his hind legs at her shoulder, right at the base of her foreleg, and pull violently, ripping it out of it's socket, another jolting pull ripped it off, blood spewing out onto the concrete, mixing with the mud as he slammed the arm against her skull. He would grin as a large crack was her at the breaking of her neck, and then trot off, happily covered in the blood. It terrified him that it was so graphic.... and that the image of this happening was so real in his mind. He would never hurt Rarity... she could be nice at times, and he would be getting himself in huge trouble by hurting anypony, let alone an element of harmony. He trotted back home, his face pale... he didn't know how much longer he would last before.... he did what must be done.