The Tatzl

Applejack looked up, into the leafy shade above her, but her gaze was fixed on memories of her childhood.

“This here’s Margueritte the Younger. Margueritte the Elder was one of Granny’s first planted trees, way back before my mom was even born. Granny paid special attention to ol’ Margueritte and her siblings, as all young earth ponies are wont to do with their first seedlings. As Ol’ Mags grew, and Granny with her, Granny says she took to climbing Mags and sitting in her crown for a while, whenever the farm, or family, or whatever got to be a bit too much for her. She says my Grandpappy used to yell at her - he was worried she’d hurt Mags with all her climbing.”

Applejack scoffed and spat at the ground.

“As if an earth pony would ever harm what they’ve grown. Not possible. Anyway, one day when Granny was thinking in her tree, she spotted this little caterpillar; colorful and funny looking. So she caught it and brought it to her dad - my Grandpappy - to show, and she says he turned white as bleached linen. The little caterpillar was a dangerous pest, who could easily lay waste to the orchard if it went unchecked. Story goes, Grandpappy ran to the other farms and the town, gathering every able-bodied adult he could, so they could check every leaf, every branch of the orchard for more of the little critters.

“Well, more they found. Worse, they found where the vermin had already bored into the trees. Eight of the finest apple trees were basically doomed… including Ol’ Mags, unfortunately.

“Granny was distraught, of course, and Grandpappy was maybe a little remorseful, because if Granny hadn’t climbed her tree then she wouldn’t have spotted the caterpillar - most likely nopony would’ve, until much later, when half the orchard would’ve been beyond saving. So Grandpappy takes a cutting from Ol’ Mags and uses everything he knows to coax it to make a shoot. Granny says she was overjoyed when he shows her this lump of wood with tiny roots and a tiny shoot, and tells her to plant it where Ol’ Mags used to stand, where we are now.”

Applejack gave a wistful sigh, smiling all the while. “Young Mags is pretty good climbing, too. Got some real convenient low branches. I’ve caught my younger sister, Applebloom, here.”

Nothing but silence and rustling of leaves answered her. She waited for a moment, growing worried, before speaking again. “Uh… You still with me?”

This time, a warbling chitter sounded from the leafy darkness. Applejack snorted.

“Those are just some fruit bats. Leave—”

An excited twitter interrupted her.

“No, they don’t taste like fruit. Leave them alone; they sleep during the day.”

The tree produced a teasing, inquisitive hoot. Applejack was becoming annoyed.

“Yes, I know darn tootin’ well how they taste! I licked one when I was young and stupid! Granny washed my mouth with alcohol and made me drink a mix of turpentine and laxatives. I was sick for days after, and she said I got off lightly. So don’t you go thinking about swallowing them, all right?”

There was a sad squawk and Tatzljack dropped down from the branches. Then the tatzlpony walked up to Applejack and twittered a question.

“Oh, Granny? Uh, I dunno about meeting her. She’s old. And I am a bit worried about her health.”

Tatzljack produced a sound that is impolite in company, making Applejack frown.

“Don’t get sassy with me now. We can go see her, but she’s most likely napping and if she is then we are not disturbing her; is that clear?”

Tatzljack nodded vigorously. Applejack studied her for a moment, sighed and turned in the direction of the farmhouse.

“Well all right. It’s not far; just over the third hill this way.”

Granny Smith was not, in fact, napping. She was making marmalade. Hearing the front door open, she eyed the kettle warily before turning around.

“Applejack! And Apple… hm.” She squinted at the two ponies at the door. One was obviously her Applejack, be-stetsoned and looking back at her cheerfully. The other one was odd, giving off a wild and unkempt aura even before the newcomer eyed the interior of the house’s kitchen-dash-dining room as if she’d never set hoof in one. Those eye markings - and wasn’t that odd - did mark the newcomer as an Apple, however. And the similarities to Applejack were uncanny. “I did choose some pretty ripe apples for the jam, but even so the fumes shouldn’t make me see double. What gives?”

Applejack chuckled. “Hello, Granny. This here’s, well, she’s me from another Equestria. Fluttershy invited her and some others to our place, because they got some trouble back home.”

Granny Smith was silent for a moment while peering at Tatzljack, who got increasingly nervous as the silence extended and took to trying to straighten her mane with her tongues. This made Granny gasp in surprise.

“Well! You seem a strange one! But any kin of Applejack’s has to be fine, in my book. Say, fancy helping me with the marmalade? I could use a taste-tester.”

Tatljack looked blankly incomprehensive for a moment, before turning to Applejack. The farmpony chuckled good-naturedly.

“If you’re up for it, sure; you can help Granny. I’m thinking of heading to the northern parts of the orchard in the meantime, so if you need me you should be able to find me there.”

Applejack turned to Granny Smith. “She goes by Tatzljack, on account of her being a tatzlpony.” Applejack enunciated the word slowly and carefully, not only for Granny’s benefit: the word was a tongue-twister even without three tongues to twist. “She can’t speak much other than bird sounds, but she’s every bit as smart as us and understands everything we say. She’s not used to our ways, and her own are a mite strange to us; especially the swallowing ponies part, but she’s good-natured and kind so just go with it.” With that, she nodded and exited through the kitchen door.

Granny blinked at where Applejack had been, momentarily stunned and muttering to herself. “What was that about swallowing ponies..?” Then she turned to the newcomer. “So, you wanna help taste-test this here marmalade? I need someone to tell me if there’s enough sugar. I can’t really judge that these days.”

Tatzljack nodded rapidly and walked to stand next to Granny Smith, looking eagerly back and forth between her and the now bubbling kettle. Granny gingerly took a ladle from the kitchen counter using her mouth, dipped it into the kettle, stirred three times and then withdrew a dollop of yellowish-green goop that she presented to Tatzljack.

“‘Areful. Ish’ ‘ot.”

Tatzljack bent forward and sniffed the drooping, steaming marmalade before quickly pulling back. She blinked, seemed to consider something, and then leaned forward again for a deeper snuffle. This was followed by another, and a third. Then Tatzljack opened her maw a bit and slipped out a long tongue. Granny Smith watched in amazement as it kept emerging, curving up in the air so the tip of it could droop over the proffered ladle. The tip descended just enough to touch the jelly-like substance… and froze. Tatzljack’s eyes widened to complete astonishment, while her pupils first shrunk from shock and then expanded with absolute awe. Then the ladle was promptly enveloped by her three tongues, and Granny was so baffled by the sight that only a slight tug was needed to make her let go of the handle. Soon, nothing was visible of the ladle; its presence could only be determined by the general shape formed by the three tentacular tongues, writhing around one another like wrestling snakes as they sought to absorb every minute trace of apple marmalade. A moment later not even that was enough, and Tatzljack brought the entire ladle into her maw. Various liquid sucking noises ensued while the tatzlpony’s eyes shut in a display of absolute bliss.

Granny watched, with mounting alarm, as the pony’s eyes focused… on the bubbling kettle. Her reactions might’ve slowed over the years, but experience compensated: A swift reach for a spatula was all it took to deliver a swat at the probing tongues.

“Eenope! That’s hot, you silly mare! And even if it wasn’t, it goes onto other stuff.” She huffed. “Well I guess it tastes good.”

Then she carefully dipped a hoof into the pot, catching a small dollop of steaming marmalade that she quickly cooled by blowing. Tatzljack watched with obvious envy as Granny put the marmalade-covered hoof tip in her mouth.

“Hmm.” She smacked her lips a bit. “Like I said, the ol’ sense of taste is not what it used to be, but… I think a little more sugar is in order. Would you be a dear and fetch it from the cupboard over there?”

Tatzljack nodded, walked over to the indicated door, opened it and entered the cupboard. There was a moment filled with clinks and clanks as she rummaged around. Then she backed out, various bottles, jars and tins held in her tongue tentacles. She looked at Granny with an eyebrow raised inquisitively.

“That one; the white glittery stuff! Haven’t you seen sugar before?”

Tatzljack shook her head. Granny looked nonplussed. “Really? Well… put the rest back and bring that jar over.”

Tatzljack did so, placing the jar with the white, glittering innards next to Granny Smith. The elderly pony took the jar, but using too much strength, making the movement awkward. She paused, peering at the jar, before popping open the lid and peering inside. Her shoulders drooped.

“Oh. We’re out. All that’s left is the stuff sticking to the sides of the jar.” She turned to Tatzljack. “You want to taste? I need to clean this anyway, before we get more.”

Tatzljack nodded eagerly and was quickly awarded a glittering jar in her front hooves. This time there was no hesitation; three tongues entered the jar… and, if anything, her reaction was even stronger than to the marmalade. She keeled sideways, cradling the jar and stuffing it against her face until her tripartite maw was inside its rim. Her tongues could be seen furiously wriggling against every surface. Meanwhile, she emitted little mewls, purrs and chitters, like a zooful of contented little animals. Granny couldn’t help but chuckle at the sugar-enamored pony.

“When you’re done with that jar you should hoof it over. It needs washing.”

Said jar was put onto the counter next to Granny almost before her last word had finished. Granny peered at it; to her eyes, it was spotless. Sparkling clean. Still… she knew where it’d been, so she filled the sink with water and added dish soap on principle if nothing else. She grabbed a brush and set to work: nopony would accuse Granny Smith of being sloppy.

Halfway through the washing, she spotted movement in the corner of her eye. Leaning back from the sink and turning her head let her see Tatzljack, legs shifting restlessly on a sugar high, being mesmerized by the sudsy, iridescent bubbles the dish soap and her scrubbing had formed. Gently, very gently, she held one tongue beneath a free-floating soap bubble until it landed. Ever so gently, another tongue reached over to prod it with its tip… causing the bubble to pop. Tatzljack grimaced and withdrew her tongues, repeatedly running them over her lips to rid them of the soap residue.

“Heh, soap’s not for eating, you silly thing”, Granny cackled. She returned to finishing cleaning the jar, concluded that she couldn’t get it any visibly cleaner, drained the suds and rinsed the jar thoroughly in pure water.

“Grab that kitchen towel will you? This needs drying.”

Tatzljack did grab the indicated towel, as well as two others she saw nearby. Granny chose not to comment, instead merely holding the jar up towards Tatzljack. The tatzlpony acted on cue, using her tongues to envelop the jar in towels and rubbing them vigorously. Soon enough the squeaky sound of dry glass was heard, prompting Granny to pull the jar out of Tatzljack’s grip and set it down on the counter. She took a deep breath and held it a moment before letting it out as a sigh.

“Well, that’s that. Now I need to go into town to buy more sugar.” (She didn’t see Tatzljack perk up at the word.) “It’s gonna take a while with this hip. I won’t mind if you choose to do something else; accompanying this old and slow pony can be boring.” Then she turned and actually looked at Tatzljack, expecting to see her leaving. Instead, Tatzljack was peering at Granny Smith with her head tilted and an unreadable expression on her face.

“Well, do you have some other suggestions, young o—”

The next moments would always be a confusing blur to Granny. Tatzljack trotted happily out of the kitchen, while Granny’s slightly stunned voice emanated from her belly. “Oh, so that’s what Applejack meant.”