Cinnamon Cider

by AMVictor

Rating: teen
Tags: Slice of Life, Sad
Length: 1236

Apple Bloom is curious about her parents, so Granny Smith tells her about her mother and father.

Apple Bloom is curious about her parents, so Granny Smith tells Apple Bloom about her mother and father.

Originally written in 2014.

Published 1970-01-01 00:00:00 UTC
Last updated 2015-08-14 04:20:01 UTC

Cinnamon Cider

The sun set over the sleepy village of Ponyville. The pony folk settled down in their beds awaiting a gentle nights sleep. Though, over the hill near the old apple orchard, a little filly was not quite ready to fall asleep.

“I am not tire, I want to stay up all night like the big ponies.” Said the restless Apple Bloom jumping up and down on her bed.

The old Granny Smith yawned, “I’m a big pony and I ain’t staying up all night. What if I told you a bedtime story.”

“Yay!” Apple Bloom cheered then jumped into her covers.

“Have I told you the one about the ugly ducking.” Asked Granny Smith as she smoothed out the blankets.

“Uh yeah, like almost like a hundred billion times. Tell me a true story.”

“Okay, what about the time I discovered zap apples.”

“Ugg! Granny I need something new and fresh.”

“Um…oh I know, the time you met…”

“Tell me about mom and dad!” interrupted Apple Bloom.

“Um…I don’t know. It might be too sad.”

“Then only tell me the happy parts. There are happy parts, right?”

Granny took a second to think, “Fine, I will only tell the happy parts.”

“YAY!” cheered Apple Bloom.

Granny Smith took a deep breath.

Many years ago I gave birth to your mother. I gave her the name Cinnamon Cider because ponies were not allowed to have cinnamon or cider while pregnant. So after your mother popped out of me, I yelled “CINNAMON CIDER!” The nurses wrote it down as her name and I didn’t change it because I like cinnamon and cider. She had a brown coat and a yellow mane, so I guess the name also fit.

Now the good thing about having children is that they can do all the choirs for you. Once little Cinnamon was walking, she was working. Well, she had to work. After giving birth I drank cider and smoked cinnamon all day. I would sit on the porch to make sure Cinnamon didn’t run off and try to talk to the village folk. If she did run away, I would pull out an extra long and thick cinnamon stick and whoop her ass. She would try to reason with her father but he only spoke Polish and we had no idea what he was saying. On days where I drank so much I passed out, and Cinnamon would sneak off and play hopscotch. She became so good at it that I swear that was going to be her cutie mark. When we found out about this, her father gave her a talking to.

“Wiem, że jesteś dobry w hopscotch ale jeśli nie dostać jabłko znak Cutie, jesteśmy wypierania cię.”

This made her cry and she sweared that she would never play the vile game again.

Several years later when she was an adult pony, she got her cutie mark which was a cup of cider because everyday I had her working on making cider. Our cider was the best their ever was and I should know, I drank it all the time. Pony came far and wide to drink the stuff and we became rich. I bought myself some cinnamon stick holders so I could look fancy. I strut around the place covered in jewels and wrapped in a fur coat. Her father got himself a pimp suit and a gold and diamond cane. He would swing it around saying ”To jest życie!”

Dumb Cinnamon didn’t care about any of the money. She didn’t even wear the lipstick dress and stilettos I bought her. She just like to wear a dirty old brown hat which she used to hide her face from the customers.

One day all of this was turned on its head...

A shaggy stallion approached the stand with a half drunken cup and said, "I want a refund.”

Every pony gasped even those standing in line, who the hell would ever say such a thing about perfection?

Cinnamon Cider looked a the stallion and asked, "What’s wrong with it?”

"It tastes sorrowful, as if someone cried into it.”

Cinnamon Cider smiled, "That’s just silly.”

The stallion poured the cider into the dirt, he then leaned very close to Cinnamon Cider and whispered, "My name is Keepsake, and I know it was your tears Cinnamon Cider.”

Then he left.

Several month later, Cinnamon gave birth to Big Mac. It was weird because she was single, so for a while we thought it was a virgin birth. Because of the baby, I had to take over the work which means I had to cut back on drinking. But it got worse. One day, I was bucking apples with my stilettos and I tripped and broke my hip. Cinnamon couldn’t work because of the baby, Big Mac couldn’t walk, and her father ran off to become a Polish pony pimp. So there was no one to buck apples or make cider and eventually we ran out of money. We shut ourselves off from the outside and stayed like that until HE returned.

One morning he appeared, his messy light red main and red body. His flank bore a bright red and green apple. He approached our house and knocked on the door.

"Go away, we no longer sell apples.” I said from behind the door.

"I am not here to buy apples, I am here to help.” He responded.

"We don’t want your help.”

"Okay, I won’t help, but at least let me see my son.”

"What son?” At the time I still thought Mac was a virgin birth.

"Macintosh!”

With those words, Cinnamon shoved me out of the way, causing me to re-break my broken hip. She flung the door open and grasped Keepsake and kissed him for what felt like hours.

After that the farm was up and running again. We were selling apples and cider again and we were no long in poverty. Keepsake had the horse power of 20 horse and raised a barn on his own. He did most of work which meant Cinnamon could just sit around all day drinking a new drink Keepsake invented called applejack. But when she got pregnant, the doctor said she couldn’t drink the stuff which drove her crazy. When she finally gave birth, she yelled, "APPLEJACK!” And the nurses wrote it down.

Everything was perfect until Keepsake got up and left. No one knew where he went. We had search parties and everything but found nothing. Cinnamon doubled her drinking but the doctors told her stop because she was pregnant with a third child. She kept drinking until I threw a fit and destroyed all the alcohol in the house. From that day forth, I swore never to make alcoholic cider again. The day after you were born, I thought she was going to start drinking again. But instead, she packed her bags and said she was leaving.

"I’m not coming back until I find him.” Was the last words she said and we never saw her again.

Apple Bloom sat in her bed crying, "I thought you were only going to tell the happy part.”

"Well, this way you will no longer ask about your parents.” Said Granny Smith

"I guess so.”

Apple Bloom then curled up in her bed while Granny Smith said goodnight and turned off the light.

The End.