And Did Those Feet, in Ancient Time

Graham and Charlie were given their own personal carriage for the train ride to Appleloosa. It would have seemed a nice option, if the two hadn’t figured out this was because most ponies on the train were too frightened to sit with them. But, despite its root cause being someone irking for Graham, he was rather glad for the extra space and privacy. Both men however, had been somewhat aggrieved that morning, for a reason entirely separate from the railway journey. For yesterday had been both Charlie and Graham’s first experience with using the chamber pot, a device they would be well familiar with before too long.

In the hours since they had boarded the train in Ponyville, the green trees and hills of the lands surrounding the town had given way to a barren desert, where the only life Graham could make out were the innumerate cacti dotting the landscape.

Getting on the train itself had caused some problems, as Charlie and Graham had no money and one can’t have everything handed to himself for free, even in a land of colourful talking ponies. Thankfully they had spoken to the Mayor about their financial predicament, and she had been generous enough to supply them with return tickets to Appleloosa and twenty large golden coins, called bits.

Gazing out the window again, Graham caught sight of a massive apple orchard, below a large hill. Atop that hill stood the largest of the apple tree and. . . was that a buffalo?

“Looks like one,” Charlie said when Graham showed him, “Do you think they talk too?”

“Your friend Pinkie Pie says that Donkeys can talk, I don’t see why Buffalo wouldn’t.”

Their conversation was halted by the blowing of a whistle and hearing a pony yell “This stop, Appleloosa!”. The train slowly ground to a halt, and Graham and Charlie walked out the door.

They left the station quickly, as they hadn’t any bags. The evening sky was a brilliant shade of orange, giving the entire town an orange hue. The buildings here were extremely different from Ponyville, instead these had an American Frontier feel to them, going so far as to have a Sheriff’s office, horse drawn carriages, and of course, the saloon.

Of all the observations one could make upon arriving at Appleloosa, Graham noticed only the saloon, and bolted down the road, leaving Charlie standing bewildered in front of the railway station.

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The saloon was a simple two story wooden building, following the cowboy motif well enough to have a swinging wooden door. Inside a pony wearing a blue and white vest sat in the corner playing ragtime piano. Graham strode over to the bartender, a pony with a rather impressive handlebar moustache.

“Can I get ya one?” The barman drawled at him.

“Sure,” Graham responded. The barkeeper reached under the counter, stopped, and looked down below. He got back up a few seconds later and said, “Sorry, we’re out for the moment, but if you wait a few minutes, somepony’ll be here with more.”

Graham grunted in annoyance, but stayed at the bar.

“I’ve never seen anypony like you before,” the bartender said, making conversation, “You one of them there Zee-boor-ahs?”

“A zebra? A bloody zebra? Yeah, sure, I’m a zebra,” Graham said wearily.

The bartender then proceeded to ask Graham a multitude of questions about Zebra culture, which Graham answered to the best of his ability. His ability, however, was non-existent, so he just made up whatever answer he fancied. By his accounts, most Zebras never left their homeland because they feared they would be put in zoos, and do not interact with other species much, except for the many Dragon immigrants in their home, who often intermarry with Zebras.

The bartender listened quietly as Graham told him of the state of his Zebra home, to which the bartender responded, “Ayup, sure sounds like what I’ve heard about you Zebras.”

Truth be told, Graham had quite a hard time keeping a straight face.

Although, he was very serious a few minutes later, when the bartender told him the stock was here. Graham more or less threw his bits at the barman, and in return was handed a salt lick.

“It’s bloody salt!” he yelled in what came close to a shriek.

“I reckon so,” the barpony calmly replied.

“You reckon?! Are you so stupid you don’t know?!”

“I know it’s salt,” he replied angrily, “And I reckon you ain’t getting any! Are all Zebras as discourteous as you?”

“Zebras?” asked Charlie, who had just entered the saloon and now stood behind Graham.

“We’re Zebras and this man won’t sell us any salt!” Graham yelled at Charlie, arms flailing like a lunatic, before storming out.

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The night air carried a definite chill, in stark contrast to the uncomfortable heat of earlier that day. Charlie briefly considered going back to the saloon, but pulled up his jacket and began to search the town for Graham. Being a small town, the people of Appleloosa had already heard of the appearance of two strange animals in town. The novelty had already worn off, and nopony seemed to bat an eye at Charlie at this point. Maybe this town had more in common with the frontier than just looks.

It shouldn’t be hard to find him, Charlie thought, he’s the only human here.

Eventually he found him, sitting on a fence near the outskirts of the town, looking up at the sky.

“Even the fucking stars look wrong. Can’t find any constellations. Just random dots,” Graham said quietly as Charlie sat down next to him.

“The same thing happens if you go to the Southern Hemisphere,” Charlie said, in a failed attempt at reassurance.

“Well we’re not in bloody Australia are we? Equestria. . .” he said, then sighed, “It’s just too wrong. I’m not ready yet, I can’t face all this sodding pony stuff. It’s just. . .” he trailed off.

“Look, it’s a big shock, and I’ve no idea why I’m not flipping out about it right now. Once we get back to Ponyville, maybe we should just stay in the house for a while, give ourselves more time to adjust to all this,” he said, gesturing at the shadow of a pony crossing the street in front of them, “It’s no rush to get adjusted, we probably have a fair amount of time before that pony gets back from Manechester.”

“I suppose--” Graham started but was cut off by the sound of a bell ringing.

“Come on,” Charlie said softly, extending his hand to pull Graham up, “Time to catch the train.”

“Yeah,” he said, “Thanks.”

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Graham didn’t leave the house for the next two days, instead spending his time helping Charlie to write a record of all they knew about Equestria. The writing of the journal began with Charlie asking Graham how many times bigger than Belgium Equestria was.

“Why do you need to know that?” Graham had asked.

“Haven’t you noticed that most people, when describing the size of an area, will mention how large it is in comparison to Belgium?”

“No,” Graham said bluntly.

“Well I have,” Charlie continued, “But I suppose we don’t really know the size of this place anyway, so it’s neither here nor there.”

“Do you actually know the size of Belgium?”

“Now that you mention it,” Charlie had said, “No.”

So they left out any mention of Equestria’s size in proportion to Belgium, and instead wrote of the culture, cuisine, architecture, language, or to be more precise, the use of American English, and whatever else they could, filling the pages of an empty book Charlie had picked up at a local shop.

It was on the third day after their return from Appaloosa, however, that they were invited to help a pony with something neither of them were expected. Graham and Charlie were to go to a boutique, and help the proprietor by explaining their fashion sense.

Graham was the first to notice and read the letter, written by a hand, or hoof really, with elegant penmanship.

To the two gentlecolts not of Equestria.

It has come to my attention that you two are creatures none of us have seen before. It has also come to my attention that you two possess apparel none of us have seen before. If it is even at all possible I humbly request the grace of your presence at the Carousel Boutique at your earliest convenience.

The seamstress Rarity.

So, later that day, Graham and Charlie stood face to face with the seamstress Rarity. Well, not face to face, they’d have to kneel down if they wanted to. She extended her most cordial greetings, that is, she said “My most cordial greetings” and began to examine the outfits they wore. After a few minutes Graham felt his jacket being tugged, and was quite surprised to find it surrounded by an aura of blue energy. He jumped back in shock.

“Oh Celestia, you must forgive me!” Rarity said, “I was told you are not from Equestria, I had no idea that you would be unaccustomed to magic. I’m ever so sorry!”

“It’s alright,” Graham said, somewhat calmer.

“Well, I’ve never seen a coat made from such a material before. What is it exactly?” she asked.

“Leather,” Graham answered bluntly.

“Leather you say, as in the skin of a. . .” Rarity stopped and looked downright horrified. She closed her eyes for a few seconds, and carried on as if everything were normal for her, “That is certainly, erm, unique. I wouldn’t mention the origin of that coat to anypony else you see if I were you.”

“Maybe we should explain,” Charlie said, jumping into the conversation, “You see, we don’t have fur like you do, so clothes are quite necessary to us for everyday use to keep us warm. Considering I’ve yet to see a pony to wear clothes, I’d say they’re a formality here,” Charlie paused for Rarity to nod, and then continued, “So we need clothes that actually keep us warm. Leather is one of many, and I assure you most of them are not made from skins.”

“Well, that is reassuring,” Rarity said “and I would like to use your fashion here. The mayor told me you shall soon be at Canterlot, and the arrival might provoke a new trend. I hope to have made my own, wait, what species are you exactly?”

“Human,” Graham and Charlie said simultaneously.

“Yes, I hope to have my own line of human-chic outfits before everypony in Canterlot starts designing them.”

After that, she continued to examine the outfits, occasionally using her magic to move some segment, or asking some question about the specifics of the clothes. Aside from her infrequent questions, she did not speak to either man, as her focus was entirely on the clothes, almost entranced by the exoticism of Graham’s leather jacket with jeans, and Charlie’s simple jacket and slacks.

An hour later and Graham was well about done with being examined. He was lucky enough for the session to end at that point, and Rarity bestowed her most sincere gratitude and sent them on their way.

As they passed near the middle of the town, Graham noticed an actual Zebra conversing with a pony. As he walked past, he managed to get a snippet of the conversation.

“Zecora, did you hear about all the trouble a Zebra caused up in Appaloosa?” the pony had asked.

“The story I’ve heard, cannot be true; such trouble a Zebra would not brew!” The Zebra, whose name was evidently Zecora, replied.

Now would be the perfect time to whistle innocently, Graham reflected.

“D’you think we’ve made a bad impression with the whole leather thing?” Charlie asked as they walked.

“Probably not, I mean, we’re from entirely different universes, they’d be pretty stupid if they didn’t expect any culture clash.”

“I suppose,” Charlie said.

Any doubt about what the ponies felt about the two was erased when they returned to the house, and found the side wall adorned with a massive, intricate mural, depicting the their first encounter with Pinkie Pie in the woods outside Ponyville. Above the image a message was written with white paint.

Welcome to Equestria, enjoy your stay!

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In the days since he had arrived in Ponyville, Graham had started to form a morning routine. He would wake up, eat an apple, and imagine a full fry-up breakfast. Toast, baked beans, fried eggs, sausages, bacon--the proper kind, not those thin strips with more fat than meat. Charlie could come to the fry-up breakfast too, he could have one of those Cornish pasties he would always go on about. It’s not fair to say the mural didn’t lift Graham’s spirits, but he did miss his old eating habits, and so imagining a full breakfast became somewhat of a tradition for him.

This morning though, two days after his experience with Rarity, his breakfast fantasy was interrupted by a knocking at the door. Graham walked over to answer it and found a purple Unicorn looking at him.

“Oh wow, they were right about you,” she said, then extended a hoof, “I am Twilight Sparkle, student of Princess Celestia of Equestria.”