The Perfect Pear

by The Blue EM2

Rating: teen
Tags: Comedy, Other, Romance, Applejack (EqG), Equestria Girls, Bright Mac, Granny Smith, Pear Butter
Length: 13464

Like a Catchy Song...

On the eve of their 20th Wedding anniversary, Bright Mac and Pear Butter tell their children the story of how they fell in love.

Written for Valentine's Day.

Published 2019-02-07 08:30:01 UTC
Last updated 2019-02-14 08:14:15 UTC

Prologue: Sweet Apple Acres

13th February, 2014. The sun rose gently into the sky, illuminating the ground still covered with the soft white snow. The paths were covered in the soft stuff, and Sweet Apple Acres glimmered like a jewel in the firmament. At least there was no more ice, which was good for the streetcars. Ice seemed to be attracted to the overhead power wires like a magnet.

It was a school day as well, Thursday to be precise. Apple Bloom rose from her bed, to hear beautiful music flowing through her door.

“What’s that?” she asked, before observing the sound was coming from her parent’s bedroom. Slipping on a pair of...well, slippers, she headed down the corridor and stood outside, where the sound of a guitar playing could be distinctly heard.

And not only that, but the voice of her father. His voice was a beautiful sound, ringing clearly in the air and creating a wonderful noise.

“You fill up my senses,
Like a night in a forest.
Like the mountains in springtime,
Like a walk in the rain!
Like a storm in the desert,
Like a sleepy blue ocean.
You fill up my senses;
Come fill me again!”

He paused, more conviction in his words as he sang with strength and confidence.

“Come, let me love you;
Let me give my life to you!
Let me drown in your laughter;
Let me die in your arms!
Let me lay down beside you;
Let me always be with you.
Come let me love you;
Come love me again!”

Then followed a short guitar solo, as ever played perfectly. Then again, as talented musicians, the Apples were almost guaranteed to play something perfectly. Then Bright launched into the final verse.

“You fill up my senses,
Like a night in a forest.
Like the mountains in springtime,
Like a walk in the rain!
Like a storm in the desert,
Like a sleepy blue ocean.
You fill up my senses;
Come fill me again!”

After he had finished, Apple Bloom heard the voice of her mother. “Aww, yer such a sweetheart, ain’t ya?”

“Anythin’ for the woman Ah love,” Bright replied, before an abrupt silence.

Apple Bloom pushed the door open, to see her parents embracing. “Mornin’!”

Both parents abruptly turned to see their youngest child looking at them.

“Well, look who’s up early!” said Pear.

“Did ya here that?” Bright asked.

“Every note!” Bloom answered. “But Ah was wonderin’ ‘bout somethin’.”

“What’s that?” Bright replied.

“Ya sing that song to Ma every single year, one day before Valentine’s day. May Ah ask why?”

Pear smiled. “It’s a bit long ta explain now.”

“But this evenin’, we will tell ya everythin’, sparin’ no detail,” Bright added. “Now, Ah think it’s Mah turn to cook.”

Another thing it is impossible for Apples to do wrong is cook. This truism was certainly maintained today, and the three Apple siblings went off to school with full stomachs and smiles on their faces. At lunch, Apple Bloom joined her friends at the table, and immediately began thinking. Thinking long and hard about all that she had seen so far. It certainly confused her, and she was so stuck in her own thoughts that she didn’t even notice her friends addressing her.

“Is everything OK?” asked Diamond Tiara.

“Yeah, you're not usually this quiet,” Scootaloo observed.

“Is there something on your mind?” asked Cozy Glow.

Apple Bloom sighed. “Yeah, there is. Fer all the years Ah’ve been alive, this very day-February 13th-has started with Pa singin’ a song to Ma.”

“Which one?” Sweetie Belle asked.

Apple Bloom sang a short extract from it.

“Ooh! Ooh!” Silver Spoon interrupted. “I know that one!”

“That’s Annie’s Song,” Scootaloo interjected. “I know, my mom taught it to me on guitar.”

“So romantic,” said Sweetie Belle dreamily.

“Especially if played by a certain Mash on a keyboard,” Diamond Tiara interjected.

“Hey!” Sweetie Belle replied. “You can’t talk! Who’s that boy you go out with, Philton?”

“Pharynx!” Diamond replied. “And no, he doesn't has a twin sister.”

“Aren’t they the kids of the Police Superintendent, Chrysalis?”

"Who?" Apple Bloom asked.

“We’re off topic!” Silver Spoon interrupted.

“Anyways, Ah want ta know why they do this...ritual. So, hopefully Ah’ll know by tonight.”

“Then, you can tell us all about it!” Sweetie Belle added.

Apple Bloom got up from her chair, and picked up her tray. “Well, Ah’d better be on my way,” she said, as she pushed the chair back in with her shoe. “See y’all later!”

The Apples had returned home by that evening, and after supper and homework, the entire family gathered in the living room. Bright and Pear sat in the centre, with Granny Smith on the left and Grand Pear on the right. The three kids sat down on the floor, looking up at them.

Pear looked at the clock. “Well, would ya know it!” she exclaimed. “It’s nearly me and Bright’s 20th.”

“20th what?” Apple Bloom asked.

“20th anniversary of our marriage,” Bright smiled. “Or the 8, 395th anniversary of when Ah first called her Buttercup.”

Granny Smith groaned. “This is so soppy,” she deadpanned.

“Well, Ah was there when in all happened,” Grand Pear observed. “And may Ah say it is one helluva story.”

Apple Bloom piped up again. “Ya know, Ah’ve never heard the story of how you met.”

Applejack nodded. “Yeah, it’s been a while since Ah last heard it. Please, do tell us again.”

“Ah concur!” Big Mac added.

The two parents looked at each other.

“Well, OK,” Bright said. “We shall tell ya the entire story, from start to finish. But Ah do warn ya, it is a very long story, which rivals Lord of the Rings in length.”

“Ah read that in two months,” Grand Pear commented, unhelpfully.

“Well,” Applejack nodded, “We have got 3 hours until bedtime, and school’s off tomorra so we can do Valentine’s Day stuff.”

“Ah’d safely say we can spare the time,” Mac added.

“OK then.” Bright Mac stood up, and cleared his throat. “It all began 23 years ago or thereabouts, in a town far away from here...”

Author's Note

This story is my attempt to tell the backstory of the Apple Family, with some twists along the way.

The narrative structure of this story is loosely inspired by Through the Eyes of Anon-a-Miss, a story by my good friend SonicFan05. I thought it would be fun to try a story that flashes backwards and forwards, and this is the result.

Chapter 1: Cass, 1991 (Bright Mac)

Near Cass, West Virginia, February 1991.

The snow still lay on the ground in the state of West Virginia, but the trees hadn’t especially noticed. They stood strong and tall, as they had done for many centuries, and would continue to do so for many centuries more. If the state had a lot of one thing, it was trees!

But on the slopes of one of the hills, the valley echoed to the loud roar of a locomotive. This locomotive was unlike any ever seen in most parts of the world.

It was long, and had three bogies which each consisted of 2 axles, on the end of which were two wheels each. The boiler was offset from the frames, and sat in front of a heavy utilitarian cab. The engine had three cylinders, mounted on the right-hand side of the locomotive, and these were linked to a long gearing axle which ran the length of the engine.

These cylinders whirred up and down as if there was no tomorrow, producing an incredible noise as the engine descended the hill with 5 coaches. This engine was a Shay, namely Number 5, the second oldest operational Shay and the state locomotive of West Virginia.

At the controls of this engine was a young man, of a tender 21 years of age. He had pale lemon skin and red hair, with green eyes which glimmered with intensity. He was a tall man, of about 6 feet and 3 inches, and wore an orange polo shirt, a pair of blue jeans, and brown work boots.

His name was Bright Mac, a new (ish) employee of the Cass Scenic Railroad State Park. He was bringing his train down the line from Whittaker to Cass, on the last run of the day. Come to think of it, it was the only run of the day, as the line received lighter use during the winter months.

Indeed, most visitors came during the summer, when the trees were beautiful, the skies were (often) clear, and the engines produced an incredible sound and sight, snorting their way up the grade like they had for almost 100 years. Mac hoped that they would continue to do so for many more years.

The train rolled past the depot on the right, where No. 11, a Pacific Shay, was being put away for the evening. Number 5 rolled down the line, past the water tower, and into the final straight to Cass depot. Mac sounded 4 long, loud blasts on the whistle. It was a wonderful, loud, clear sound that rang through the air and woke everyone up in the town in the morning. According to his mother, they had woken people up for work using the locomotives. It worked alright, as those whistles could deafen anybody.

He brought the engine to a smooth stop in the platform, and signalled the conductor to drop the boarding ramps. They fell with a clang, and the passengers scrambled off the train to have their pictures taken with the engine, or to head away to their cars in order to get home.

Once the passengers had gone away, Mac sounded the whistle, set the cylinders into the forward position, and opened the throttle. The Shay rolled forward with its coaches, moving them to the siding next to the depot. Once they were uncoupled, Mac stabled his steed in the shed, and hopped off to activate the fire release gear.

“How’d she behave for ya?” asked a friend of his, Valve Gear.

“Well, thanks,” Mac replied. “We got the best job in the world, ya know that?”

Gear laughed. “And you have a concert ta get to.”

Mac looked around him. “Ah’d totally forgotten that!” he cried, running out of the door. “Meet ya outside the post office!”

30 minutes later, a very out-of-breath Bright Mac appeared outside the whitewashed exterior of the post office building, next to the restaurant (watch out for the coleslaw!). Standing in front were his bandmates, a collection of fiddles, guitars, and even a washboard, of all things.

“Talk about last minute!” called one of them.

“Sorry!” Mac replied. “Train got in late and we needed ta do some work on Number 5!”

“At least yer here,” said another. “The crowd is already assemblin’.”

Many locals turned up to hear them play. The crowd must have numbered at least 50.

“Don’t mess this up Bright,” the leader called.

“Ah won’t!” Mac replied. “Clap yer hands, folks!”

The washboard joined in, and the sound of clapping soon echoed off the hills.

At which point Mac started to sing.

“Well life on the farm is kinda laid back;
Ain't much an old country boy like me can't hack;
It's early to rise, early in the sack;
Thank God I'm a country boy!”

Suddenly, the audience began to join in, which surprised Mac a bit. But he kept his cool, and on he went.

“Well a simple kinda life never did me no harm;
A raisin' me a family and workin' on a farm;
My days are all filled with an easy country charm;
Thank God I'm a country boy!”

Mac launched into the chorus with gusto.

“Well I got me a fine wife I got me ole fiddle;
When the sun's comin' up I got cakes on the griddle;
Life ain't nothin' but a funny funny riddle;
Thank God I'm a country boy!”

Then the band entered, a truly wonderful sound of tuned and semi-tuned instruments.

“When the work's all done and the sun's settlin' low;
I pull out my fiddle and I rosin up the bow;
The kids are asleep so I keep it kinda low;
Thank God I'm a country boy!”

“I'd play Sally Goodin all day if I could,
But the Lord and my wife wouldn't take it very good;
So, I fiddle when I can, work when I should;
Thank God I'm a country boy!”

“Well I got me a fine wife I got me ole fiddle;
When the sun's comin' up I got cakes on the griddle;
Life ain't nothin' but a funny funny riddle;
Thank God I'm a country boy!”

“Well I wouldn't trade my life for diamonds and jewels
I never was one of them money hungry fools;
I'd rather have my fiddle and my farmin' tools.
Thank God I'm a country boy!”

It was then into the second instrumental break, which bought Mac some time to summon up the words from his memory.

“Yeah, city folk drivin' in a black limousine
A lotta sad people thinkin' that's mighty keen;
Son, let me tell ya now exactly what I mean,
Thank God I'm a country boy!”

“Well I got me a fine wife I got me an ole fiddle;
When the sun's comin' up I got cakes on the griddle;
Life ain't nothin' but a funny funny riddle;
Thank God I'm a country boy!”

It was then into the THIRD instrumental break.

“Well, my fiddle was my daddy's till the day he died
And he took me by the hand and held me close to his side;
Said, "Live a good life and play the fiddle with pride.
And thank God you're a country boy!”

“My daddy taught me young how to hunt and how to whittle;
Taught me how to work and play a tune on the fiddle;
Taught me how to love and how to give just a little-Mac held the note with pride-
Thank God I'm a country boy!”

“Well I got me a fine wife I got me an ole fiddle;
When the sun's comin' up I got cakes on the griddle;
Life ain't nothin' but a funny funny riddle;
Thank God I'm a country boy!”

The crowd erupted into applause, and the band dispersed. Mac walked home and entered his home, Cass cottage No. 22. One of the original worker’s homes, it had been renovated a bit and featured some more modern amenities. Mac closed the door behind him, and put his boots by the door.

“How was yer day?” called a voice from the kitchen. Mac walked through and hung his stetson on the hatstand.

Standing next to the stove was a woman with green skin and white hair, done in a severe bun. She wore a yellow blouse with a chequered necktie, a red skirt with a white apron, and yellow boots. This was his mother, only known as Mrs Smith.

“It were great Ma!” Bright replied, picking up some plates and setting the table.

“Ah could sure here ya up in the hills, with those Shays makin’ such a racket,” she answered, bringing the stew over and putting some onto Mac’s plate.

Another person stepped in, with white hair, yellow skin and brown eyes. He wore a blue shirt, with blue jeans and brown boots.

This was Great Apple, Mac’s father. He was an engineer on the railroad, and helped to keep the Shays going. After all, he’d driven the originals in the glory days of the logging lines.

“Ya pushed Number 5 hard again,” he said. “If yer not careful, we’ll be replacin’ the cylinders, so go easy.”

“Ah’ll keep that in mind,” Mac replied.

“Ya’ll keep that in yer head,” Mrs Smith laughed, “or else yer butt’ll remember it!”

The three of them laughed. Mrs Smith had a peculair sense of humour.

But then Great spoke again. “Mac,” he said, “I got a call from that Grand Pear fellow I know out in California. The work placement has come through.”

Mac looked up. “Ya mean?”

“You’ve got the job!”

Mac was delighted. “Thanks! Ah’d been hopin’ I’d get that.”

Little did he realise, but this would improve his life in more ways than one.

Author's Note

Cass is a brilliant town, and this chapter is loosely inspired by a holiday I took there a while back.

Chapter 2: Canterlot, 1991 (Bright Mac)

California, February 1991

Bright Mac soon found out how easy it was to get lost in an airport. Not knowing whether to head to baggage claim or passport control, he got hopelessly, hopelessly lost, taking almost an hour to navigate LAX.

Eventually, however, he did find his way out, and walked blinking into the afternoon light.

“Where can Ah find taxis?” he asked, as he dragged his suitcase as much as he could behind him.

“The rank is over there, sir,” an airport employee told him.

After an uneventful taxi trip, Mac walked into San Fernando station, the southern terminus of the California Coast Railroad. It had a huge, vaulting roof and a large concourse, and was quite simply the largest open space that Mac had ever seen. He walked over to the ticket office and waited in line.

“Good afternoon, sir,” said the ticket attendant.

“Hi,” Mac replied. “How much for a train to Canterlot?”

“10 dollars sir.”

Mac was astounded at the cheap price, but that was one of the benefits of low taxation. He paid his money and headed to the platforms, where 20 trains were either arriving, departing, or about to depart.

Mac boarded his train and stuck his bags in the luggage rack, and sat down with the Beach Boys going through his head. This was his first ever trip to California, and it was very different to West Virginia, to say the least. What were these palm trees he’d so much about? He’d only ever seen them in books before.

There was a jolt as the train got underway, hauled by an old GP-38 that sounded like it was on its last legs. The train sped through the terrain made famous by the Central Pacific, sped through towns, and up through the Needles.

After a stop at a place called Crystal City, the train raced onward, passing a slow-moving coal train pulled by a UP Challenger on one side, and an express pulled by a Class 55 on the other. The noise was deafening, especially when a heavy fruit train charged through with a Big Boy on the front.

At long last, Canterlot was reached, the end of the line as the extension to a place called Cloudsdale was still being built. Mac grabbed his bags and headed out into the station concourse, walking into the café as he wanted something quick to eat.

“Hello!” called the proprietor. Mac walked over to the counter and saw a woman with blue skin and pink hair standing behind the counter.

“Afternoon,” Mac said, removing his hat and smiling.

“I don’t believe I’ve seen you around before,” the woman replied. “My name’s Chiffon Swirl.”

“Bright Mac,” Bright replied. “Ah’m here on a work placement with a man called Grand Pear.”

“Oh, Grand!” Chiffon replied. “He’s a nice man.” She smiled. “I’m working here to save up enough money for me and my boyfriend to open a shop of our own. But what would you like today?”

Mac studied the menu intently. “A latte and millionaire shortbread, please,” he replied.

“Coming right up!”

The station canteen was remarkably full, and Mac bustled about looking for somewhere to sit. At last, he found an empty seat, at a partly full table. “Do ya mind if Ah sit here?” he asked a man behind a newspaper.

The newspaper was lowered, to reveal a man with pale blue skin and rainbow coloured hair. He had yellow eyes, a green shirt, blue pants and a pair of brown shoes. Seated next to him was a woman with light blue skin, red hair, and purple eyes. She wore a yellow blouse, red pants, and a pair of red shoes.

“Sure, you can sit here!” the man said, with a smile. He extended his hand. “I’m Bow Hothoof, nice to meet you!”

“Bright Mac,” Mac replied.

“Nice to meet you, Mr Mac,” the woman smiled. “I’m Windy Whistles, and this man is my husband.”

“Nice ta meet ya both too,” Mac replied.

“So,” Bow said with a smile, “what are ya doin’ here? I haven’t seen you before.”

“Ah’m on a work placement with a Mr Grand Pear.”

Windy whooped. “Lucky you! Grand Pear and his pear farm is a pillar of the local community, assuming that rival firm doesn’t drive him out of business.”

“I hope you enjoy life in Pearville,” Bow added, sipping his coffee. “It’s a beautiful place, with acres of open land and trees. Not to mention his collection of vintage tractors.”

“Well, it sure was swell meetin’ ya, but Ah need ta be on mah way,” Bright told them. “Ah need ta make a good impression.”

“See you around!” Bow smiled. He then turned to his wife. “I wonder if he’ll be sticking around.”

“Bow!” Windy replied. “There is no guarantee we’ll have any kids, so don’t plan for potential playmates!”

Bright boarded a streetcar, and took a seat, only to be joined by a fellow with a considerable beard.

“Hello!” he jovially boomed. “Are you new in town?”

“Yes sir, Ah am,” Bright replied.

“My name’s Dark Steel!” the man replied. “I’m a steel magnate, which is in the name really, and I’ve only just arrived here. I bought the estate down there, see, and we’ve got a full workshop in which to make things.”

“Well, Ah’ve made some parts for steam locos where Ah’m from,” Mac told him. “Ah live in Cass, and Ah’m here on a temporary work placement at Pearville.”

“Pearville?” asked a voice, and a man in front of them turned around. He had brown skin and black hair, complemented with blue eyes, and was wearing a blue suit with a red tie that had a dollar sign on it. “I do business with them. Their produce positively flies off the shelves at Barnyard Bargains stores across the state, and boy does it help keep up in the black.”

He extended a hand. “I’m Mr Rich.”

“Bright Mac,” Mac replied.

“Oh, don’t tell me he’s another of these ‘country folk’,” said the woman seated next to him. She had pink skin and purple hair, paired with blue eyes. She wore a blue dress and gold heels, and looked at everyone with a permanent sneer of disapproval.

“There’s no need to be rude!” said Dark Steel.

“Sorry about that,” Rich replied. “This is my wife, Spoiled Milk.”

“Spoiled Rich!” she corrected. “We’ve been married long enough.”

Rich continued. “We live on that estate just outside of town.”

“You live opposite me, don’t you?” asked Dark Steel.

“Yes indeed, and I’ve got railroadin’ plans for the garden.”

Spoiled shook her head. “For heaven’s sake, I told you to get rid of those engines.”

“No, you only told me to take them out of the house,” Rich answered. “You never said anything about putting them in the garden. Besides, I need something to show our kids.”

Spoiled Rich looked horrified. “If you think I am having children you are sorely mistaken!”

Dark Steel spoke up. “I’ve nearly got the A4 Pacific you ordered finished, it’ll be ready on Saturday.”

“Excellent!” Rich cried. Just then the streetcar came to a stop.

Mac got off, as it was his stop. “See ya!” he said.

Rich smiled. “I sense the start of a beautiful financial relationship,” he smiled.

Mac walked up the road to Pearville, seeing a large green farmhouse and multiple barns scattered around the site, with trees everywhere you looked. Mac walked toward the house and was greeted by an older man.

He had orange skin and brown hair, and wore a blue shirt and jeans. “You took your sweet time gettin' here,” he told Mac.

“Sorry Ah’m late,” Mac replied. “Are ya Mr Grand Pear?”

“Yes, I am,” Grand Pear replied. “You’ll be stayin’ in the bunkhouse over there. Breakfast is at 07:00 sharp, lunch is at 12:00, and dinner is 17:00. If possible, drop off your things and get to work as soon as you can.”

“Yes sir! Ah won’t let ya down sir!” Mac sped away and deposited his things on his bed. He then headed out again to ask what he needed to do.

“Right now, we’ve got a shaker that’s havin’ mechanical issues,” Pear told him. “I here you’ve got expertise in machines, so I’d like you to take a look.”

“Yes sir!” Mac said, and headed off toward the shaker. He found it easily enough.

There was a woman trying to get it to work, who had peach coloured skin and orange hair. She was wearing a green shirt and blue jeans, combined with brown work boots. She had a wrench in her hand and was adjusting the bolts to try and get it to run.

“Come one, work you!” she growled, exasperated. But it wouldn’t cooperate.

“Darn it!” she said, and looked up to see Mac looking at her.

She was the most beautiful person he had ever seen.

“Howdy,” she said. “You the new kid?”

Author's Note

This chapter is loosely inspired by an apple orchard I used to live near.

Anybody spot all of the dramatic irony in there?

Chapter 3: Canterlot, 1991 (Pear Butter)

Pear Butter certainly had a lot of experience of California life under her belt. Having been born in the state in 1973, her life had been a procession of summers working on the farm, as well as school, which she was on the verge of concluding. The warm summers certainly suited her, as they encouraged waking up early and getting to work. As a matter of fact, Pear hated being stuck indoors during the winter, as it meant she had little to do. At least this winter hadn’t been too bad, but the machines still needed maintaining or else the planting season may not go as planned, or even worse the harvest could fail. And if that happened, it would be a disaster for the townsfolk and the farm, as if the pears were not available for sale, it would harm profits. As they did so much business with Filthy Rich, that would be extremely problematic.

So, there she was, trying to fix a malfunctioning pear shaker. The machine had been running fine a few moments ago, but something had seized up, as the main arm jerked back and forth with no real control or safety. So, Pear had stopped the machine, and taken a look at the central mechanism. It transpired the bolts had jammed the system, and she was trying to free them in order to get it to work.

“Come on, work you!” she shouted at it in frustration. “Darn it!”

She contemplated kicking it, but then heard footsteps behind her, and looked back.

Standing in front of her was a young man, only a little older than her, with yellow skin and red hair, wearing an orange polo shirt, jeans, and brown boots. He looked as if he was about to speak, but seemed to be stunned.

“Howdy,” she said, trying to break his silence. “Ya the new kid?”

“Yeah,” he said. “Ah’m Bright Mac.”

“Nice to meet ya,” Pear replied. “Now, are ya just gonna stand there starin’, or are ya gonna help fix this machine?”

Mac shook his head. “Oh, sorry!” He sprinted over and took a look at the mechanism.

“It seems the bolts are preventing the mechanism from movin’ correctly,” he said.

“Ah’d already figured that out,” Pear replied, but she couldn’t bring herself to be irritated with him. He seemed to honest and innocent. Besides, he was a little cute.

Mac peered closely at the mechanism. “Ya need ta turn them to the left ta get it ta work,” he added.

Pear nodded. “Well, yer kinda tellin’ me how ta do mah job, but Ah’ll try it.” She engaged the wrench to release the bolts, and the machine sprung into new life, running better than ever before.

Pear looked at Mac. “How did ya figure that out?”

Mac chuckled. “Well, back where Ah’m from, we work on machines called Shays. Sometimes, they get a little mad with ya and lock up like that. Ta fix that problem, we just turn the bolts ta the left.”

Pear laughed. “Looks like ya know yer stuff,” she replied, and bent down to her toolkit when she suddenly dropped her wrench.

“Ah, gosh darn it!” she replied, and reached for it.

Only then did she realise her hand was sitting on top of Mac’s, who had reached for it as well. Their eyes looked into one another's, and Pear saw incredible depth in those eyes of his. It also became apparent that they had inadvertently broken some sort of taboo, as Mac removed his hand as fast as he could.

“Ah’m so sorry!” he said, flustered.

“Sorry for what?” asked Pear, confused.

“Where Ah’m from, it ain’t right to take the hand of somebody ya don’t know,” Mac replied.

“But ya were doin’ somethin’ nice fer me,” Pear replied, “so Ah’ll just let it go.” She took up the wrench, and popped it into her toolkit.

“Pear! Mac!” shouted another voice. It was Grand Pear.

“Yes Pa?” she called.

“Now that you've got that cultivator working, we need you two to do some work on a tractor.”

As the pair of them worked in the cool evening that day, Pear and Mac got to know each other better.

“So, how’s it been bein’ the owner’s daughter?” Mac asked.

“Well,” Pear replied, “not too different to anybody else. Ah work and keep stuff workin’, which can be challengin’ mixin’ it in with school.”

“That must be a lotta hard work!” Mac exclaimed.

“Eeyup,” Pear answered. “But Ah can’t think of anywhere in the world else that Ah would rather live, than here in Canterlot.”

“California is new ta me,” Mac admitted. “Ah’ve only ever known Cass.”

“Cass?”

“Cass is a loggin’ town in West Virginia. Well, was a loggin’ town.”

“What happened ta it?” Pear asked.

“Cass was formed in 1900 to extract wood from the local hills. The wood ran out in 1960, and the town would have died had the State Government not intervened and bought the town. They reopened the old loggin’ line as a tourist railroad, and Ah was born there in 1970. The Apples are one of the foundin’ families of Cass, and we ain’t leavin’ soon.”

“Sounds like it means a lot ta ya.”

“Yes, it does. Ah work on the railroad there, so Ah’m keepin’ the past alive, Ah guess.”

“Ah must visit the town someday, it sounds fun.”

That evening, Pear hopped into bed and switched the light off.

But she couldn’t sleep, or get that boy-Bright Mac-out of her head. What was it about him that attracted her?

He seemed a nice, innocent soul, and had a good heart with a friendly manner. That, and he was a hard worker, something that both she and her father valued. But there had been so many workers through the farm over the years. What was it about this worker that stood out from the others?

“Well, Ah suppose he is kinda cute,” she whispered to herself. “But at the same time, he is different ta me.”

As sleep reclaimed her, she had no idea that what was coming would change her life forever.

Author's Note

This was a fun one to write.

More tomorrow!

Intermission 2

Canterlot, California, present day

Applejack was the next to speak up. “Ah hope ya don’t mind me askin’,” she said, “but Granny, Grand Pear, were ya aware of what was goin’ on?”

Granny Smith looked as if she was about to start speaking, but Grand Pear cut over her. “If ya don’t mind, Ah believe it would make sense fer me ta go first, given that Ah saw it occurin’ first hand at the time.”

Granny nodded. “Ah was rather distant from the entire thing.”

Grand Pear sighed. “Ah suppose Ah first realised what was goin’ on when Ah emerged from the house after breakfast one mornin’ ta find yer Ma gazin’ out inta the fields...”

Chapter 4: Canterlot, 1991 (Grand Pear)

Canterlot, California, 1991

Grand Pear awoke one fine day with the snow already on the ground. He looked outside, then pulled himself out of bed and headed to the shower, emerging minutes later thoroughly refreshed.

As he walked down the stairs, fully dressed for a day of work, he contemplated all that had happened during his 38 or so years of life. He had been born in the middle of the Second World War, and had lost his father at a young age (his father had been a Marine). As a result, growing up had always left him with a hole in his heart, so he had filled his time working on the farm and spotting trains out on the mainline as they rattled to and fro from Canterlot to Los Angeles. He had seen many things, and had also witnessed the boom of the 1950s, lived the 1960s, both the Swinging and the considerably less Swinging bits, then taken on the responsibility of a father at just 20 years of age.

He thought fondly of his wife. They had met at Canterlot High School and married when they were just 18. They were fools in love, but if that was indeed the case, and being a fool felt this good, Grand Pear doubted he wanted to be a scholar or visionary. Then Pear had arrived just two years later, and their lives became immeasurably happier.

But alas, his wife was gone. Next summer would mark 3 years since she was laid to rest. Grand Pear did miss her, but his daughter reminded him of his lost wife. That was why Pear was so dear to him.

It was also why that new kid filled him with concern.

It was obvious to all on the farm that Pear had taken a liking to Bright Mac. It was the talk of everyone in the bunkhouse and farmhouse, and even in the barns! Whilst Grand Pear was certain that Mac meant no ill will, he still felt concerned, as any father would.

As he stepped outside into the sun, he saw Pear staring out into the fields, right where Bright was working. She had a happy smile on her face, her orange hair collecting around her shoulders as she looked out over the farm, the farm she called home.

“Pear?” called Grand Pear, wishing to speak to her. With a look of surprise, she wheeled around and looked directly at her father.

“Yes, pa?” she asked.

“Ah want ta speak ta ya quickly,” Grand said quickly.

“Is it about Mac?” Pear asked in response.

“Well, yes.” Grand sighed. “Ya see, Ah get ya like him, but-”

“Pa, we ain’t like that,” Pear replied. “We’re just friends, that’s all.”

“How many times have Ah heard that one before?” Grand asked rhetorically. “Ya see, Ah get that he’s a nice boy, but at the same time ya need ta be careful.”

“Why?” Pear asked.

“Ah get that yer a woman now, and can make yer own choices, but at the same time ya need ta understand that not all guys are honest and earnest. And please keep in mind that whilst Mac seems a nice enough sort, he ain’t from around here. They’ve got different customs up in West Virginia, and so he may not gel here so well at first.”

“Ah will Pa,” Pear replied. “Please don’t worry.” Then Pear headed off to the barn to fire up a tractor for the day's work.

Grand sighed. “Honestly, that girl’s so headstrong. But she’s got a good heart, and would always put somebody else before herself.”

Later that day, he saw a pair of tractors roar past, equipped with ploughs, ready to work the fields. One of them was driven by Bright Mac, and the other by a fellow with brownish skin and white hair, who also had a hat on to protect him from the sun. That man was Burnt Oak, his nephew from his brother. Or was it his sister? He got hopelessly confused sometimes, as his family tree was incredibly complicated.

“We breed like rabbits sometimes,” he groaned. Then he remembered. His brother had married an Orange over in New York, and taken their name. They in turn had a son, Moseley, who had recently got married.

“More nephews or nieces cannot hurt,” he smiled, as he saw Pear walking on a water tower. But then his recollection was broken.

There was an ear-splitting crash, and he saw Bright and Burnt disappearing into the treeline. What he saw next shocked him.

Pear was standing next to a thoroughly demolished water tower. Grand walked over.

“How on earth did this mess happen?” he asked. “You need to get this tower rebuilt, pronto.”

“It weren’t her, sir,” said a voice.

Standing there was Bright Mac. “Ah damaged the tower, as Ah crashed a tractor into it.”

Grand shook his head. “Well, you’d better get it fixed, hadn’t ya?”

Mac was true to his word. He got the tower rebuilt in record time, and that meant that water could once again be supplied to the fields to keep them nourished.

Grand Pear headed off to bed with a happy smile that night. “Maybe that Bright Mac ain’t so bad after all,” he smiled.

Chapter 5: Cass, 1994 (Mrs Smith)

Cass, West Virginia, 1994

Mrs Smith sat in her rocking chair looking out across the Pocahontas Valley. The Sun was setting in the distance, and the trees were beautifully lit in the evening light. There was also a rather more familiar sound, that of a Shay snorting down the grade nearby into the town.

She smiled, as that wonderful (albeit noisy) sound reminded her of her son, Bright. He’d always loved those mighty machines and according to all accounts was good at driving them as well. But alas, he was not around, for he was away in California working for that Grand Pear fellow.

She’d got a good sense of what Grand Pear was like through the letters she had received from Bright. He sounded like an upstanding, honest, loyal man, who would never turn his back on anyone. All of the traits that Mrs Smith valued to the very core.

She reached over for one of the letters she had received, one of the very first. She had received it in March of 1991, which was a while ago, and it had taken a month to reach her.

“The post ain’t what is used ta be,” she murmured, as she gave it another read. “Why, Ah remember that the railroad used ta bring all the mail, not these trucks.”

I will now reproduce the letter for your convenience.

Dear Ma,

I have been having a wonderful time at Pearville. Can I tell you thatCanterlot is a lovely place? It’s not far from the hills, and if I am ever lonely, or missing you or Pa, I head up into the hills to see the world from up high and soar like an Eagle. At least, that’s what it feels like!

Work is fun as well. Picking pears is one of many things we do, and we have ploughed fields as well. Pa would love the tractors we have, they are all heritage models. Grand Pear has an eye for vintage tractors, I can tell you!

On that note, Grand Pear is a fantastic man to work for. Never have I known someone so fair, apart from you and Pa of course! That brings me on to the other point I have.

I’ve made a new friend here. Her name is Pear Butter, and I don’t know what it is, but there’s something...different about her. She is, put simply, the most beautiful person I have ever met, with eyes as clear as crystal and a voice to rival the angels.

Whether this will go anywhere, I don’t know, but I hope it does.

Your son,

Bright Mac.

It most certainly had gone somewhere, as Pear had been mentioned in every single letter since then up to now. Mac had certainly got up to a lot over those many months, and Mrs Smith wondered whether she should try to get down to Canterlot someday.

But that would require her to leave her husband behind, and that she could never do. It was then she had the next best idea.

She went back inside, and began to write;

Dear Bright Mac,

I’m happy to hear you have enjoyed your time in Canterlot. However, I have a suggestion to make to you.

I am keen to meet Pear Butter, and as such I suggest you bring her to Cass next time you visit. We can show her some West Virginian hospitality, and you can take her up to Whittaker on the railroad.

I look forward to your reply.

From,

Your Ma.

Intermission 3

Canterlot, California, present day

There was a brief silence. Then Apple Bloom spoke up.

"So, erm, how'd it go?" she asked.

Mac looked at her. He seemed visibly pained. "Well, it didn't go as well as Ah hoped it would. Maybe we should skip this part?"

Pear spoke up. "They need ta know, Mac. If ya won't tell them, Ah will." She cleared her throat. "But the night before we went ta Cass, we did somethin' very special..."

Chapter 6: Canterlot/Cass, 1994 (Pear Butter)

Canterlot, California, 1994

Late one night, Pear Butter and Bright Mac headed out into the fields surrounding Pearville farm, and headed down to a small rock that was at the end of the property, overlooking the sea. They looked at it, and Mac at last ventured to speak.

“What are we doin’ exactly?” he asked. “And tell me, why did ya bring yer guitar?”

“You’ll see,” Pear laughed, as she took a chisel out and handed one to Mac. “Now, all we need ta do is carve our names inta that rock.”

“So, our love will be preserved forever,” Mac realised. “Do ya wanna go first?”

Suddenly, another chisel appeared. “No, we should do it at once.”

The two of them got to work, but it took them half an hour to complete the work, complete with a heart in the centre of their names. It was crude and a bit messy, but it worked.

Both of them stepped back to examine their work, and were very pleased indeed.

“It’s just wonderful!” Mac exclaimed. “Just, Ah haven’t told mah parents yet, about you and me.”

“Well, ya can tell them when we’re there, can’t ya?” Pear suggested. “Besides, Ah’m certain they won’t mind.” She then produced her guitar, and began to strum.

“So, that’s what the guitar was for!” Mac exclaimed.

“Quiet, you!” Pear laughed. Then the most beautiful song that Mac had ever heard flowed from her lips;

“We're far apart in every way,

But you're the best part of my day.

And sure, as I breathe the air;

I know we are the perfect pair;”

She then launched into the chorus of the song she had written.

“On a prickly path that goes on for miles;

But it's worth it just to see you smile!”

As suddenly as the chorus had ended, Pear launched into the next verse.

“And I cannot be pulled apart,

From the hold you have on my heart;

And even if the world tells us it's wrong!

You're in my head like a catchy song.”

Mac wasn’t entire sure what to say in response to what he’d just heard. “Wow. It's just... wow,” was all he could say.

“Do you like it?” Pear asked. “Be honest now!”

Bright Mac was in absolutely no doubt as to what to say next. “It's the best gift you could've given me!”

Pear then launched into the next verse.

“The seasons change and leaves may fall,

But I'll be with you through them all;

And rain or shine, you'll always be mine.”

With especially poignant symbolism, she launched into the final chorus and verse.

“On a prickly path that goes on for miles,

You're the only one who makes it all worthwhile!

And you should not blame me, too

If I can't help fallin' in love with you...”

Mac just sat there in stunned silence. “Ya wrote that...ta say ya love me?” he asked.

Pear smiled, a blush forming on her face. “We belong together Mac,” she replied. “We were just...made fer each other.”

Mac got up, and dusted himself off. “Well, we’d better be turnin’ in,” he said. “Don’t want to miss our flight tomorrow.”

Pear stopped him. “We need ta do somethin’ first,” she said. “Somethin’ all lovers do.”

Mac stepped closer to her, and in that moment, their lips met.

Mac had never felt happier. The mix of emotions exploded like a fireworks display in his heart as he kissed the woman he loved.

Pear felt exactly the same way. She knew in her heart that Mac was for her, and she had partly planned ahead and already asked her father for permission to marry. She only hoped that Mac’s family would do the same on the other end. But she was certain they would.

The flight to Yaeger Airport was fairly uneventful, and Great Apple was there to pick them up. When they arrived in Cass, Pear was awed by the beauty of the land of West Virginia.

“This is incredible!” she said, with a smile. “These are the company houses?”

“Yes, they are!” Mac said. “Let me give ya the grand tour of the town.”

He showed her all the sights, such as the houses, the company store (now the gift store for the railroad), the old mill, which was falling to bits, and even the depot house.

They emerged onto the platform, only to hear a loud whistle echo from nearby. Pear jumped in the air.

“What was that?” she asked.

“Hey, relax, that’s just a Shay,” Mac replied, as the passenger train rolled into the platform and came to a stop.

He walked up to the cab. “Is this train formin’ the next workin’ ta Whittaker?” he asked.

“It sure is,” replied the driver. “It’s good ta see ya again Mac.”

Mac walked back to Pear. “How’d ya like ta go up the line to Whittaker. You, me, and nobody else. It’ll be great fun!”

Pear grinned. “Sure!”

To say the least, Pear loved it. The power of the three-cylinder locomotive shook the trees and made the canopy sing with noise, not to mention the chime whistle produced a spectacular din that could be heard for miles around.

When they got back, it was time for dinner. Pear stepped into the kitchen and helped set the table, putting down the knife and fork first, followed by the plates.

Mrs Smith stared at her.

Pear looked over. “Did Ah do somethin’ wrong?”

Mrs Smith continued to stare. “Plates first, then knife, then fork. It’s how the Apples have always done it, and how we’ll always do it.”

“Sorry, Mrs Smith, but Ah was only tryin’ ta help.”

“Ah don’t recall askin’ fer help,” Mrs Smith grumbled, as she brought the pot over.

Whilst eating, the meal went in the usual direction, when Pear decided to put the question forward.

“There’s somethin’ Ah wanna ask,” she said, addressing Mrs Smith and Great Apple.

“And that is?” Great Apple asked.

“Ah wanna ask yer permission ta marry yer son.”

There was a moment of stunned silence. Then Mrs Smith spoke up. “Absolutely not!”

“Why?” Bright Mac asked. “Grand Pear had no issue with it.”

Great Apple spoke. “Grand Pear ain’t yer father, boy. Ah am. You ain’t ready ta be married at all.”

“But we go together perfectly!” Pear protested. “Ah’m sure of it!”

“Bein’ marrried is a whole different kettle o’fish to bein’ in love,” Mrs Smith said.

“But Pear brings so many good new ideas to the fold.”

Great Apple lost his temper. “You are not marrying her!” he barked, louder than a Castle. “Fer one, she ain’t even American, nobody from California is. And second, ya may be able to bring new ideas, but ya can’t plough a field with them!”

Pear shook in fright, at this man’s loud outburst. “Well, Ah suppose Ah’ll just leave then,” she whimpered, and then ran out of the door of the house, crying.

Author's Note

Poor Pear...

The inspiration for this chapter comes from this recording of In My Head Like a Catchy Song; https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=H37ZkktvLvo

Chapter 7: Cass, 1994 (Bright Mac)

To say Bright Mac was utterly shocked was an understatement. He went over to his mother.

“Ma, that weren’t acceptable!” he said. “Chewin’ out a guest like that! Honestly, you’d belt me if I behaved like that toward someone else, so that most certainly don’t make it acceptable here.”

Mrs Smith turned to face him, her face burning in anger. One moment Mac was looking directly at her, the next his jaw felt like multiple bombs had exploded upon it and he was on the floor. “Oww,” he groaned.

“Hopefully that’ll teach ya ta consort with non-Apples!” Mrs Smith barked, as he her son pulled himself back up off the floor. “Those Pears cannot be trusted.”

“Yer scared of them because they’re different?” Mac said in disbelief. “Ah’m an adult now, so Ah can make mah own decisions.”

Mrs Smith growled. “Maybe Ah didn’t hit ya hard enough. Stay away from Pear, and never mention her again.”

Bright Mac made for the door. “No. Ah need ta go and apologise ta her.”

But Great Apple stepped in the way of the door and held it shut. “Ya won’t,” he replied.

“Why?” Mac protested. “She’s a human, just like you and me! The Cold War is long over.”

Great Apple shook his head. “Stick to yer own kind, son. Ah’ve taken the liberty of cancellin’ yer work placement at Pearville. As of tomorrow, yer goin’ back ta work on the Cass Scenic Railroad. Now go ta yer room and stay there, unless you want a beatin’ you’ll never forget.”

Mac slunk upstairs, dejected, and looked out of the curtains to see Pear outside, looking distraught at the verbal assault that Mrs Smith had given her.

He couldn’t get it out of his heart. He LOVED her. And the only reason they couldn’t be together? She wasn’t an Apple. This meant he’d probably end up marrying a distant relative.

“Well, yer a total hypocrite Pa,” he said to himself. “Ma wasn’t an Apple, and ya still married her. So why can’t Ah marry a Pear?”

He went over to the facing wall. “Well, Ah know how ya felt Romeo,” he added. “And Ah swear that Ah will make this right...no matter what it takes.”

He began to sing softly, the very song that Pear had sung to him in Canterlot...well, it felt like years ago now, but it was only yesterday. Just the words weren’t tinted with affection this time. They were toned with complete and total heartbreak, and he sang them at a slow and bitter speed.

“We're far apart in every way,

But you're the best part of my day.

And sure, as I breathe the air;

I know we are the perfect pair;”

“On a prickly path that goes on for miles;

But it's worth it just to see you smile!”

“And I cannot be pulled apart,

From the hold you have on my heart;

And even if the world tells us it's wrong!

You're in my head like a catchy song.”

Then the words they had spoken just the day prior flowed through his mind.“Wow. It's just... wow,”

“Do you like it? Be honest now!”

“It's the best gift you could've given me!”

“The seasons change and leaves may fall,

But I'll be with you through them all;

And rain or shine, you'll always be mine.”

The final chorus and verse were especially painful for Mac, as it reminded him greatly of what he had lost.

“On a prickly path that goes on for miles,

You're the only one who makes it all worthwhile!

And you should not blame me, too

If I can't help fallin' in love with you...”

There was a loud bang on his door. “Be quiet!” bellowed Great Apple.

Mac didn’t even bother to reply. He waited for his father to go, and then simply resorted to humming the tune as an act of defiance.

“Ah’ll never forget ya Pear,” he said, as he sat back down on his bed. “Ah swear, if Ah can’t marry ya, Ah’d rather not marry at all.”

For the next few weeks, Mac’s lovesickness manifested itself in a number of different ways. When walking to the depot to start his shift one day, he walked round the bend...and there she was!

“Pear!” he cried, as he ran over to her. “How long have ya been there?”

“Ah’ll always be here for ya Mac,” she said happily. “They can’t keep us apart, at least not in spirit.”

Mac reached forward to take her hand.

His own went straight through her, and she vanished.

Stunned for a moment, Mac, stepped back. “Ah’m hallucinatin’ now?” he asked, and turned to continue his trudge to the depot.

He set to work on repairing one of the engines as a way of trying to distract his mind from the problem, but that didn’t work either. The cylinders on the Shay he was fixing reminded him of that shaker that he and Pear fixed.

That moment when they fell in love.

He angrily threw his spanner down, and went outside. He couldn’t hold it in any longer, and bellowed angrily at the heavens.

“WHY?” he asked. “WHY DO YA TORMENT ME THIS WAY?!”

Later on, he had a passenger turn to take, and Mac was a changed man. He seemed to have a distinct lack of interest in life, and was somewhat distracted as he forgot to sound the whistle on two occasions.

But the clearest manifestation of the problem came when the train reached Whittaker. Mac failed to apply the brakes, and the train sailed through the platform and stopped beyond the station.

Mac looked back, and upon realising his mistake, he reset the cylinders and brought the engine back. Hopping off the footplate, he went to find the conductor. “Hey,” he asked, “can ya take the train back fer me? Ah don’t feel up ta it.”

The conductor nodded. “Sure thing Mac. If you ain’t feelin’ great, ya should take a rest.”

Upon arriving at his home, the mailman was standing there. “Bright Mac?” he asked. “Ah have a letter fer ya.”

“Why didn’t ya put it in the letterbox?” Mac asked.

“Ah was under instruction ta hand it ta ya personally,” the mailman said, and gave his a letter. He then headed away.

Mac opened the letter, and began to read. “Dear Bright Mac...”

Author's Note

Poor Bright. Will things ever be resolved?

Intermission 4

There was a pall of silence hanging over the entire room. To say the kids were shocked would be an understatement.

"Ya really did that Granny?" Applejack asked.

The look of guilt, and the fact that Granny Smith couldn't even bring herself to look at her grandkids, told them all they needed to know.

"Well, what happened?" Big Mac enquired.

Grand Pear sighed. "It soon became obvious that these two needed each other. So, after a talk with Pear, Ah came up with a plan to fix things..."

Chapter 8: Canterlot, 1994 (Grand Pear)

Canterlot, California, 1994

Grand Pear was incredibly surprised to see his daughter returning several days before expected. He strode forward to the gate to speak to her as she approached.

“What happened?” he asked, his voice full of concern.

The look in his daughter’s eyes was all he needed to see, as she started to speak. “The folks in Cass were nice at first, but then Mrs Smith refused ta give me permission ta marry Bright.”

“On what grounds?” Grand Pear asked.

“That Ah was too young, and that he thought Ah weren’t even American.”

“Well that’s patently ridiculous,” Grand replied. “We are all Americans. Ah take it they ranted about not bein’ able ta plough fields with ideas?”

Pear nodded, tears dripping from her eyes. “Why can’t they see Ah love him?” she asked rhetorically.

“Maybe that’s what the problem is, and they can’t see past their prejudice.” Grand Pear sighed. “Ah know you care fer him, and-”

“-and if Ah can’t marry him, Ah’d rather die single!”

Grand Pear was slightly shaken by this revelation. “Ah’d hope it wouldn’t come ta that, but Ah’ll contact Great Apple and try ta clean this mess up.”

He went back indoors, and picked up the receiver for his telephone. He then keyed in the numbers for the Smith home in Cass.

“Who is this?” asked a grumpy voice on the other end.

“This is Grand Pear. Ah wanted ta speak ta ya about the incident that occurred in Cass a few days ago.”

There was a pause. "Ah, Ah thought Ah smelled somethin’ sour. What do ya want?”

“Pear was left very upset by the entire incident. Ah am not prepared ta stand fer people bein’ rude ta mah family members fer no good reason.”

“She can forget about marryin’ Mac. Besides, she has no right ta muck about with our family and how we do things. Ya should stick ta yer own kind.”

“Mac told me you were not an Apple originally, so that is very hypocritical.”

“Don’t spout yer hogwash mah way! This is the last time you’ll hear from me, so goodbye!” The receiver slammed down on the other end.

Grand Pear shook his head. “Great,” he said.

Pear Butter came in. “So, they won’t let us be together?” she asked.

Grand thought for a moment. “No,” he said. “If they can be stubborn, Ah can be even more stubborn. There’s a way around this, but it’ll need tact and care to pull off. And fer that, Ah need ta write a letter.”

With that, he took a piece of paper, fed it into his typewriter, and began to type;

Dear Bright Mac,

By the time this letter reaches you, several days will have passed, and you may be worried. Fear not, for I have a plan to correct what is wrong.

I have organised a flight for you from Yaeger to LA, and when I meet you there, we will discuss further.

Yours's Sincerely,

Grand Pear.

Chapter 9: Cass/Canterlot, 1994 (Bright Mac)

Cass, West Virginia, 1994

It was late in the night. The railroad was in the sidings, and the locomotives...

Hang on a moment, that makes absolutely no sense whatsoever.

Shall we try again?

It was late at night in the town of Cass, West Virginia. The railroad was silent, and the locomotives had been put to bed, resting in the shed and simmering as their boilers cooled. The carriages sat in the sidings, readied for another day of action. The town was, likewise, very quiet. Very quiet indeed. The lights had been turned off, the Last Run had closed for business that day and had been locked up, and the houses were locked and quiet. Mrs Smith and Great Apple snored loudly in their beds, a great noise being produced by the sound of these two people.

Bright Mac took that as his chance. He grabbed a small suitcase he had left prepared by his bed, and pulled on his trademark outfit, before walking over to the door and opening it.

But as he passed his parent’s bedroom, he heard a voice call out. “Mac?”

He froze. To be caught now, now of all times, would be simply awful. But there were no further comments, which relieved him into thinking his parents were asleep.

He went forward and down the stairs, opening the door as he did so, and being very careful to ensure the door did not bang. You should have seen how careful he was to create the illusion that nothing had moved. To any observer that had stepped in after that time, it would seem that he had never left the building at all.

He walked outside and down the path, to the level crossing on the edge of town. He waited. And waited. Why did he wait?

For his pickup.

At that moment, a car arrived, pulling up next to him. The door on the car was opened, and the driver looked at him.

“Are you a mister Bright Mac?” he asked.

“Yes sir, Ah am,” Mac replied.

“I am under instruction to drive you to Yaeger Airport, where you are to take a flight to Los Angeles,” the driver answered. “If all is ready sir, step in.”

Mac needed no prompting, and sat down in the passenger seat. The car sped away into the night, and toward civilisation.

The flight itself was uneventful, and Mac sat on the train to Canterlot, humming as trains roared by hither and thither.

“Seriously, does this railroad ever stop runnin’?” he asked, as the 4th coal train in 6 minutes flew by.

At last he arrived, and exited to the taxi rank to see Grand Pear had his truck parked there.

As they drove over, they discussed the plan.

“The first thing is, ya have mah full permission ta marry Pear,” Grand said. “And Ah have secured the local church as the venue for the evenin’ of February 13th which will spill over inta the mornin’ of February 14th.”

“Valentine’s day,” Mac smiled. “How apt.”

“We’ve already gathered some local dignitaries, such as the Mayor, and the local Deacon has agreed ta officiate.” Grand’s face grew serious. “But ya do understand that there is no goin’ back after this, don’t ya?”

“Ah do,” Mac replied. “And Ah intend ta be the best husband Ah can be.”

The truck turned a corner and pulled up outside the Pearville estate. Grand and Mac walked inside, to find Pear waiting for them.

Grand looked on as his daughter and Bright Mac embraced.

“Ah thought Ah’d never see ya again!” Pear cried.

“For a while, so did Ah,” Mac replied. “We’ve got everythin’ in place. This just leaves one last thin’ ta do before the weddin’.”

“Which is?”

Mac withdrew from the embrace, and opened up a box he had concealed in his pocket. “Pear,” he asked. “Will ya marry me?”

Her response left him in absolutely no doubt. “Yes. Yes, Ah will.”

The night of the wedding came at last. Mac, dressed in suitably formal attire of a grey suit and bow tie (although he did look utterly ridiculous), stood at the front of the church.

“Ya nervous?” asked Grand Pear.

Mac nodded. “Yeah.”

“It’s always hard, the first time.”

Mac laughed. “No, sir, Ah’ve been nervous lotsa times.”

Grand Pear chuckled. “Well, follow the deacon’s words, and all oughtta go ta plan.”

Grand Pear had already vanished off...somewhere (Mac wasn’t entirely sure), when the allotted hour arrived. 23:50, exactly.

The organ started up, an old classic tune (no, not the Wagner).

And then she appeared through the entrance of the church, under the tower, to the tune of Mendelssohn’s Wedding March, or to give it the proper title, the ‘Hochzeitmarsch’. Grand Pear, as was appropriate tradition, had taken on the honour of walking his daughter up the aisle.

And she looked beautiful in her white wedding dress and veil. Mac was stunned, so much so he was briefly convinced he was dreaming.

But, thankfully for him, it was no dream at all. Pear arrived at the front, to stand in front of him, and smiled. “High, sweetheart,” she said.

“It’s wonderful ta see ya, Buttercup,” Mac smiled.

“Aww, yer such a sweetheart!” Pear blushed. “Where’d ya get that one from?”

“Ah just made it up.”

Once the organ had finished, given that the organist was rather indulgent with the rubato, the deacon came forward to speak.

“Gathered friends,” he said, “We are gathered here both today and tomorrow to witness the union of Bright MacIntosh and Pear Butter.”

There was the obligatory extract from 1 Corinthians 13, read by Burnt Oak, but at long last they came onto the vows. To many people’s surprise, Pear chose to attempt them from memory.

“Ah, Pear Butter, take you, Bright MacIntosh, to be mah husband, ta love and ta hold from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, till death us do part, according to God’s holy law, and this is mah solemn vow.”

Then it was Bright’s turn. The nerves as he spoke were apparent as he said those very words which would bind him and Pear together forever (or so he hoped).

“Ah, Bright MacIntosh, take you, Pear Butter, to be mah wife, ta love and ta hold from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, till death us do part, according to God’s holy law, and this is mah solemn vow.”

After some more words from the deacon, the conclusion came. “And I hereby pronounce them-”

“HOLD IT RIGHT THERE!”

Author's Note

In case any of you are wondering, I sang at more weddings than I care to mention when I was a chorister, and as a result have a fairly good idea of what happens at these events.

The joke about the rubato is based on a real event, where the organist goes excessively slowly, to the point it becomes funny.

Intermission 5

"Man, that must have been a downer," Apple Bloom commented.

"It sure was," Grand Pear admitted. "Ta see someone disowned on their wedding day? Ah wasn't sure what was goin' on at first."

"But we were foes from then on," Granny Smith added. "Me and Great Apple simply stopped speakin' to Grand Pear or ta Bright Mac. All that time lost, and Great Apple passed on ta Heaven before he could even meet any of ya."

"How long did this feud go on for?" Applejack asked.

"About a year or so," Bright told them.

"Some rather wonderful news saw ta that," Pear Butter smiled, as she took up the tale again.

Chapter 11: Canterlot, 1995 (Pear Butter)

“Yer what?”

Pear could see that Bright wasn’t entirely sure how to react to the news he had just received. It had been almost a year since the wedding, and he still hadn’t heard back from his mother, although he had been writing to her once a month ever since March.

They had also had to find somewhere to live. Given the fact they were no longer co-workers, nor friends, but man and wife, remaining at Pearville was no longer an option. Luckily, Grand Pear had covered that for them.

A farm to the north of the town had recently come up for sale, and Grand Pear had jumped in to purchase the farm from its former owners. He had then set to work on renovating the place, with his men and himself getting the place fully repaired and rebuilt, complete with farmhouse, pig shed, a barn, and several apple trees. In honour of the orchards there, the place had been renamed Sweet Apple Acres. That first harvest of apples, combined with a glorious Wassail, had seen the entire town turn out to help recover the bumper crop. The first Christmas they had spent together was truly magical, with Grand Pear being around to help out as need be.

But renovating the place hadn’t been cheap. There had been repairs to do, air conditioning modules to install, entire electrical systems to rewire, a satellite receiver (though why Grand had suggested fitting one Pear had no idea), and even internal telephones. Why they needed that he had no idea.

They had also had to source plates and service*, or else things could be a little problematic. Especially when extra mouths had to be fed.

Which brings us onto the news that Pear had received today. She hadn’t been feeling great the last few days, so she’d gone to the doctors to try and figure out what was wrong. It was not the bombshell she’d wanted, but life had a habit of throwing curveballs her way, and this was just the newest one.

“Ah’m pregnant, Mac,” she repeated. “Yer gonna be a father!”

Mac blinked. “This can’t be true,” he replied. “Ah must be dreamin’.”

Pear grinned. “Well, yer not,” she deadpanned.

“How will we raise them?” he said. “We’ve got enough goin’ on with these repairs, Ah don’t know if we can afford another mouth ta feed!”

“We’ll find a way,” Pear answered. “But we’ve got somethin’ more important ta consider.”

“What is that?” Mac asked. “Cause the state of our finances is pretty important.”

Pear took his hand. “What’ll we call them?”

Mac’s face shifted to an expression of intense concentration. “Well, we have no way of knowing the gender, so we can’t decide too far in advance.”

“Yeah,” Pear grinned. “Grandpa had an embarrasin’ incident with that.”

Mac nodded. “Ah recall ya told me. He thought the child was a girl, but it actually were a boy.”

Pear spoke up again. “How about ya name the first one, and Ah name the second one?”

Mac looked surprised. “But what if we don’t ever have any more than one?”

“That’s a risk Ah’m willin’ ta take,” Pear replied.

“OK,” Mac replied. “First one it is, then ya get the second one.”

And so it was, after several months, on the 15th of October 1995, that Bright Mac and Pear Butter welcomed their first child into the world. Admittedly, Pear spent it in varying states of consciousness (mostly out cold), she regained consciousness just in time to see the doctor hand the baby to her.

“What is it?” she asked.

“It’s a boy,” the doctor replied.

Mac leaned in to look at the child. From what little he could see, due to it being wrapped up, the child had peach skin and a vague semblance of orange hair.

“He has yer hair,” he remarked to Pear.

“And yer freckles,” she answered. “So, what ya wanna call him?”

Mac thought for a moment. “He’s half-Apple and half-Pear, not ta mention half-Californian and half-West Virginian. This may seem a tad ironic at the moment, but how about ‘Big Mac’?”

There was a momentary snort. Then came Pear’s reply. “Eeyup.”

So, the form was filled out, but Mac had to do something important, and took out his phone, punching in the very same number he had tried to call for the last few months that had never answered.

“Who is this?” asked the voice of Mrs Smith.

“Hi Ma,” Mac replied.

“If yergonna call ta beg ferya forgiveness, then ya-”

“Yer a grandmother.”

“What?”

“That’s right. Ah have a son. And he is the spittin’ image of his Grandpa.”

There was a momentary silence. Then the voice spoke again. "Well, his Grandpa, Ah’m afraid, has gone and joined the heavenly chorus. But Ah can speak on his behalf.” There was a brief sniff, and then a sobbing sound. "Bright, Ah’m so sorry fer how Ah treated ya and Pear!”

Mac paused for a moment. “It’s OK Ma, Ah forgive ya.”

“Ah’mgonna move outta Cass and come down ta where ya are, as ya clearly need all the help ya need down there in Canterlot. Cass ain’t got no appeal for me no more.”

The call ended, and Mac was, overall, happy. As it seemed the greatest gift of them all, his son, had healed the rift that had emerged between the two families, and brought them back together.

Author's Note

*Service: collective noun for knife, fork, and spoon.

Intermission 6

Canterlot, California, present day.

"...And so, the feud between the Apples and the Pears came ta an end," Pear finished.

"That's a relief," Big Mac smiled.

"And we have you ta thank fer it," Granny Smith added.

"What about me, Ma?" Applejack asked.

"You came along 4 years later or thereabouts," Pear replied. "But what happened two years later shocked us to the core..."

Chapter 12: Canterlot, 2001 (Bright Mac)

Canterlot, California, 2001

“Again?”

Big Mac simply couldn’t believe it. Pear was pregnant. Again. Since 1995 they had added another child to the family. In accordance with their agreement made in 1995, Pear had got to name the second child (which was a girl), and had called her Applejack.

But this news threw all of that into chaos.

“We’ve got a perfect balance at the moment,” he said. “But we’re either gonna end up with 1 boy and 2 girls, or 2 boys and one girl!”

“We’ll cross that bridge when we come ta it,” Pear replied. “And before you ask, Ah’m not getting' rid of it.”

“What’s makes ya think Ah’d want ya ta do that?” Mac replied. “After all, it ain’t the baby’s fault we weren’t careful that night.” He thought back, noting that hard cider late in the day perhaps wasn’t the best of ideas.

“That’s a relief,” Pear sighed. “Ah knew that you’d always have mah back.”

A few months passed, and Mac and Pear felt something was a bit up. They were only 12 weeks in, and Pear was already a lot larger than in her previous two pregnancies. So, at the first appointment, they made sure to enquire.

The reaction on the doctor’s face when looking at the ultrasound result told them all they needed to know.

“The baby is noticeably larger than in most pregnancies,” he told them. “I’m not convinced, if allowed to proceed to term, it would fit.”

Pear looked horrified. “Would Ah have ta give it up?” she asked.

“We’ll monitor your progress, and plan more when your second appointment comes around,” he finished.

The next meeting, 12 weeks later, simply confirmed what the doctor was fearing.

“If you wish to proceed, you’ll need to have a Caesarean,” he explained. Bright Mac looked very worried for his wife.

“What are the odds of me survivin’?” Pear asked.

“Very low.”

Mac looked into his wife’s eyes. “Please Pear,” he begged. “Don’t do this. Think of our kids!”

Pear shook her head. “Ah am. Of our livin’ children, and the one yet ta be born. Ah’ll go ahead, even if it kills me.”

3 months after that, the date arrived. The surgery itself proceeded smoothly, but Mac was outside as he had been asked to leave. He was worried, as you’d expect, when the doctor poked his head around the door.

“I have good news for you sir,” he said. “Both the baby and your wife survived.”

Mac leaped to his feet (the kids being looked after by Grand Pear and Mrs (now Granny) Smith). He went in to see the situation, to see his wife being stabilised. She looked tired, but very happy, and she cradled her third child in her arms.

“It’s a girl,” she said. Mac looked at her, and his jaw dropped.

The baby had lemon skin, as well as red hair.

“Well Ah’ll be!” was all he could say.

“It’s a female version of ya,” Pear laughed. “Do ya wanna name her?”

Mac shook his head. “Ah think we should both name her. How about ya think of the last name, and me the first name?”

There was a brief pause.

“Apple.”

“Bloom.”

Both parents nodded, and Pear smiled. “Apple Bloom it is then.”

Author's Note

We are almost at the end of the tale. Stay tuned!

Epilogue

Canterlot, California, present day

"You'd really have done that fer me?" Apple Bloom asked.

"Yes dear, Ah would." Pear smiled at her youngest child.

"Well, thanks fer tellin' us the story again," Big Mac added.

"No problem," Bright smiled. "Now Ah think it's y'alls bedtimes."

The children, and grandparents, promptly went upstairs, and the two adults were left together. As the clock chimed 12, Mac leaned over to his wife. "Happy 20th anniversary, darlin'."

Their lips met a moment later.

Author's Note

Credits!

Credits

Michelle Creber-Apple Bloom
Bill Newton-Bright Mac
Felicia Day-Pear Butter
Chantal Strand-Diamond Tiara, Spoiled Rich
Madeleine Peters-Scootaloo
Sunni Westbrook-Cozy Glow
Claire Corlett-Sweetie Belle
Shannon Chan-Kent-Silver Spoon
Tabitha St. Germain-Granny Smith, Chiffon Swirl
William Shatner-Grand Pear
Ashleigh Ball-Applejack, ticket attendant
Brian Drummond-Valve Gear, band members, airport employee, Filthy Rich, conductor, the deacon, the doctor
Mark Hamill-Great Apple
Jason Deline-Bow Hothoof
Sarah Edmonson-Windy Whistles
Brian Blessed-Dark Steel

Intermission 1

Author's Note

Periodically, the story will move back to the present day, allowing the kids to ask some questions and introduce a change of narrator.

Intermission 1

Canterlot, California, Present Day

As the last of Mac’s words ceased to sound, a question formed on Apple Bloom’s lips. “What was Grandpa Apple like?” she asked.

“Ah suppose Ah owe you that piece of information,” Mac answered. “Ya never did meet him, after all. He’d lived in Cass his whole life and seemed happiest with a wrench in his hand, especially when workin’ on one of the Shays.”

“That sounds like him!” Granny Smith added.

“Of course, he’s long gone now, but he was quite the character-especially if ya got on his bad side!” Pear added.

“Please don’t remind me,” Mac answered.

Keen to avoid painful memories, Apple Bloom saw it was high time to change the subject.

“What was life in Cass like?”

“It was quiet for a few months,” Granny Smith answered, “but summer was always full of tourists, which helped to keep up employment. But they could be so noisy, stayin’ up late and playin’ loud music.”

Keen to keep things moving, Grand Pear spoke up. “Pear, Ah believe this is where ya enter the story.”

Pear looked at her father, and then to Bright. “Bright, you’ve still got a bit ta tell, Ah believe.”

Bright nodded. “Well, Ah arrived in California, and...got a bit lost...”

Chapter 10: Canterlot, 1994 (Grand Pear)

“HOLD IT RIGHT THERE!”

The voice echoed through the building, and everyone looked back in shock. Standing in the archway under the tower was Mrs Smith, and she stormed forward up the aisle, shaking her fist angrily.

“What in tarnation is the meanin’ of this, boy?” she hissed at her son. “Runnin’ off in the middle o’night, meetin’ secretly in the middle o’the night with this bunch of sour pears, and now Ah find ya and Pear in this fancy attire and all these candles? What is the meanin’ of this?”

Mac faced her down calmly. “Ma,” he said with determination, “Pear and Ah are in love.”

“Ah can see that, but that don’t change the fact Ah never gave her permission ta marry ya,” Mrs Smith replied.

“Nor would they need it,” Grand Pear observed, walking over to Mrs Smith. “This is California, not West Virginia.” He signalled the deacon.

“Oh!” he added. “And I hereby pronounce them husband and wife.”

There was a moment of shocked silence. Then Mrs Smith spoke up again. “Yer turnin’ on yer own, Mac,” she said. “Apples should stick with Apples.”

“You weren’t an Apple originally,” Grand Pear observed. “That may explain why yer so rotten. Yer lettin’ yer prejudice get in the way of their lawful union.”

“Well, all Pears are sour!” Mrs Smith retaliated. “Now come on Mac, back to Cass and we can forget this nonsense ever happened.”

“Are ya makin’ me choose between bein’ a Pear and an Apple?”

There was another pause. “Yes. Yes Ah am, and you WILL make the right decision.”

Mac grimaced. “Very well. Ah will make the right decision. Ah hereby renounce my ties to the Apple family.”

Mrs Smith stood stunned. “Very well!” she replied. “Ah disavow ya!” And she walked away, with tears in her eyes.

Grand shook his head. “Well, Ah’m glad that nonsense is dealt with. Shall we continue?”

Author's Note

This is loosely based on the episode version of events, but I decided to turn them on their head.