An Apple Comes Out of the Cellar
Applejack closed her eyes and spoke, “Ah’m a fillyfooler.”
There.
She’d finally said it. It was one of the hardest things she’d ever done, but Applejack felt a great weight lifted off of her brawny shoulders. She’d been carrying this burden for far too long and her natural sense of honesty had finally caught up to her.
Applejack had walked into the dining room, not five minutes ago, sweating, with an uncharacteristic hitch in her voice, and saying she had an important announcement. It had been a long time coming, but she couldn’t keep her secret inside anymore, eating at her. Better to rip the bandage off quick, than the pain of peeling off bit by bit.
The rest of the family had naturally sat quietly waiting for her to explain whatever was so important that Applejack had left her dessert untouched to retreat to the kitchen. No Apple ever left the table on pie day.
She let out the breath she’d been holding and opened her eyes, hoping to see acceptance.
She wilted.
Her family sat around the dinner table, staring at the eldest Apple sister with different levels of disapproval. Big Macintosh sat in his usual silence, a slice of apple pie half eaten on his plate. A bad sign; usually nothing outside of the direst circumstances kept her brother from finishing his meal. Granny sat with her hooves steepled, her mouth forming a grimace. It was Apple Bloom who spoke first.
“Disgustin’,” she spat. A scowl marred her usually cheerful features. “Mah own sister,” she lamented, shaking her head.
Applejack felt like she’d been bucked in the chest. This was what she had feared. Condemnation.
Taking her little sister’s love and respect as lost, Applejack turned to her other sibling at the table, usually a solid pillar of support in her life. “C’mon, big brother, ya gotta understand.” He just shook his head in disappointment. That alone stabbed at her heart.
“Eenope,” Big Macintosh eenoped.
Finally she faced the eldest pony who was at the head of the table. Ears flat, Applejack yanked her hat down over her eyes, unable to handle that wizened stare as hard as old hickory. There was no love or tolerance to be found.
“Applejack Tangerine Apple.”
Granny using her full name didn’t bode well. Applejack braced herself for the coming storm, slumping into the dining chair opposite. She felt six years old again: small, helpless, scared; not at all a powerful mare who is able to knock down fully grown trees in a single buck.
“I can’t believe mah ears.”
“Bringin’ such filth inta our home. Ah won’t have it!” The loud rap on the table caused everypony to flinch, Applejack most of all.
She’d have to leave. Abandon the Acres. No more applebucking. No more Apple Family Reunion.
“Fillyfooler,” Granny Smith spat the word like a rotten piece of fruit. Her expression curdled around it. “I taught ya better than that! I won’t have such talk under mah roof, dagnabit!”
No more running the stand. She might even be disowned from the Apple Family, forced to roam Equestria as a freelance farmhand. Applejack couldn’t bear the notion.
“Granny, please!” she begged, laying her hat on the table. “Ah can’t help how Ah feel!” But Granny Smith would have none of it.
“The proper term’s lesbian.”
No more cider…
Applejack blinked and said, “Wait, what?”
“I said, the correct word’s lesbian,” Granny Smith repeated crossly. “Ain’t that right, Apple Bloom?”
“Tha’s right, Granny,” confirmed Apple Bloom with a nod. “Or gay.”
“Eeyup,” eeyuped Big Macintosh as he slowly slid the last slice of pie towards himself.
“What?”
Granny Smith gave her granddaughter a pitying look. “You hard o’ hearin’ now, girl? What’s the matta with ya?”
“So yer okay with me bein’… bein’ a fillyfooler?” asked a confused Applejack. She flinched back as Granny slammed the table again.
“Dang it! What did I just say about language? I raised ya better than that! Next thing ya know, yer goin’ inta town callin’ stallions coltcuddlers. What kinda example are yer setting for yer little sister?”
“Yeah!” piped up Apple Bloom. “Miss Cheerilee says that Ah’m highly im-press-shun-a-bull,” she sounded each syllable, and beamed quite proudly when she had finished. “And that’s a home-ma-fo-bic slur which means it’s a bad word,” she lectured her elder sister.
“Eeyup,” eeyuped Big Macintosh, eating the last slice of pie.
Applejack’s brain was more than a bit frazzled, and consequently slow on the uptake at this point. This wasn’t how the conversation had gone in her head. That her little sister knew what homophobic meant was a bit jarring. “Applebloom,” she asked her pure and unsullied baby sister whom she loved very very much. “Where’d you learn them words?”
“Sexual Education!”
Her sister damn near flipped her lid. “Darn it, AB! I distinctly remember not signin’ that permission slip.”
“Thas’ okay. Ah signed it.”
Applejack gaped at her granny who looked perfectly pleased as punch. “Granny, what the crabapples were ya thinkin? Apple Bloom’s too young ta learn about such adult things.”
“Am not,” Apple Bloom griped with a pout. “Ah’m a big pony.”
“Fiddlesticks,” Granny Smith said with a dismissive wave. “Girl’s grownin’ up. Why, when Ah was her age,” Applejack rolled her eyes and prepared for a trip down memory lane, taking a drink of cider. “Ah knew which end of a pony went where.”
“A mare’s got a vagina and a stallion’s got a penis,” Apple Bloom proudly recited.
“Phffff!” Applejack’s cider sprayed across the table. She coughed a few times and yelled, “Apple Bloom, that ain’t no way for filly ta talk! Ah’m gonna march down ta that school and give Cheerilee a piece a mah mind!”
“Aww, don’t get yer tail in a knot, Sugarcube. Education’s important. Ain’t that right, Apple Bloom?”
“Ah learned Ah’m bi-curious!”
“Eeyup,” eeyuped Big Macintosh, getting up to see if there was another pie in the fridge.
“Ya see? Our tax money at work. That there’s fancy book learn’. Why, I’d say our Apple Bloom could grow up ta be a doctor someday.” The filly giggled as her granny ruffled her red mane. Applejack glowered and got out the hard cider from a nearby cabinet.
She sat back down heavily and knocked back a generous measure. Only after two more did she feel prepared to tackle the conversation again.
“Ah think we’ve lost track of the main issue.”
“Oh, and what’s that, dearie?” asked Granny Smith sounding perplexed still playing with Apple Bloom’s hair.
“The fact Ah’m a filly—a lesbian! That’s what!” yelled Applejack, rearing up from the table.
Granny Smith shrugged. “Well I coulda told ya that.”
“Me too,” admitted Apple Bloom like it was nothing.
“Eey—“
Applejack rounded on her brother and shook a threatening hoof in his face. “Ya say ‘eeyup’ or ‘eenope’ one more time an’ ah’m takin’ ya ta the woodshed. Ya got me, Macintosh?”
“Ee—Ummm… Uh-huh,” nodded a cowed Big Macintosh.
“Now now, no need to get all sore in the saddle, Sugarcube,” soothed Granny Smith. “T’ain’t no big deal.”
“Ain’t no big deal? Ain’t no big deal?!” Applejack yelled back. She rubbed her forehead in frustration. “Ah’ve only been drivin’ mahself nuttier than a peanut plantation for weeks wonderin’ how ya’ll would react, and ya’ll are sayin’ ‘t’ain’t no big deal’!?”
She started to cry. “Ah thought y’all would be ashamed of me and throw me out.”
“Aw, c’mon over here, sweetie.” Granny Smith waddled over to the sofa and patted the cushion next to her. “No need ta kick up a fuss.” Applejack took a seat and let her grandmother’s years of hugging experience work her over. “Where’d ya get such ideas, ya silly filly? We’d never throw ya out. Not now, not ever.”
The other two members of the Apple clan moved over to join in the warm group hug.
“We’re Apples forever!” affirmed Apple Bloom, squeezing Applejack as hard as she could which, given her size, wasn’t very hard, but the love was there.
“Eee—mmhmm,” agreed Big Macintosh. The big stallion had difficulty squeezing in between the mares, but tried his best to snuggle in.
“’Sides,” spoke up Granny Smith. “Ya told me years ago.”
“Wha?” Wiping her tears, Applejack pulled away and scratched her head. She didn’t remember such a conversation.
“Why yes, AJ. I remember like t’was yesterday.”
--
A younger, but still venerable Granny Smith stood on her hind legs in front of the kitchen counter, rolling out sheets of pie crust. Trays of freshly made pies and fritters cooled on racks, waiting to be taken to market.
The calm of the kitchen was shattered by an orange ball of energy crashing through the backdoor.
“Granny, Granny! Ya ain’t gonna believe wha’ happened at school ta-day!”
Granny smiled and gave her granddaughter, who was hoppin’ round faster than a jitterbug in a fryin’ pan, a pat on the head. “Slow down there, Sugarcube. What’s got you so worked up?”
“We got a new kid at school today!” Applejack exclaimed with no signs of slowing down. Granny Smith kept smiling at her energy. It’d serve her well growin’ up on the farm. She turned back to her work as Applejack babbled on in excitement.
“And she’s a unicorn! Ain’t too many unicorns in Ponyville.”
“That’s nice, dear.”
“And she’s the purrtiest pony Ah’ve ever seen!”
“Mmhmm,” mumbled Granny, only half listening as she worked.
A pair of green eyes peeked hungrily over the counter’s edge followed by a red hoof. Slowly, slowly it reached for the glazed sweetness of a still cooling apple fritter.
A wooden spoon punished the hoof for its thieving ways. The wielder of said instrument of justice didn’t even look up from the pies she was assembling.
“So what’s this filly’s name that’s got ya in such a tizzy?”
“Rarity!” Applejack squeed with excitement, prancing on hooftips. “Ain’t that the fanciest name ya ever did hear?”
“Mmhmm,” said Granny again, spooning apple filling into the empty shells.
“Her coat’s as white as the snow and—and her mane’s purpler than the finest beets for sale at market. All done up in these beautiful curls, real fancy-like. An' her voice is so clear, it makes mah heart feel like it's buzzin' ‘round faster than a bee in a garden.” Applejack rambled on, waxing poetic while still hopping around.
Seeing the perfect opportunity, the red hoof made another attempt on behalf of its hungry owner. Granny was distracted, laying the latticework crusts on her pies.
Slowly now, slowly…
Smack!
Foiled again!
“That sounds real nice,” said Granny, returning the wooden spoon to its holder. She gave Macintosh a still warm, but no longer ‘burn yer mouth so ya come cryin’ ta me’ apple fritter and sent him on his way. “Ya should invite her round fer dinner sometime.”
“And—and…”
“And what, dear?” Granny had her back turned so didn’t see Applejack practically bursting with excitement.
“And Ah’m gonna marry her!” declared Applejack with all the joyful commitment a child possessed at that age.
Granny closed the oven and started cleaning up the counter. “Sounds like a fine plan. Ya best scoop her right quick though. Why, if ya wait too long some other pony’s liable to steal ‘er from right under ya.”
Lost in her world of sparkling white unicorns, Applejack missed Granny’s joking tone and gasped. “Yer right, Granny! I gotta go!” She burst out the door. A gallant country knight off to rescue her princess. Granny watched the orange-colored blur that was her granddaughter vanish into the distance. “Ah’m a-comin’, Rarity!”
--
“Wow, so Applejack was really in love with Rarity, Granny?”
“Sur’nuff was, Apple Bloom.” Granny turned to Applejack who was still rubbing her chin trying to remember Granny’s story ever taking place. “Far as I know they still be courtin’. What ya say, Sugarcube? Ya make a real mare outta that frou-frou unicorn yet?”
“Granny!”
“Golly!” Apple Bloom bounced around excitedly. “If ya marry Rarity, me an’ Sweetie Belle can be real sisters!”
“Ah ain’t in no relationship with Rarity!” Applejack frumped, crossing her forelegs.
“Aw, that’s too bad,” commented her granny in disappointment. Apple Bloom pouted as well, seeing her opportunity at gaining her fellow crusader as a sister vanish. “That filly’s got some nice, wide childbearin’ hips. Give ya some fine foals, that one.” Her eldest granddaughter took on a greenish complexion at that.
“For the last time, Ah ain’t courtin’ Rarity!”
“Oh… so yer beddin’ one of yer other friends then?”
“Wha—?!”
“Ooh! Ooh! Let me guess,” Apple Bloom suggested while waving a hoof. She rubbed her chin for a moment. “Is it… um… Fluttershy?”
Granny beamed at the suggestion. “That’d be a good choice, I reckon. She’s a nice girl. Be good with the animals. Bit quiet though. Not much of a talker. Still, a good set o’ hips on that one too, for a pegasus that is.”
Both eldest and youngest Apple took Applejack’s slacked-jawed expression as proof of they’d guessed wrong, so moved on.
“It ain’t that Rainbow filly, is it?” Granny squinted, clicking her tongue in disapproval.
Applejack came out of her stupor long enough to defend her friend. “And what’s wrong with Rainbow Dash, if ya don’t mind me askin’,” she asked with a frown.
“Too full of her own hot air that one,” Granny put bluntly without missing a beat, “An Apple’s gotta be modest an’ humble. ‘Sides, reckon foalin’ would break her in two. Skinny little thing. Though I suppose if ya’ll got hitched she could be the stallion, certainly got the voice for it.
“Scoots would be soooo jealous.”
“Now Pinkie Pie, there’s a mare ya should be courtin’.” Granny nodded sagely. “Mmmhmm, good solid earth pony stock.”
Applejack got up and slammed her head on the dinner table with a loud thwack. Nope, this wasn’t a bad dream. The very idea of marrying the hyper party pony ate away at her sanity.
‘Right, not like marryin’ Pinkie would make mah family any MORE crazy,’ she thought.
“Oh, I know!” Apple Bloom piped up. “Applejack’s datin’ Twilight.” She nodded to herself. “Eeyup, that makes perfect sense. Yer always gonna on ‘bout how brave an’ smart she is.”
“Hoo-whee!” Granny Smith danced a little jig. “Mah little girl’s courtin’ a princess! Big Mac, get out the good china. We got ta spruce up the place.”
“Hey, if AJ marries Twilight does that mean I get ta be royalty too?” Applebloom rubbed her hooves together with glee. “Diamond Tiara’s gonna be sooo jealous!”
A board-cracking stomp put a stop to their celebration.
Gusts of steam escaped her nostrils as Applejack snorted. “Y’all are sick!” she spat, red in the face from an equal mix of anger and embarrassment. “I ain’t courtin’ nopony, least of all mah friends. Those gals are like sisters ta me. Thinkin’ I’d fool aroun’ with any of ‘em. It’s gross an’ weird, I tell ya what.” She straightened her hat and glared. “And truth is: Ah’m a virgin.”
Everypony stayed silent for a few moments. Apple Bloom shifted her hooves on floor while Big Macintosh tried to look anywhere but his sister. Granny Smith took a deep breath then broke the tension.
“Lan’ sakes, girl! What’s the matter with you?” she shouted, waving her hooves around. “In mah day, I had mares an’ stallions after mah behind every day! Sometimes more than one at a time.”
“Granny! Ain’t you got no shame?”
“Heavens ta Betsy nah! Ah ain’t ashamed o’ nothin’! Simply less things to pass the time back then. We didn’t have yer fancy movie theaters and whatnot.
“Youngsters today, with their hippy-hop, their technobabble,” she complained as only a member of the Equestrian Association of Retired Ponies could. “In mah day we only had two types of music: Country and Western, and we liked it, by Celestia!
“Aaaaanywho, t’were times, after a long day’s work, a mare got an itch she needed ta be scratched now an’ again.” Her eyes rolled back with a satisfied smile growing at the memory. “Why, I remember this one time with this unicorn filly. Boy howdy, the things that girl could do with her horn—“
“Lalalala!” Applejack covered her ears, then widened her eyes in horror. Apple Bloom stared at Granny in rapt attention. Applejack jumped over and clapped her hooves over the little filly’s innocent ears. Unfortunately that left Applejack vulnerable again.
Granny Smith blew a raspberry at what she considered her granddaughter’s prudishness. “Now yer just bein’ all dramatic-like. Ain’t nothing wrong with a roll in the hay ‘tween friends. What’s that called again, Apple Bloom?”
“Friends with benefits!”
“Apple Bloom!”
“Aw, lay off the girl, AJ,” Granny Smith said. “Ah got mah first kiss when Ah was near about her age.” Applejack turned away again. She really didn’t need to picture her granny kissing anypony.
All this talk of kissing got Apple Bloom thinking. “Ya mean when Sweetie Belle and Scootaoo come ta visit we could practice kissing and it’d be okay?”
“Sure!” “No!” answered both adult mares at the same time.
“Dang it, Granny!” Applejack threw her Stetson on the floor. “Ah’ve had it just about up ta here with ya fillin’ Apple Bloom’s head with yer perverse nonsense,” scolded Applejack.
“Girl’s gotta learn sometime,” the elder retorted. “Where’d ya think ya’ll came from, huh? The stork? Why Ah remember ‘fore you were born, yer Ma an’ Pa goin’ at it like jackrabbits. Yer Ma was a real screamer, if I remember rightly…”
“Lalalala!” Too late! The image was already planted.
“…could hear her caterwauling right ‘cross the house.”
“That’s it!” Applejack spun round towards the door. “Ah’m goin’ to the bar ta’ get plastered! If Ah’m lucky, booze’ll help me forget this here entire night.”
“Try ta pick up a nice mare while yer there,” Granny called after her.
Applejack stomped again. “I told ya I ain’t interested in no relationship right now!”
“Dang it, AJ! Ah ain’t gettin’ any younger. Ah’m wanna see mah great-grand kids ‘fore I pass!” the old mare complained.
Applejack stopped to massage her temples again. “An’ how Ah’m supposed to do that?” she asked over her shoulder. “Two mares can’t make a foal.”
“Fiddle-faddle! Shows what you know. With magic and medicine today, two mares havin’ a child happens all the time.”
“Artificial insemination!” chirped Apple Bloom.
“Eee—“ A glare from his sister terminated the nascent ‘eeyup’ before it had a chance. Big Macintosh sat down in his recliner with a huff. Who was she to tell him what he could or couldn’t say? He was the stallion of the house, darn it! He had a right to say ‘eeyup’ and ‘eenope’ all day long.
“Well fine! Don’t listen ta ol’ Granny Smith. She just raised ya, fed ya, and changed yer diaper is all.” The old mare laid down that special form of guilt only a mother can. At this point Big Macintosh and Apple Bloom both sensed this was between the two mares of the house and wisely retreated upstairs. “I’ll just go up ta mah room an’ lie down. Ta die. Alone. Without ever seein’ mah great-grand kids.”
Applejack wasn’t buying it. “Really, Granny? That’s the best ya got? We both know ya ain’t anywhere near pushin’ up daisies. Why ya got more spring in yer step than a spring chicken since ya had got yer hip replaced. Heck, ya don’ even use yer walker no more,” she pointed out.
“Well, can’t blame a girl fer tryin’! I just want ya meet somepony who’ll make ya happy.”
“You think it’s so easy, huh?” Applejack stood on her hind legs and gestured over her body—all hard corded muscle, hooves scarred and callused; fruits of years of daily farm labor. “Look at me. No mare’s gonna want this.” She closed her eyes, letting out a despondent sigh. “Ah ain’t pretty. Not like a mare oughta be.”
“You ain’t bad lookin’,” Granny Smith chided, more upset at her granddaughter for putting herself down than anything else. “Mah cousin, ol’ Mushy Apple, we used to call her. She had a face that looked like it had an accident with a cider press an’ she still had six foals by her. All ya gotta do is go on up to a mare an’ say, ‘Howdy, I think yer mighty pretty. Let me buy ya a drink’. That’s how me and yer grandpapa met all those years ago. Celestia rest his soul. All it takes is the courage to say hello.
"Now, Ah'm not lettin' ya back inside this house 'til you're at the door with another mare's hoof 'round yer shoulder. That's what mah Pa used ta tell me when Ah'd go out on tha town. Thang is, he never was a fan o' them filles…” she muttered the last part under her breath.
Having heard enough about her granny’s sexual history, Applejack thundered outside and slammed the door shut. A muffled, but still rather loud, grunt of frustration rang out from the other side.
“Well, that could have gone better,” Granny Smith sighed.
“Eeyup,” eeyuped Big Macintosh from top of the stairs. Felt good to be back in the saddle. Take that, Applejack. Big Mac answered to no mare... as long as said mare was out of earshot.
--
Applejack rested her rear on one of a row of bar stools at The Punch Drunk, Ponyville’s resident watering hole.
“Round of whiskey, Berry,” she ordered while crossing her hooves to rest her chin. Once placed in front of her, Applejack knocked back the shot, but motioned for the purple bartender to leave the bottle.
Berry Punch raised an eyebrow at that. “Something on her your mind, AJ?” she asked while wiping a glass with a rag as the farmer knocked back another shot. “Don’t usually find you drinking so heavily. C’mon, tell your friendly neighborhood bartender what’s wrong.”
Applejack thought for a second then shrugged. Wasn’t like spilling the beans to Berry Punch would hurt any. The barkeeper’s code of silence was as good as a Pinkie Promise. By the time Applejack had finished weaving her tale, the bottle was half empty. Berry found herself struggling not to laugh.
“Well sounds to me like you’ve had quite a night,” she said with a smile.
“No, really?” Applejack deadpanned.
“So, your family’s crazy. I’ve got news for you, AJ. Everypony’s family is crazy in one way or another.” Berry Punch advised sagely as she put another glass away. “From the sound of things, Granny was just trying to help you out. Nothing wrong with her advice as far as I can tell.”
Applejack grunted, watching her reflection swirl in the amber liquid of the bottle.
“Look, Applejack. I can’t tell you how to live your life, but one thing I’ve learned from my years working here is that nopony finds their answers at the bottom of a glass. Yeah, I know, kinda the opposite of what you’d expect,” she added when Applejack gave her a skeptical look. “Sure, I want you to enjoy yourself at my business, and I want to make a living, but I'm not going to lie to you and tell you it'll make things better. Money isn’t everything. Another life lesson I’ve learned.”
“So ya’ll agree with Granny?”
Berry nodded.
“Well I guess I best put this away,” said Applejack, pushing aside the liquor for Berry to retrieve, “before it puts meaway. Got any more words of wisdom, oh wise sage of the wooden tap?”
Placing a glass of iced water on the counter, Berry Punch advised, “Your granny’s already said enough. Just go say hello, or howdy in your case. You see that mare over there in the booth, drinking red wine?,” she said, pointing a hoof for the farmer to follow. "She's told me what you just did. In fact, I hear she's still single. Go on and say hi; just try not to act as drunk as you are.
“Worst case scenario, you get shot down. It isn’t the end of the world. Dust yourself off and get back in the saddle.”
The double entendre elicited a small chuckle from Applejack. “I reckon yer right, Berry.”
“That’s what I’m here for,” Applejack heard as she nervously trotted towards the table. The mare looked up at the farmer’s arrival, and put down her glass of red wine.
Applejack let out a breath. “Howdy, I think yer mighty pretty. Mind if I buy ya a drink?” That wasn’t so difficult; maybe Granny was right after all.
The mare smiled, leaned over and threw her wine in Applejack's face. “Damn fillyfoolers,” she muttered as she exited the booth and stomped out the door in a huff. Applejack just stood there, gobsmacked with dripping red wine staining her hat.
“Not that booth, AJ,” Berry called from behind the counter, pointing to the next booth over. “That one.”
The mare from the other booth ceased sipping her red wine and sauntered over to the now thoroughly embarrassed Applejack. Offering a napkin, the mare batted her eyelids and asked, “Hi, I think you’re mighty pretty. Mind if I buy you a drink?”
THE END
Author's Note
Just a fun little idea that wouldn't leave until it was written.
