Blade

Another five or so days had past, and Pinkamena realized that no matter how much she didn’t want to, going back into town was essential.

Food was running low, as the apple tree behind the cottage had been fully harvested (though it was incredible there were apples on it in the winter to begin with) and the canned foods that Pinkamena had found in the kitchen’s cabinets had all been opened and eaten. She had no choice but to go into town and purchase food. A blanket would also have been nice to have, as opposed to balling up on the greasy old mattress upstairs and hoping she didn’t freeze to death while she slept like she did since she moved in.

So it was the next morning that she rooted through the piles of junk she stacked all together during her cleaning and found a wicker basket. Afterward, she left the house and locked it behind her, taking the key along. It would be a lot harder for somebody to just move in from now on.

She started toward Ponyville down the dirt road and noticed that it was particularly warm that morning. The snow on the ground was thin, and the dirt had been warm enough to melt it and soak it up, making the road moist and a might slippery. She looked up and around at the trees, all barren of leaves or fruits.

At one point in the road, there was a fork. Pinkamena looked down the opposite road and saw that it was only a dead end, path wise. Beyond the end of the trail was nothing but snow and the light brush it was covering that drug on until it became invisible through the fog. A weathered road sign was posted at the split and it read two directions. The first, pointing toward town, read ‘Ponyville’, while the other read ‘Swamp’, only it had been crossed over several times with red paint. Pinkamena assumed by the ideological removal of the direction, the so called ‘swamp’ had been deemed unsafe or something similar.

Moving on, she crossed a cobblestone bridge that went over a frozen stream. The stream brought back vague memories of the times she and Ariel had played by the brook near the farm. It was also the place the voice had first found her. Sending a chill down her spine as she thought about how it had made its home in her mind and followed her everywhere throughout her entire life.

Not long after that, she had simply wandered into town and started looking around the square at different caravans.

First noticing the apple stand, she thought she recognized the large red stallion manning it. It was the same one she had seen on the first day she arrived, Big McIntosh of the Apple Family. But she couldn’t know that, because she had never walked up to him that day. Instead, she had taken the offer of a lifetime. Fortunately, Kanker was dead and far way at the bottom of a chasm, and Pinkamena could do whatever she wanted now. It was the first day all over, so she decided that this time she would greet the apple stand merchant.

Trotting casually up to the stand, she looked at the stallion in the eye.

“Hi.” She said simply.

She didn’t know what else she could have said. The only folks she had talked to in the last seven years that weren’t her family had been her co-workers, Cherry Cola and Brolly.

Kanker didn’t count. He didn’t have a soul.

Pinkamena didn’t have much experience with social interaction, so she guessed ‘Hi’ would serve as a good start for now.

“Uh, Howdy, I guess.” He said back, detached.

Pinkamena quickly surveyed the different kinds of apples on the stand and saw a golden one that looked positively delicious.

“What kind of apple is that, mister?” She inquired.

Big Mac looked over his shoulder, bored, and looked back answering; “That there’s a golden delicious.”

Pinkamena had never heard of such an apple. She could see that there were plenty of them on the stand and thought that she would go ahead and see if they were as they were named.

“I’ll take three, thank you.” She said, recalling back to the basic manners her mother taught her.

“That’ll be twelve bits, ma’am.” He replied.

She never remembered apples being so expensive.  Maybe it was just that variety that made it so. She looked at the granny smiths and decided she would get those instead.

“Never mind. I’ll just have some green ones.”

“It’s still twelve bits, miss.” He said back monotonously.

Pinkamena knew she was being ripped off. Assertion was nothing she couldn’t pull off. Things were finally starting over again. She was in no mood to be played any further.

“That’s ridiculous.” She said firmly. “Why the hay is everything so expensive?”

Big Mac’s brow furrowed at this. He didn’t quite change his tone, but it sped up a little.

“Lookie here, miss. These are my apples. I’ll sell them at whatever price I want.” He insisted.

Pinkamena became frustrated. She was about to protest when she heard somebody else speak for her.

“Oh, they’re your apples, is that right Big Mac?”

Big Mac’s eyes widened and he stood up straight immediately. His partial frown inclined and became more prominent. He looked very concerned.

Pinkamena looked over her shoulder to see who had made him change his mood so quickly. She saw two very lanky red-headed stallions in striped vests walking up and smiling very largely (though one of the smiles was hard to see through a very thick moustache).

The shaven one stopped at the cart and put his elbow down on it, leaning toward Big Mac, getting visibly more concerned the farther he leaned in.

“Did Flam and I hear that right, Big Mac?” He snickered. “Your apples?”

“You know I didn’t mean that, Mr. Flim.” Big Mac responded tensely, not bothering to look in his boss’s direction.

“Oh, you didn’t mean it, hmm?” probed the mustached one. “Then tell us, please, why you said it, Mackey, Ol’ friend.” He finished, holding his hoof up to his ear.

“I didn’t mean it, sir.” Big Mac insisted.

Pinkamena watched as the two stallions both put their shoulders around him and pushed against his face with their cheeks.

“Oh! But that would mean funny business!” smiled Flim, tussling the crimson colt’s dirty blonde mane.

“No better business, brother!” said Flam. “But we don’t operate on that business, do we, Flim?”

“Why it’d violate our policy, Flam!”

“You know the policy, don’t you, Big Mac?”

Big Mac’s lip quivered. He gulped.

“Eeyup”

Pinkamena saw that both of the stallions faces had started to feign surprise.

“What?” Flam mocked. “Well, that’s just the oddest thing!”

“If you know the policy, then how would you explain claiming the ownership of these delicious, stupendous, tasty-full apples, dear friend?” queried Flim.

Big Mac stuttered badly, sweat now rolling down his face.

“I, uh… She- I…a…”

“Why, they don’t belong to you, Big Mac!” Flim reminded. “They belong to us! Remember?”

“Ever since the sale, old friend!” Flam added.

“I’m sorry, sirs.” Big Mac shamefully finished, shaking just barely.

“Well sorry cuts it, I guess…” Flim started. “…by about thirty percent, I guess.” He finished with a nasty grin.

Big Mac’s face went pale. He looked desperate.

“No! Please, don’t!” He pleaded.

“Well, that’s the price, I guess.” Flim said.

“Just as fair as the cut.” Flam completed.

Big Mac looked at the ground in despair.

Pinkamena looked at the big red stallion and knew something was terribly wrong. She felt awful. She could feel strong empathy for somebody she had met not even a minute ago. There was no way she could have known about him having to sell the farm in order to feed what was left of his family and about how he and his poor old granny had to work for the rotten bastards that now owed it. But what she did know was that something wasn’t right.

The two stallions now looked at Pinkamena, who was looking at their employee as if she felt something for him. They exchanged a glance and then looked back at her.

“Say, miss. You were about to buy some apples, hmm?” Flam asked Pinkamena.

She didn’t like the two stallions. Not one bit. It was something about them. Maybe it was their tone. But whatever it was, she knew they were no good.

“Um… No thank you.” She lied. “I’ll just find something else to eat.”

Pinkamena backed away, trying to look left from the two stallions.

The brothers looked at each other strangely.

“Are you sure about that, ma’am?” asked Flim.

Shave and a haircut…

Pinkamena gasped in terror. Her eyes bulged.

… Two bits, you cocksucking chucklefucks.

Pinkamena heard the voice. Her eyes darted around in frenzy.

Hyperventilating, she suddenly turned around and ran away from the cart, leaving the two brothers and the big red stallion very confused.

Pinkamena might have run all the way home had she not heard a familiar voice behind her as she ran for the bridge.

“Pinkamena?” It called.

She stopped and whirled around just to be sure she had recognized it.

Waiting behind her was a smiling colt with a black mane and light brown coat. His cherry cutie mark confirmed it.

“Cherry?”

“Oh my goodness! It is you!” The colt smiled.

Without warning, he ran up to Pinkamena and hugged her before she could stop him.

“I thought you went missing along with Kanker!” He told her, nuzzling his nose on her shoulder. “I was so worried!”

The voice didn’t seem to be talking anymore, so that was all that mattered. Maybe happiness was what kept it away. This thought comforted her, so she returned the embrace warmly. And the two kept it for a while.

She had a friend. Somebody cared.