The envelope is poorly closed and the hoof writing is sloppish, but you manage to read the address. It’s from Appleloosa, most likely from your friend Plain Trotter. You two haven’t spoken together for a long time. Not ever since he moved there with the rest of the settlers a year ago. You open the letter. It smells like whisky. Plains favourite brand. You start to read.
Hey buddy,
It’s me, Plain Trotter, but you probably already figured from the sender's address. I just wanted to know how you were doing… So, how are you?
Things down here in Appleloosa haven't really been the same since the bison incident. Not in a bad way though, I’m glad we came to an agreement! The farm’s same as always and Ma and Pa’s fine, they just finished painting the house, have been needing it for a while. Oh and hey guess what, I moved out! It was about time too. I couldn’t live with my folks forever. My new house ain’t very big though, so it’ll be a bit cramp when y'all come visiting. It ain’t exactly new either… But it’s new to me! And that’s what matters right? Sorry I’m rambling again, it’s a bit hard to get rid of that habit.
It seems as though the writing get’s a bit sloppier as the text goes. Several spelling mistakes can be seen throughout the letter.
The annual rodeo went smoothly again this year, helped with cleaning and such. Braeburns cousin from Ponyville participated this year, I think you’d like her. Lives in Ponyville if you ever go there. I’d love to go to Ponyville sometime. I heard the castle is beautiful beyond imagination. Hey, maybe you and I could go together, it has been a while since we last spent some time you and I. I could use some time away from Appleloosa too. The town’s dear to my heart but you just need a breather once in awhile you know? It's so hot down here too, it can get a bit much in the long run. You never really get used to the heat, sometimes I miss the cold from up north, on our old farm.
Hey, remember our tour to Stalliongrad? I almost froze my plot off, but the vodka was worth it. The mares were nice too, I still think about that blonde with the hazel eyes. One of the best Celestia damned nights of my life. Remember her? Probably not, you were so wasted you passed out in the hotel room.
Rambling. Sorry.
A new shade of black ink is being used.
A new buck moved to town recently, already found work at the tavern. He must be a bartender or something like that. I haven’t really gotten his name yet but from what I’ve heard he seems like a nice fella. Of course Braeburn already know him, that colt knows everypony in town. Maybe I could get his name from Braeburn, could be fun to get a new friend, I need some in town anyway. Not that I’m not happy with you! I would just like a friend that doesn’t live across Equestria, you understand, right?
The first few sentences is a bit blurry, it seems like a liquid was spilled on the paper.
I just bought a new shirt from one of those fancy traveling sales ponies. It cost me almost a week's salary but I needed a nice one for special occasions. It goes great with my deep green coat apparently. Or that’s just what the salespony said. I’m not sure it’s true but what do I know. I’m just a stallion after all. Maybe I should look for some new boots to go with it, maybe in white so that it matches my hat. Or maybe I should just go without. Boots are expensive and work on the farm doesn’t pay as well as you’d think. Apparently, bucking apples day in and day out is only worth 50 bits a week. At least for me that is.
Now back to that new stallion. I think he’s from west of Ponyville, Los Pegasus maybe? I’m not really sure. Maybe I should just go to the Salt Block and talk to him. That is where he works after all. Or maybe I shouldn’t, it is his work place. Maybe I just shouldn't talk to him at all. Why would he wanna talk to me? I’m just a stranger to him. Nothing.
It’s a miracle you and I became friends. And that’s only because we met through our parents.
Sweet Celestia…
What should I do, pal? I don’t know what to do… I’m all alone here.
I miss you.
A few droplets have been spilled, the shade of the paper there indicates that it wasn’t from the whisky, but they were tears. You consider answering but decides against it, if you know Plain Trotter, then he will send another letter soon.
A few days later you receive a new letter. After getting inside again, you sit down on the couch in the living room. The sender's address on the envelope is neatly written. It’s even got a name this time. “Plain Trotter” it says. After a deep breath and a sigh you open the letter and start reading.
Hey pal! Plain Trotter here,
I’m so sorry about the last letter I sent to you. Got a bit too much apple whiskey if you know what I mean. I understand if you don’t want to send a reply but I wouldn't mind if you did though, I really do miss you. You are, best best friend after all.
I spoke to that colt at the Salt Block, he’s really friendly and gave me a free drink. Real friendly, he asked me about all sorts of things like my job, my parents, our old farm and my new house. Gave me some decoration advice too.
But I do think he is a friend of Dorothy though. But ain’t nothing wrong with that. We just don’t get many of those kind of ponies down here. Hope everyone can be just as fine about it, I would hate to see him get bullied.
There is a coffee stain in the side, almost covering the words. Besides the stain, the letter seems fine so far. No stains, nice writing and very few grammatical errors. You think back to when you and Plain Trotter were foals, he was never a smart colt and barely passed his exams. He mostly cared about the farm his parents worked and lived on. Plain never really had any luck with the mares either, he never really seemed interested, you once asked him if he was even straight. You had never seen Plain Trotter so offended and so furious. He did apologize afterwards though.
I just got a raise on my salary this morning. Now I get 65 bits a week, maybe I should invite the buck on dinner, make him feel welcome. I know too well how it is to feel left out. I completely forgot to tell you his name, he’s called Airborne. He tried to become a wonderbolt at their academy, but failed the written exams, that’s why he’s here, his friends had apparently always love his drinks. And I understand why.
If you ever get down here, you gotta try ‘em. I’d be happy to hear from you soon, buddy.
The letter ends there. After a few moments consideration you get up from the couch and walk to the desk. You find a quill and some parchment in the drawer and some ink from the shelf above.
You bring the quill to the parchment, “Dear, Plain Trotter…”
Author's Note
For those wondering "friend of Dorothy" is a slang from after WW2 for being gay.
