Meeting Mrs. Smith

by CogWing

Rating: everyone
Tags: Applejack, Slice of Life, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Granny Smith, Other, Original Character
Length: 5632

Granny Smith is injured while doing some farm work, and now it's up to a less than excited worker to keep an eye on her.

After a fall on the farm, Granny Smith is home bound. Unfortunately, Big Mac and Applejack have to work the farm, and Apple Bloom is too young to look over Granny all by herself. An Elderly Outreach Program worker is called to look after the old mare. Th worker, however, is not too happy about the placement, and Granny isn't too happy about being taken care of by somepony she doesn't know.

What could possibly come of this?

Published 2014-05-12 01:40:02 UTC
Last updated 2014-06-07 00:06:41 UTC

Chapter 1: At Least The Pay Is Good

Chapter 1: At Least The Pay Is Good

A grey Pegasus stepped slowly into the dim office. The room was musty, and pictures and documents were hung on the walls. The only pieces of furniture in the small office were two chairs and an old oak desk, set up for a one-on-one conversation. An earth pony stallion sat at the desk, wearing a dress shirt with the top two buttons undone. His face almost seemed to be in a permanent scowl, causing the newcomer to double check the sign on the door. It still read “Elderly Outreach Program, Ponyville Office”, and that was good enough for him.

Closing the door behind him, the grey Pegasus stood awkwardly in the room, waiting for the stallion at the desk to take notice of him, or at least offer him a seat. When no invitation came, he coughed lightly, to make sure the stallion at the desk knew he was there.

“One minute.” The stallion waved a hoof as he finished reading whatever was on his desk.

The room fell back into the awkward silence it had been in before. The grey Pegasus looked around at all of the plaques and portraits. All of them were from some kind of construction work. There were employee of the month awards, pictures of crews and buildings they had made, and a certificate stating the date he had retired. All were kept in pristine condition, polished and kept behind glass frames.

“Alright.” The stallion at the desk looked up. “Have a seat.”

As the Pegasus got comfortable in the wooden chair, he noticed what the other stallion had been reading. It was the job listings page of the local newspaper.

“Who are you?” The stallion asked, quickly flipping the paper over.

“Quick Fix.” The grey Pegasus replied, offering a hoof-shake. “And you are?”

“You'll call me boss.” The stallion responded flatly. “What're your past work experiences?”

A little embarrassed, Quick Fix retracted his hoof. “I was a member of the Pony Protective Platoon Reserves for two years before leaving and looking for work elsewhere.”

“How did it end?” The stallion asked.

Quick Fix cocked his head. “What?”

“Your previous employment.” The stallion repeated. “How did it end?”

“I resigned.” Quick Fix nodded. “It wasn't for me.”

The stallion coughed. “So why do you want to work for the EOP?”

“Because...” Quick Fix shook his head. “Because it's the only job I could find that I might have been qualified for. There's really no other opening for a job in my field.”

The stallion sighed. “And that field would be?”

“Maintenance.” Quick Fix stated.

“Hmm.” The stallion snorted. “What makes you think you're qualified for this job?”

“Probably the same reason you're qualified for your job.” Quick Fix smirked. “I'm the only one who signed up for it.”

“Oh yeah?” The stallion sneered. “What makes you think I'm the only one who signed up for this?”

“There's nothing in this office that makes you look like any kind of a caring person.” Quick Fix looked around. “You're passionate about your work, but there are no pictures of Grandparents, or any of the elderly you've reached out to.”

“I don't have to give you the job, you know.” The stallion growled. “I can find someone more qualified.”

“No, you don't have to give me the job.” Quick Fix shook his head. “But you're going to anyway. The only ponies qualified for this job are probably in nursing or long term care homes. This is like the kiddy table of that idea, why would they want to downsize?”

The stallion smirked, and almost chuckled. “You know what?” He reached a hoof out. “You get it. Yeah, I don't like this job. I want to get back into construction. But there's not a lot of demand for construction workers.” He pulled a sheet of paper out of the desk. “Here's your assignment.”

“I got the job, then?” Quick Fix asked, a little surprised.

“No.” The stallion stated. “I just like giving out old folks' personal information.” He shook his head. “Do you want the job or not?”

“Yes.” Quick Fix replied immediately. He took the form and began reading it. “Granny Smith Apple?” The grey Pegasus looked up, and the stallion shrugged before Quick turned to read on. “Sweet Apple Acres, Ponyville. Where else would it be?”

“You can read more on the way there, your shift starts pretty soon.” The boss looked over at the clock on the wall.

“Wait. Now?” Quick Fix became frantic as he looked over at the clock too.

“Do you want the job or not?” The boss asked.

Before he could answer, Quick Fix was running for the door. The door slammed shut behind him as he started towards the orchards. He read the form as he went.

“Ah don't want somepony I don't know lookin' after me!” Granny Smith stomped a hoof, winced from the pain it caused, and took a seat on the couch in the small farm house they were in. Applejack pulled a blanket over her and adjusted the pillow beneath Granny's head.

“Now, Granny.” Applejack stated. “After that rough tumble you took, you're in no shape to be workin' the farm.”

“Ah can take care of mah self.” Granny Smith groaned as she lay back on the couch.

“Granny, you're hurt.” Applejack shook her head. “Y'all heard the doctor. You've gotta stay off that hip for at least a couple weeks. Ah can't have you hurtin' yourself more. With me and Big Mac workin' the fields all day, we can't keep an eye on you. And Apple Bloom is too young to be lookin' after y'all all by herself.”

“Ah don't need no strange pony comin' into mah house and lookin' after me.” Granny insisted.

“This is not negotiable, Granny.” Applejack said, heading towards the door. “They'll be comin' over today, and that's final. Just try to be kind to him, please? For me? Ah really gotta get back to the field.”

“Fine.” Granny huffed, pulling the blanket up and turning over, away from Applejack. “But ah don't like it!”

Applejack closed the door behind her and came face to face with a grey pegasus who was just about to knock. His fur and his usually well kept dark brown mane had been wind tossed from his run over to the house.

"Can ah help you?" Applejack asked him.

"I'm..." Quick Fix panted lightly, "I'm Quick Fix. I'm from the Elderly Outreach Program."

"Oh, ah see." Applejack nodded. "Well, Granny's inside. Ah can't talk long, apple's won't buck themselves."

"Wait." Quick Fix stepped in front of her. "Sorry. I read the file, but it wasn't very clear on what exactly happened."

"D'you want the long or short?" Applejack raised an eyebrow.

"Short," Quick Fix coughed, "I'm actually on the clock right now."

"Okay." Applejack lowered her voice. "Granny was workin' the farm, you know, quality control. Anyway, she thought she would come and see if I needed any help. On her way over, she took a nasty fall. At her age, well, most falls are nasty. Doc said she hurt her hip, wasn't much, but to be safe he told her to stay off her feet for at least the next two weeks. Anything else you need to know?"

"What's she like?" Quick Fix asked offhandedly.

"She's a sweet ol' thing." Applejack replied, adjusting her hat and heading off to the fields. "But she's not too keen on havin' another pony look after her."

"Well, she's better get over it fast." Quick Fix muttered as he reached for the door handle. "Or this'll be the worst two weeks of both of our lives."

He quickly cleared his throat when he saw Applejack peering back at him, obviously having heard some of what he had said, and he pulled open the wooden door.

“Mrs. Smith?” Quick Fix called, peering into the home. Stepping forward, he peeked around the corner to the living room. He saw the blanket on the couch, but assumed it was just left there from another time. He called again, “Mrs. Smith?” Quick Fix looked back and forth, “Are you here?”

Granny Smith sighed, looking over to the newcomer. “Who is it?”

“My name is Quick Fix.” Fix said. “I was sent by the Elderly Outreach Program to... Well, I guess to help you in any way I can.”

“Fine.” Granny Smith groaned.

“So...” Quick Fix began in an attempt to avoid another awkward silence. “How can I help you? Are you hungry? Can I get you anything?”

“Nope.” Granny Smith shook her head. “Ah'm fine.”

Quick Fix nodded awkwardly as he stood in the corner of the room, unsure whether or not to make eye contact with the old mare. He absorbed the way the room looked. Clean, well lit, comfortable family environment, bright colours. Even with all of the homely comforts, he felt like he really did not belong in this house, like somehow he was trespassing. Maybe it was just the grouchy old mare on the couch, he thought.

“You sure?” Quick Fix asked, eyes darting around the room, looking for something to do, even if it was as simple as straightening a picture frame. Anything to break the ice which seemed to completely fill the space between them.

“Yup.” Granny nodded.

“This is going to be a long day.” Quick Fix muttered to himself.

“You say somethin'?” Granny raised an eyebrow.

“No, Mrs. Smith.” Quick Fix shook his head madly in disagreement before looking over to a seat in the corner of the room.

“Might as well.” Granny sighed before Quick could ask to sit. “You're gonna be here a while, might as well sit down.”

Without a word, Quick took the seat in the corner and rocked back and forth in the following silence.

“You're from the city, ain't ya?” Granny noted.

“How could you tell?” Quick Fix looked over to her.

Granny sighed. “You can't handle peace and quiet.”

“Sweet Celestia,” Quick Fix groaned as he came back into the Elderly Outreach Office, “Am I glad that's over!”

“How was the old bird?” The boss looked up from his paper, the same classified job section as before.

“You know, I don't think she really likes me.” Quick chuckled sarcastically as he took a seat. He took a hoof and brushed back his mane, “We sat in the room looking awkwardly at each other for five hours.”

The boss folded the paper back up. “Sounds like a date.”

“Who's my next assignment?” Quick Fix asked. “I need to know if I have to wear my give-a-damn face tomorrow.”

“Oh, there is no next assignment,” The boss snorted. “The old Apple is your only assignment. For the next two or more weeks, you're going to be her personal nurse.”

Quick Fix groaned, “Two weeks? I don't think I can take that much.”

“Do you want the job, or not?” The stallion at the desk growled.

“Yes.” Quick Fix hissed. “I need the money.”

“Well then,” The stallion grinned slyly. “Pay day is on the weekend. Until then, you don't need to be in this office.”

“Where am I supposed to sleep?” Quick Fix asked. “I'm a little low on cash.”

“Not my problem.” The boss shrugged, before turning back to his paper. “Here.” He called, tearing out a page of the paper and tossing it to Quick Fix. “That's the housing section. Apartments and hotels are on the bottom.”

“Oh boy.” Quick Fix faked enthusiasm as he headed out the door of the office, “You are too kind.”

Slamming the door behind him, Quick immediately skimmed over the housing page. There were quite a few places to lodge, even for a small place like Ponyville. They all seemed very nice, but only a few were within his price range. Finding the cheapest one, Quick Fix took down the location and headed off towards the apartment.

When he arrived, he saw the place looked bleak, even from the outside. It was by no means run down, it was just small and weathered. Like everything else in Ponyville, the house was brightly coloured and oddly shaped, but the paint on this one was faded more than the rest, and the siding was in need of repair.

“Well, the price seems fair.” Quick Fix sighed as he headed towards the house. "And at least the pay is good."

Chapter 2: Yes Mrs. Smith

Chapter 2: Yes Mrs. Smith

“Mrs. Smith?” Quick Fix called, awkwardly coming into the farm house as he had for the past few days.

“I'm still here.” Granny Smith groaned from the couch.

“Are you hungry?” Quick Fix recited, already knowing the answer.

“Nope.” Granny shook her head dismissively, “Applejack already got me mah breakfast.”

“Come on.” Quick stamped impatiently, “There has to be something for me to do. I can't just stand here all day.”

“Hasn't stopped you before.” Granny muttered.

The days had gone on much like this every time Quick Fix had come over. Nothing would usually get done because Granny Smith was too stubborn to ask for help with anything, so she would sit in cold silence until Quick Fix left. Quick Fix had no idea what he could do for her, especially since Granny did not say that she needed anything.

He looked down at the floor. That day, he was feeling a little more ambitious than usual, and as he looked down he noted again that dried mud covered the floor. In his head, Quick Fix debated whether or not to subject himself to manual labour. He wanted something to do, but cleaning a house was a big job, and he was not sure if he wanted to do that much work.

“You gonna sit?” Granny asked, pulling up her blanket. “Or just stand there like a stick all day?”

“I was just thinking.” Quick Fix stared into space.

“'Bout what?” Granny Smith raised an eyebrow.

Quick Fix sighed, “Would you like me to clean up?” He felt embarrassed as soon as the words left his mouth. This was a stupid question before he asked it. In his mind he could already hear her giving him a resounding no.

“No.” Granny shook her head. “I'll do it mah self.”

Fed up with all the negatives coming from the old mare, Quick Fix groaned loudly. “Come on! I'm offering to do you a favour. I hate cleaning, but I'm offering to do it so I don't die of boredom. I also thought it might be nice for me to help you out. Why would I think that? Maybe it's my job? I don't even know!”

“Young'un.” Granny Smith silenced him without raising a hoof. Her voice was stern, like a mother chastising a child. “In my day, we spoke to our elders with a little respect. Don't you raise yer voice at me, y'hear?”

Quick Fix ground his teeth together in frustration, “Yes Mrs. Smith.”

“Good,” Granny nodded sternly. “Now, the bucket and mop's in the closet over there.”

Quick Fix felt like a boiling kettle. “What, now?”

“Since y'all're so intent on cleanin' floors,” Granny Smith thought aloud, “You might as well do it.”

Is she doing this to spite me? Quick Fix thought. She has to be. She just has to be. These really are going to be the worst two weeks of my life.

Trying his best not to antagonize the old mare, Quick Fix tried his best not to stomp as he made his way over to the cupboard. He took a deep breath and swung open the closet, a bit too forcefully as the door slapped against the wall to one side. As he peered inside, Quick Fix could tell that the cleaning supplies had not been used in a while. It made sense, seeing as all guests were made to wipe their hooves at the door, and cleanliness was on par with godliness in this house. So none of the cleaning supplies would have had to be used recently.

He took no time pulling the mop and bucket out of the dingy cupboard and closing it more quietly than he had opened it. Dragging the cleaning tools to the sink and filling up the bucket, Quick Fix took a chance to breath. With each breath, he felt his tension slipping away, allowing him to focus on cleaning the floor, and finishing with his shift. When the bucket was finally full, Quick Fix calmly pulled it out of the sink and set it on the floor. He added a little soap for an extra clean.

Quick Fix soaked the mop and got right to work. The floor was not too bad, but again, it was the only thing he could think of to do. When he finally got the floor looking clean and crisp, Quick Fix wiped his brow which had become surprisingly damp with the work he had put in. He dumped the water out and put the mop and bucket away.

“Mrs. Smith.” Quick Fix sighed, “The floor is cleaned.”

“'at's nice.” Granny nodded. “Thank you, young'un.”

Quick Fix hesitated for a moment. “You... You're welcome, Mrs. Smith.” It was more of a question than a statement. Quick Fix was not sure why it was odd to have received a compliment from the old mare, but it was definitely weird. It almost made him angry. For some reason, it almost felt to him like she was taunting him with the thanks. The look of the proud old mare on the couch, who he now felt had manipulated him into working, made his stomach tighten.

Shaking his head to alleviate some of his aggression, Quick Fix peered up at the clock on the wall. He still had an hour left in his shift, and had no idea what to do now. There was a bookshelf on the opposite wall, with a great number of books stacked neatly upon it. Only some of them had labels on the spines, the rest were quite wide and had a shiny finish. Quick Fix recognized these as photo albums, much like the ones his grandmother had had when he was a colt.

“I guess you don't do much reading.” Quick noted aloud, almost as a back-handed compliment. Looking over, he could not tell if the old mare was angry, or just annoyed as always. “What I mean is, you must be out working a lot. So you don't have time to read.” Quick continued, hoping to save himself from the old mare giving him an ear full.

“We work hard outside.” Responded Granny Smith. “Most of the books there have sentimental value, they don't get read much 't all. Besides, photo albums carry the best stories.”

“I guess they do.” Quick Fix nodded, remembering long afternoons with his Grandmother going through old photos. He looked down, and noticed that there was something lodged just under the shelf. Only a corner of paper was visible, so he moved a little closer to inspect.

Reaching out a hoof, Quick Fix tugged at the old piece of paper until he had freed it. Turning it over, he saw a picture of a Pegasus stallion in an airponies uniform. A wedge cap sat upon his head as he saluted and smiled at the camera. His uniform was freshly ironed, and a pair of chevrons were sewn onto the sleeve. The photo showed signs of age, but had been taken very good care of. Though there were wrinkles and folds in it, the picture obviously had been kept very safe. Quick Fix assumed it had been in a wallet or old leather frame before.

“What's that?” Granny called over from the couch. “Bring it here.”

“It's an old photo.” Quick Fix replied, stepping towards the couch, the picture still under his nose as he inspected it. He recognized the uniform from his history books, it was the uniform worn by airponies during a war. A war that had happened long before he was born, but maybe not before Granny Smith had been.

A look of realization swept across Granny Smith's face, then surprise, then panic. She reached a hoof out quickly and snatched the picture away, stating, “That's Private!”

Quick Fix blinked, “I didn't mean anything.”

“Fine.” Granny nodded, looking down at the picture, inspecting any and all damages.

“Who is that?” He indicated the picture with a hoof.

“Never you mind.” Granny Smith peered up at him.

Quick Fix backed away, as if she was an animal. “I just recognize the uniform.”

“Don't you worry about it.” Granny Smith placed the photo lovingly face-down on the table next to the couch. There was something written on the back, but when Quick stepped forward to read it, Granny slapped a hoof over it. “Thank you for coming. Ah'll see you t'morrow.”

“But I still have-”

“Thank you.” Granny insisted.

“Why are you here?” The boss looked up at Quick Fix from his desk. “You don't need to report in at the end of every day.”

“Just want to talk.” Quick Fix sat down in the chair across from the boss. “Is that a crime now?”

“No.” The boss shook his head. “But it doesn't mean I have to care.”

“Do you have a grandmother?” Quick Fix asked.

“No.” The boss looked over at him flatly. “I was grown in a pot. Of course I have one. Two in fact, one on my dad's side, and one on my mom's.”

“It was a simple question.” Quick Fix growled. “You don't have to be an ass. I meant, are they alive? Do you spend time with them?”

The boss coughed. “Yeah.”

“Yeah what?”

“Yeah I have grandmothers, and I spend time with them. Not as much as when I was a colt, but yeah. Why?”

“I remember my grandmother.” Quick sighed. “I loved spending time with her. We always went through the same three photo albums together. One was of her and grampa, one was of my dad when he was young, and one was me.” He smiled. “I liked grampa's the best. She told me all about his military service. He was my hero, and I never knew him.”

“And she was nothing like this old bird your looking after now.” The boss groaned, finishing the story for Fix. “And you wish Smith was more like your gramma.”

“No.” Fix shook his head seriously. “My grandmother was exactly like Mrs. Smith. Hard headed, independent, didn't take crap from anypony. She was the kind of lady who would keep a brick in her purse, y'know? She could be a real... Piece of work sometimes. She made me laugh, and made me angrier than a junkyard dog. But when we got along, it was perfect. We were like the same person sometimes. We ticked each other off so many times, because we knew exactly what to do to set each other off.”

“So what?” The boss sat back in his chair.

“She has albums too.” Quick Fix stated.

“So?”

“It reminds me way to much of grandma.”

“So? What do you want me to do? Change your assignment? No way!”

Fix shook his head again, “No. I'm perfectly fine now that I know what I'm dealing with.”

“And what would that be?” The boss groaned.

“Myself.”

Chapter 3: Talking To Myself

Chapter 3: Talking To Myself

On his walk over to Sweet Apple Acres the next day, Quick Fix had time to think about what he had said to his boss the night before. He had really meant what he had said. Granny Smith certainly did remind him of his grandmother, almost eerily. As he walked his mind wandered back to when he would spend long afternoons with her.

The albums were her most prized possessions, and she dusted them often, ensuring they would last. When he came through the door, she would be there to meet him, a smile on her face. She would guide him to the living room and sit him down on the couch. She would come back in a moment later with some kind of snack she had made herself, like cookies or a new recipe she was trying. She would always ask how his week had been, what was new at school, and other such questions.

Quick Fix never really said much, he never really liked to talk, that was one thing that had changed. He would always answer questions quickly and compliment on the snack before asking to go through the albums. He had seen most of the pictures before, but would always seem to find something new whenever he opened them. As soon at the page would come into view, his little hoof would snap to a picture and he would ask for an explanation. Where was that? Who was that? What was that called? His grandmother would always tell him, even if she had told the story before.

Sometimes, thought Quick Fix, it seemed like she enjoyed telling the stories over and over, almost more than he enjoyed hearing them. He wasn't sure what he liked most about it. Maybe just the fact that he was spending time with her.

Before he knew it, Quick Fix was standing at the gates of Sweet Apple Acres, the sun hanging high in the sky, and the smell of freshly turned soil filling the air. For the past few days, the walk up to the old farm house had been one filled with annoyance and dread of the boring day ahead. He was never sure how he would pass the day with the less than enthusiastic mare on the couch. His head would be filled with ideas of how he would ask to help, and she would deny, and he would get angry. There would be times where he would arrive at the house angrier than he would be for the whole day. Quick Fix did not care, being angry, in his mind, was better than being bored.

Today was different, though. Today he knew exactly what to expect. He expected to walk through that door, and come face to face with and old mare who was just like him. Independent, hard headed, and completely non-compliant. He had a few ideas of what he could do to make his time spent a little better for himself, and maybe the old mare too.

“Mrs. Smith?” Quick Fix called as he had each day before, stepping into the house.

“Ahm in here.”

“Mrs. Smith.” Quick Fix tipped an imaginary hat to the old mare and stood courtly before her.

“Yes?” She looked up from a crossword she was writing.

Quick Fix sighed, “I just wanted to apologize for yesterday. I should not have pried into your personal matters, I hope we can at least try to work things out between us. We still have little over a week together, and I don't want to spend that time dreading every day.

Granny Smith took a moment to think over what Quick had just said. Then she nodded, “Thank you young'un.”

Quick Fix bowed his head slightly, acknowledging the acceptance. As he did, and awkward silence fell over the room. Perhaps more so for him, as he now stood in the middle of the room, looking for something to do yet again. As he was about to take a seat in the usual spot, Mrs. Smith spoke up.

“Ah should apologize too.”

“Pardon?” Quick Fix cocked his head.

“The way ah acted yesterday was rude. You were only trying to be helpful. It's just...” She sighed. “Nopony really knows about him. With Big Mac and Applejack running the farm, I don't get much time to tell my life's story. The only time they're ever around to listen is before family reunions, and then they only really want to know about the last family reunion.”

“I see. If you ever want to talk...”

“Y'all wouldn't want to hear an old mare's story,” Granny Smith stated dismissively, “It would just bore you.”

“Would it be any worse than just sitting here like I normally do?”

Granny Smith coughed. Or was it a laugh? If it was a laugh, it was the first time she had laughed with Quick Fix in the room. “Ah suppose not.”

“May I?” Quick Fix motioned to the chair.

“What you can do,” Granny nodded towards the bookshelf, “Is bring me the album on the far left.”

“Yes Mrs. Smith.” Fix nodded before doing as he was told. He found the album, an old, dusty book with yellowed pages. Yesterday, he would have been angry that the old mare was telling him what to do, but today was different. For some reason, he was thinking of her as more than a grouchy old crone. She was someone. She was his equal. Not just another pony, not just someone sitting on a couch and bossing him around.

Taking great care, Fix carried the album over to the couch and handed it over to the mare, taking his seat in the chair next to her and peering over at it. Granny Smith turned over the cover, and the first yellowed page came into view.

“Ah'm sure you've heard about the war.” Granny looked over at him, Quick Fix nodded. “Well, when ah was a filly, about your age, the war was just getting started. Everypony and their dog was signin' up for the corps'.” She pointed to a picture of a pretty young mare. “That's me, right there. The world was a pretty scary place, but despite what you think, not everyone was on edge about gettin' attacked. We still had some fun, especially on the farm. Life was pretty normal. News of the war was scary, but it didn't really affect us.

Occasionally, me and my mare friends would go into the city for a night out. We never really got the chance, so it was a big deal when it happened.” Granny turned to a picture of three mares in summer dresses. The photo was black and white, but Granny could easily tell which pony was which. “'At's Anna Belle, Tootsie, and me.” Her hoof touched the picture with an air of respect and love. “We were the best of friends. Most times, they came out to help me on the farm so we could go out on these trips.

Anyhow, it was a dull day in August, and we were allowed to go on one of our trips. The girls showed up early to help me get done mah work, and we got on our new dresses.” She pointed to the picture again. “We heard about this new dance club in the city, and were all too excited to go.”

“You never struck me as a dancer,” Quick Fix noted, offhandedly.

“Ah may not look it now,” Granny coughed, “But ah was quite the little dancer back then. It's not like it is now, with all the writhing on the dance floor, and the only thing you young'uns know how to do is 'slow dance', which is more like lazy waltzing.”

Quick Fix chuckled, reminded of something similar he had heard before.

“Anyway. We got all of our things together and took a taxi into the city. Daddy never liked us using the family cart for road trips. Besides, he would have only let us take it if mah cousin was driving it. He was a bit of a kill joy, always stressin' over whether or not we'd run off with some strange stallion.”

Quick Fix smirked. “Did you?”

Granny Smith looked over at him and returned the smirk. “Anyway... We were on one of our big trips to the city. We were all excited as usual. Anna Belle came by first, we were gonna finish mah chores and pick up Tootsie. She brought her dress with her, and mine from the cleaners. It was an easy day, so mah daddy let us go early. Why, we were so excited, I darn near tore mah dress putting it on!”

She chuckled to herself. “Daddy decided he wanted to get our picture when we were all ready to go. So after we picked up Tootsie, we swung back to the house. That's when this was taken.” Granny pointed to the same picture she had before of the three ponies in dresses. “The taxi showed up just a few minutes after this was taken. Daddy let me hold on to the camera for the trip. We hopped right in and headed off to town.”

Turning the page, Granny smiled at one of the pictures. “This,” she pointed at a picture of an old style dance club. There were bright lights on the front, forming the words 'Luna's Lighthouse.' There was a crescent moon sign just next to the word Luna. “This was the place to be. It was the biggest dance club in the city!” She looked over at Quick Fix. “You dance?”

“I used to,” Quick Fix nodded, “With...” He coughed to cut himself off.

“Ah see.” Granny nodded, either not catching his cover up, or simply respecting his privacy. “Well, this was where you could really strut your stuff.” She pointed to a picture of her and her friends with a group of stallions in uniforms. “There was a recruiting office nearby, so all of the gents in their uniforms would come by for a little fun before shipping off to basic training.”

As Granny Smith turned the page, Quick Fix recognized the stallion from the picture he had picked up the day before, except in a different picture. In this one, he was in the club standing next to a smiling, young Granny Smith.

“If I may ask,” Quick Fix began, “Who is that?”