♪ Hel~lo daddy, hel~lo mom I'm your ch-ch-ch-ch-ch-ch CherryBom-
"Maaaa, Antoine keeps hitting me!"
"I did not, I did not hit him! Don't lie, Thumb!"
"Mooom!"
The volume is lowered once more as Miss Mous, Antoinette, my mother, sighs heavily through her nose. She glances in the rearview mirror. Behind her gaze is pain and I gulp, slowly retracting an arm that was prepped to push. "Antoine, don't make me tell your father when we get home." Her words are calm, but there's a hidden promise of evil in them.
She's the middle ground, surprisingly enough. The thought of dad– yet another A in the family–Anon E. Mous mad scares the shit out of me and I glare at my younger brother. "Sorry ma, sorry Thumb." Nonetheless, I do lean over and give him an oh-so meaningful side-hug. I give him a gentle noogie through his hairdyed hair.
Thumb, however cool he thinks he is because of that, cowers in my cruel embrace. Oh, it's definitely meaningful. Not my fault he's weird, he gets his BS from her. Mom doesn't say anything as her trains her heated stare back on the road. My younger brother, Anthony–a lot of A's in this family, I know–blows a raspberry, laughing under his breath. His spittle splashes across my face in an act of war. I growl at him. "Just because I stopped doesn't mean I won't do it again," I threaten in a whisper, "but even harder."
Anthony, being a little baby, opens his mouth. "Mooom, he says he's gonna hit me now!" I gasp as I pull myself to my door to look innocent. The car comes to a slow, I feel myself move with the motion and I glare back at my brother; that snitch! I think idly before glancing back at the rearview mirror.
Mom's fiery eye coloured eyes snap on me again and I loose yet another gulp of fear as I come to notice. "Antoine, you're testing my temper now. Quit your shit or I'll whip out my pepp-I WILL FUCKING RUN OVER YOUR MOTORCYCLE IF YOU DON'T GET OUT OF THE WAY," she interrupts herself--thus proving my earlier BS point, as she flares off at a passing motorcyclist in front of us. With a roll of my eyes. She looks aghast for only a second as she glances back. Shaking her head, she looks to the road as she grumbles under her breath; something about ungrateful brats.
I look downward, kinda feeling bad but kinda not. She's just sore I pepper-sprayed her back, last time. Turning my head away, I look out through my window just in time to see two bright headlights and the panic in some driver's face. My mouth opens before I could even process it doing so.
"Mom?" I instantly notice her eyes going down in the mirror as her hand reaches for the volume. In this last split-second moment, I try again.
"Mo-!" and I'm too late to stop her.
Helloworld, I'm your wild girl ch-ch-ch-ch-ch-ch Cherry Bomb! ♪
It's weird; the braking screech of hydroplaning wheels on wet asphalt, how it's louder than the music...
... right before the silence.
. . . . .
In another place, in another time.
. . . . .
Apples, apples far as the eye can perceive. That's what Applebloom saw upon waking up beneath her favourite apple tree. Her lips pursed as she'd yawned, smacking her lips. The dryness of her mouth was without par and she'd breathed deeply in through her nostrils.
Apples, as far as she could smell too.
She'd loosed her inhaled air and lazed on the grassy plain. Applebloom was only nine years old, yet she'd felt beyond her years. She twisted her body, gently contorting the tight bones within. Creaked, cricked and cracked her spine when she'd adjusted herself beneath the shade. She'd finally stilled, her back now propped against the hardened-o'er-the-years bark. A strange warmth wanted her to remain in place and she'd adhered.
Applebloom's golden eyes wearily scanned the serenity of the vista; apples and trees, the blades of healthily green grass that blanketed the earth 'neath. The wind had swept along each and every fibre, it had almost felt hallucinogenic for Applebloom. She'd stared dreamily and swayed head along with each timbre and pull of the grass. As it worked together with the gentle drifts to create such a beautiful weave.
She'd wished that for herself, that invisible weave that intertwined one with another–an earth pony connection as old as time with no real name. Applebloom wanted for the perfect wind to have swept through the single strand of grass that she was.
She'd only started feeling that way a year ago. By pure chance, by pure chance! However totally uninvolved she was, she and her two best friends had somehow influenced two of the other most important ponies in her life. By some circumstance both Big Mac, her older brother, and Miss Cheerilee, Applebloom's teacher, had gotten together.
By luck or love alone, they'd continued to share their ooey-gooey words and glances; even without the influence of a love potion! It was needless to say her grades had far improved... she'd sincerely hoped it was just due to her studying.
At first, it was disturbing for the young filly.
The romance, the idea of love, and being weird. It wasn't long until some time had passed and her opinion had changed–like, the next day after the whole love potion incident. As a quite mature-for-her-age young filly, she'd quickly started thinking of what it'd be like. The stupid nicknames, the cute 'glancing into each other's eyes because they love each other so much', even the cheesy conversations.
For somepony to be weird like that with her, that was the dream... and to her, that was the problem. Aside from the constant longing she'd so wished to end, nopony–well, nopony around Ponyville, seemed to fit the bill.
That was then, and she was still just as regretfully single now. Not common thoughts of a nine-year-old. Maybe she just wanted that type of connection because she'd bloomed it for others?
She'd briefly imagined a gleaming, juicy red apple shaped like a heart. She shook her head at the prospect. That would be a stupid cutie mark. She'd huffed a sigh in her rumination. Barely, she'd looked just to the right of the serene vista. From the corner of her eye, she'd scanned over where she left the Apples and noticed they'd spanned as far as the eye could perceive, too.
Metaphorically, of course.
The old barn in the distance, long overdue for a repainting, used for equipment and gatherings, was being used as such. Well, for a gathering, anyhow. It was the Nth Apple Family reunion since she'd been born and she'd gotten rather bored of attending them. Well, attending stag, that is, so she'd left on her own to take a nap.
Not that she had anything against Great-Grand Uncle, Gathers-Many-Apples, of course. Also, rest his soul.
The Apple stag who died of going stag even in death.
Dangit, she'd convinced herself. In honour of his name, Applebloom released another, less tired sigh as she stood on all fours. Away from the warmth that called her. She'd made to trot over to the group, but a particular shiver caused her pause. Just a glimpse out of the corner of her eye was the source of her previous warmth.
Just to the right of just to the right, as in right next to her, a groan sounded in her ear. She'd bitten back a scream as she turned her muzzle to get a better view of who was beside her.
Of what was leaning back against the very same tree she'd woken up under.
It was gripping at its head, she'd noticed quizzically, and appeared naked of all fur minus the tuft atop its head. It was clothed, strange for a monkey–stranger still for an ape, so it was obviously sapient if it worried about appearance.
Two of the bluest blue eyes she'd ever seen opened and widened as they saw her back. Its mouth opened and closed several times before finally, it found what it was trying to say:
"Ch-Cherry Bomb?"
Confusion flashed across Applebloom's face as she fell back on her haunches. Who the heck is Cherry Bomb? She'd wondered briefly before she screamed at the top of her lungs. The thing, which was decidedly male by its scream, screamed at her scream.
That's when the Apples came.
