BUCK

Every morning, it was the same thing.

Wake up. Go out. Find a tree. Lay down the bushels. Turn around. Rear his hind legs. Buck.

Turn. Legs. Buck. They save the simple jobs for the simple ponies. Of course, Big Mac found it repetitive, even when compared to conversations and socializations which also bored Big Mac. But on odd days, when the red bucking pony came to a peak of awkwardness, he indulged in another activity.

He finished his bucking, but before taking back the last load of apples, he nudged a rock next to a particularly tall and particularly shady apple tree. Under it were three notebooks, separated from the ground by a towel.

He grabbed the only one which wasn’t entirely filled and grabbed a marker he had hidden with the books.

Plopped down, resting under the tree, he drew. Each stroke removed some of the pain. With each line, his thoughts were transferred from his tortured mind to the page, like an electric current through the marker. All the things he thought, other ponies could never know. Big Mac’s urges and fantasies were different from other ponies’, and he knew he could never share them with anyone but his notebooks.

Today’s masterpiece: Cheerilee, in the apple cellar, with Big Macintosh’s big, bloody hoof print through her flank.

Why this image pleased Big Macintosh, he didn’t question. He just liked it, for the aesthetic of it. At least, that was why the reason he guessed.

A few moments went by as he appreciated the art. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, envisioning the scene in his mind much more vividly. Of course, the real Cheerilee would not approve of this kind of conduct. Big Mac thought of simply forcing her, but that wasn’t the kind of pony he was. He’d always have HIS Cheerilee, in his small masterpieces; waiting for him and accepting him for who he was.

He continued to take the notebook and replace it under the rock, until another day.

The stallion rose, moved the rock back over, and left to finish his chore; his bottled emotions remaining in their stone prison.