The Old Green Mare

by punzil504

Rating: teen
Tags: Alternate Universe, Random, Slice of Life, Crossover
Length: 15466

Twilight Sparkle and Pinkie Pie break the Multiverse. Granny Smith becomes a filly again as one of the consequences.

This story is a big "what if," with Granny Smith waxing philosophical about what to do after waking up one morning not quite herself.

The Prologue is narrated by Pinkie Pie. I honestly tried to limit her involvement in the story just to that part, but it turns out she's going be essential to the denouement, so if the story shifts into the first person point of view, that means it's been hijacked by Pinkie.

Published 1970-01-01 00:00:00 UTC
Last updated 2013-05-06 16:57:35 UTC

Prologue

Twilight Sparkle once told me that for every action, there is an equal and opposite reaction.  She claimed it was by some egghead member of the Apple family called Newton.  Apparently Newton got hit one too many times in the head with falling apples during applebucking season and started coming up with all of these wacky theories.  That gravity one is pretty heavy, though.

Anyway, Twilight went on to explain that other great philosophers and physicists took Newton’s laws and used them to explain how the world works.  I was only half paying attention at the time, because there was this cute orange bird flying around outside… no seriously, it was like an orange with blue wings!  It was the funniest thing I’d seen… well, all day at least.  So I missed a little bit of Twilight’s lecture about force, speed, vectors, velocity, and church...

Mass?  Aren’t church and mass the same thing?  Like I said before, I wasn’t paying attention to that part.

I tuned back in when she started theorizing about the possibilities of alternate universes.  That sounded interesting.  I mean, can you imagine the idea of me, Pinkamena Diane Pie, being a boring old businessmare?  Or using my Pinkie Senses for evil?  Or me as a stallion?  Neither could I before, but Twilight told me that in theory, everything that every made me Pinkie could have turned out differently somewhere else.   For want of a certain secret special ingredient, an entire batch of cupcakes was lost.  I think Twilight said it was a nail, but what silly pony uses a nail to bake cupcakes?

I asked Twilight if there was any way to visit these other realities.  She told me that they were just theories, but if anyone could do it, it would probably be me.  She said I already sort of do it when I break some of Newton’s laws with my Pinkie Sense.

You’re probably wondering why I’m the one talking to you instead of Granny Smith, who is supposed to be getting her day in the limelight.  Well, you see, somepony decided that in order to tap into your willing suspension of disbelief, I should at least be allowed to narrate the prologue, and then let the chips fall where they may.  Hopefully in my mouth, because chips are yummy.  Especially chocolate chips.  I tried to bake a cupcake with potato chips once, and it wasn’t pretty.

I can tell by that glazed doughnut look in your eyes that you want me to just get to the point already.  *sigh* Fine.

Like I was saying, the other stuff about Newton was boring, but this alternate universe stuff really pinked my interest.  No, I’m pretty sure the word is “pinked,” not “piqued.”  Rarity told me that a pique is a durable tightly woven ribbed fabric with raised cords.  Fine, have it your way.  I was really really really really really interested in alternate realities. Really.  I think it made Twilight happy to see me showing such curiosity about some of the science-y stuff that she likes as well. Plus she had so many books and letters about the subject that we totally lost track of time.

Before I knew it, what had started out as a little research project had lasted the whole day. I don’t think I’ve ever sat in one place that long, except for that one time, but this wasn’t watching paint dry.  This was funna, fun fun!  I wanted to know everything about other Pinkie Pies, and Twilight wanted to know about… well, the boring part of it. The Newton stuff.  But we worked together as a team.  Finally Twilight came to the conclusion that the only way we’d ever know if the theory was true would be to test it out, like we had when Twilight went back in time.  I reminded her how that did not work out as she had originally intended, although it was rather funny in hindsight.

“Don’t worry, Pinkie,” she said.  “We’re not going to actually travel to these other worlds.  We’re just going to watch.  It’ll be like reading a book, only we get to see it, too.”  She took the crystal ball that I had used during her time travel experience and set it down in front of us, connected to that weird contraption she tried to use to figure out my Pinkie Sense.

“Do I have to wear that funny hat again?”

“Only if you want to, Pinkie.  If my theory is correct, whoever wears the…um… funny hat will be connected to all alternate versions of themselves in the multiverse.  We’ll be able to see one of them at a time in the crystal ball, depending upon what frequency we set it to.”

“Ooh!  I want to wear that funny hat again!”

"I suspected you might.  It’s probably better if you do anyway, since it’ll be using my magic as kind of a battery.”

Putting the hat on, I gave a hooves up to Twilight. “Okie, dokie lokie!”

Twilight concentrated on… something or other.  Maybe it was me, maybe it was the crystal ball, maybe it was my hat.

“Um, Twilight, nothing’s happening.”

“Are you thinking about alternate Pinkie Pies?”

“Oh, was I supposed to be?”

Twilight facehoofed.  I guess I was supposed to be.  But which me did I want to see? Hey, that rhymed! I’m like Zecora!

“I’m getting something!” Twilight shouted with squee.  “It looks like… Zecora.”

“Zecora?” Oops. “Well, at least we know it works, right?”

“I’m not sure yet.  We could just be watching our Zecora.”

The zebra in the crystal ball hummed to herself as she stirred something in her cauldron.  There was a knock at her door.

“Come in, come in! Let the day begin!”

I watched myself enter Zecora’s home.

“It’s me!” I shouted.

“It’s good to see you awake.  Now help yourself to a cupcake!” the zebra said in a jolly voice.  She dipped a ladle into her cauldron and spooned twelve servings into a cupcake pan. Then, with a spark of magic, what I thought was soup or tea turned into cupcakes!

Twilight stared at the crystal ball dumbfounded.  Her jaw was literally on the library floor.  No, I meant literally. Would you figuratively stop interrupting me about my grammar and let me narrate?

“Thank you, Zecora,” the other Pinkie said.  “You always know how to make a pony smile.”

Twilight picked her jaw up off the floor so she would be able to talk again.

“Eureka,” she whispered.

“No, I think it’s Ponyville,” I said.

“No, Pinkie, I mean it worked.  It really worked.”

“The Cakes replaced me with Zecora…”  I wasn’t feeling too keen about that.  Honestly, after all I’ve done for the Cakes.

“It’s a different reality Pinkie.  Maybe you live in the Everfree Forest and Zecora lives at Sugarcube Corner.”

“I suppose that could be fun…”  I wasn’t convinced.

“I need to write to Celestia.  The possibilities for this could be endless.  Pinkie, are you thinking what I’m thinking?”

“I think so, Twilight, but Rarity’s going to have to make you your own set of lederhosen.”

Twilight started to say something, but changed her mind and went off to find Spike so she could send a letter to the Princess, leaving me still hooked up to the machine.  Without her magic, the strange images of Zecora in the crystal vanished.  No matter how hard I concentrated, which must have been at least a minute, I couldn’t get anything to show up on my own without Twilight’s… um… Spark.  OK, even I thought that was a bad pun, forget I said it, OK?

That was probably a good thing, because what we thought was “just observing” had more of an effect than we could have possibly imagined.  The timey-wimey stuff that makes up the multiverse had been disturbed, and we were the ones who woke it up.

Twilight tried to explain it all to me later.  Something about how the Lollabrigator stopped gee-hawing with the double low e-flat commodulator.  Or I could just read you her notes…  they don’t make a salt lick of sense to me.

“Using a phonetic labeling system, I’ll start by calling our universe Alpha, and the one where I we saw Zecora in Sugarcube Corner is Bravo.  The barrier between the two worlds was disturbed by our scrying, causing a ripple effect throughout the multiverse.  In most cases, the effects were benign.  In Charlie, for example, Lyra Heartstrings memory that she had already eaten her breakfast was wiped from existence… just the memory.  So she had breakfast a second time and got a tummyache.  In Delta, Ditzy Doo’s strabismus was suddenly and inexplicably cured.  It caused Echo’s Octavia to abandon her cello for the accordion—“

See?  I told you we’d need lederhosen!  Pony Polka your eyes out!  Well, you get the idea.  Twilight’s notes go through the entire phonetic alphabet twice and takes up two pages of universes before she gets to even one of the three universes that had not-so-benign effects.

“Universe Papa Oscar Victor – A pulse of residual magic from this universe’s Fluttershy slips through the universal barrier.”

I didn’t understand how that could have happened.  Maybe Fluttershy was a unicorn in that universe instead of a Pegasus.

“Universe Bravo Six Hundred Twelve.  The pulse enters the universe in the form of a shooting star.  Filly Princess Luna catches the shooting star in a net and rides it to Equestria, meets a French earth pony trying to fix a flying machine somewhere around Saddle Arabia.  They discuss Philosophy, and eventually Luna disappears, trying to find her way home.  Her essence merges with what remains of the pulse, which gives them enough energy to bypass the barrier yet again.”

Skip a few more pages… aha!

“Universe Juliet Juliet Golf Hotel.  The LunaPulse enters and once again becomes a shooting star.  Spike makes a wish.  ‘I wish everything was back to the way it should be.’  Luna is separated from the pulse and returns to her own universe.  The pulse does the opposite and jumps all the way back to universe Alpha.”

And that, my fillies, is how Equestria was unmade.

Why Can't They Be Like We Were, Perfect in Every Way?

What would you do it you’ve lived for, like, eleventy one years and then all of a sudden *poof* you’re a filly again?  How would you handle it?  I’d probably eat corn on the cob again for the first time in ages…

~~GS~~

“Hi Applejack… Applebloom…” Twilight Sparkle said as the trio of Apples trotted into the library. “What brings you here with… I’m sorry, you must be their cousin, but I don’t remember your name.”

“Uh, Twi…” Applejack started to explain, but she was cut off by the green filly sporting an apple pie for a cutie mark.

“I’m Granny Smith, whippersnapper, and you met me the first day you came to Ponyville.”

“But… you’re… how? How?  How…?”

“Who?” said Owlowiscious from across the room, but nopony paid any attention.

“That’s what we’re here tryin’ to find out,” said Applebloom.  “She’s still acts like ol’ Granny Smith, and has her cutie mark and everything, but…” There was a bit of resentment in her tone when the pale yellow filly mentioned the cutie mark.

“I wasn’t old before, and I sure ain’t old now,” Granny grumped.

“She’s still as cantankerous and crotchety as ever,” Applejack admitted.  “But that’s why we came to you.  We don’t know how it happened.  She just woke up like this.”

“Would y’all stop talking about me as if I weren’t even here?” Granny barked.  “I may look like a filly, but I’m still yer Granny, and I think I deserve to be treated with a bit of respect here.”

Her granddaughters flushed in embarrassment.

“We’re sorry, Granny Smith.  We’re just worried about you is all,” Applejack said.  “And if anyone can figure out what sort of curse you’ve got on you and why, it’s Twilight here.”

“Well…” now it was Twilight’s turn to flush pink. “I appreciate your trust in me regarding magical anomalies, but I’ve never seen anything like this before.  At least not in…”  Twilight stopped.

“What was that last part, sugar cube?”

“I think I have to write to Princess Celestia about this.  Applejack, I need you to go check on Fluttershy for me.”

“Fluttershy?  What does she have to do with—“

“It’s probably nothing.  Just trust me, please.  Applebloom,” Twilight turned to the filly.

“Yes, Twilight?”

“I need you to go into the Everfree Forest and visit Zecora.  She might have some perspective that we don’t.”

“Take Scootaloo or Sweetie Belle with you,” Applejack said as the two sisters exited the library.  “I’ll feel better knowin’ that you’re not in that forest by yourself, even if it is only to visit Zecora.”

“What about me?” Granny Smith asked once her granddaughters were gone.

“With your permission, I’d like to talk to you.  Get some specific details about everything that happened to you before you went to bed last night.”

“That’s rather personal.”

“Yes, but even what seems like the most insignificant detail could be a clue.  For example, have you been in the Everfree Forest yourself within the past day or so?”

“Missy, I haven’t been in the Everfree Forest in years.”

“Ok, so that probably rules out any chances of you stepping in poison joke,” the lavender unicorn noted on a piece of parchment.

“That stuff is nasty.  There was a clump growing in one of the orchards before the last reunion.  Thank Celestia for Big MacIntosh finding it before any of the Apples trotted through it, or it could have spoiled everything.”

Twilight shuddered as she thought about the ramifications of an entire clan of Apples suffering the effects of poison joke, remembering the experience she and her friends had with the blue flowers.  Hearing that Applejack's brother had found some growing at Sweet Apple Acres meant that the insidious weed could probably grow anywhere.

“That’s one of the reasons I sent Applebloom after Zecora.  She has a remedy for it, just in case.”

“Well, that won’t be necessary.  I know what poison joke would do to me, and this ain’t it.”

“How do you know?”

“I don’t wanna bore you with the details, but I had more than one experience with poison joke when I was a careless filly, and once when I was older and should have known better.  Poison joke is like a stand-up comedian that never gets any new material, if you know what I mean.”

“But doesn’t it affect everypony differently?”

“The effect it has on each individual pony is always different, but if a pony is foolish enough to get it again, the effect is the same.  That’s how I know that this can’t possibly be poison joke.  Plus it ain’t very funny, is it?”

Twilight remembered Rarity with her shaggy mane and coat, and Fluttershy’s deep, yet gorgeous stallion voice.  She couldn’t help but smile.

“You see?  Now, I won’t be tellin’ you what happened to me, but it made Applejack’s grandpappy laugh like you wouldn’t believe.  Hay, if you saw me like that, I wouldn’t blame you for laughing yourself.  So that’s how I know.”

“I have to say, Granny Smith, I’m amazed that you’re so… composed.  If something like this had happened to me, I’d be freaking out right now.  How are you keeping it together?”

“You think I’m composed?” the green filly laughed. “I’m terrified.  But compared to Timber Wolves, Nightmare Moon, Discord, and Celestia knows what else, this seems rather tame, wouldn’t you say?”

“I see your point,” Twilight replied.

“But the truth is, I don’t know what to think about this,” Granny Smith admitted.  “I don’t know how long I’m going to be like this, or if it’s permanent.  If you can’t ‘fix it’ like Applejack said, will I age like a normal filly or will I be a filly forever?  There’s a selfish part of me that doesn’t want you to try, because then I’d go back to being an old green mare again.”

“That’s not necessarily selfish, Granny Smith.”

“So you’re going to tell me I’ve been given a gift?  That I’m supposed to learn from this somehow and appreciate it?” the green filly’s reddish orange eyes blazed with irritation.

“I… no… that’s not what I was saying…” Twilight stammered.

“Maybe it is, maybe it ain’t,” Granny Smith sighed.  “All I know right now is that I don’t know what to do about it.”

The purple unicorn nodded cautiously.

“Miss Sparkle? May I request a favor from you?”

“Of course, what can I do for you?”

Nothing could prepare Twilight Sparkle for what the filly was about to ask.

“Please don’t make me go back to school.”

“School!?” Twilight gasped.  “You said yourself that you only look like a filly.  Besides, after talking to you, I can tell that you’re the same Granny Smith in there.  Why would I, or anypony else for that matter, make you go back to school?”

“You know some of the books I’ve borrowed from you over the last couple of years, Miss Sparkle.”

Twilight actually tried not to think about some of the books Applejack’s grandmother had borrowed from the Library.  She had rather... eccentric tastes.  Fifty Shades of Neigh was one of her most recent withdrawals.

“Get yer mind out of the gutter, young’un.  You can’t blame a widowed mare for being lonely sometimes,” the filly said wistfully.  “But that wasn't the genre I was thinkin' of. I’m talking about some of those science fiction types.”

Twilight remembered now.  How could she have forgotten?  Granny Smith, the mare who often complained about newfangled contraptions such as the megaphone, was a fan of Haybert G. Wells.  When Twilight had voiced her surprise at the elderly mare’s choice of The Invisible Mare, Granny had simply responded with a smile.

“But what does that have to do with—“

“I’ve read all of the books about this sort of thing.  Every time somepony like me ends up looking like a filly, the adults always force them to go to school. Every. Single. Time.”

“You’ve… done your homework on this subject.” Twilight said flatly. “No pun intended,” she added as an afterthought.

“Well, I never thought it was gonna happen to me, but not that it has, I beg you, please don’t make me go back!”  Granny Smith’s puppy dog eyes were as big as dinner plates.

“If it means that much to you, I Pinkie Promise,” Twilight assured her, going through the motions (and being cautions with the cupcake part this time).  “If you see Cheerilee, just convince her that you’re you.”

“How in tarnation am I supposed to do that?”

“You’re a grown mare,” Twilight teased.  “And you’ve read a lot of science fiction.  I’m sure you can think of something.”

"Well, alrighty then," the green filly said.  "I think I'm gonna head back to the farm to think for a bit.  I should probably go see Big MacIntosh as well.  He was already out workin' so he hasn't seen me yet today.  And you have a letter to write to the Princess."

"Yes, ma'am.  I'll be sure to let you know what she writes back."

Granny Smith trotted out of the library.  If Spike weren't currently helping Rarity with a project, Twilight would have asked her assistant to help her send that letter immediately.  She tried to figure out how exactly to phrase it...

Dear Princess Celestia,

I think Pinkie Pie and I may have caused a disturbance in the natural order of things...

She was grateful when Applejack interrupted her.  She had brought Fluttershy with her.

"Um... Hi Twilight.  I hope I'm not keeping you from anything," said the bashful yellow mare.

"Hi Fluttershy.  Did Applejack explain to you what happened?"

"Not really..."

"I figured it would make more sense coming from you, especially since you didn't tell me how she was involved in this," Applejack said.

"Something about Granny Smith?  I hardly ever see her, myself," Fluttershy said, peeking out through her pink mane.

"It's nothing for you to get yourself worked up over... at least I don't think it is," Twilight Sparkle hesitated.  She decided to just come out and ask.  "You didn't happen to turn into an alicorn, move into the Everfree Forest and try to become the protector of youthful innocence by any chance, did you?"

Applejack stared at Twilight.  She glanced over at her Pegasus friend.  This was certainly exceeding her weirdness quota for the day.  Fluttershy giggled nervously.

"Did Discord put you up to this?"

"No... is he still living with you?"

"No, but he stops by every Tuesday for tea.  That just sounded like something he'd say."

"Well, let me tell you the whole story. It'll explain why I asked Applejack to check on you," Twilight said.

Just then, Applebloom burst in, along with Sweetie Belle and Scootaloo.

"Zecora wasn't home," Sweetie Belle said.

"She left a note saying that she would be back tomorrow," Scootaloo added.

"Why are the three of you covered in sap?" Applejack asked.

"We kinda got sidetracked on the way back," Applebloom admitted.  "Where's Granny Smith?  These two wouldn't believe me when I told them what happened..."

As Good As I Once Was

Granny Smith cautiously approached the barn, unsure as to how she was going to approach her grandson.  She was leaning toward the “adhesive bandage” approach: just let ‘er rip and deal with the pain.

“Applebloom?  Is that you?” called out a mare’s voice from around the corner.  “There’s a patch of poison joke back here.  I’m clearin’ it out, but I don’t want y’all to catch it.”

“It’s Granny Smith, Big MacIntosh.  It sounds like you stepped in it already.”

“Eeyup,” the stallion said, poking his head around the corner.  Or perhaps former stallion would be a better description.  At the moment he looked and sounded like Applejack’s twin sister, only with his own colors and cutie mark.  “It must have popped up sometime yesterday afternoon.  I could have sworn I got all of it before the reunion… what in tarnation happened to you?”

“Applejack’s got her friends looking into it, and Applebloom is supposed to be bringing that Zecora character from the Everfree Forest by to have a look-see as well.  Twilight Sparkle said that she has a good remedy for poison joke.”

“Thank Celestia.  I was supposed to see Cheerilee this afternoon.”

“You don’t say?”  The green filly had a mischievous glint in her eye.

“Eeyup.”

“Well, just in case the remedy doesn’t work right away, don’t let that stop you from seein’ her.”

“She can’t see me like this.”

“Why the hay not?  It ain’t like you’re any less of a stallion inside that temporary skin of yours, just like Applejack wasn’t…”

Big MacIntosh raised an eyebrow, wondering where his grandmother was going with her train of thought.

“…well, she was smaller than she used to be, teeny tiny even. But she was still very… big.  Where it mattered.” Granny Smith awkwardly stumbled through the analogy.  “And if Miss Cheerilee is the kind schoolmare that Applebloom says she is, she’ll see that you just had an accident, that’s all.  We ain’t the only ponies to ever catch a case of poison joke.”

“I suppose you’re right,” Big Mac decided.

“Of course I am,” the green filly grinned.  “In fact, why don’t you ask her to come back here for dinner tonight?  I’ll make your favorite...”

“Hmm…” the red stallion-turned-mare considered, and then nodded. “Eeyup.”

Twilight was right, Granny Smith thought to herself.  It may be a little misleading, but if Cheerilee thinks that I caught poison joke like Mac, she’ll probably take the truth of the matter a little easier than if we just bumped into each other in the marketplace… and that will solve my school problem.  It might also lead to solving my “not a Great-Granny Smith yet” problem as well.  She chuckled at that last thought.

~~GS~~

“Granny Smith?  I didn’t expect to find you in here,” Applebloom exclaimed.

“Oh?  Once a filly earns her cutie mark, she’s no longer welcome in the Cutie Mark Crusaders’ clubhouse?” the green filly snapped.  She had been looking out of the clubhouse window at Sweet Apple Acres, contemplating her situation when her granddaughter had interrupted her.

“No, that ain’t what I meant.  I just… I mean… sorry…”

“I know,” Granny said, shaking her head.  Am I always this ornery? she wondered.  “I’m sorry for snapping at you.  I’m just frustrated.  Not that that excuses rudeness,” she said to Applebloom as she looked around the clubhouse.  “This place sure has changed since the last time I was able to climb that ladder to get up here,” she observed.

“You’ve been up here before?” Applebloom asked incredulously.

“Of course I’ve been up here before.  Your granddaddy and I built it for your mom a long time ago.  Then she passed it on to your big sister, and then Applejack passed it on to you.”

“Oh,” said Applebloom, thinking about it.  “Well, I kinda had to replace a lot of the old boards after Applejack showed it to me, but it’s mostly the same place, I guess.  I suppose you don’t exactly need me to give you the tour, then.”

“I haven’t been up here in years.  Please, give me the tour.  I want you to,” Granny Smith insisted, seeing the forlorn look on her granddaughter’s face brighten at her words.

“Well, this is our eating spot…”

Applebloom practically skipped around the clubhouse, overjoyed at sharing some nostalgia with somepony new.  The fact that it was Granny Smith, with whom she had often had difficulty relating to in the part made it even better.

“So this is where you were hidin’,” came a voice from outside.  It was Applejack.

“I wasn’t hidin’,” Granny Smith answered back.  “I woke up this morning, realized I was young again, and came here to think for a bit about what that meant.”

“Didja come to any conclusions?” the orange mare asked with a smirk.

“Well, since things didn’t go back the way they were overnight, I reckon I might as well treat this like a blessing instead of a curse.  I mean, it’s not like anyone got hurt by it…

~~GS~~

From the notes of Twilight Sparkle, as read by Pinkie Pie

Universe Tango Tango Tango – doesn’t this sound like the most fun universe ever?  We discovered later that the pulse caused Applebloom’s mane to go prematurely gray.  No other known side effects.  Applebloom tried to use the bizarre situation to her advantage and earn her cutie mark in hair styling, but mixed up the bottles of dye.  Her mane was yellow, and her coat was red for the next two days.  When Applejack asked her why she bothered dying her coat in the first place when only her mane had gone gray, she replied that it had seemed like a good idea at the time.

That reminds me of this one Nightmare Night when I dyed my mane yellow and my coat white, and went around jumping out and spooking ponies by yelling “Surprise!”

You’re giving me that look again… Oh, right. Not my story. Gotcha. *closes fourth wall with a zipper*

~~GS~~

“Well, I just came up here to let Applebloom know that her cousin Babs is going to be dropping by to visit again.”

“Babs is coming to visit?  Yay!  And this time there won’t be any family reunion getting in the way—“ the pale yellow filly paused, realizing what she had just said and flushed. “Not that the reunion wasn’t tons of fun and all, but Scootaloo and Sweetie Belle weren’t invited to that and they’re friends with Babs too.”

Applejack just laughed. “I know what you meant, sugar cube, no offense taken.”

“Sometimes it surprises me that her parents let that little filly come all the way from Manehattan to Ponyville on a train by herself,” Granny Smith commented.  “It ain’t safe.”

“Aw, don’t be like that, Granny Smith,” Applebloom said.  “Babs has to deal with the streets of Manehattan, and that’s just to go to school.  A train ride to Ponyville ain’t nothin’”

“Someone’s always there to pick her up and see her off, whether it’s at the Manehattan station or Ponyville,” Applejack added. “Besides, I reckon we did the same thing for you the last time you went to visit Uncle Orange.”

“That was different.”

“Don’t think for a second that walker of yours doesn’t scream out to muggers ‘take my bits, I’m old and feeble.’”

Granny Smith crossed her arms over her chest and glared at Applejack, like she had many times during similar arguments.  Coming from the old green mare, that pose commanded respect, but coming from Filly Smith, it took all of the orange mare’s composure to keep from cracking a smile.  She just looked so dang adorable.

“We know you can still take care of yourself,” Applejack conceded, “but it doesn’t mean we don’t worry about you anyway.  It’s not that much different than you worrying about Babs.”

“Well, maybe part of me hoped that Apple Rose would pay a visit as well,” the green filly sighed.  “But what am I thinking?  I shouldn’t let her see me like this, anyway.  It’d probably give her a heart attack.”

She cantered over to the clubhouse window and sat down, gazing out at nothing in particular.

“Um… is there anything that you want to do, Granny Smith?” Applejack asked.

“Yeah, I mean, you can always come hang out with me, Babs, and the Crusaders,” Applebloom offered. Applejack winced in spite of herself.  Three crusaders got into enough trouble as it was, and her cousin Babs was already going to be added to the mix.  Five crusaders…?  That would be a lot of tree sap to clean up.

“I appreciate the offer, Applebloom.  I may take you up on it, now that I have the energy to do… whatever it is you fillies do for fun these days.”

“Great! Ohmygosh, ohmygosh, I have to get ready to meet Babs at the station!  But I also need to tell Scootaloo and Sweetie Belle the good news!  No time to lose!”

“But Applebloom, she’s not—“Applejack started to say, but the pale yellow filly was already out the door. “—going to be here until tomorrow,” the orange mare finished, shaking her head and adjusting her Stetson with a hoof.  She looked over at her grandmother, who had gone back to staring out the window.  “You know, come to think of it, I might feel a little better myself knowing you were tagging along with the Crusaders tomorrow.  Having an adult around might keep them out of mischief.”

“I said I might take Applebloom up on her offer, I didn’t guarantee it,” the green filly pointed out.  “I don’t think they’ll take to kindly to me playing chaperone, and honestly, I ain’t too sure that I want to play that role either.  Like I said, the idea is nice.  I’d love to spend time with the fillies, but I’m not sure I know how to.”

“Well, I didn’t mean to—“

“I know what you meant.  Celestia knows that I since I’m a filly now, I should be playing with other fillies my own age.  But part of not being a filly up here,” she tapped her head with a hoof, “is having wisdom and experience that I just can’t turn off.  Can you picture me trying to ride that little scooter like Scootaloo does?  I don’t have the reckless abandon that those young’uns have anymore. What if they try something dangerous? The responsible part of me would either try to stop them, or be a snitch and tell you or Big MacIntosh. Either way, I’m afraid I’d be a killjoy.  They’d end up trying to ditch me, and I wouldn’t honestly blame them if they did, either.”

“Well, they only do the reckless activities when they’re trying to earn their cutie marks…”

“…and I already have mine.  I know Applebloom says it doesn’t bother her, but what about the other three?  I say let the fillies be fillies.”

Applejack didn’t have an answer for that.  “What about workin’ with me and Big MacIntosh on the farm?” she suggested.

“You say that like I wasn’t intending to pull my weight around here… now that I can actually pull something other than my hip, that is.  Speaking of that, I think the magic gave me back my original one, not the newfangled replacement gizmo that y’all bought for me.”

“Nobody’d ever accuse you of not doing your fair share around here, Granny Smith,” Applejack assured her. “I just don’t want you to be bored, is all.  You may not have the reckless abandon of a filly, but looking at you I can clearly see you’ve got the restlessness of one.  You’ve got all your energy back in spades, and if you don’t use it up, it’s going to drive you plumb crazy.”

“Ain’t that the truth?  In that case, we’d better get going.  There’s plenty of work to do.  I promised your brother I’d cook his favorite dish tonight for his marefriend.  Come on, I’ll race you to the barn.”

And just like that, Granny Smith was off and running, something Applejack only vaguely remembered from her earliest childhood recollections.  The competitive earth pony smiled and chased after her grandmother.  It felt a bit odd when she thought about it, but she pushed those thoughts to the back of her mind and just allowed herself to enjoy the moment.

Dust on the Bottle

Nopony was saying anything.

Applebloom glanced sheepishly to her left, where Applejack sat at the dinner table.  Applejack munched rather loudly on the apple walnut salad that she and Granny Smith had prepared earlier.  To Applebloom’s left sat Granny Smith, silently sipping sweet tea.  Across from them Big MacIntosh, still suffering the effects of poison joke, fidgeted next to Cheerilee, who tried to look anywhere else in the room except directly at him.

“…”

“…”

“…”

Mac poked at his dinner with a hoof, as if he were trying to determine whether somepony had snuck into the kitchen and replaced his favorite meal with brimstone and treacle.  Applejack finished her salad and helped herself to another serving without uttering a peep.  Cheerilee seemed to shrink into her seat, the look on her face all but screaming “only a little bit longer, and I can go home…”

*thud.*

It wasn’t a particularly loud thump, but due to the awkward silence at the table, five ponies’ ears perked up when it occurred.

“That sounded like it came from the barn," Applejack said.

"I’mgonnagoandseewhatitwasandmakesureeverything’sOKniceseeingyouMissCheerilee…” Applebloom was out the door faster than Pinkie Pie chasing someone who broke a Pinkie Promise.

“Um… yeah, it’s probably nothin’, but I’m gonna make sure everything’s all right too,” said Applejack, quickly following her little sister.

That left Granny Smith, Big MacIntosh, and Cheerilee at the table.  Cheerilee glanced at the elderly filly, then at the stallion-turned-mare, and finally at her untouched dinner.  Her lip quivered.

“You did explain everything to Miss Cheerilee, didn’t you MacIntosh?” Granny Smith finally asked, slicing through layers of building tension.

“Eeyup,” said Big MacIntosh.

“Then why’re ya both sittin’ there like it’s the worst possible thing?”

Mac opened his mouth to say something, but no words came out.  He blushed.

“He did say that Twilight Sparkle was working on fixing this,” Cheerilee offered meekly.

“She certainly is,” Granny Smith confirmed.  “Zecora will be too, as soon as she gets back from wherever it is that she scampered off to today.  Honestly, I don’t know why Twilight Sparkle couldn’t have just whipped up the cure herself from that ‘Supernaturals’ book she said she has, but—“

“—Wait a minute,” Cheerilee interrupted.  “There’s a cure?”

“Of course there’s a cure.  She used it on herself and Applejack the last time they caught it.”

“This sort of thing has happened before?” Cheerilee asked, amazed.

“I got it a couple of times, and back in those days the cure wasn’t in some fancy magic potion book.  When you got it, you waited it out earth pony style,” Granny Smith said proudly.

“As much as that gives me some relief for you, Granny Smith, it seems rather irresponsible, though, don’t you think?” asked Cheerilee.

“What does?” Granny Smith asked, confused.

“It’s just the idea that someone with spells like this could have done this to you both on more than one occasion.  I mean, the two of you seem pretty calm about it, which is understandable if the cure is so simple, but still, the recklessness of the caster seems like it should be addressed—“

“Now hold on a minute, missy.  What in tarnation are you talking about?”

“Big Mac told me that you were hit with some sort of wild magic.  He said that Twilight Sparkle was looking for a cure, but they hadn’t found one yet.  But you just said that Zecora had one.”

The pieces were starting to come together for Granny Smith.

“No, no, no, dearie,” she laughed.  “I see why you’re confused.  I was hit by the wild magic, but Mac found a patch of poison joke behind the barn.  Our conditions aren’t the same at all.”

“Oh… poison joke.  That’s one nasty weed.  You didn’t mention that part, Mac.  You had me thinking that you were both hit by the wild magic, and that you don’t know if there was a cure.”

The two females glared at Big MacIntosh, who looked like he wanted to dig a very deep hole outside the barnyard and crawl in.  Then they all started laughing at the absurdity of the whole situation.

“Now that the elephant’s been kicked out of the room, are y’all gonna eat yer dinner or what?” Granny Smith asked, wiping her brow with her napkin.  “Applebloom and I made apple fritters for dessert.”

“Oh, good.  Y’all are talkin’ again,” called out Applejack as she trotted back inside, followed by Applebloom and a white pegasus filly who was nursing an injured wing.

“Miss Cheerilee?  What are you doing here?” asked the pegasus.

“I’m having dinner with friends, Cotton Cloudy.  I could ask you the same question.”

“I flew over to see Applebloom,” Cotton Cloudy said, pawing the floor with a hoof.

“Except she crashed into the barn,” Applejack said.  “Nothing’s broken anywhere, the barn included, but that wing’s going to be sore for a bit.  That was a crash that would have made Rainbow Dash proud.”

“You really think so?” Cotton Cloudy asked eagerly.

“You bet,” Applebloom agreed.  “We could hear it from all the way in here.”

“I’m sorry for interrupting your dinner.  You guys eat earlier than me and my parents do.”

“My parents and I,” Cheerilee corrected her.

“It’s no trouble, sugar cube,” Applejack said.  “You’re welcome to join us if you’d like, there’s plenty of apple walnut salad and fritters.”

“Thank you kindly,” Cotton Cloudy said.  “I just came by to ask Applebloom if she wanted to go see a hoofball game tomorrow.  My dad won ten tickets to see the Baltimare Colts play Ponyville tomorrow.  So far, it’s gonna be me, Sweetie Belle, Scootaloo, Archer, Pipsqueak, and Rumble.”

“No adults?” asked Granny Smith.

“Dad has to work, but he said I can bring anyone I want,” Cotton Cloudy said.

“My cousin Babs is coming tomorrow,” Applebloom said, about to decline the invitation.

“Oh, I remember her.  She’s cool.  Do you think she’d want to come?”

“No adults?” Granny Smith repeated sternly, causing Cotton Cloudy to flinch.

“I think Granny Smith would be more comfortable with Applebloom and Babs going to the game with the rest of you young’uns if there were a grown up present,” Applejack explained.  Granny Smith confirmed this with a nod.  “So do you mind if she goes too?”

“What?” asked Cotton Cloudy, Applebloom, and Granny Smith simultaneously.

“Hey, it was your idea, Granny Smith.  If you’d feel better having a grown up there, why don’t you go yourself?  It’ll be fun.  Besides, Mac and I have to work.”

“Eeyup,” said Big MacIntosh.  Cheerilee giggled.

“She’s your grandmother?” Cotton Cloudy asked, indicating the green filly.

“Long story,” Applebloom assured her.

“Well, ok, I don’t mind.  I gotta fly, though.  I have to beg Featherweight’s mom to let him come.  His dad would be all for it, but his mom’s a skosh overprotective.  See you tomorrow!” With that, Cotton Cloudy took off.

Applejack and Applebloom returned to their seats at the dinner table.  Suddenly, an odd look crossed Big MacIntosh’s face.

“Did y’all say earlier that the filly who just left crashed into the barn?” he asked.

“Yeah, around the back of it,” Applejack confirmed.  “Why do you ask?”

“Because there’s still a patch of poison joke on that side.”

“I thought you were clearing it all out,” Granny Smith said, remembering their earlier conversation.

“I got it all from the side of the barn.  The patch started at the side and went all the way around to the back.  By the time I finished, it was dark and Cheerilee was here.  I’m pretty sure I got the majority of it, and I was going to make absolutely sure in the morning.  I wasn’t expecting anypony to crash into the barn, though.”

Applejack sighed.  “I’ll run over to her parents’ house to let them know to expect something when their daughter wakes up tomorrow.  Hopefully Zecora will be back.”

~~GS~~

“This seems to have become your favorite spot lately, Granny Smith,” Applebloom said to the green filly, who was staring out of the clubhouse window again.  The window was open, and the rosy curtains gently swayed as a warm, light breeze wafted in.

“It’s peaceful up here.  It’s a place to get away, where nopony will bother you.”

“Oh, we didn’t realize—“

“You ain’t bothering me, young’uns.  This is your clubhouse after all.  I’m just borrowing it for a little bit while I can still climb up.  It’s good to see you again, Babs,” she said to the second filly who was tagging along behind her cousin.

“Likewise, ma’am,” Babs said politely, with a touch of uncertainty.

“Something wrong?” Granny Smith asked.

“I’m not sure if I should say…”

“Might as well get it out, rather than let it sit here like an elephant in the room.  I had to deal with that enough last night talkin'... or more accurately not talkin' with your cousin and his marefriend.”

“Well, it’s just that I don’t know what I’m supposed to call you.”

“You can call me Granny Smith.  Everypony does.  It's my name, after all.”

“You’re not my Granny, though.  I think you’re my first cousin twice removed.  Or maybe my great aunt.”

The green filly laughed.  “Granny Smith’s my name, dearie.  I was named after a type of apple.  Most of us Apples are.  I’ve had the name my whole life, but I haven’t always been a grandmother, obviously.”

“Oh, I thought it was a nickname.  Like Applebloom told me that the Ponyville dentist’s real name is Minuette, but everyone calls her Colgate.”

“How did this subject come up?”

“Well,” said Babs, “we were trying to see if maybe we could get our firefighting cutie marks—“ Granny Smith’s eyes went wide. “—I mean our bird watching cutie marks, and Applebloom had this idea that maybe somehow our cutie marks were connected to our name.”

“You got Princess Celestia and Princess Luna with the sun and moon respectively,” the pale yellow filly pointed out.

“Rainbow Dash has a rainbow…”

“And look at our family,” cut in Babs.  “Applejack.  Big MacIntosh. Braeburn.”

“Or Snips and Snails,” Applebloom continued.  “Diamond Tiara, Silver Spoon, Filthy Rich…”

“I see your point, and it’s an interesting concept,” Granny Smith said thoughtfully.  “I got one fer you, though, How do you explain Pinkie Pie?”

“How does anyone explain Pinkie Pie?” Applebloom laughed.

My ears are ringing…

Granny Smith laughed as well. “You know what I meant.  Pinkie Pie’s cutie mark has nothing to do with her name, although she is pink and she does work at Sugarcube Corner baking the occasional pie.  I’m green, like the apple that I’m named after, but my cutie mark is a pie.”

“That’s kind of a relief,” Babs said.

“What is?” Applebloom and Granny Smith asked together.

“When Applebloom brought it up, I was a bit worried that I’d be stuck with a seed as a cutie mark because of my name,” Babs admitted.  “I mean, it’ll be great whatever cutie mark I get, but having it predetermined by what my parents chose to call me seems kind of lame.”

“What’s wrong with your name?” Applebloom asked.  "I like your name."

“Nothing’s wrong with my name,” Babs said.  “I’m just saying that if your cutie mark is supposed to come from your special talent, but it also comes from what your name is, what kind of talent do you get from Babs Seed?  It would be like Applebloom getting a flower cutie mark even if she were really good at singing.  I like your idea better, Granny Smith.”

“My idea?”

“Well, you reassured me that the possibilities are still endless, and I can still be whatever I want… although um… bird watching is off the list for now.”

The three fillies laughed.

"We should probably get going," Applebloom said.  "The hoofball game is going to be starting soon."

"Sounds good to me," Granny Smith agreed as the three descended from the clubhouse.  "Just one thing... you're gonna tell me what's going on in this game, right?  Your brother tried to explain the concept, but it's all Greek to me."

You May Ask Yourself, Well, How Did I Get Here?

Granny Smith sat on the bleachers in the middle of a string of ponies.  Two colts, Rumble and Pipsqueak, sat to her left, with Cotton Cloudy in between them.  The filly had been white with a sky blue mane the previous day, but that was before the mishap behind the barn.  Poison joke had caused her coat to turn pink and fluffy.  On the far left sat a blue earth filly named Archer.

To her right sat the Cutie Mark Crusaders, Applebloom, Babs, Sweetie Belle, and Scootaloo.

“I don’t understand the rules of this game at all,” Granny Smith complained.

“That’s because they’re not playing it right,” Pipsqueak told her.  “You’re not supposed to use your hooves in that way when you play hoofball.”

“Maybe that’s the way they play in Trottingham,” Scootaloo said, “but here in Ponyville they’re allowed to do that.”

“I think it adds a new dimension to the game,” Babs said, taking a bite of her hay fries.

The players lined up at the goal line.

“Ooh, looks like they’re going to kick it.  We should start a chant to psych him out or something so he misses,” Archer suggested.

“That doesn’t sound very sporting,” Sweetie Belle commented.

“But we’re already down by six,” Rumble said.  “We need to get the crowd into this somehow.”

“Hay Kicker!” called Cotton Cloudy.  “I hear your sister’s going out with ‘Squeak!”

“Hay! Why would that make him miss?” Pipsqueak asked.

"You gotta shout something really messed up to psyche 'em out," Archer explained.

"Oh, I get it," Pipsqueak said, nodding.  "hay, wait a sec. Why is me dating his sister really messed up?"

“It doesn’t matter.  It didn’t work anyway,” Scootaloo said as they watched the ball sail through the twin posts for a point.

“Do they always do that?” Granny Smith asked.

“Nah,” said Applebloom.  “Usually they go for two.”

“Let’s go Colts!” chanted Lyra Heartstrings from two rows back, waving a weird foam appendage covering her hoof.

The team that had just scored kicked the ball to their opposition.  Three quick plays later, the ball was kicked back again, to the chagrin of many in the stands surrounding the young spectators.  Granny Smith’s attention was suddenly drawn to Cotton Cloudy shouting at somepony behind them.

“Hey, Featherweight, you made it!” called Cotton Cloudy to a rather scrawny colt descending the bleachers and making his way toward them.

“My dad managed to convince my mom that it would be a good idea for us to have some male bonding time,” Featherweight called out, indicating the massive white pegasus stallion with a military styled mane following him.  “Of course, she didn’t realize that he’d need to get his own ticket and we’d be separated because the seats are numbered,” the wiry pegasus added with a grin.  His father sat down a few rows back, causing the seat to groan from the strain.

“There’s a couple’a empty seats in the row behind us,” said Applebloom.  “Does he want to join us rather than sitting all the way back there?”

“Oh, that’s ok,” Featherweight assured her.  “He can get very… animated during hoofball games.  We’re better off if he stays where he is. You'll see."

“That doesn’t seem very appropriate,” Granny Smith said.  “He’s your dad.”

“Fumble!” cheered Rumble.

“Ponyville recovers, he… could… go… all… the … way!” Babs joined in.

“YEEEEAAAAAHHH!!” Featherweight’s dad shouted, prompting many pony heads to turn in his direction.

“He’s gonna do that every time we score,” Featherweight explained.  “It’s OK when we’re at home, but after the umpteenth time it can get old… especially if you’re sitting right in front of him.”

“Ouch!” yelped Cotton Cloudy suddenly, taking flight as if stung by a bee.  “Who did that?”

“Did what?” asked a puzzled Granny Smith.

“Someone pulled my tail,” the fluffy pink pegasus complained.  Sure enough, Cotton Cloudy’s tail appeared rather threadbare.  Archer, Pipsqueak, and Rumble each sported small pink mustaches.

“Have you three been eating my tail this whole time?” Cotton Cloudy demanded.

“Um…” said Rumble, blushing.

“I’m sorry, Cloudy,” Archer apologized.  “You taste like bubble gum.”

“Don’t worry,” Pipsqueak said cheerfully.  “It’ll grow back, won’t it?”

“Well, it could be a problem,” Granny Smith interjected.  “Once Cotton Cloudy gets treated for her poison joke, it’s going to turn all of her back to normal, including her tail.  You three may be in for a case of tummyaches like you’ve never had before.”

“We’re sorry!” the three youths apologized in unison.

“Well, let that serve as a lesson to you not to munch on someone without their permission,” Cotton Cloudy said, attempting to sound authoritative.  The absurdity of her situation caused everypony in the group to burst into fresh peals of laughter, however.

“Touchdown, Ponyville!” called the announcer, followed by another loud “YEAAAHHHH!” from Featherweight’s dad.

“Hay, I have an idea,” said Featherweight.  “This would make a great photo for the Foal Free Press.  Everypony get together.”  He produced a camera from his saddlebags and motioned for all of them to move in closer.

“Aren’t you worried that something like this is a bit Namby Pamby for the school paper?” asked Scootaloo as Featherweight snapped off at least a dozen shots of them.

“My brother was a great editor,” Featherweight retorted.  “Besides, what’s more Equestrian than a bunch of young ponies enjoying a hoofball game?”

“Whether they understand what’s going on or not,” Granny Smith mumbled under her breath.  Out loud, she suggested a different course of action. “Why don’t you let me take a couple pictures, hon. That way you can be in the paper with all of your friends, too.”

The time on the clock ticked down to zero, and the Ponyville crowd cheered loudly.  None were louder than Snowflake, of course.  A familiar announcer’s voice came across the speakers.

"This is DJ P0N3 rockin’ Ponyville Stadium for your half time entertainment!  Just a quick shout out to our local benefactors who made it possible for everypony out there to watch this hoofbiter of a match. Rich’s Barnyard Bargains wants me to remind you that if you need anything from Zap Apple Jam to socks, they’ve got it at Rich’s for a rock bottom price.  Rich’s Bargain Basement, where the owner may be Filthy, but the bargains are Rich!"

“Well, that was lovely,” Granny Smith said, standing up stretching.  “But that advertisement reminded me of something that I haven’t done in a while.”

“You’re leaving?” Applebloom and Babs asked at the same time.

“But it’s only half time!” Scootaloo added.

“Half time?” Granny Smith exclaimed.  “I thought Ponyville won.  Everypony was cheerin’ and getting’ up to leave.”

“It’s like an intermission,” Sweetie Belle cautiously suggested.

“Yeah, some ponies get up and go to the concession stands for food,” Cotton Cloudy explained, rubbing what remained of her tail.

“Or use the facilities,” Featherweight suggested, excusing himself.  Rumble and Pipsqueak followed.

“And the cheerleaders run out to the field and have a dance off,” said Archer.

“So your tellin’ me that that after all of this hoopla, there’s a whole ‘nother half?” Granny Smith asked, her left eye twitching.

“Yep,” was the response from six fillies.

“Oh… fingle fangle.”

Maireann Croi Eadrom I Bhfad

“…And now we just need you to sign in,” the secretary at the desk informed Granny Smith.  The lime green filly scribbled her name on the required page.  “He’s in room 143.  His grandson comes to visit regularly, but that’s about all.  I’m sure it’ll be a pleasant surprise for him to see his…  granddaughter?”

“Oh, I’m not related,” Granny Smith replied immediately, prompting the secretary to raise a questioning eyebrow.  “Our families are old business partners.  We go way back…”

“Well, I’m sure he’ll be delighted to see you anyway.  Equestria needs more fillies like you who take the time to visit…” the secretary trailed off, distracted by the myriad forms scattered across her desk.

“Thank you kindly!” Granny Smith said with a smile, and trotted down the hallway toward the current residence of her old associate.  The hallway was decorated with various plaques honoring employees for their service and donors for their monetary contributions.  She paused at one in particular that featured her own name as a “patron” of the retirement home.  Of course, right above her name was that of her husband, who had spent a portion of his final months in a room in the very same hallway, much to his chagrin.  Seeing his name there brought back a flood of unwelcome memories.

“I ain’t goin’ to be stayin’ here, sugar cube, and that’s final.”

“Stop being such a stubborn old mule.  This ain’t easy for me or your grandchildren either, y’know.  Big MacIntosh is old enough to understand, but Applejack’s been taking it a bit harder.  It’s just so soon after…” she was unable to finish the thought.

“I ain’t gone yet,” the stubborn stallion said gently.

“I know.  And that’s why you’re here: to get better.  Then and only then you’ll be able to come back home, just like last time.”

“Is AJ still thinkin’ about goin’ to Manehatten?”

“Eeyup.  I told her we’d sure miss her, but it’s one of those decisions we have to let her make on her own.  She’s growing up so fast.”

“I don’t like the idea of her bein’ there by herself.”

“She’s not going by herself.  She’ll still be with family.”

“Oranges.”

“You say that like your sister-in-law is so much nicer to me,” she teased.  “I swear she’s never forgiven me for not allowing her to be a bridesmaid at our wedding.”

“Just promise me one thing,” the old stallion said, diverting the subject back to the original topic. “If I do stay here, and I’m not sayin’ I agree to it yet, promise me that you won’t get too wrapped up in the farm work, and takin’ care of Applebloom, and zap apple jammin’ and all of that to trot over here for a bit, okay?”

“I promise.  Cross my heart and hope to fly.”

“Good, ‘cause every time I see my wife, I feel a little bit stronger.  When I’m here all by my lonesome, it’s like my recovery is takin’ forever.”

“You’re so melodramatic,” Granny Smith scolded playfully.

“ForEVerrrrrr…” her husband moaned holding his hoof to his head like a damsel in distress.  He winked at his wife.

Granny Smith had kept her promise.  The doctors and nurses assured her that her daily visits were the highlight of his day, and that they were better than any of the medications they were giving him at the time.  But as much as they both wished for it, he never did get to go back home that time.  A year later, he was resting with their children under the big apple tree.  Applejack had left for Manehatten a few days after that.

“Well, as I live and breathe… Granny Smith.” A voice snapped her back to the present.  It belonged to an ancient looking pony with a cent sign for a cutie mark.

“You recognize me, Stinkin’ Rich?”

“Like I could ever forget a pretty filly like you,” the old stallion laughed.  “You’ll have to tell my wife how you manage to stay so young and chipper after all of these years.  If I didn’t know better, I’d say you still look as young as the day our families first met.”

The green filly smiled awkwardly.  Stinkin’ Rich’s wife had passed on decades ago.  Unlike Granny Smith’s husband, who had been sharp as a horseshoe tack to the end, the nurses had told her that her old business associate suffered from a degenerative condition that affected his memory.  Sometimes he believed that it was still fifty years ago, and he often repeated himself.

“My grandson’s coming by this afternoon,” he informed her.

“I’ve heard he visits you every day,” the green filly replied.

“Yes,” Stinkin’ nodded happily.  “He has a daughter of his own now.  She’s about the same age as you,” he finished with a wink.

“You old charmer,” Granny Smith said, flushing.  “I seem to recall Applebloom mentioning your great granddaughter on a couple of occasions.  They go to school together.”

“Applebloom?” Stinkin’ asked, confused.  “I thought your daughter’s name was—“

“Applebloom’s my granddaughter.”

“Oh, congratulations!” The stallion grinned. “Aren’t grandchildren such a blessing?  My grandson’s coming by this afternoon.  He might even bring my great granddaughter with him.  She is the most precious little diamond.”

“Oh, Gramps, I didn’t realize you had company.”

Stinkin’ Rich and Granny Smith turned to see a grayish amber stallion trotting into the room.  He was sporting a red necktie that featured a golden dollar sign.

“That’s my grandson,” Stinkin’ Rich said proudly.

“It’s nice to see you again, Filthy… er, I mean Mr. Rich,” Granny Smith corrected herself.

“Have we met before? You look familiar, and I can tell you’re an Apple, but—“

“It’s Granny Smith, child, don’t you recognize her?” Stinkin’ asked.

“It was a magical accident, dear,” the green filly summarized.  “They’re working on fixing it.”

“Oh...kay.” Filthy regarded the Apple family matriarch oddly for a moment, shrugged, and focused his attention back on his grandfather.  “Gramps, I have a surprise for you. She’s waiting outside.”

“Surprise?  She went back to Cloudsdale years ago.  We haven’t spoken since—“

“No, Gramps.  Your great granddaughter is here.  Come in and see your great grandpa, honey.”

A pink filly with a lavender and white streaked mane reluctantly slunk into the room.  She looked at Granny Smith, and her eyes glimmered with a hint of recognition.  “Hi, GeeGee,” she grumbled.  The stallion smiled a weathered smile in spite of the youth’s dismissive attitude.

“That’s not how we say ‘hi’ to our family,” Filthy scolded.  “We are always happy to see them.”

“Whatever.  He won’t remember it in a few minutes anyway,” the filly retorted, pawing the floor and making circular patterns absently with her right hoof.

“That’s my grandson and his daughter,” Stinkin’ told Granny Smith proudly, indicating his relations with a hoof.  Diamond Tiara rolled her eyes.

There was an awkward silence.  Finally Granny Smith broke the tension.

“I’m going to go and get a drink from the vending machine. Would anypony like anything?”

“I could use a sip of water myself,” Filthy said.  Fishing some bits out of his coin purse, he motioned to his daughter.  “Diamond Tiara, would you please be a lamb and bring me back a bottle of Les Bouillens?”

“They have that in the vending machine here?” Granny Smith asked.

“They do when I own the company that leases them the machine,” Filthy said with a smirk.

Granny Smith and Diamond Tiara walked down the hall, the elder female noticing the frosty disposition emitted by her granddaughter’s schoolmate.

“You’d rather be anywhere else right now, I imagine,” the supercentenarian commented offhoofedly.

“You think?” Diamond Tiara snapped.  “The only thing worse than this would be if I were stuck here with your blank flank granddaughter or her traitor cousin.”

Granny Smith’s eyes narrowed at the epithets aimed at her family, but kept her temper in check.  After all, if this particular filly acted so obnoxiously toward her own kin, why would she be any less so towards fillies whom she considered to be rivals?  She sighed.

“It’s nice of you to visit your great granddaddy like this.  He really appreciates it.”

“How would you know?”

“My husband had to stay here on a couple of different occasions before he passed on, so I’m very familiar with being on the visitor’s side of the door.  He and your great granddaddy were roommates for a bit.”

“Did he have what GeeGee has?”

“No.  His body just kinda gave out at the end.  From what the nurses tell me, apart from a touch of arthritis, Stinkin’ Rich is healthier than stallions a quarter of his age physically.”

“It doesn’t do him any good if his mind’s gone, though,” the pink filly moped.

“His mind’s not gone, he just gets confused,” Granny Smith assured her.  “He recognized me from the moment I walked in the door, and he knew you too.  He’s proud of you.”

“Yeah. I guess.”  Diamond Tiara tried to change the subject. “So what happened to you?  Poison joke?”

“No, I’d look a lot worse if it were poison joke,” Granny Smith replied.  “Twilight Sparkle thinks it’s some other kind of magical hocus pocus.  She’s asked the Princesses and Zecora for help.”

“Help?” the filly asked her, shocked.  “You want to go back to being an old wrinkly mare?  Um… no offense.”

“I don’t know,” the green filly admitted, ignoring the insensitive part of the blunt comment.  “What I do know is that this ain’t the natural order of things, and that means that if I can put it right, I should.”

“That’s crazy.  If something like this had happened to GeeGee, I’d be thrilled.  He’d be happy to be a colt again.  We could do stuff together.  Real things, not sitting around playing chess or bingo or staring out the window like he does now.  We’d have all of these awesome adventures and it would be great.”

“So you used to do these things with him before he came here?” Granny Smith believed that already knew the answer to that question, but she asked it anyway.

“Well, we went mountain climbing once, but I was strapped to my dad’s back.  I don’t even remember it myself, but my dad has pictures of me, him, my grandpa, and GeeGee together.  Four generations.  It was the last big adventure for both my grandpa and Geegee.”

“I raced Applejack to the barn the other day for the first time since she was your age,” Granny Smith said.  “I think the best part was that I wasn’t even all that tired afterward.  Before this happened, I danced with Apple Strudel at the reunion and paid for it for the next two days.”

Diamond Tiara looked wistfully at her classmate’s grandmother.  “Do you think it would be possible to take a bit of whatever magical accident made you young and give it to GeeGee?  Just a little bit.  Ten years should be enough.”

“I ain’t a unicorn, so I tend to leave the magic to them," Granny Smith answered.  "Just like I can’t say how or why this happened to me, I have my doubts that I’ll be able to use it to help Stinkin’ Rich.  Believe me when I say that I would if I could.  He’s been a friend of the family for over two centuries.”

“It’s not fair,” the pink filly pouted.

“Don’t I know it,” Granny Smith agreed, albeit for different reasons.  “Keep in mind that from what I’ve seen, Stinkin’ Rich is happy.  He has a grandson and great granddaughter who he loves very much and who love him.  His memories take him back to happy times, which are as much of a blessing for someone in his condition as we can hope for.”

“A blessing?”

“Some ponies with more severe form of dementia have been known to get violent with the staff.  It’s heartbreaking to watch.”

“I think one of GeeGee’s former roommate was one like that.  Not your husband, I don’t think, the one after him, maybe.  They moved him to a different wing that you need a special code or something to unlock the doors.  He won’t end up like that, will he?”

“Celestia willing, no.  He’s on a schedule, and your dad checks up on him every day.  It tends to happen more frequently with ponies who don’t have family or friends to check up on them.”

“So me just stopping by once in a while helps?”

“It doesn’t hurt.  The nurses said it was the only thing that kept my husband going as long as his did.”

“Maybe card games, chess, and bingo aren’t that bad then... if they make him feel better.” the stripey-maned filly mumbled.  Granny Smith smiled.

“You gettin’ anything?” a voice rasped behind them.

The pair realized that they had been talking in front of the vending machines without making the intended purchases.  A bespectacled balding pony with a red spotted bowtie was behind them, waiting to buy something himself.

“Oh, go ahead, Mr. Waddle,” Granny smith said, flushing.

“Age before beauty, eh?  Thank you kindly, young misses.”  The elderly pony said with a warm smile.  He plunked his bits into the machine, and a bar of candy popped out.  “I never had a sweet tooth like this when I was younger, but nowadays, I just can’t resist Mares Bars… don’t tell my wife,” he whispered, and strolled away. Diamond Tiara purchased her father’s bottle of water, and Granny Smith bought herself an apple soda.

“Nothing for yourself, dear?” the green filly asked.

“No, I was going to meet my friend Silver Spoon at Sugarcube Corner for milkshakes later,” Diamond Tiara explained as they began trotting back to her great grandfather’s room.  “So how long do you think this spell is going to last?”

“I don’t know.  It’s been two days already.”

“Do you think you’re going to have to grow up all over again?  Will I see you in school?”

“No,” said Granny Smith with a touch more venom than she intended.  “That is to say, I’ve already spoken with Cheerilee about it.”

“What, do you have something against school?  Why do adults send their fillies and colts there if they don’t want to go themselves?”

“I had a bad experience my first time around, I don’t need to go back.  But young’uns like you need to get educated if you’re going to amount to anything.  Don’t you want to run your dad’s business one day?”

“Not particularly.  I’d much rather work at the jewelry shop with Sparkler.  She said I could when I…” she stopped.

“When what, dear?”

“When I finish school and take some accounting classes,” the filly groaned.  “Math is soooo boring.”

“My grandson is the number cruncher on the farm,” the green filly chuckled.  “I stick to zap apple jam and cider making myself.  Trust Cheerilee to at least teach you the basics, and then go with your special talent.  You can’t go wrong there.”

“I guess you’re right,” she said reluctantly.

The walk back to Stinkin’ Rich’s room had not taken as long as the walk to the vending machines had, but Filthy Rich still eyed the pair curiously as they entered.  Diamond Tiara gave her father the bottled water he had asked for.

“Long line at the vending machine?” Filthy Rich casually joked.

“We did take our time getting there, I guess,” Diamond Tiara said, noticing the clock on the wall.

“That’s my grandson and great granddaughter,” Stinkin’ Rich informed Granny Smith yet again, as proudly as if he were telling her for the first time that day.

“You know, your birthday is coming up, Gramps.  I was going to have Diamond Tiara order your cake at Sugarcube Corner this afternoon when she goes.  What kind of cake would you like this year?”

A thought came to Granny Smith at that moment.

“I’m sorry to have to cut our visit so short, but I just had a doozy of an idea.”  She whispered something into Filthy Rich’s ear, and backed away, looking for a sign of approval.

“That… that would be amazing,” Filthy exclaimed.  “Do you think that the mayor would agree?”

“Why wouldn’t she? Granny Smith asked.  “She’ll be the easy one to deal with.  I’m more worried about keeping Pinkie Pie from going overboard.”

“Good point.  I can’t believe you’d do something like this for us, though.”

“Fiddlesticks.  You’re friends of the family,” Granny Smith scoffed.  She couldn’t help but notice Diamond Tiara wince at being referred to as a “friend,” but she let it go.

“Diamond Tiara, why don’t you go with Granny Smith?  You were still planning to go to Sugarcube Corner, weren’t you?”

“Um… yeah. Okay.”

~~GS~~

“…and that’s the plan.  What do you think, Mrs. Cake?”

“I think that’s a wonderful idea, Granny Smith,” Cup Cake replied.  "He'll be so happy."

“Do you know when Pinkie Pie will be back? “ Granny Smith asked.  “I was hoping to tell her about her part of the planning personally, just to make sure she doesn’t get the wrong impression.”

“I wish I knew,” Cup Cake said, her brow furrowing.  “Her note didn’t say exactly when she’d be back, just that it would be before dark.  She’s apparently helping Twilight Sparkle with something ‘super super specially important’ in her words.”

Pinkie Pie is working with Twilight Sparkle?  Twilight’s supposed to be the one working on my… current situation, Granny Smith thought.

“Maybe it’s for the best, then,” she said out loud.  “I need to see the mayor anyway, before her office closes for the evening.  She left a few bits with Mrs. Cake as a deposit, and trotted out of Sugarcube Corner, waving goodbye as she left to Diamond Tiara, who was sitting with Silver Spoon in a booth enjoying a pair of milkshakes.  Silver Spoon cocked an eyebrow at Granny Smith questioningly, and Diamond Tiara blushed.

“It was a weird afternoon,” was all the filly told her friend.

~~GS~~

“This is a wonderful idea,” Mayor Mare informed Granny Smith with a smile.  “Rather short notice, of course, but I think there will still be plenty of time to gather certain VIPs if we hurry.  It should fit right into our Fall Foliage Festival, right before the annual Running of the Leaves.”

“Oh dear,” Granny Smith said, concern crossing her young face.  “I’d forgotten all about that.  Did you still have me signed up to be the emcee?”

“I did,” the mayor said.  “You aren’t thinking of backing out on me, are you?”

“Well…” Granny Smith mumbled uncertainly.

“If you do, just let me know so I can ask Pinkie Pie to take over for you.  She’s already asked about doing the commentary from her hot air balloon again.  I’m sure she wouldn’t mind the added duties.”

“If I do change my mind, which I never said I did, you’ll be the first to know, Madam Mayor,” Granny Smith replied, a little more defensively than she intended to.

~~GS~~

“…and before we knew it, we had built ourselves a nice little town, bustling with all kinds of ponies.  And it never would have happened without the Gentlecolt of Honor, Mr. Stinkin’ Rich!” Granny Smith announced from the podium.  There was a large roar of approval from the audience of ponies, clapping their hooves together in applause.  Stinkin’ Rich looked out at the throng who had assembled to honor him on his birthday, grinning from ear to ear.

“Speech!  Speech!” I shouted.  What, does it surprise you?  When I found out about the party, I was so excited, but Granny Smith told me that I needed to reign it in a bit because Stinkin’ Rich probably isn’t interested in games or the Pony Pokey so much anymore at his age, but I said that doesn’t mean that other ponies wouldn’t want to play, but then she said “Pinkie Pie!” in that tone of voice that says “Pinkamena Diane Pie, you’d better listen to me or I won’t let you help plan the birthday party, so I just agreed and said “You’re in charge, Granny Smith,” and let her have things her way. *gasp* That was a long sentence…

Granny Smith assisted Stinkin’ Rich to the podium.

“As I look out at so many ponies gathered here to honor me, of all ponies, I cannot help but feel blessed,” Stinkin Rich began.  “My memory isn’t nearly what it was ten years ago, so forgive me if I end up repeating myself a bit.  I might end up repeating myself a bit, too, so please forgive me.”

The audience murmured awkwardly.

“That was a joke, my little ponies,” Stinkin’ Rich chortled, and the audience hesitantly began to laugh along with him.

“At my age, if you can’t laugh at yourself, who can you laugh at?  But seriously, it’s such a blessing seeing all of you here.  I’m truly touched.  Granny Smith was telling you before about this cane here.” He held up a gold topped cane. “Ponyville tradition has this cane passing down to Ponyville’s oldest living citizen.  Celestia knows I never expected to live long enough to have it myself, never mind hold on to it for as many years as I have. A father certainly isn’t supposed to outlive his son,” he added wistfully.  “But I’m so proud to have my grandson and great granddaughter with me today.  I was told that I have them and Granny Smith to thank for all of this.  I don’t think I’ve had this much fun since I got this cane, thank you ever so much.  It’s good ponies like you who remind an old gelding like me that I haven’t been forgotten, no matter how much I forget myself.  That was another joke, just so you know.”

The crowd laughed again, a little easier that time.

“My eyesight’s a bit blurry, but I think I see a pink mare in the audience signaling me that it’s either time for cake or that someone fell into a well suffering a compound fracture of the lower mandible.”

So I wanted cake.  Sue me.

Cup and Carrot Cake wheeled out an amazing confection topped with row upon row of candles.

“Either they were out of those fancy number candles, or they wanted to roast marshmallows over my cake,” Stinkin’ Rich continued.  “I think Filthy Rich and Diamond Tiara are going to have to help me blow all of these out.”

The crowd applauded as the Rich family combined to extinguish two hundred sixty seven individual birthday candles.

“Bless my soul, you’re a match for Smaug himself,” Stinkin muttered to himself.

“Did you make a wish, GeeGee?” Diamond Tiara asked.

“It wouldn’t be a birthday if I didn’t, would it?” Stinkin’ replied with a smile.

“Can I hear it?” the filly asked.

“You know the rules, Diamond Tiara,” Filthy Rich said with a wink.  “If he told you, it wouldn’t come true.”  The businesspony saw his grandfather’s face fall slightly.  “What’s wrong Gramps?”

“Well, it’s not going to come true anyway, so I guess there’s no harm in saying it out loud,” Stinkin’ grumbled.

“You never know,” Granny Smith urged him quietly with a wink.

“Well, I heard someponies talking about the Running of the Leaves, and I thought… but no, it’s foolish to think that.”

“Think what, Gramps?”

“To think that you’d let me run one more time.  The mare I overheard talking about it was saying that she came in fifth place a couple of years ago by just pacing herself.”

Filthy Rich looked like he was about to object, but he thought about it for a moment.

“Just because it’s called the Running of the Leaves doesn’t mean you have to actually run, right?” he asked tremulously.

“Nope,” Stinkin’ replied with a grin.  “I remember the year I walked the entire thing with a broken hoof just because your Uncle Richie bet me that I wouldn’t.  I showed him.”

“In that case… we’ll do it.  Mayor, sign the three of us up,” Filthy said, his eyes full of resolve.  Stinkin’s face lit up like a colt’s on Hearth’s Warming Eve.  A certain light purple filly on the other hoof wasn’t as enthusiastic.

“By ‘the three of us,’ Daddy, you meant you, GeeGee, and Granny Smith, right?” she asked her father, hopefully.

Granny Smith chuckled.  “Better make it four, Mayor, and tell Pinkie Pie that she can be the emcee this year.”

“Want to make it even more interesting?” Stinkin’ asked with a sly twinkle in his eye.  “Riches versus Apples?  Loser pays for milkshakes at Sugarcube Corner?”

“I think your family would be outnumbered, Stinkin’,” Granny Smith shot back lightheartedly.  To her surprise, the elder Rich started clucking like a chicken and flapping his forelegs.

“Oh, it is so on,” Granny Smith thundered.  “Me, my three grandchildren and my great neice Babs against you, your grandson, your great granddaughter… and two other Ponyville citizens of your choice, one filly and one adult.  Nopony calls Granny Smith a chicken and gets away with it.”

“Can Silver Spoon be on our team?” Diamond Tiara asked immediately.

“Sure thing,” Granny Smith agreed right away. “Better go find your fifth.  The race starts in a couple of hours.”

“Better go round up your kin, Granny Smith,” teased Stinkin’ Rich, “I haven’t had one in years, but I happen to enjoy ginger alfalfa milkshakes…”

~~GS~~

“You did what now?” Applejack asked her grandmother, stunned.

“Oh, it’ll be fun,” Granny Smith pleaded.  “Applebloom! Babs!” she called.

“Yeah, Granny Smith?” the fillies answered.

“How’d you like to participate in the Running of the Leaves?”

“Um… will it get me my cutie mark?” Applebloom wondered.

“No, but we’re gonna be racing against your friends Diamond Tiara and Silver Spoon,” Granny Smith said mischievously.  “Loser pays for milkshakes…”

“Diamond Tiara and Silver Spoon?  We’re so there,” Babs announced.

“You don’t know who they’ve got as their fifth?” Applejack asked, concerned.

“Does it matter?” Granny Smith countered.

“I guess not,” Applejack conceded.  “I’ll go find my brother and let him know what you’ve dragged us into.”

~~GS~~

“Rainbow Dash?” Applebloom gasped.  “You can’t be serious.”

“She wouldn’t listen to me when I begged her not to join a team that had Diamond Tiara and Silver Spoon on it,” Scootaloo moped.  “She overheard Mr. Rich talking to Twilight Sparkle, and she was all ‘If you really want to win this race, you should have the fastest Pegasus in Ponyville on your team.’  She also said something about a rematch against your big sister.”

“So does this mean you’re not going to be cheering for me and Babs?” Applebloom asked with her puppy dog eyes that could charm almost anypony.

“You and Babs, yes… but I can’t not cheer for Rainbow Dash,” Scootaloo admitted.

“I suppose we can’t hold that against you,” Babs said, “considering she is your hero and all.”

“Uh-oh, looks like my sister just found out who she’s competing against,” Applebloom noticed.  Indeed, Applejack and Rainbow Dash had already started the competitive trash talk.

“I bet Granny Smith finishes before you do,” Rainbow Dash taunted.

“I bet all five of us finish before you even get halfway,” Applejack teased back.

Not to be outdone, Diamond Tiara and Silver Spoon joined in.

“Ready to lose, blank flanks?  Bump, bump, sugar lump rump!”

Babs rolled her eyes.  Applebloom gritted her teeth, but kept her temper in check.

All of the contestants gathered at the starting line.  I had my party cannon ready from my balloon.  I was so excited.  This was going to be the best Running of the Leaves ever!  Remind me to thank Granny Smith for letting me take over for her as the emcee…

~~GS~~

A cut scene?  You cut out the part where I announce the race with Spike?  You big meaniepants…  see if I ever narrate for you again.  *sigh* Fine.  I know, it’s not my story, you can have it back.

Team Rich and Team Apple sat at a large table inside Sugarcube corner.  Seven of the ten racers’ faces bore huge grins.

“That was the most fun I’ve had in a while,” Filthy Rich said.

“Speak for yourself,” Rainbow Dash muttered.  “Just wait until next year, Applejack.”

“You can wait,” Applejack countered.  “I’m a-gonna sit back and enjoy this moment for a bit.”

“Me too,” Stinkin’ Rich piped up.  “I couldn’t have asked for a better birthday.”

“You’re not mad about losing the race?” Silver Spoon asked, surprised that it was even possible for somepony to have any fun at all after losing.

“Why would I be?  They won, fair and square. Besides, for me it was never about winning.  It was about family and friends having fun.  We should do this more often,” Stinkin’ said, slurping down a mouthful of his milkshake.

~~GS~~

Granny Smith woke up the next morning to a tapping on the door.  She had fallen asleep in the rocking chair again.  I need to stop doing that, she resolved.  She trotted over to the door to see who could possibly be awake before the rooster had even crowed.

“You,” Diamond Tiara snapped accusingly. The filly’s mane was disheveled, and her namesake hairpiece had been knocked askew.

“Diamond Tiara,” Filthy Rich cautioned her.  The business stallion’s eyes were puffy and red.  If Granny Smith didn’t know better, she would have suspected that he had been crying.

“No, Daddy, it’s all her fault.  Her stupid idea for the stupid party that made him make that stupid wish,  you… you… stupid stupidhead!” Diamond Tiara burst into tears.

“That’s enough, Diamond Tiara,” Filthy Rich scolded.  “I’m really sorry to bother you, Granny Smith, especially before the crack of dawn, but Gramps passed away last night.”

“Her fault,” Diamond Tiara accused as she wept.

“Land sakes… how did it happen?”

“It was quick.  We brought him back to his room yesterday evening, he went to bed, and when one of the nurses checked on him a couple of hours ago, he was just… gone.”

“I can’t believe… was it the race?”

“Yes!” Diamond Tiara cried.

“No,” her father insisted.  “The doctor said he couldn’t find a reason other than age, and they’re not going to do an autopsy on a two hundred sixty seven year old pony.  It was natural causes.”

“I don’t know what to say,” Granny Smith said, tears welling up in her own eyes.  “If I’d known…”

“No,” Filthy Rich repeated.  “Gramps said himself that he couldn’t have asked for a better birthday.  You helped give him that.  Yesterday, he was the most lucid I’ve seen him in… forever, and he was happy.  Celestia willing, if you’re gonna go, that’s the way to go…” His voice cracked, and a tear worked its way free from his eye.

Granny Smith said nothing.  The words just would not come to her.

“Since a lot of the family is still in town because of yesterday’s party, we thought it best to have the funeral today.  Mr. Waddle offered to give the eulogy.”

“That’s kind of him,” Granny Smith said, dazed.  We should do this more often, she remembered Stinkin’ saying at least three times while having his milkshake.

“When he found out that he’s be getting Gramps’ ceremonial cane, he said that it was tradition for the successor to say a few words at his predecessor’s funeral if they are able.” Filthy Rich added.

“It’s been so long since that cane changed hooves, I’m surprised anypony remembers that,” Granny Smith replied with a slight smile.

“Well, we have to break the news to a few more ponies,” Filthy Rich said.  “I knew you’d rather hear it in person from me, though.  I do apologize about waking you up—“

“Not at all,” Granny Smith cut him off.

“The ceremony will be this afternoon around three.  That should give us enough time to round everypony back up.”

“I’ll see you at three then,” Granny Smith nodded.  She watched as Filthy Rich and Diamond Tiara slowly walked away, the latter giving her one last accusing glare as she left.  Granny Smith sank to the floor, shaking her head.

“What was that about?” she heard Applejack call sleepily from the stairs.  “The rooster ain’t even awake yet, so it must have been serious.”

“Stinkin’ Rich passed away last night.  The funeral’s today.” Granny Smith said simply.

“Shoot.  That was unexpected.  Do y’all need me to do anything?”

“Other than be at the ceremony to pay your respects… no.”  Granny Smith shakily stood back up.  “Tell MacIntosh that I expect him to be there, too.  It would be nice of Applebloom and Babs if they went to support their school friend, but don’t force them if they don’t feel comfortable. I’ll be in the clubhouse for a bit if you need me.  I need to think.”

“Sure thing, Granny Smith.”

~~GS~~

What a difference a day made.  The sun was shining, and it still reflected off of the fall leaves the same as it had done the previous day, but for the attendees of Stinkin’ Rich’s memorial service, it was as if a bit of the glossy finish had been stripped away from everything.

“I’ve never done this before, have you?” Babs asked Applebloom.

“I wasn’t old enough to remember,” Applebloom mumbled, looking over at her siblings who were old enough.  “I heard that my parents and grandpappy went within a year of each other, but it was when I wasn’t any older than the Cake twins.  Applejack said she had to bring me to both of them because there was nopony else to watch me, but I don’t remember it one bit.”

“I’ve never seen so many grown-ups crying.  It’s weird,” Babs shuddered.

“I guess it means that a lot of ponies liked him,” Applebloom suggested.  She resisted the urge to make a verbal jab at Diamond Tiara, seeing the light purple filly in tears across the common.

“Hay, the casket’s open,” Babs said with a gulp.  “We’re gonna actually… see him.”

“They do that all the time,” Applebloom said flatly.  “Unless the deceased has been in some sort of accident where they can’t fix ‘em up with makeup or something.  What, you’re not scared of him, are you?”

“Naw, I’m from Manehattan.  I see worse sights than this all the ti— oh, who am I kiddin’?  You’ll be there with me when we’re up there, right?” Babs shot her cousin a guilty look.

“I got yer back, cuz.”

Granny Smith approached the casket, tears freely flowing as she laid a small jar of Zap Apple Jam on it.

“In case y’all get hungry,” she sighed.  She noticed a few other tokens that myriad ponies had left behind.  There was a photo of Stinkin’ taken in his prime during the year he had actually won the Running of the Leaves race.  Big MacIntosh moved beside Granny Smith and gently placed the blue ribbon that he had won in the previous day’s race next to the picture.  Applejack followed, adding a picture of the Apple and Rich teams celebrating at Sugarcube corner to the pile.

Granny Smith made it to Filthy Rich in the reception line, and gave him a hug.  They didn’t say anything.  It had already been said.  They just smiled weakly.

“Mr. Rich?” Babs caught the businesspony’s attention.  “I just met your Gramps yesterday, so I didn’t get a chance to know him very long, but from what I saw, he was really cool.  I’m glad I got the chance to know him for just a little bit.”

“Thank you, dear.” Was all Filthy Rich could say without breaking down again.

“Yeah, what she said,” Applebloom agreed.  “Yesterday was really great…  I ain’t any good at this.”

“You’re doing fine,” Filthy said, tapping a hoof to his heart to indicate that he understood where her words were coming from.

The two crusaders looked uncomfortably at Diamond Tiara who just stood there looking at the ground, fiddling with the ribbon on her dress.  Hesitantly, Applebloom extended her front hooves, silently offering a hug, but expecting to be swatted away like a fly.  Instead, Diamond Tiara pulled both her and Babs into a crushing embrace and wept uncontrollably.

The ceremony itself went by relatively quickly.  Princess Celestia made a short humble speech, expressing her regrets that she had missed the previous day’s festivities, and adding a personal anecdote about Stinkin’ from the early days of Ponyville.  Mr. Waddle provided a lovely eulogy, which oddly turned into an acceptance speech when he drifted off topic and talked instead about the history of the ceremonial cane and why it had been given the nickname “Rosebud.”  Lyra Heartstings collaborated with Fiddlesticks to provide a touching arrangement of what Granny Smith believed to be a classic Beet Offering requiem. She resolved to ask the mint green mare to confirm her suspicions later if she remembered.

The ceremony concluded at the Ponyville cemetery, where Granny Smith was surrounded by more names and dates than she really wanted to think about at that moment.  Very few Apples were there, as they had their own small area at Sweet Apple Acres, but as one of the earliest settlers of Ponyville herself, she knew that every stone represented somepony she probably knew at least a little bit.

The Rich family had a mausoleum at the top of the hill.  Granny Smith couldn’t help but notice when she approached that Stinkin’s date had already been added to the memorial.  They’d probably had a unicorn do it, she reasoned.  Her eyes wandered down the list of names of the ponies resting within, including Stinkin’ himself, his wife, his sons and their wives, as well as a couple of individuals whom she hoped were close friends, if not family.  Gargoyles and grotesques were carved into the sides of the mausoleum for protection from the rain and decorative purposes.  Granny Smith winced at the ugly imagery, thankful that her site would be marked with a plain granite block.  She barely heard the final words of the blessing, delivered by the Mayor.

“…and if Celestia sends you down a stony path, may she also give you sturdy horseshoes.”

“Thus may it be,” Granny Smith murmured the appropriate response absently.  Even if she lived to be as old as Celestia herself, attending these things was never going to get any easier.  She needed to speak to Twilight Sparkle.

She Ain't What She Used To Be

Granny Smith woke up in her rocking chair.  She had been having the strangest dream about how she was taking magic lessons from that nice lavender mare who was friends with Applejack.  The dream had been so vivid, too.  In the dream, she was a unicorn filly herself, with a white coat like that friend of Applebloom’s.  Granny Smith rocked herself back and forth a bit, contemplating what in Equestria the strange dream could possibly mean, or if it was all just a bunch of hokum from reading too many stories to her granddaughter before bedtime.

Feeling stiff (not unusual for a mare of her age), she stretched, expecting to hear her joints pop with a somewhat pleasurable pain that proved that she was still alive to face another day.  Today, there was neither, pleasure nor pain.  Not even a pop.

Now that ain’t normal, she thought, giving herself a routine neck adjustment.  Still nothing.  A lock of her mane had escaped the confines of her bun and drifted in front of her eyes in the process.  She gazed at it, curiously.

It was blonde.

Granny Smith didn’t remember going to the spa for a dye job.  As a matter of fact, she didn’t remember ever going to the spa… well, ever.  Leave those shenanigans to the young’uns, she figured.  Granted, she wasn’t about to let anyone call her old, but only a foal would delude herself into thinking that superficial treatments like hair dye and cucumbers on her eyes are what keeps a mare young.

Still, someone had apparently dyed her mane while she was asleep. She ruled out Big Macintosh on principle.  Applejack was too honest not to do such a thing without asking her permission first.  Applebloom, on the other hoof, probably thought that she could earn her salon cutie mark that way.

“Applebloom!” She called out to the filly.  The sound of her own voice surprised her a little.  Usually it was rather scratchy, full of clicks, pops, and white noise like the records she enjoyed listening to on occasion.  Today it was the steadiest she had heard it in ages.  It sounded almost—

“Was that you calling me, Granny Smith?” Applebloom asked as she entered the living room.  The filly stopped and stared at her grandmother with an odd look.  She looked as if she wanted to say more, but could not find the words to express herself.

“Yes, dearie.  Could you please be honest and tell your grandmother whether you had anything to do with this?” Granny Smith indicated her mane with a hoof, but Applebloom was no longer looking at her grandmother’s mane.

“I… um…”

“I’m sure your intentions were the best, dear, but I just wish you’da asked first.”

“I… um…”

“You can’t just go around dying your granny’s mane without her permission, y’know.”

“I… um… APPLEJACK!” the filly shrieked.  In an orange flash, her sister galloped into the room.

“Applebloom, what in tarnation are you yellin’ about at the top of your lungs?” Applejack said, both irritated and concerned.  The filly just pointed a hoof at their grandmother and shook her head, speechless.  The orange mare glanced at Granny Smith and turned back to Applebloom.  Then she did a double take and stared, mouth gaping open.

“Oh, stars above, is my mane really that bad?  Would one of you young’uns mind bringing me a mirror?  I’d get up, but my hip’s been acting all sorts of weird since I woke up, so I’d rather stay put just in case.  I do need to stop sleeping in this confounded chair…”

“Applebloom,” AJ began shakily.  “Y’all didn’t… um… do any crusadin’ activities involving your Granny, didja?”

“EeNope.”

“Just askin’,” the orange mare finished.

“Ya think we ought to get Twilight Sparkle over here?” the bow-maned filly asked.

“Eeyup.”

“Isn’t that the lavender one?” Granny Smith asked.  “If you ask me, I think the white unicorn friend of yours is better for fixing bad mane days.  Now would one of you please get your old Granny that mirror?”

“I’m not so sure that’s a good ide—“

“Mirror!”

“Yes ma’am.”

Applejack bolted from the room, returning a few minutes later with a full length glass that had been taken off of her bedroom door.

“Ya didn’t have anything smaller?” Applebloom asked.

“Do I look like Rarity?  I don’t carry one of those little frou-frou kits on me to ‘freshen up’ while I’m out bucking apples.”

“Well, what are you waitin’ fer?  Bring it over,” Granny said, her patience wearing thin.

“Now Granny, just so you know, it’s not necessarily bad, it’s just—“

“I’ll be the judge of that, thank you very much.”

Applejack sighed and turned the mirror to face her grandmother.

“Well I’ll be…”

Her mane was blonde again, although it was still done up in her familiar bun, the strand that had fallen into her eyes non-withstanding.  Her eyes no longer drooped.  Heck, nothing on her drooped anymore.  She removed herself from the rocking chair, realizing that she needed to climb down from it, but that it didn’t hurt her to do so.  She walked right up to the mirror.  Her double in the glass did the same.  They made silly faces, and stretched their muzzles with their hooves until she was satisfied that the familiar stranger staring back was indeed her own reflection.

“Merciful Celestia, I’m a filly again.”