So when you come to our house, we'll have some fun
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You're Always Welcome At Our House
So when you come to our house, we'll have some fun
Well, I can't tell ya much about 'em. The Pie Family've lived 'round these parts fer as long as anypony can remember, but there ain't that much ta tell.
I was a foal when Old Clyde Pie, that's Igneous Pie's pa, who passed on a while back, built the house them-all're tearin up now, but they was 'round these parts afore that. We always figured they was decent folks. Quiet, that's fer sure. Didn't cause nopony no trouble. 'Round here that's probably 'bout as good as it gets. My nephew, he lives jus' down the river a mite, he ain't quiet and I'm near ready to march down there an' put a shoe-print er two over his cutie mark, he's jus' no end of trouble and noise and bother. Many's the time I wished he was as quiet as the Pies.
So I was right satisfied with them as neighbors. Could do worse, I always figgered. Jus' goes ta show, ya never can tell, I figger.
What's that? Did I notice anythin' strange? Not so's I could mention. Like I said, they was mostly quiet. I remember the pink one, I forget her name, came over a few times 'fore she left, to borrow sugar or somesuch. She weren't quiet at all! Could talk the ears right offa ya. But she didn't bother us none most o' the time, and the rest of them... Ya nod when ya pass on the road, ya know? That was 'bout it, most days. They kept ta themselves, an' we kept ta ourselves. Which I guess includes my nephew, 'cause he's my kin, but Celestia Almighty I wish he would just stop askin' me fer bits every month. He ain't got the sense Celestia gave sparrows, that boy. Can't manage money worth beans. Shoulda' jus' gone ta the city like most o' the fillies an' colts 'round here do. He ain't cut out fer farmin'.
Most of 'em leave, and sometimes it's a mite sad, but the ones that stay, mostly them's the ones that have the love of it, ya know? The ones that get their cutie marks in somethin' to do with their farms an' what they raise. They stay. My nephew got a cutie mark in fishin', the daft fool. An' he spends as much time on the river as he does on the farm! He'd'a done better ta move down ta' the coast and find work fishin', that boy, 'cept I suspect his mark's actually in bein' lazy, 'cause that's what fishin' is 'round these parts. Farmin' ain't a job fer the lazy.
It's hard work, lemme tell ya. Rocks more n' most, truth be told. I mean, a rock harvest, you weigh it by the ton even on a small farm. Those fillies is stronger than most stallions I know. We do wheat, mostly. Somepony's got to, an' most years it does well enough. I wouldn't want ta do rocks. That's a job for the patient, too, lemme tell ya. Maybe that's why? I dunno, I'm jus' ramblin' here. Maybe they was bored? That's a daft reason to do what they gone and done, but maybe the rocks jus'... drove 'em crazy. Rocks... Ya gotta work and work and work, turnin' an' fussin' an' frettin' at 'em fer years before ya get a harvest worth botherin' with. Wheat ya jus' put it in the ground, an' then ya pray that some idiot fool pegasus don't leave the fields dry jus' when they need rain most, or flood 'em out when rain's the last thing ya want. But mostly they do good work 'round here, an everythin' turns out fine without havin' ta break yer back fer it. I mean sure, ya' gotta plow an' fertilize an' all, which ain't easy, it's work an' plenty of it! But it ain't like rocks.
I figger it's jus' natural that they was quiet. Rocks are quiet, ya know? But you'd'a thought they'd be hard an' mean an' cruel, 'cause I feel like rocks is like that, but they wasn't. They was the nicest folks. Always happy ta help out a stranger.
An' come ta think of it, that's a mite odd. We take care o' our own, but we ain't much interested in folks from elsewhere, ya know? Jus' how it is 'round these parts. I figger that's farm country all over. Farmin' takes so much outa' ya, that ya jus' ain't got enough left fer anypony who ain't yer own. But they was always welcomin' of strangers. I heard Igneous say that anypony comin' through town that needed a place ta stay could come 'round his place anytime.
At the time I just figgered they was bein' welcomin', ya know? Bein' kind. Gives me the willies now, knowin' why they was so invitin'. It ain't right, ta ask strangers over an' then do what they done to 'em. Ain't right ta do that ta anypony. Even city folks. Whatever's wrong with my stars-be-damned nephew, he'd never do somethin' like that, ya know? Just ain't right.
Ya'll'a been fulla questions, but I gotta ask one o' my own. Does anypony know how many yet? I know them ponies from the guard are still pullin' up the floorboards an' all, but maybe somepony has some idea how many there were?
Oh.
That... That's an awfully big number. More'n I'd'a thought, even knowin' now that most o' those out'a towners never left again. That's... a lot.
I dunno what ta' even say 'bout that.
Jus' incredible, that somepony ya knew, that ya saw 'most every day, could do such a thing. An' not jus one of 'em, the whole lot of 'em.
I read it in the papers, ya know. Would'a been what, almost a year gone now? Read all about the pink one. Oh yeah, her name was Pinkie. Ha! Fancy me forgettin' that the pink one was named Pinkie! Anyhow, I read all about it, an' I was pretty damn surprised, lemme tell ya! But I always figgered it was somethin' she learned out there, somethin' she picked up from cityfolk.
I know, I know, Ponyville ain't a city. But it's a fair bit bigger'n anything we got here. Biggest thing 'round these parts is over by the train station, where there's the feed store an' five houses.
Oh, right, there's six now, since the Herbs moved there an' built a new place couple o' years back. I forget ta count 'em sometimes because they ain't our folk, ya know? They ain't from here, an' don't quite belong. They're kinda' a strange bunch, the Herbs. Ha! Strange buncha' herbs! But they ain't real farmers, they ain't our kind. They grow their little plots o' herbs all organic an' sell it off ta some high-falutin' grocery place in Manehattan. I don't hold none with organic farmin'. Buncha' nonsense. Not usin' pesticides is jus' askin' ta have most o' your crop eaten by critters o' one sort or another. Most folks 'round here feel the same way, so we never much warmed to the Herbs. They wasn't our people. But hell, the Pies was our people, or at least we thought they was, an' look what they done! I'd'a thought the Herbs woulda' done somethin' like this before I'd'a suspected the Pies of it. Mebbe where you come from don't matter so much as I thought it did.
I guess the Pies thought it mattered some, though, what with them only murderin' ponies that came from elsewhere. Somethin' about that makes my skin crawl. I ain't sure if it's worse ta think that it was all cold an' calculated, that they only killed ponies what wouldn't be missed, or if'n they left us neighbors alone 'cause they liked us. Ponies like them, likin' ponies like me... It's enough ta make a body feel more'n a little sick.
I can't even figger what ta think 'bout all the times they was so nice, now. It's jus' plum crazy! They was so kindly an carin' when push came ta shove. When ol' mistress Thresher's roof fell in, they was first up ta volunteer for the bake sale so's we could raise the bits ta have it replaced, ya know?
They was always first up when it came ta bake sales an' such. Ma Pie baked a mean pie, which didn't surprise nopony, as ya might expect. They did cookies sometimes, an' even cupcakes, but mostly it was pies.
I remember havin' a slice o' her mince pie come holiday season more'n once. It was some o' the best mince pie I ever had. You could tell she did it the old-fashioned way, the way my granny did, with chicken fat in the mince. Lotta younguns these days think that earth ponies is meant ta be nothin' but vegetarians, but we never was. Ponies talk 'bout pegasi with their fish and actin' like they's half griffon, but a lot o' 'em forget that earth ponies always did things like those old mince pies, with the fat mixed in, that made 'em better'n anything you ever tasted.
'Course it's a bloody business, but if'n you're keeping chickens for the eggs an' a hen goes off layin', you might as well get some use out'a her. I never had much stomach for it, but my granny did, and I guess Ma Pie too. Well, she must'a had a lotta stomach for blood, considerin' what she...
Oh stars.
Oh sweet Celestia.
They said in the paper that Pinkie...
Stars above.
I ate so many o' those pies. Sweet merciful sun above. I... I... I'm gonna be sick. I gotta go.
Author's Note
It was formerly common for fruit pies to include animal fat, particularly lard (pig fat). Mincemeat pies were also once made with actual minced meat along with fruits and nuts. Modern mincemeat pies seldom contain actual meat, but are still sometimes made with suet (beef fat), though vegetable shortening is now common as well.
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