Ponies with such strong familial bonds like that of the Apple clan tended to see the concept of privacy a bit different than other families. While any one of them would readily admit there were times when it was acceptable to be alone, determining just when those times occurred could be open to wide interpretation. And when a new pony came into their family, one who was had a rather…proper upbringing, issues came up.
One such issue arose concerning the use of the big main bathroom on the ground floor of the Sweet Apple Acres farmhouse.
Certainly, there was a perfectly serviceable bathroom on the second floor of the large house. It proved to be a convenience since that was where most of the bedrooms were located for the younger members of the clan. Only Granny Smith, of her advanced years, had the right and/or privilege to make use of the ground floor master bedroom. Despite this, the master bathroom was much bigger and tended to draw the use of the other Apple ponies more often than not.
Peppermill, newest of the clan but not sharing their bloodline, had been born and raised in a rather…proper household. Besides cleanliness befitting a chef, the grey colt had been taught what was considered in high society the most impeccable of manners. Peppermill had never forgotten these lessons, and he tried to emulate his lessons at every opportunity, regardless of how it may have made him seem to the…rougher types of ponies around him.
This proved not always as easy at it sounded.
Take for example recent events when Peppermill had been…using the downstairs bathroom. His proper upbringing led him to close the door to the room as he did as was required at the time. To him, a closed door was a clear sign: do not enter under any circumstances. However, this message had not been conveyed to a certain red-maned filly who more often than not tended to barge into everything and anything. The end result was some loud shouting, some hurt feelings and a new house rule that closed bathroom doors required a knock before entering.
The bathroom door today was not closed this time however, despite having Peppermill inside it. This was a welcome sight for Big Macintosh, the eldest of the clan, who after performing some tree transplanting needed to splash some water on him in the worst way. As the stallion moved into the room towards the sink, he glanced carefully at his little brother. The colt was perched on a small stool next to the sink, peering hard at his reflection in the mirror. As Big Macintosh washed his hooves and face, the colt turned his head this way and that, trying to peer at himself from as many angles as possible.
“Ah never pegged ya fer the type to admire yerself in the mirror…” quipped the red drafthorse, genuinely curious about the colt’s uncharacteristic behavior. The Apple stallion had seen his fair share of vain types, but the colt never struck his as the sort. It wasn’t as though the colt didn’t keep himself presentable at all times, and there was certainly nothing wrong with wanting to do so. But the intensity that Peppermill studied his features was puzzling.
“Is that meant to be a joke?” responded the colt. Big Mac marveled at how the colt’s once raspy voice had mellowed with maturity, and snickered at the unamused look the colt gave him. “If you must know, it feels as if my mane is getting a bit long for my tastes.”
“Hmmm…” The buff stallion reached over and ruffled the colt’s dark mane, resulting in a grumble and an attempt to bat the powerful leg away from Peppermill’s head. Despite his seemingly grumpy reaction, there was a smile at the edges of the colt’s mouth as he did so. This was the typical interaction between the two, which both males cherished. “Ah reckon ya do look a bit shaggy up there.”
“And this coming from a pony who only runs a comb through his mane every other day…”
“Ah can’t help it if ah don’t need to tidy mahself up as much as other fellas.”
“Well, I don’t feel comfortable letting my mane grow so long. I think I need a mane cut.”
“Eeyup.”
“So, how do I go about doing that?” The stallion was rendered momentarily speechless by this frank question. He gazed down in astonishment at the colt, who was growing more than a little embarrassed over his brother’s amazement.
“Ya ain’t tellin’ me ya ain’t never had a mane cut before?” stammered Big Mac.
“Well, not in the way you might be thinking.” snapped Peppermill, flustered. The colt gave a sigh, then explained himself. “I assume you remember how I told you about Mother?”
“She wuz a mighty pretty model as ah recall.” nodded the stallion.
“Yes, and as a model she had many friends in the business including stylists. She was very close to one in particular named Crimson Clip. She was the one who handled Mother’s mane when she was still actively modelling. Whenever I needed a trim, Mother would invite Crimson Clip to the restaurant. The two of them would share the latest news while giving me a mane cut. Mother always insisted on giving her some bits, but Crimson Clip always refused. She was the only pony who had ever cut my mane.”
“And ah suppose ya ain’t comfortable letting another pony do it…”
“No, that is not true at all.” protested the colt. “While I appreciated the kindness she sown me and Mother, I have always wanted to go to a…well, a proper barber. Like a stallion would.”
“Like yer pa?” smile Big Mac in understanding.
“Father had always promised me that one day he would take me to his own barber. He made the shop sound so…neat. Of course, now…” Peppermill trailed off, looking away from his brother.
“Ah reckon ah can help ya out. I’ll take ya to the shop ah go to. We will get ya a proper mane cut.”
“Is it a proper barbershop? With one of those striped poles out front and those chairs that go up and down?” Despite the colt’s poise and maturity, he was still just a child. And as such, he was entitled to childish outbursts of excitement and he was experiencing at that moment. The pure hope and joy on his face made the red stallion feel light as cloud, and eager to fulfill his little brother’s wish.
“Eeyup.”
***
A few days later a red stallion and grey colt made their way in to downtown Ponyville towards the barber shop that Big Macintosh, not to mention almost every other stallion in town, frequented. The colt’s excitement was palatable to the stallion, and the usually calm pony basked in it. Having spent many years as the only male of the household, Big Macintosh was always thrilled whenever the opportunity to do anything with Peppermill came along. The chance to share in what he saw as a right of passage for a young colt to stallionhood was too good to pass up. And if anything, it gave him a chance to show off his little brother to the small circle of acquaintances he had.
“Ah reckon you will lahk Mister Shears. That fella is a whiz when it comes ta clippin’ hair. He’s been doing this fer a long, long tahm.”
“Well, I would hope that a professional would be doing this.” remarked Peppermill.
“You don’t need ta fret none. Mister Shears knows how ta deal with young’uns.” nodded Big Mac.
“You make me sound like some foal that thinks getting my mane cut would hurt.” retorted Peppermill.
“Ah don’t mean it lahk that. He’s an older fella who knew Granny Smith in her younger days. He tends to treat all the fellas that come in lahk his kids and grandkids. Ah reckon you will lahk him.”
“Hmm…” The two Apple boys eventually reached the shop in question. It was a rather small building, with a large window in the front and (to Peppermill’s delight) the tell-tale striped pole attached to the wall outside the door. Big Mac grinned down at his adopted brother as he pushed the door open, allowing the colt to enter first.
“Goodness…” The little grey pony peered around in awe at the little shop. It had a very…masculine look to it, full of wood paneling and a checkered tile floor. Two full-sized barber’s chairs specifically designed for equine bodies sat before two large mirrors. Below each mirror sat tables full of scissors, combs and other mane cutting equipment. And standing in the center of the room was an older-looking Earth stallion, who appeared to the colt to be asleep standing up.
“Um, Big Mac?” Peppermill raised an eyebrow and pointed to the elder with uncertainly. In response, the draft horse approached the senior and carefully nudged him.
“Mister Shears? Ah reckon ya got a customer.” The older stallion, Mr. Shears, woke with a start and a snort.
“Huh? Wuzza? How many up?” The colt watched in fascination as the old horse shook himself awake, a mass of frizzy white mane and equally impressive eyebrows almost completely covering his face. What he could see of the pony’s face was heavily wrinkled with age. Mr. Shears moved with a slow, stilted gait not unlike Granny Smith whenever her hip began to act up. Finally, the senior seemed to squint (as far as the colt could tell through the mass of grey hair) at Big Macintosh.
“Hmm? Oh, Big Macintosh. How are you doing young fella? Come for a trim have ya?”
“Not today Mr. Shears.” explained the stallion, raising his deep bass voice to be heard. “Ahv brought along a new customer fer ya.”
“A new customer eh? Let’s take a look.” Peppermill blinked as Mr. Shears tottered towards him and leaned down to peer at the colt.
“This here is mah adopted brother Peppermill. Ya’ll remember me telling ya about him?” explained the stallion.
“Yes, yes I remember. The little city colt who is good in the kitchen.” The wrinkles of the stallion’s face multiplied in what the colt hoped was a smile. “So, you need yourself a trim my boy?”
“Er…yes, I do Mr. Shears.” While Peppermill trusted his brother’s judgement, he was beginning to have second thoughts about this particular barber. He didn’t question whether or not the old pony could do the job, but he wasn’t completely convinced that Mr. Shears could even see him.
“Take a seat son, and we’ll get you spruced up in no time. After I’m done you’ll be a new pony. You’ll have the all the fillies in town chasing you around.” Peppermill could have sworn he saw what might have been a wink from the stallion as he motioned with a slightly shaky foreleg to one of the chairs.
Approximately 30 minutes later…
Big Macintosh squirmed as he sat waiting for Mr. Shears to finish with Peppermill. The barber and the colt chatted pleasantly as the deed was being done, but from his seat Big Mac couldn’t quite see how old Mr. Shears was doing. As much as he trusted the other pony, it seemed to him that there was an awful lot of jet black mane laying on the floor around the chair. Ah reckon his mane weren’t that long…
“Okay. I think that just about does it. You are a brand new pony young fellow.” Mr. Shears staggered back a bit stiffly. “Oh, I keep forgetting how hard it gets to stand like that. The day when I decide to hang up my scissors is coming sooner than later I think…”
“I think you have many more manecuts left in you sir.” beamed the colt. Big Macintosh stood up and approached the two, his mouthing opening to express his gratitude.
And then he saw Peppermill…
…and the stallion’s mouth went slack.
…
…
…
Dear sweet Celestia, he’s gone an’ scalped him! Peppermill and removed the cloth that Mr. Shears as draped around his neck and was leaning forward to gaze at his reflection in the mirror. As he was doing this, Big Macintosh had gently taken Mr. Shears by the withers and led him a few steps away.
“Mr. Shears, wut in the hay did ya do?” hissed Big Mac, borderline frantic.
“I gave him a manecut my boy. That is what my cutie mark means after all.” chuckled the elder.
“But…but…it’s so…short…”
“Son, I’ve been cutting manes since before you even a glimmer in your parent’s eyes. I might have lost a step or two over the years, but I know what colts like when it comes to their hair. And I’ve slipped my share of chefs too, come to think of it.”
“Mr. Shears, ya know I respect you and appreciate all the help you’ve been over the years. But ya got to understand, I got to explain this to mah sisters and Granny.” The stallion suddenly went pale. “Oh pony feathers. Ifin Granny don’t cuss me out AJ an’ Applebloom will tan mah hide!”
“Hehehehehe…..” The two stallions slowly turned around at the sound of the laughter, Mr. Shears with a grin and Big Mac with a puzzled look.
“Goodness, this is different isn’t it?” laughed Peppermill. The colt had a big, goofy grin on his face as he rubbed the top of his head feeling the short cropped mane on it.
“It’s either that or a hairnet son. If you are going to be a cook, you’ll have to make a choice.” smiled Mr. Shears. Peppermill hopped off of the chair, approached the elder and extended a foreleg to him.
“Thank you very much Mr. Shears.”
“And you know how to be respectful to your elders. I suspect Granny Smith had a hoof in that, but then again I imagine Big Macintosh here probably had a hoof in that.” laughed the stallion as he heartily shook hooves with the colt. As this was going on, Big Mac observed with his mind reeling and unable to tear his gaze from the ultra-short manecut sported by his little brother.
It sounds lahk he ain’t upset but…dang… He was so consumed by his panic that he missed it completely when the colt walked right on by him out of the shop. It took a few minutes before the realization hit the buff pony, and he managed to stumble out of the shop in a desperate attempt to catch up to him.
By the time Big Macintosh managed to catch up to Peppermill, the colt was already passing by the central fountain in the middle of Ponyville. The stallion stayed a few paces behind the colt, marveling at how…pleased he seemed. Peppermill held his head high, greeting ponies as he walked. Meanwhile, Big Macintosh’s face was redder than it should have been possible to be as he plodded behind the colt. Every time he looked around, he could swear he could see looks of shock and horror on the face of the other ponies. His ears swivelled wildly, hearing whispers, laughs and questions about how he could have allowed such a thing to happen to his little brother. At least, the big pony thought this was the case, so consumed in his impending gloom.
Once the two of them left town proper and were on the path leading to Sweet Apple Acres, the stallion sidled up beside Peppermill and mumbled.
“Ya sure seem ta lahk yer new…er...style.”
“I have to admit Big Mac, I had my doubts at first. But Mr. Shears seems to know what he is doing. And I think he might even be a bit sweet on Granny Smith, if what he said was true.”
“Yeah. But…er…dontcha think it’s a bit…um…”
“Big Mac? Is there something wrong? You seem…I don’t know, upset about something?”
“Ah ain’t upset! It’s just…just…dang nab it Peppermill, ya ain’t got a hair on yer head now!” The exclamation came in an uncharacteristic bellow, and the colt gaped in surprise.
“Of course I have hair. It’s just really short that’s all. Just like how the sous chefs used to do it…”
“Ah mean, ya look…wait...sous chefs?”
“Yes, back at my family’s restaurant. You see, in order to prevent any accidents with the meals all the sous chefs that worked for Father had to make a choice: either wear a hairnet when in the kitchen…”
“Or…cut their manes short?” managed Big Mac weakly.
“Exactly. I wanted to have my mane cut like that so badly. But Mother wouldn’t let me, always telling me ‘maybe when you are older’. “
“Wait just a second: wut about yer pa? Did he have a short mane or…”
“Heh, as amazing at it sounds, Father always wore a hairnet. I don’t know what surprised me more: the fact that he willing wore one or the fact that everypony still said he looked handsome when wearing it.”
“So…ya ain ‘t upset about this…” Big Mac gestured with a large hoof over the colt’s head.
“Of course not. It’s just hair after all. It will grow back. Why do you seem so upset?”
“…”
“Big Mac? You aren’t…embarrassed to be seen with me with this haircut are you?”
“Of course I ain’t. It’s just…well, just because you ain’t got a problem with it don’t mean everypony else won’t.”
“Big Mac, it’s just hair. It will grow back. If anypony says anything, just tell them it was my idea.”
“That’s easy fer you to say. I reckon Granny and AJ and Bloom ain’t gonna see it that way…”
“Are they really going to be that mad about this?” questioned the colt.
“Well, ah suppose Granny might be more understandin’ on account her and Mr. Shears are friends. But you know how our sisters are when it comes to you…”
“That’s alright Big Mac.” Peppermill approached his brother and reared up in order to place a comforting hoof on his broad chest. “I promise I won’t let our big, bad sisters do anything to you. They are both going to have to accept my…new style.”
“Our sisters ain’t big or bad…” muttered the stallion, annoyed by the teasing grin of the colt’s face. “They just get mighty ornery whenever anything happens to you they don’t approve of.”
“Well, that’s too bad for them then.” And with that, the colt spun back around and marched with his head held high back to the farm.
“Humph…” grumbled the stallion, following with a heavy gait.
“I ain’t afraid...at least of Applebloom. AJ though…”
FIN