Applejack Doesn’t Paint A Barn
Applejack Doesn't Paint A Barn
“APPLES APPLES APPLES”
Applejack, who had been dreaming of future harvests, awoke from her slumber and painstakingly looked over at her alarm clock. 7:30 AM. She put forth the effort to spring from her bed, despite her immediate instincts. While she had likely earned a day off, it wasn’t going to be today - for today was a special evening at Sweet Apple Acres.
“Rise and shine, Applejack,” Granny Smith yelled.
“Ah’m up, ah’m up,” she replied.
After gaining her composure, a quick apple shower, and a quick hairbrushing, Applejack went down for breakfast: Granny had fixed up apple pancakes and toast with applebutter on them, alongside some apple slices and a glass of apple juice.
“So, what’s everypony up to today?”, Applejack inquired.
“Well, our big English test is today, and by golly, that Diamond Tiara thinks she’s going to-“
Apple Bloom discussed some highly involved grade school drama that would no doubt take some major developments, both in terms of plot and character, to figure out. Applejack kind of listened at first but her remaining tiredness overtook her consciousness, and she drifted in and out. Had it not been for the deliciousness of the pancakes, she likely would’ve passed out right then and there. Instead, she just occasionally nodded. She wondered about insignificant events that happened a few weeks ago, and sort of noticed that Apple Bloom’s bow seemed to be off-center, and wondered if she should say anything. She eventually decided that, nah, it probably wasn’t important enough, and she might just be seeing things. Possibly. She somewhat zoned into consciousness towards the end.
“…and then we’ll let her out, with Cheerilee none the wiser! What do y’all think?”
Apple Bloom then glared longingly for approval.
Applejack realized she needed to think something up.
Quickly.
“Well, y’know Apple Bloom, it’s, uh, always, as you say, difficult when you have, a, test to do, and,” Applejack started. She took a lengthy sip of apple juice, Apple Bloom still longing for a response.
Granny saved the moment. “By gum Apple Bloom! If you can work out a plan like that, I’m sure you’re smart enough to pull it off!”
Apple Bloom lit up. “Thanks Granny!” She leaned over and hugged her grandma.
Applejack let out a quiet sigh to herself, adding, “And don’t worry Apple Bloom, I’m sure you’ll get your cutie mark soon enough.”
Apple Bloom and Granny Smith both stared at her with a mixture of confusion and disapproval.
“So…have a good day, now,” Applejack responded. She figured the cutie mark thing was a safe bet.
“I…I have to go now,” Apple Bloom said, wandering off to school. Granny Smith stopped staring and returned to her applesauce.
Several moments pass. Applejack wonders what the hell she said to earn that reaction.
“So, what are you up to today?”, Granny asked.
“Well, I got a bunch of work done yesterday, so Big Mac is taking over general operations for the day. Should have it under control. So, I’ma paint that side of the barn that’s been a-needin’ it since the reunion when Auntie Red Delicious dropped that big ol’ pile of pig feedin’ into the side and ruined the coating! That way, we should look great when the Adelsons come by for their investment meeting!”, Applejack replied.
“Well, you always know to get along with your brother, so it should be good,” Granny Smith replied.
Applejack was momentarily annoyed that Granny Smith had not listened to a word she said, but decided to let it go. They finished their breakfast and Granny had her daily morning nap without leaving her chair.
Applejack checked the time. 8:30 AM.
“Barn paintin’ time,” she said to no one in particular.
After gathering supplies, she went to walk out the door to paint the barn, but then noticed a headline in the Ponyville Times.
“Celestia Declares Increased Funding For Starswirl Memorial Park”
Applejack, initially, had little or no reaction to this headline, as she had no involvement in the park. She continued trotting towards the door.
Then she wondered: was that the same park that she was at when she broke her hoof in 5th grade? She tried to ignore the thought, but it started to bug her.
“Hey Granny, when I was a filly and I broke mah hoof, did I-“
She turned her head and noticed Granny was still fast asleep. She decided not to wake her – but still wanted some answers. Pictures of the park in question, she suspected, would surely reinvigorate her memory and remind her whether this was the park in question. Applejack put down the paint and brush, thinking a quick Google search would solve this problem.
She went on the Apple family computer and signed on to the Applenet. Initially, she typed in the password wrong – but then quickly remembered it was “AppLes” (with a capital L). She waited to connect, unaware much better internet technology was readily available. In the process, she found that she wasn’t able to connect at step two of the process.
“What the hay?”, she muttered, giving a slight smile to herself on the pun.
The process eventually produced an error message written in all technical fancy jargon. Thinking it was a simple mistake, Applejack attempted to sign on again. The same error message came up – though Applejack wasn’t sure if it was the same error message, and therefore decided to give it a shot again. Opening a notepad document, she attempted to copy the fancy jargon so it could be compared against a future error message – but she found that the text box with the error message in it did not allow itself to be copied. She spent a moment pondering whether it would be worth it or not to write out the error message longhoof, so that she could compare the information later, or whether this information wasn’t even really necessary to keep. She realized that, given the amount of time she spent considering whether or not to type the information out was in and of itself a justification for taking down the error message information. She took the time to take the info down – given that she was not a big computer user, her typing speed meant this process take a long time to do, much longer than it would’ve taken the average mare. Once the info was down, she attempted to sign on again – and this time, she found that, indeed, the error message was the same every time.
Given how they were spending much needed bits on their Internet connection, Applejack decided it would be best to further inquire into this problem. She dug through the family bills in their apple locker, and found the most recent internet bill from A-mare-ica Online, which included the customer service number.
Calling the number, Applejack entered 1. Then she entered 3. Then she listened to the menu, didn’t hear her selection mentioned – but thought 3 came pretty close, so she hit 3. Then she realized it wasn’t 3. Applejack hung up – then called back. She hit 1, and then 3, and listened – and hit 4. Then she hit 38219183. Then 4. Then 0. Then 0.
She was told she would be put on hold – and waited. A lot of time passed. Applejack spent the time wondering what the hell Apple Bloom was doing, and wondered if Granny Smith was awake, but didn’t care enough to check. Remembering a previous week, she tried to remember the lyrics to a cool song Fluttershy had sung about the importance of treating bears like ponies. She was on the chorus when she heard a voice.
“Thank you for calling A-mare-ica Online, my name is Shining Swing, how may I help you?”
Given the Saddle Arabian accent, and Applejack’s upbringing, she could not make sense of the words spoken to her by the agent.
“Well I tried to do the sign in but I got a thing on it. What is it?,” Applejack yelled into the phone. Given her deep Apple-achian accent and Shining Swing’s upbringing, the customer service agent could barely piece together what the problem was, but luckily had a system alert which would likely solve the situation.
“May I please put you on hold?”
“For gosh – I was on hold! I tried to-“
Applejack was on hold. She noticed her ponytail seemed a bit off. In fact, a small hair on her mane was notably sticking out. While not usually concerned about such matters, it started to bug her for reasons she didn’t fully comprehend. She also looked out the window and saw Big Mac tending to the pigs.
“Thank you for holding. The service in your area is temporarily experiencing difficulties, but the situation should be resolved by noon. We apologize for any inconvenience.”
The intently listening Applejack could parse together just barely enough to get the basic ideas being presented.
“Thanks,” Applejack replied. She felt unsatisfied, but didn’t feel like registering a complaint, and had forgotten the agent’s name. The fact that a mane hair was slightly out of place was consistently in the back of her mind. She looked at the clock: 9:45 AM. Given the length of the hold, she decided she would have to fix her ponytail quickly before getting to painting the barn.
Running into the bathroom, she could not find her brush. After spending a solid 25 minutes looking for it, she wondered whether or not she had brushed her hair earlier in the day – and quickly came to the conclusion that, yes, she in fact did, so it must still be around here. She thought she might have brought it down with her to breakfast.
She ran down the stairs and began rummaging through the kitchen.
“Granny, have you seen my brush?”
Granny momentarily awoke from her nap. “Rush? What’s the rush?”
“My brush, Granny.”
“Yeah, what about it?”
“Have you seen it?”
“You got a new one?”
“What?”
“I haven’t seen your new brush.”
“It’s old.”
“Oh, alright.”
Granny fell back asleep. Applejack decided waking her would be of little use, and continued rummaging. She then wondered whether she had given Apple Bloom permission to use her brush while she was talking at breakfast, and that she had taken it to school to do whatever it was she was planning to do.
Then she wondered if Big Macintosh could help.
Running outside, past her brush and paint can, she ran to her brother, who was planting apple seeds.
“Hey Big Mac, have you seen my brush?”, she inquired.
“Eee-nope,” he replied.
Applejack knew that this answer would be the entirety of useful information that Big Macintosh could give her. She made small talk to justify having walked outside.
“So, uh, you need any help?”
“Eee-nope.”
A pause.
“Does my mane look weird?”
“Eee-nope.”
“Well, if you see it, let me know.”
“You mean the brush,” Big Macintosh inquired.
“Yeah, the brush.”
“Eee-yup. Did you paint the barn?”
“I’m workin’ on it,” Applejack replied.
Applejack went inside, still ever cognizant of the single mane hair that she simply knew was out of place that was bugging her for reasons she didn’t understand, and wondering whether it would be worth the effort to go to Cheerilee’s class and tell Apple Bloom to give her the brush back. Upon further consideration, Applejack decided the evidence that Apple Bloom had stolen her brush was quite small – and that, if she indeed did have it, it was likely because she had (albeit unknowingly) given her permission. It would also require Applejack to go to the school with her messed up mane, something she decided she didn’t want to do. Applejack tried, intently, to convince herself that the single mane out of place was not a worthwhile expenditure of her consciousness, but it persisted nonetheless.
As she was gathering her supplies for the barn painting, Applejack came up with the thought that the out of place mane hair was likely a result of severe bedmane, and wondered whether or not going back to sleep for a little bit would be able to stop the entire process. It quickly dawned on her that this was high-risk, as it could displace any number of her other mane hairs in the process, taking a small situation and making it worse – and that, if this were to occur, she wouldn’t have her brush available to take care of it. Still, she concluded that the biggest problem was the cognitive issues that the single displaced mane hair was creating – the problem was the pre-occupation, and that pre-occupation would continue to exist if more mane hairs were put out of place. In this sense, the cost-benefit analysis was simple: if the single mane hair stayed the same, she was even; a complication of further mane hairs would mean that the situation was effectively even, given that she didn’t need to go anywhere in particular; and there still remained a chance that the mane would fix itself, which would be the ideal benefit. Furthermore, all this thinkin’ had made her tired. She made a mental note of the time: 11 AM. This all made sense – she would sleep for an hour, analyze whether the mane situation had fixed itself, check to see if the Internet was working, and then paint the barn.
By the time this thought had crossed her mind, she was already in bed, and dozed off. Princess Celestia came, in a chariot, a chariot specifically driven by other Princess Celestias with a different mane color. She stepped off and told Applejack about her plans to renovate the park system in Ponyville and asked her advice, since she loved apples so much. Pinkie Pie looked on, disapprovingly, in the distance, though Applejack was aware that she was okay with this. While giving her advice, she found that her ponytail fell off – Celestia looked horrified, and Applejack tried to win her approval by doing a dance that she had seen Fluttershy do a few weeks before. At this point, she noticed that the ponies carrying the chariot were, in fact, Fluttershies, who felt that Applejack was ripping off their performance. Applejack began to apologize, when APPLEJACK
“Applejack! Applejack!” Granny Smith yelled.
Applejack began to wake up. “Wh-what’s going on? Is everypony okay?”
“Twilight’s here!”, Granny replied.
Applejack regained her bearings. She looked at the clock: 1:20 PM. It dawned on her she had forgot to set the alarm, and she couldn’t remember why she had fallen asleep in the first place.
Applejack walked down the stairs and saw Twilight waiting for her, giving a polite smile upon seeing her.
“Well, howdy Twilight! What do you need?”
“Applejack, I just got a new assignment from Princess Luna, and I’m going to need your help!”
Applejack couldn’t shake the concept she was supposed to do something today, but her inherent politeness took hold. She was also still waking up.
“Well, gee, I always want to help the Princess. What do you need?” Applejack inquired.
“Remember a few months ago, when – oh my goodness, have you done something new with your mane?” Twilight said, interrupting herself.
Applejack thought about it. “Nope. Why, is something off?”
“No, it just looks perfect today! Not a mane out of place! Maybe Rarity has been getting to you?” Twilight joked.
“Oh, heh. Nope, nothing special for me,” Applejack said.
“I’m jealous!” Twilight joked. She returned to her initial point, “Anyway, remember when you won honorable mention for apple fritters in that baking convention you went to?” Twilight said.
Applejack paused. “Uh, no. I don’t remember that.”
There was an awkward silence, when Applejack recalled, “Wait a minute, do you mean Pinkie’s baking convention? Yeah, she had done that, and I think she placed.”
Twilight gave an awkward smile. “Oh dear, I’m sorry. Both me and Spike were mistaken, then. When I hear ‘award-winning apples’, I just thought of you!”
Applejack was annoyed by this underlying insinuation. “Well, don’t worry about it. I’m sure Pinkie can help you out. She’s been expanding beyond the treats lately, and she’s getting better with apples.” What Applejack felt was that Twilight shouldn’t have assumed that simply because an event transpired involving apples that anypony should automatically assume that she’s involved – and she was further insulted by the concept that Twilight wouldn’t simply ask Applejack for assistance in the hereto unnamed apple project that Twilight was conducting, given her expertise in the apple field, and that Pinkie, while improving, was not on her level.
“Well, hey, Applejack, since I’m here – and since Granny Smith has been so nice to share some stories with me –“
“Aw thank you dear,” Granny interjected.
Twilight chuckled. “Maybe you could help me out, Applejack!” Twilight added.
Applejack was about to reply – when she noticed the paint can and brush, off in the corner. She wanted to get this damn thing done already.
“Well, I’m sure Pinkie would be available – we have some investors coming by on the weekend, and I need to do some housetendin’,” Applejack said.
“No problem at all, sorry for bugging you. I’ll let you get back to work!” Twilight replied.
As she left, it dawned on Applejack that Twilight never specified whether she would need her at this exact moment, or indeed what she had came by to talk about, except that it involved Princess Celestia. Or possibly Luna. Or Cadance. She was still waking up, and quickly determined it was irrelevant anyway.
She went to pick up her brush and paint can, when she noticed the time. 1:35 PM. Applejack seemed to recall that she wanted to do something in the afternoon, but couldn’t remember it - until she passed by a news headline about park funding.
“My childhood!” Applejack exclaimed. Granny looked confused, but didn’t say anything.
Applejack ran up the stairs. She signed onto her account with no problem, and began Googling about local area childhood parks. In the process, she found an interesting article about apple harvesting technological improvements coming out of Canterlot, leading her to research the scientists behind it. She suspected she had met one of them before, leading her to look up an apple-based event she had gone to several years – which then led to her to seek out the documentary about that apple-based event, which she did not know existing. She then realized it was not readily available because of difficulties in distribution – leading her to research the process behind documentary distribution, and the difficulties for independent filmmakers, such as the makers of the documentary about the apple-based event in question. In the process, she came across a game site which included games involving various aspects of apple farming – and became determined to get the high score in “Bucker 4”, a drive which led her to get high scores but eventually wind down, realizing that the dedication required to beat the top ranked individuals was likely not worth it.
Applejack looked at the time. 3:50 PM.
“Bah,” she exclaimed out loud to no one in particular. Applejack was extremely angered she had wasted over 2 hours on A-mare-ica Online, and figured she would file a complaint with the previous customer service representative about how the Internet can ruin your work life. After 20 minutes on hold, she determined it wasn’t worth it, and again remembered that she couldn’t recall the name of the customer service agent.
Realizing time was of the essence, Applejack ran to get her supplies to paint the barn. In the process, she saw Apple Bloom return from school – covered in motor oil with some spare confetti stuck in her mane.
“What in tarnation happened to-“
“WHY DIDN’T YOU LET ME BORROW YOUR BRUSH?” Apple Bloom demanded.
Granny Smith, hearing the commotion, came into the room. “Now Apple Bloom, we’re going to-“
“No! Applejack has her cutie mark! I’m just trying mah hardest! And she can’t even spare me a brush?” Apple Bloom continued.
Applejack began severely regretting not paying the slightest bit of attention to the breakfast conversation earlier, as she couldn’t envision a scenario in which she was asked for the brush, didn’t realize it, and actively denied it. Still, she couldn’t ask.
“Ah’m – well, ah’m sorry, Apple Bloom,” Applejack said. Given the awkwardness of the situation, Applejack tried her hardest to discern a friendship lesson. “Ya see, I’ve been so focused on, mah, barn…paintin’, that I forgot about those around me, and how they, y’know, might need my brush. Sometimes, we have to be, honest, when it comes to our…mane brushes…”
Applejack’s tempo slowed, as she realized that Apple Bloom was still angry and wasn’t buying it, and Granny Smith had, once again, fallen asleep.
Out of desperation, Applejack decided to just go for it: “Do you know where my brush is?”
Apple Bloom ran off screaming. In the distance, Applejack could hear Apple Bloom yelling at her, including hearing her say “I know you ain’t use that brush, Applejack, given how your mane looks right now!”
Applejack spent a moment wondering whether to believe Apple Bloom or Twilight on the issue of what her mane’s quality currently was, but quickly realized she didn’t trust either of them on the issue at the moment. Noticing the entirety of the family quarrel had taken 15 minutes, she decided she really needed to paint the barn already.
On the way out, picking up the paint can awoke Granny Smith. In the exact instance she awoke, Granny said to Applejack, “Hey, did you see they’re renovating that park you liked so much as a filly?”
Applejack stopped in her tracks, realizing that she had never successfully found the information online, as he had been distracted.
“Yeah, I did see that. Good call, I think.”
“Eee-yup,” Granny replied.
Applejack continued, “Hey, didn’t I break my hoof there in the fifth grade?”
“Yeah, you did! In the fifth grade!”
Applejack felt a huge rush of pure relief at the mystery being solved.
Granny continued, “Yep. There was a discarded paint can on the ground, and you got so excited running to the swings that you didn’t notice it. Your hoof got caught in it, and SWOOP, went down.”
Applejack recalled the event. “Er…yeah. That is what happened, ain’t it?”
Granny nodded. “It was sooo cute, you were scared of paint for years after that, I tells you! Heck, I’m surprised you ever got over it.”
Applejack experienced slight post-traumatic stress disorder that had been long repressed. “Heh-heh. Yeah. That.” Applejack gulped, adding, “Hey, do you reckon that, y’know, that mighta had an effect on mah-“
Applejack noticed Granny was asleep.
Finally gathering the paint can and brush, Applejack went outside to the barn. Still experiencing the memory of a painful hoof incident, she spent about 10 minutes trying to convince herself to start painting before acknowledging to herself it wasn’t going to happen. She enjoyed the outdoors for 20 minutes before heading inside.
Applejack put the brush and as yet unopened paint can away. The time now being 5:30 PM, Applejack was able to convince herself it was too dark out to do any actual barn painting. Big Macintosh returned inside from his long day of planting.
Applejack asked, slowly, “Hey, Big Mac, how about we switch tomorrow? I’ll cover the seeds, you get the fence.”
Big Macintosh didn’t believe her, but still replied in the affirmative.
