The Farm Girl and the Drake

One autumn morning, a herd of dark clouds seemed to settle over the town. On the abandoned rail line next to the train station, a cocky orphan known around the town simply as “Spike” awoke in an abandoned boxcar as a locomotive let out a long, lonesome whistle.

He blinked a couple times, giving his emerald eyes a chance to adjust to the light. He crawled out of his crude bed made of straw, stretched out his arms and ran his fingers through his green hair.

He stepped out of the boxcar, grabbed a discarded bucket, and used it to collect some water that was trickling from the water tower overhead.

He dipped a stringy cloth into the bucket and rubbed himself down from hairline to shins, listening to the train’s steam hissing and cogs chugging, as the cold bath stung the last cobwebs from his mind and his body.

He stared at his reflection in the tarnished glass of a mirror that was nailed to the telegraph post along the tracks. The face staring back was that of a lean, muscular young man with the body of a young athlete.

He smiled at himself in the mirror as he returned to the boxcar, picked his white collared shirt off the makeshift rack and buttoned it. He pulled on a pair of black slacks and a mulberry vest. Then he fumbled with the black ascot tie.

After he put on his shoes, he took a deep breath and shuddered.

“Yep. It’s gonna be one of those days,” he said to himself. “Well, time to dig up some breakfast.”

As he trotted through town, he was greeted with a smile and a wave from everyone. And he would smile and wave back.

Spike didn’t have a warm home and didn’t know what it was like to belong to a loving family, but he was a good guy and he had a heart of gold. He liked to wander the streets, looking for scraps and helping his friends.

Little did he know that on this particular day, a bit of urgent news would take him to Sweet Apple Acres.

“Now. About that breakfast, let’s see... Joe’s? Mmm... Nah. Gustav le Grand... No, no. Nope. Too much starch. Ah! Pinkie’s! I haven’t been there in at least a week,”

Pinkie Pie’s café. The place for very special occasions.

Once a little bakery, it quickly developed into the most popular restaurant in town. They served soup, salad, steaks, fries, beans, and ice cream as well as pastries (their specialty).

Pinkie was what some would call “a real foodie,” but she especially loved desserts. She could never pass up a good pie, cake, or cupcake. And she always made sure to have a couple of leftovers on hand for Spike.

Spike could hear singing coming from the kitchen as he approached the back entrance. He knocked on the doorframe and a man with dark, curly brown hair and brilliant green eyes poked his head out of the open top half of the Dutch door.

“Well, hello, Spike!” he greeted him. “You here for breakfast? Okay, the boss girl has saved some nice cupcakes for you. Coming out from left field!”

He tossed it to Spike and Spike effortlessly caught it.

“Good catch!” he chuckled.

Spike thanked him for the cupcake and continued down the street, smiling at the shining Sun.

Just then, from the corner of one twinkling eye, Spike saw two guards in golden armor walking his way. Then, out of the corner of his other eye, he saw a paddy wagon coming down the other end of the street.

Spike ducked into the alley and kept out of sight.

He peeked around the corner and saw two prisoners in the back of the paddy wagon. The first was a tall, thin, elderly gentleman in a very colorful outfit that consisted of a brown suit coat, leather gloves (the left one white, the right one brown), slacks (the left leg was tan while the right leg was green), and leather shoes (the left one brown, and the right one white).

The other was a young woman with flaming red hair that shimmered like the sunset, and she wore a black leather jacket, an orange skirt and black boots.

Spike’s gaze shifted to the guards and he watched one of them hand his spear and shield over to his ally. The guard then picked up a hammer and nails and proceeded to pin something to the fence.

After he’d finished, the guard took his weapons from his associate and they returned to their patrol.

Spike slowly emerged from the alley and read the sign that had been posted.

“Warning: Notice is hereby given that anyone under the age of 21 alone on the streets will be immediately imprisoned. By Order of Princess Celestia.”

Spike stayed where he was, picked up a rock and threw it into the bushes across the street. The two guards on foot went over to inspect the bushes and Spike snuck towards the back of the paddy wagon.

“Hey! Psst! Psst!”

“Well, look, Sunset!” the man in the mismatched suit said as he nudged the redhead. “It’s the Drake!”

“Shhh!” Spike shushed.

“Hi ya, handsome,” the redhead, known as Sunset, flirted. “Come to join the party?”

“All right. Enough with the wisecracks! I’ve got to get you out,” he said as he took one of Sunset’s bobby pins from her hair and used it to pick the lock. “I’m telling you, the pressure’s really on. Signs all over the country!”

He cracked the lock and opened the door.

“Thanks,” Sunset said.

“You’re all right, kid,” the tall man added.

“Okay, get going,” Spike told them.

“Hey! What’s going on over there?” came a shout.

“Scram!” Spike exclaimed. “And be careful!”

As they scrambled out, Spike ran past the guards, knocking their helmets off their heads.

Spike was one jump ahead of the guards as he rounded the corner down the road that led to the countryside.

Along the road, Spike saw a herd of cattle. He jumped over the fence, miraculously did not land in a cow pie, and hid among the cows until the guards gave up the chase and marched back to town.

“Thanks for the cover, gals,” Spike told the cattle as he picked himself up, dusted himself off and returned to the road, judging his new surroundings as he went. “I’ll bet they’ve got at least fifteen trees to one animal here. Oh! And a fence around every field. Well,” he said with a cock of his head, “as long as I’m here, I may as well have a look around. I wonder what the locals do for excitement.”

And his feet led him down the lane to the farm where Applejack lived.