Jump In My Cart
The sky was overcast as Big Macintosh trotted along the dirt road in the direction of Ponyville, the apple cart rolling easily behind him. A barely-noticeable spring in the normally placid pony’s step hinted at the success he had had earlier in the day.
The empty cart only confirmed it; just that morning it had been full to the brim with Sweet Apple Acres apples. Over the course of the early afternoon, it had served admirably as a sales stand – a particularly busy one as word had quickly spread among the ponies of the town of Norman that a new supplier had arrived in town with a most tempting cache of delicious product.
The recently-painted apple-green cart, with its dark-red canvas canopy still attached to the four high corner-posts, wasn’t much to look at, but it had been all Big Macintosh needed to conduct his business, and its content now consisted only of a small brown sack filled generously with bits. They jangled pleasingly whenever one of the wheels rolled over a particularly deep pot-hole, and the red draft pony seemed to be making no effort to avoid them. A smile tugged at the corner of his lips every time he heard the sound.
With no real load to speak of, he kept up a good pace and quickly caught up to the traveller ahead of him. He had been observing this deep-blue pony for some time; her gait suggested she had been on the road for quite a while longer; that or she simply wasn’t used to walking great distances. As he finally pulled alongside her his gaze fell briefly on her cutie mark: a collection of small, white points. A constellation, obviously – though Big Macintosh gave no indication whether it was one he recognised. Astromony-related marks were usually the purview of unicorns, but this blonde-maned filly – she was still young enough to be called that affectionately, if not literally – was most definitely an Earth pony.
The two ponies, now side-by-side, exchanged pleasant nods, Big Mac’s half-lidded, yet somehow lively green eyes briefly connecting with her obviously tired but determined golden-yellow ones. Introductions would normally have been in order, but something about the situation made the stallion decide on a different approach.
“Jump in my cart,” he said, smiling and tipping his head backward to indicate the vehicle behind him, “I wanna take you home.”
A look of surprise registered on the filly’s face at the brazen words coming from this unknown – yet not unattractive – stallion.
“Come on and jump in my cart,” Big Macintosh offered again, his tone casually disarming. “It's too far to walk on your own,” he reasoned.
“No, thank you, sir,” the blue pony replied as a slight blush tinged her cheeks. She faced forward, but it was clear that whatever she was looking at was in her mind’s eye and not in front of her.
“Ah, come on,” he pleaded, his deep, yet gentle voice as nonthreatening as could be, “I'm a trustworthy guy.”
“No, thank you, sir.”
She was resisting his offer, but neither was she making any effort to ditch him; her pace was as steady as it had been. Big Macintosh was not greatly-educated, but he was by no means stupid. He pressed on. “Little girl, I wouldn't tell you no lie.”
“I know your game,” she shot back with an accusatory glance, yet the smile on her lips said something altogether different.
“How can you say that?” the red pony asked before turning away in mock-offense. “We’ve only just met!”
The mare rolled her eyes. “You're all the same,” she informed him dismissively.
Big Mac snorted. He faced in the opposite direction while he mumbled sourly to himself. “Oh, she's got me there, but I'll get her yet.”
Either hearing his muffled words or merely intuiting them, she beamed a victorious smile. “I got you there.”
“No you didn't!” he protested. “I was catchin' my breath.” The lie was unconvincing, to say the least. He looked up to the sky. “And look, it's startin' to rain,” he quickly switched back to the original topic at hoof, “and filly, you'll catch your death.”
A few droplets of water were indeed beginning to fall. The area they were walking through was within the zone controlled by Ponyville pegasi and the red pony knew that a small series of showers were scheduled for that evening.
“Well, I don't know…” she said uncertainly. The idea of continuing her journey through rain and mud was doubtlessly an unpleasant one.
“Ah, come on,” the stallion prodded with a smile. “It costs nothin' to try,” he indicated the cart once more, this time with a hoof, “and you'll arrive home nice and dry. Jump in my cart.”
The filly quickly glanced over the vehicle.
“I wanna take you home,” the red pony explained, almost sheepishly. “Jump in my cart. It's too far to walk on your own.”
She stopped, and in immediate response, so did he. The blue filly looked at the road both ahead and behind her. It was dirt, rocky in places, and most distressingly, it was long. The nearest settlement – Ponyville – was still some five miles off. It was beginning to rain in earnest; the two ponies’ coats were repelling some of the water that was hitting, but absorbing some as well. She looked over the empty cart. It was certainly large enough to seat a pony of her size with room to spare, and its canopy would provide adequate protection from the rain.
Finally, she looked over the pony making the offer. He was staring back at her with the most innocent, inviting expression. At present, he stood roughly sideways to her, allowing her eyes to make a quick trip around the contours of his body. The impressive musculature spoke of years of hard work; the green apple cutie mark indicated a simple, but honest inclination toward farming; and the hooves looked for all the world as if they could travel across Equestria and back without a pause.
“Jump in my cart,” he repeated. This stallion was nothing if not persistent. “I wanna take you home. Come on and jump in my cart.” He disconnected his yoke from the dual shafts of the vehicle and walked around to its rear. Never breaking eye contact with his prospective passenger, he expertly opened the tailgate, allowing her effortless access to the interior. “It's way too far to walk on your own.”
For a few seconds, the sound of raindrops hitting the ground was all that could be heard.
“Well, maybe I will,” she finally gave in and walked toward the open end of the cart with a smirk.
Big Macintosh’s smile grew to reveal an impressive set of brilliant-white teeth. “Ah, that's better,” she said as he proffered a forehoof to assist the filly in embarking, “Now you’re talkin' sense.”
“But you best keep still,” she admonished him as she avoided the hoof – which to be fair, was more than a little dirty.
He pulled back. “Well, if you like, I'll just put up a fence,” he quipped as he watched her get in.
The blue pony rolled her eyes. “No need to get smart.” She smiled at him as he closed the tailgate.
“Well, alright. We'll soon be on our way.”
She looked worriedly toward the horizon. “Well, we’d better start.”
“What for?” He shot a confused glance. It was barely evening, and in the middle of summer; there were still hours to go before sunset. The filly hadn’t appeared to be in a hurry before, though that may have been due to her fatigue.
“Because it's such a long way,” she explained.
He walked to the front of the cart and lifted the shaft gently, so as not to disturb its occupant too greatly. “Why? Where d'you live?” he asked.
“I live down south,” she stated matter-of-factly, “it's roughly twenty-four miles.”
“Hah!” He stomped a forehoof into the mud and held back a laugh as he turned to her. “Hey, slow down.” He set the shaft back down and walked closer. “You must be jokin' there behind that cute smile.”
“Oh, no,” she assured, “I'm not.”
All joviality suddenly dropped from the stallion’s face. “Well, if you're not, there's only one thing to say.”
“And what's that?” she asked, clearly worried by the sudden change in his demeanor.
“Get out the cart!” he suddenly commanded, pointing behind her with a hoof. “Get on your way!”
The filly’s jaw dropped and she sat stock still.
Big Macintosh was yelling now – or at least as close to it as his naturally gentle voice would allow. “Get outta my cart!”
The blue pony snapped out of her stupor. “But you just said that you'd take me home!” She stared in disbelief at her supposed benefactor.
“Well, it's just too far!” he responded, pounding a hoof into the mud once again.
“But there's no way that I can get there alone,” she pleaded.
He turned his nose up at her. “I couldn't care less.”
Seeing her chance slipping away, the filly quickly tried a different tactic. She ran a hoof through her mane and lowered her eyelids seductively. “But maybe I could see you next week,” she sang sweetly.
The red pony was having none of it, however. He squinted as he briefly looked her over. “But you look a mess,” he concluded.
She gasped. “Well, look who's talking!” The filly pointed derisively at the stallion, whose blond mane was now fully drenched and forelegs were caked in mud. “You've got no right to speak!”
“Get outta my cart!” he yelled.
The mare crossed her forehooves and glared daggers back at him. “You told me that you were a really nice guy,” she huffed.
“Well, I ain’t!” Big Macintosh admitted.
The two ponies stared angrily at each other; the blue filly was refusing to budge, utterly unmoved by the death glare she was receiving.
He snorted. “Yeah, get outta my cart!” He turned around, giving the smaller pony a view of his backside.
Confusion spread across her face.
“Get out,” he shouted, shifting his weight forward and lifting both back hooves. “Get outta my cart!”
He bucked the cart. The force was more than enough to dislodge his unwanted passenger, and the blue pony flew out of the vehicle with a panicked yelp, landing sideways in the muddy road.
It took a few seconds for the filly to pick herself up. She was filthy; her stomach, left side, her entire tail and much of her mane were covered in unsightly brown. To make matters worse, the rain didn’t seem to be doing much to remove the undesirable substance.
She fumed in rage as she turned back to her assailant, but Big Macintosh, and his now-again-empty apple cart, were already moving away quickly down the road.
