A Really 'Short' Story...
Another day…another bushel…and another bag o’ bits… Applejack hummed happily to herself as she began cleaning the apple stall that sat in Ponyville’s market square. As much as she might have enjoyed a full day of bucking and gathering the fruits of her family’s labours, the blond mare would readily admit to occasionally getting pleasure from customer service. It might not have the same impact as the mental gymnastics her friend Twilight Sparkle enjoyed, but she enjoyed the give and take of haggling over prices.
Of course, she would still rather leave all of the big financial dealings to her older brother…
Once the cart was clean and her bits were secure in her saddlebag, the mare made her way back to her home. As she sauntered down the street, she spotted a group of young colts milling about in front of a familiar carousel-shaped store. Her smile widened when one particular colt with a grey coat, black mane and dark eyes broke away from the group, waved his goodbyes to them and fell in step with her.
“Howdy sugar cube.”
“Hello…Applejack. How did…you do at…the stand today?”
“Cain’t complain sugar cube. I reckon we’ll live ta see another day…” It was pretty much the same conversation the two ponies had whenever this set of circumstances occurred. And neither Applejack nor Peppermill, her younger adopted brother, would change a thing about it. In fact, the mare would readily admit to have become partial to the conversations the two of them had as they wound down their respective days.
As the buildings of the town center went past, leading to more open spaces, it was then that Applejack finally noticed something…odd. Well, not ‘odd’ but decidedly different about the grey colt. The unease brought on by this glaring difference wasn’t enough to stop the mare from continuing her leisurely trot, but it did dwell on her mind. It wasn’t until the two had left the town limits proper that she took a moment to glance back at Peppermill.
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Eenope…eenope I ain’t askin’…wild stallions ain’t going to make me ask…ah know ahm gonna hate askin’ and hate the answer…so I just…won’t…ask… Applejack’s face remained remarkably calm despite the fact her mind was racing, trying to make a sliver of sense of what she was seeing.
The little colt was as immaculate as always, despite a hard day of play with his other friends. She knew this was because he wasn’t as keen on rough-housing and physicality as other colts his age. Even so, he seemed to hold his own as the others respected his maturity and wisdom beyond his years. He would probably never know how much Applejack appreciated the fact that he was able to get along with ponies his age, as opposed to plying his considerable charm to older ones.
Still, his tendency to be so accommodating could be as much a curse as a blessing. She knew all too well that he rarely said ‘no’ to any request given to him. One of these days she predicted he would stretch himself too thin trying to please every pony and do himself some harm. Celestia knew she had first-hoof experience when it came to the dangers of not asking for help. This seemed to be the most likely explanation for…that…
It wouldn’t be half as bas if I knew wut the hay it wuz… Applejack, for as big of a jock (though she preferred the term ‘athlete’) as she was, was not stupid. She recognized an article of clothing when she saw one, even if clothes were something most ponies had little to do with. In fact, the only two articles of clothing she owned were her famous Stetson and her Grand Galloping Gala dress that was currently stored with great care and reverence in the attic of the farmhouse. And given how close she was with Rarity, Ponyville’s premier dressmaker, she picked up a nugget of knowledge about the art of the dress.
But what the colt was sporting defied all equine logic…or apple farmer common sense for that matter…
It appeared to be some sort of shiny, smooth material that covered most of Peppermill’s flank. Its hue was a deep blue, and a closer look (though having to gaze at the flank of her little brother that closely brought up all sorts of distressing thoughts) revealed thin white pinstripes. The biggest opening seemed to have some sort of stretchy material in it that allowed the ‘thing’ to hold snuggly to his body. The other holes gave room for his legs and jet back tail.
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Eenope…I ain’t got the faintest clue of wut it is… Applejack and Peppermill continued to walk, both ponies silent but for different reasons. After a few more steps the orange mare decided she had to satisfy her curiosity, no matter how painful it could be to do so. With a careful clearing of her throat, and a glance to see the colt looking at her quizzically, she spoke.
“Peppermill?”
“Yes…Applejack?”
“Wut in tarnation are you wearin’?”
“Oh, you mean…this?” questioned the colt, waggling his flank and twitching his tail.
“Yes sugar cube, I mean that.” Applejack knew the colt probably suspected she was curious, and he gazed at her with a deadpan expression but twinkling, mischievous eyes.
“These are called…boxer shorts. At least…that is what…Rarity calls them.”
An’ of course Rarity has something to do with this… “Ok, do ah even want ta ask why you are wearin’ that thing?”
“Because Rarity…asked me to.” responded Peppermill, as if it was the most obvious answer in the world.
Of course you did wut she asked of ya. Ifin she went an’ asked fer the moon, it would be a race between you an’ Spahk ta get there first… Applejack hated to admit that she felt a sliver of envy at the strong bond between the colt and her glamorous friend. After all, Peppermill had been born and raised first in Canterlot which was about as fancy of a place as you would find in Equestria. As a result, the colt had an upbringing that the white unicorn mare desired for herself. This common thread resulted in a friendship that one would not have expected from a colt and a mare.
“I reckon there has to be more to it than jus’ cause she asked ya to…”
“Well,” explained Peppermill, “Rarity had apparently…had a brainwave about…a new fashion but…ended up being short…of material for a full-sized…item. She was able to…make a few smaller ones that…were just right for…a younger pony. She approached me…and my friends and asked…us if we would try…them on and give her…our opinions of them.”
“Ah see…” In truth, the orange mare didn’t see, but she allowed Peppermill to continue.
“Naturally I was…more than happy to help.”
“Of course. You’ve been raised right, after all…”
“The others…took some work.”
“The others…”
“Well, Rumble…and Featherweight at first…flatly refused. But after Rarity…talked with them and…used her *ahem* charms…they went along with it.”
And ah reckon that jus means more competition for Spahk… Applejack shook her head, just imagining the two Pegasus colts melting in the glamorous mare’s hooves.
“Snips was…more interested in the…design of them…than actually wearing them. But he managed…to make a deal with…Rarity to get the patterns…once she had…perfected them. You know…he is actually quite good…with a needle and thread. He could be…a great tailor if only…he could get…some confidence.”
“Hmm…”
“Snails…will do anything…Snips tells him to. And Pipsqueak is…fearless…and willing to try…anything at least once.” Peppermill concluded. “All of us…each have a pair to try…for a few days.”
“Well, I reckon that wuz mighty nice of your fellas to do that fer her. Ahm sure she appreciates it.” Peppermill couldn’t help but sense something being left unsaid by the mare, and waited as they neared home. The longer it took for Applejack to let the other horseshoe drop, the more anxious the colt became. He just about out-right asked her if she had an issue with his willingness to help rarity model and/or try out her new clothing creation when…
“You do realize sugar cube, that you look absolutely ridiculous…”
“Says the mare…who considers boots…that hardly have…any sole to them…’formal wear’”
“Hey! That ain’t nice!”
“Besides…you are just…jealous. Rarity mentioned…that a lot of mares…would not like the…idea of clothing…that was strictly intended for…colts and stallions.”
“Oh she did, did she?”
“She told me…that I would have to be…especially careful since…you are almost…as tomcoltish…as Rainbow Dash…”
“Wait a second sugar cube,” exclaimed Applejack suddenly, “are you bein’ honest are you jus making jokes?”
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“Hey! Get back here ya little…” But the colt was already racing ahead, laughing. Applejack was sorely tempted to overtake him and give him a piece of her mind. But she realized that was exactly the sort of thing he wanted, and she wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction.
…and another day with mah silver-tongued little brother…