It can’t be that hard. He’d seen Big Mac do it all the time: just put down some baskets, turn around, buck as hard as you can. Simple, right? Caramel spaced the four straw baskets out so that they formed a square around the tree, then stepped back and looked at the task ahead of him once more, an apple tree, not exceedingly large, bearing plump McIntoshes. Oh, the irony.
Caramel cricked his neck and shook out his hooves. “Heh. How hard could it be?” He kept telling himself that, although deep down the question of whether or not he could actually pull this off nagged at him. After all, the Apple clan practically breathed apples--they’d probably been bucking trees out of the womb, and there Caramel was, the clumsy colt who’d never so much as-
“Tch.” He rolled his eyes at no one in particular. Those were precisely the kind of thoughts he came out here to get rid of. Besides, it’s not like he was some pansy stallion--he was as strong as any other Earth Pony, maybe not as strong as Big Mac, but dammit, he could pull his weight and then some. Looking over the tree one last time, he turned around and, with a determined grin, he bucked at the tree as if it just questioned his lineage. His smile grew wider with the connection of hooves and bark, the tree’s give, the resounding thump, and the rustle of leaves. As soon as he landed he wheeled around, giddy to see the results.
Nothing happened.
Caramel’s smile quickly faded into a mouth-agape scowl of confusion. Nothing in the baskets. Not a single apple had fallen. Not one. Caramel gritted his teeth. How? Did he do something wrong? That was exactly how Big Mac did it! He turned and gave the tree another mighty buck, and once again he had nothing to show for it. What the hell? His brow furrowed, he lost his composure and started kicking at the tree repeatedly.
“Argh, just DROP ‘em you piece of shit!” Each word was punctuated by a kick, but as hard as he tried, the tree still refused to give up a single piece of fruit. His hooves were starting to hurt, but he ignored it, his arbor assault unrelenting. “Why the HELL won’t you-”
“Why th’ hell won’t it what?”
Caramel looked up to see Big Mac, with his trademark yoke on his shoulders and straw in his mouth, leaning against a tree, watching Caramel with a look of something halfway between curiosity and concern. Caramel, in turn, couldn’t decide whether he should be annoyed or embarrassed that he’d been caught trying--and failing miserably--to applebuck. He settled on annoyed.
“How long’ve you been there, Mac?” It was mostly accusatory, although Caramel knew the question had a hint of surprise in it. He paused from kicking the tree and set his hind legs down. The intermission only served to let the pain catch up to him, and he shifted a bit to make himself comfortable.
“‘Round when ya started poundin’ that tree like it was a month overdue on its loans.” Big Mac moved off the tree and began trotting slowly toward Caramel. “If yer goin’ for applebuckin’ ya know that ain’t the way to do it; look, ya hurt your hooves, didn’t you?”
Caramel put on what he hoped was a nonchalant smile, although he was mentally cursing his fortune. This was the last pony he’d wanted to see right now, and what was worse, Big Mac was completely right. He felt like his whole mission had just blown up in his face, but to admit it would drive the final nail in the coffin.
“Hmph.” Caramel narrowed his eyes and spoke with a cool, confident, slightly conceited air--or at least tried to affect one, he had no idea how well he did. “Relax, I’m just gettin’ warmed up. I can get those apples down, no problem, see?”
Caramel raised his hind legs and put all his strength into one more buck. As if pitying the colt, the tree finally gave up some apples. It was a backhanded concession; only two McIntoshes fell from the tree, and directly onto Caramel’s head.
“Sonuva-” Caramel immediately laid on the ground, eyes closed as he put his forelegs over his aching head where the fruit struck him. Big Mac was at his side, his face nothing but concern now. He leaned down toward Caramel.
“You okay, sugarcube?”
Caramel opened his eyes, although he was still grimacing. “Yeah, I’m fine.” He mentally let out a sigh of frustration. Sugarcube. Why did he have to call him that? Caramel had found the term affectionate in the early days of their relationship, but now...the more he thought about it, the more the term frustrated him, not for lack of love on the red stallion’s part, but...it just wasn’t something you called a stallion, was all.
“Ya sure? Don’t push yerself now.” Big Mac offered Caramel a hoof, which he took and pulled himself up. As soon as Caramel was up Big Mac gave him a gentle nuzzle. “Seriously, Caramel, if y’wanted t’learn how to applebuck, y’coulda asked me ‘stead of hurtin’ yerself, sugarcube.”
As frustrated as he was, especially at hearing that word again, Caramel tiredly nuzzled his coltfriend back, completely defeated. “Yeah...” He sighed. This had been a complete waste, and now he was back to square one. Dammit, it was just like any time he tried to do anything; Caramel’d screw it up, then Big Mac be there’d to save him, to take care of everything so Caramel wouldn’t have to worry...he couldn’t help feeling like the stallion’s marefriend instead of coltfriend.
“Here.” As if to drive the point home, Big Mac walked over to the tree and, with a smooth, effortless movement, bucked the tree and the rest of the apples fell into baskets. Big Mac picked up to and put them over his back, then put the other two on Caramel’s. He smiled gently.
“No use’n goin’ back empty-hooved. Let’s get back to the main house so we c’n do somethin’ about yer hooves. Tell me if ya need any help, though.”
“Yeah, sure.” The two stallions walked off back toward the farm’s main house, although Caramel walked slower, partly because of his hurting hooves, and partly because he didn’t want Big Mac to see him look up the sky, mouthing something with exasperation.
