Title:           Apples
Author:          PonnyerEvigt
Pastebin link:   http://pastebin.com/ms62w7j8
First Edit:      Tuesday 16th of June 2015 05:02:51 PM CDT
Last Edit:       Last edit on: Tuesday 16th of June 2015 06:32:27 PM CDT

>5 a.m. on a Tuesday, your alarm clock rings
>The tinny noise breaks you out of some dream, disappearing in the course of three rings
>Blearily, you raise a fist and bring it down on the off button, the thunk and rattle of the plastic assuring you of your success
>You sweep your feet off the left side of your bed and sit up, the fading remains of the moonlight peeping through the slats of the window's blinds
>The blankets, covered with countless images of apples, is pushed to the floor, pushing your pajama-covered body to the cold bedroom air
>You yawn, stretching your arms above your head and extending your back, preparing yourself for the workday ahead of you.
>The workday ahead of you
"Fuck," you mutter, now fully conscious
>Whatever part of you that'd been asleep was torn away with the recollection of where you where, and what you were doing
>You groan, the inevitable taxation of today's labor taking a premature toll on you
>Since you'd begun work on the farm, the strain had eased, no longer the being the backbreaking chore that that first day had been
>Unfortunately, that didn't mean it was easy
>Pushing the memories of yesterday's labor behind, you dress in the outfit Rarity had provided for you, and left the room.
>It was breakfast time
 
>The final stair creaked your arrival to the kitchen, where Granny Smith was preparing today's breakfast
>It still surprised you how the old pony managed to get up before the rest of you (which was still before dawn) and cook breakfast before you'd all opened your eyes fully
>"Moirning theire, Anon" she squawked, chipper as Applebloom
>Ignoring the dissonance between the voice and the wrinkled figure, you mumble a salutation and sit down at the table
>"Ah'm sorry, whaht was thaht? Y'know I cain't hear yuh when yuh mumble like thaht."
"Sorry Granny. Good morning Granny." You correct
>She nods, giving you a warm smile as she sets the pancakes she'd been cooking on the table
>The aroma filled the air, the sweet smell inviting you to reach over the table and stuff as many as you could into your mouth.
>Your stomach groaned in disapproval as you rejected such a plan of action, sending a few waves of pain up as punishment for daring to deny it
>Still, you wouldn't take a chance
>For one, this family had been the kindest, most inviting peo-ponies an alien could ever hope for.
>They didn't have to take you in, give you a job and a place to live
>You'd repay them in any way you could, and that meant, among other things, manners.
>Still, those cakes were calling your name.
>Granny must have seen you eyeing them, because she gave a chuckle and lifted a small one on your plate
>”Their yuh go, dear,” she winked “for being up so early”
>Then, directing her head towards the bedroom and massively increasing the volume
>”Unlike my lazy grandkids!”
>You’d barely swallowed the appetizer when the bottom stair announced the arrival of the youngest and oldest of the Apple trio
 
>”Who you cahlling lazy, Granny?” Applebloom chirped, bouncing into the room with that ever-present grin
>She grinned at Granny before noticing you
>”Ahnon!” she shouted, and hopped over to you and into your lap
“Uh-Wha-Hey. Hey Applebloom” you managed to say, unprepared for the energetic assault of a filly jumping at you, then up and down on your lap
>You big a small nod to Big Mac, whose stoic face stoically portrayed what was probably amusement, indifference, or interest in the pancakes on the table
>Big Mac stoically moseyed over to his chair, and sat down
>All we needed now was Applejack
>You begin to call her name, but then Applebloom stopped jumping, her small rear slamming down on your legs
>Your cry of pain is covered by Applebloom’s cry of delight, having finally noticed the pancakes in front of her
>”Pancakes? I love pancakes!”
>”Ah know deah,” Granny Smith assured Applebloom, “Thaht’s why ah mahde dhem. Speshul dahy, tuhday”
>Big Mac stoically glanced over at Applebloom
>Apparently that was his questioning look, as Applebloom giddily explained that
>”Today’s Family Appreciation Day! Ah geht to bring in Granny and it’s gonna be greeeeeeaaaaaat!”
>She began to explain in more detail how excited she was, punctuating each sentence with another jump on your poor legs; Scootaloo wouldn’t be bringing anyone (“heur parenhts ah outta tohwn, she says”), Rarity would be coming for Sweetie Bell, and all sorts of amazing stories would be there apparently.
>Aside from a sour face accompanying the news of Filthy Rich’s presence, Applebloom seemed very excited.
>Well, more excited than she was for a regular day, which was actually quite a bit.
>Just as she gave her big finish (“And it is gunna beeeeee. *breath in* AWWWWWWWWWWWWWEEEEEEEEESSSSSSOOOOOOOOMMME!”) Big Mac and my own nods were cut short by the fourth member of the family entering the kitchen
 
>You couldn’t help but smile a bit: that big old hat on those tired eyes was just adorable
>Maybe you oughn’t call your boss adorable, but couldn’t hurt as long as she didn’t know.
>She gave out a soft yawn, putting a hoof to her eye, then standing straight up, the smell apparently reaching her nose
>”Applejack!” the little filly on your lap exclaimed
>”Pancakes?” she queried in response
>Big Mac informed her that yes, there were pancakes, and asked why she had taken so long to get ready with a stoic look
>Jeez, this guy was a pro.
>”Uh-My uh- Alarm clock ain’t working right,” she stuttered, looking towards the ceiling and scrunching her lips together
>It was her signature “I’m lying” look, but none of you pressed
>There were more pressing matters
>A silence settled over the household as every resident stuffed their mouth with the aromatic cakes
>They tasted just like they smelled: wonderfully sweet, like a piece of candy offered after a meal from a bad chef
>Before long, you found yourself glancing at your boss
>Her hat laid aside, her long blonde hair was fully visible, with a few rebel wisps brushing over her forehead
>Her eyes looked like the glistening dew on morning’s grass, shining brilliantly as she stared absently at something off in the distance
>With every bite, she’d close them and savor the taste for a moment, the edges of her mouth curving ever so slightly upward, a barely concealed confession of delight
>She really was a sight to behold
>Your awestruck stare was interrupted as you noticed a stoic eye looking at you
>You look away hurriedly, pretending to be enamored with a dead lightbulb hanging from the ceiling
>He probably bought it, you tell yourself as you finish your meal, still staring directly at the fixture
 
>After a short period of time, the pancakes are gone
>As we each finish, we pick up our plates and drop them in the sink for Granny to clean later
>I insisted on doing my own in the first few days, But Granny would push them out of my hands, claiming that I needed the strength
>She certainly wasn’t wrong
>After setting my dishes down, I climb back into my chair, stealing glances at AJ and Big Mac, the latter to ensure the secrecy of the former
>Applejack, tuckered out by the massive intake of delicious cakes, yawns and trudges back up the stairs, still having a few hours left before school
“How is it that she’s always so energetic when she gets up, but always gets sleepy right after the meal?” you quietly ask to nobody in particular
>Granny Smith seems to have heard, and responds: “Ahll Appuls are like thaht, Anon. Ah was, Applejack was, ehven Big Mac wus just lihke her.”
“No way,”you reply. “Is she serious, Big Mac?”
>”Eeyup.”
>”Always wished I’da been there tuh see that,” Applejack adds, finishing her plate
>She drops it in the sink, then beckons us out to the barn to start on today’s chores, and Big Mac stoically follows her
>I march up to the door and start lacing up my boots, cursing them for always making me late and cursing myself for always forgetting them until after Big Mac and AJ are already out
>Deciding to lace the second one up as I head out to minimize the lateness, I hop out the door to Granny’s singsong “toodaloo”
>Big Mac is looking stoically impatient while Applejack smirks, and repeats what I’ve been hearing every day for the past four weeks:
>”Late again, huh Anon?”
>I respond by tripping and slamming my face into the ground
>Maybe not the cleverest reply, but it got her to drop the inquiry
>”Oh jeez, are you okay?” she asks, sounding legitimately worried about me
>I wait a few second while she helps me up, her hoof sliding along the inside of my arm before I can wheeze out an I’m fine
>She looks me up and down, never quite sure of what the human body can take, before assigning me a group of trees to pick and sending me out
>I give her a soft smile and an okay, heading out to my section after she returns the look