Old Apples in Young Mares
Twilight stood aside while Applejack gently pulled on the shack's latch and opened the door. Sunlight streamed into the small enclosure for the first time in a month. Inside the cool shed was a shallow pit containing straw and old, deflated apples. Their sweet smell almost overpowered the air.
“Welp, this here's the place we'll be storin' th' new crop. Ah'm sure grateful for you helpin' to clean out this ol' pit,” said Applejack.
“I'm glad to!” beamed Twilight. “It's a new experience for me to help out at a farm.”
They looked down at the remainders from last year's crop. Applejack carefully walked down into the pit, taking care not to step on anything. “Hang up them burlap sacks. We'll be takin' these ol' apples to th' compost pile.”
Twilight's horn glowed lightly, and the burlap sack attached itself to a nail on the wall at Applejack's shoulder height and opened itself. String at the bag's opening tied themselves to two other nails. Applejack smiled her approval, and gently picked up an apple with her teeth and tossed it into the open sack.
“Juicy,” she said, as liquid dripped onto her lip, “but not sweet. C'mon down and join in?”
Gingerly, Twilight climbed into the pit with her friend. An apple squished under her right forehoof, spilling apple chunks. At her friend's startle, Applejack said, “''Taint no problem gettin' dirty. We've got an outdoor shower.” Twilight's horn gently glowed, not wanting to touch the squished apple parts with her mouth, and the pieces flew into the bag.
“Use your lips not your teeth,” explained Applejack, “an' they don't break so much.”
Twilight wrapped her mouth around a second, whole apple. Its wrinkled skin seemed too large for the fruit inside. She flung it into the open bag with a bit of distaste on her mouth.
Applejack laughed. “Twi, watch me,” Instead of tossing the next apple into the bag, she ate it. “Th' shed is spelled to keep th' apples safe from worms, flies, an' insects. 'Taint nothing wrong with 'em, 'cept what age brings. Why, las' month, we was usin' 'em for making cider, but they're not sweet 'nuff for that no more.”
Twilight steeled herself, digging her hooves into the straw and sandy loam. She picked up one apple with her mouth. Applejack watched as Twilight bit into the apple. Juice dribbled down her chin. “Not sweet,” Twilight agreed. “and mushy. But not dangerous.” She spat the other half of the apple into the burlap bag.
They got to work together. After ten minutes of work, Twilight's horn glowed, and the full burlap bag untied itself from the nails, tied itself off, and a second bag attached itself to the nails in the wall.
“That's sure more convenient than tyin' a knot wit' my tongue,” admitted Applejack. They fell to filling the second bag with more gusto, chomped apples, and giggles.
After Twilight tied the third bag, Applejack reared up and held herself up with one forehoof against the wall. Her other hoof moved to the bottom of the bag. In her deepest voice, Applejack said, “Feed me, Twilight...” while moving the bag's 'mouth'. Twilight laughed. Her horn glowed, and three apples flew toward the bag. Two landed in their target. The third landed on Applejack, splitting apart.
“Hay,” giggled Applejack. She pressed off the wall and twisted on two legs. Still reared up, she lifted her lips as if to nip her friend. Instead, she licked Twilight's cheek.
Twilight blushed. “D-- d--- don't you think we should finish work first?” Her mouth didn't seem to work perfectly.
“Spoilsport!” Applejack giggled as she settled all four hooves on the ground.
The work went quickly, but as time went on, their aim grew worse and they ate more apples. The ground beneath the bag grew covered with apple pieces. Neither pony cared much. With the last of the whole apples, laughter and bad jokes filled the air.
“--and that wuz th' LAST time he called our products horseapples!” finished Applejack.
Twilight laughed, rolled, and kicked her hooves in the air. Applejack, seeing her opportunity, pounced onto her friend and mock-wrestled her. Twilight rolled toward the last pieces of apples, hoping it would dissuade her. She had forgotten: Applejack liked getting dirty.
Both were soon covered in apple pieces, and laughing. “C'mon. Lemme show ya' summat,” slurred Applejack. Using each other for support, they left the shack, leaving the door open. They stumbled under a shelter to one side of the main home. “Stay riggghhhtt here...” said Applejack as she reached with her mouth toward a large, metal ring. She pulled it, and gallons of warm water spilled over both ponies.
“Huh... *glub* WHAT?” The water woke Twilight somewhat.
“I'd never leave m'friend all wet an' sticky, dontchaknow?” She fluttered her eyelashes.
Twilight dripped. “If it's all the same to you... I'd rather just head home and get some rest.”
Applejack smiled to her friend. “G'night, then.”
The next morning, Applejack felt a lot, lot worse. Big McIntosh brought her weak oatmeal, plenty of water, and aspirin. “Granny's orders,” he said laconically. An hour later, her headache had subsided. She found Granny Smith in the front salon, reading.
“So, ya had yer first taste of alcohol, didya?” were Granny's first words.
“Is THAT what wuz in them apples? I thought they were just ol'.”
“Everything sweet can ferment. And it's part of your nature. D'you know what applejack is?”
The amber pony's ears twitched as she thought. “I thought it was a kinda cereal, or summthin'...”
Granny Smith shook her head. “Look it up. It's brandy, made from apples. We remember our history: Ev'ry generation, there's been an Applejack." Granny continued, “Brewin' is good business. 'Twill bring in plenty of bits. Ah can teach you to make apple wine, hard cider – even your namesake. An' you can be the best brewer Equestria has ever known. You int'rested?”
Still shaking off her hangover, Applejack said, “I – let me think about it.”
The lessons started the next day.