Never Take Your Mother Into Ponyville

>Day SDGAF in Equestria
>You and your mother go into town for supplies.
>The plot of land she bought with your bits isn’t producing.
>She blames the heathens and their sun worshipping ways.
>Your mother goes to get flour and leaves you to the produce.
>You approach Applejack’s apple stand.
>She gives you a wave.
>“Hey sugar cube!  Fancy seeing you here.”
>Dat accent.
>Spaghetti levels rising.
“Y-yeah, it’s great to see you again, AJ.  Your, your apples look great.”
>“Aw shucks, yer gonna make me blush.  I bucked these off the tree this mornin.”
>You pick over the fruit, trying to find some suitable to pass inspection.
>AJ notices your hesitancy.
>“Well go on, take some.  I gar-un-tee that Sweet Apple Acres apples will make yer tonsils sing.  You can’t go wrong, with Sweet Apple Acres!”
>Danger Will Robinson, danger!
>Rectors approaching critical
>Grabbing a few handfuls of apples, you shove them into your bag.
“So, ten bits?”
>She gives you a pained smile.
>“Sorry, hon.  These apples’re goin out of season an everypony’s gonna want to get their hooves on ‘em.  How about twelve and we call it square?”
“That sounds fair, let me”
>You’re not quite sure when it happened.
>But your mother is standing beside you.
>Haggling.
>“He’ll pay no more then ten!”
>Applejack scowls at your mother.
>No love lost there.
>Not since your mother destroyed five barrels of Cider.
>Apparently it was devil magic to make apples to liquor in ten seconds flat.
>And here you thought it was simply impressive.

>“An Ah ain’t goin no lower than twelve.”
>Good for you AJ, don’t let her boss you around.
>“Twelve is preposterous. Ten or nothing!”
>“This is ridiculous, it ain’t even yer money.  Anon’s the one workin all over town!”
>Oh what a hit.
>Your mother glares at Applejack, teeth bared.
>“I am doing the Lord’s work.”
>“Yer wastin yer time is what yer doin!  Nopony here cares about yer book thumpin.  Matter o’fact, I’m done doin business with you.  Anon, the offer for twelve bits still stands.”
>She gives you a sweet smile.
>It’s like she injected diabetes into your body with just her eyes.
>You try to reach through your chest to keep a hold of your treacherous heart.
>“Anonymous!  Give this redneck back her apples, we’re leaving.”
“B-but they really are the best apples in all of Equestria.”
>There are several different kinds of ‘stares’ in this world.
>Fluttershy has one.
>You’ve seen her use it.
>Anything she gives the stare to obeys without question.
>And then goes on with their life like nothing happened.
>Your mother on the other hand, has a more dangerous stare.
>This is the look that fills you with dread, remorse, and guilt.
>All at the same time.
>This is the kind of stare you see in your nightmares.
>Even when you’re in your apartment five hundred miles away.
“Mom, I, I, I,”
>You try.
>You really do.
>But you can feel the guilt already.
>“Anonymous.”
“Yes, mother.”
>You empty the bag, placing each apple back in its place.
>Applejack gives you a pitying look and shakes her head.
>You walk away with your huffing, puffing mother leading the way.
>Beta.
>As.
>Fuck.

>Later that evening, you pick up your latest request from one of the townsponies.
>As you whittle away at the block of wood, your mother smiles at you.
>“You did a good thing today, Anonymous.  I think it’s about time that we stopped wasting the Lord’s word on these Ponyville hooligans and started looking for a more civilized audience.  Maybe Manehatten, doesn’t that sound nice?”
“Ma, we got a good thing here.  I can make enough money to keep both of us going, and if you eased up a little, I’m sure the ponies would take a shine to you too.”
>She tenses up at that.
>“Anonymous, if I have to choose between an eternity of hellfire or a bunch of farm animals disliking me, you know which is the right choice.  You’ve been living in this heathen world too long, Anonymous, we need to get you back to church.  Starting Sunday we”
>You block her out, like you always do and focus on your whittling.
>Sometimes you understand why dad died after you moved out.
>Sometimes you wish you could just take your knife and stab your mother’s eyes out.
>Unfortunately, it’s not the last time you’ll have that wish, or many others like it.



>Not yet, anyway.