An Accident on the Farmstead (Regard's, Anon Short)

>You are Felix Graham, current owner and proprietor of the Graham Family Farm
>The farm has taken a hit with profits recently, but nothing you haven't dealt with before
>Ever since those ponies came on the market, the labor force has been strong while staying extremely cheap
>But the damn things can't go to long without messing something up or crying or some shit
>Sitting at your oak desk, you fill out order forms for some supplies you have been needing
>You run your fingers through your greying hair and scratch you beard stubble
>You need to shave sometime today
>Putting your signature on a few more forms, you hear a knock on your door
"Come in" you say without looking up
>"Mr. Felix, Sir?" One of your human employees steps in
"I'm rather busy, what's the problem?"
>It's not like you expected this day to go smoothly anyway
>You set the pen down and give your employee your attention
>"There's been another accident, on the east field"
>Go-fucking-figure
"God damn it, can't we go a day without something stupid going wrong?"
>It had to be the east field, too
>It's a long-ass walk from your building
>You stand up and stretch your legs, and open the drawer of the desk
>Inside is your simple Colt .357 revolver
>Black metal with a wooden grip
>Might as well prepare for the worst
>It's not one of your family heirlooms, you only use it when you need to take care of farm business
>Taking the box of bullets by the gun, you load a single bullet into the gun and slide it between your belt
"Alright, let's go, then" You say as you put on your hat on your head and a leather vest over your red flannel shirt
>Your employee opens the door for you and you both make your way down the steps and outside into the summer hear
>You look down a bit so your hat shields your eyes from the sun and trudge along the dirt path
>Going past the fields, you make sure your ponies are working the fields correctly
>Some are plowing the fields with plows, and some follow behind them with seeds and burying them in the dirt
>Others hoe the fields to bring up weeds
>They look up at you, and take extra precaution to make sure they're doing the job right with worried expressions, fearing they be next to be punished
>You've been having to punish them less, which means you've been doing it right
>Some more obvservant ponies notice the gun at your side, and know what's going to happen. They simply look down and avoid eye contact
>You've done this several times before
>It takes you about 20 minutes of walking to reach the eastern side of your farm, and you're rather irratated at the effort
>You're getting old, and you haven't a son to give the farm to
>Another problem for another time
>Coming up at one of the field, you begin to hear talking and some grunts of pain
>The pony in question comes into view. A Grey pony with a black, rounded mane and Treble cleft ass-mark thing. Lying in the dirt
>You think she had a bowtie before, but you took that shit off when you got her
>Some other ponies are beside her, you hear them begging for her to get up
"Go on! Shoo! Get back to work!" You wave your hand at them, and the skimper off
>You think you hear one whisper "Celestia be with you" or some shit
>Religous mumbo-jumbo
>The injured pony was tethered to an overturned cart, which was filled with heavy grain and seed bags
>Looks like she was taken out of the harness
>you see that a wheel has broken off
>'Goddamn, those carts are expensive' you think to yourself
>That means more paperwork
>The grey pony gives small grunts of pain and you notice her ankle is a bit twisted and bruised
>You look to your employee
"So how'd this happen?" you say, blood pressure rising. You rub the bridge of your nose with your fingers
>You hear the exausted pony muttering "im sorry, im sorry, im sorry" in between breaths
>"Well, from what I was told, the pony was bringing the grain over to be planted, when she lost her balance and stepped on that rock there. Must've twister her ankle pretty bad. She fell over, bringing the cart with her."
>You give out a sigh, looking at the rock that your employee pointed to
>You walk to it a pick it up from the dirt, its a bit bigger than your hand
>You step in front of the pony and crouch by her
>The ankle looked rather messed up, been twisted in just the wrong way
>Like hell are you paying for someone to fix this animal up
"You see this rock? Miss..." You don't remember all of your pony's names
>"O-Octavia... Melody" shes says, looking ahead of her
"Octavia, look at me when I'm talking to you"
>Her eyes drift to you
>"I've been just so tired late-
"This rock ruined your life, You see?"
>You hold it in front of her, she sees
"This mistake ruined your life. Now I can't pay for you to be fixed up. So you know what needs to happen"
>She looks at you with a feared, tired expression
>"You don't have to... I can get up"
>She lays on her legs, and tries to hoist herself up
>Between gasps of pain, it takes her a few tries. But she staggers up with the twisted leg bent
>"I can get up... I can work" She looks down to the ground, not wanting you to see her pained, tearful look
>You remain stoic
>You look around and spot some ponies staring
"What are you guys looking at! As you were!"
>They return working
>You take the revolver from your belt and open up the cylinder to make sure the bullet's in the right position
>"I can work... Please don't"
"I can't fix you, and you're no good to me injured"
>You raise the gun to her head
>"Look at me when I'm talking to you"
>She looks up, and stares at the gun pointed point-blank at her fore head
>Her eyes are puffy and red, pupils the size of peas
>"I'll do anything... please, I beg you"
>You click the hammer back
>"V-Vinyl... I'm so sorry." She starts muttering
>"I love you... Vi-"
>https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kdGzw2TnqO8
>You fire a single round
>Octavia's legs immediatly buckle straight up and her body falls to the ground and slumps to the side
>The sound rings in your ears a bit, and echos in the distance. You hear disturbed birds caw away and fly off
>A thin stream of blood trickles out of the small hole in Octavia's head and goes around her now greying eyes, staring lifelessly to noowhere
>You look back to your employee, who removes his hands from his ears
"Take care of the body the same as the others, get some other men to take the cart the the shed to be fixed. I'm going to go back to finish the paper work"
>You look around, The ponies continue to work, albiet a bit slower
>You take the path back to your office and resume filling out order forms.

>A few days later, your phone rings to your annoyance and you pick it up
"Graham Family Farms, this is Felix Graham speaking." You say as routine demands
>Hey, listen, this is going to sound odd, but I think you own a pony I’m looking for.”
>Oh great, one of THESE guys.
>You would've hung up then and there and be done with it, but you decide to hear what this one has to say
"The blue one? Yellow hair?"
>"No"
"What about the green one, with blue hair?"
>"Not that one either. I'm looking for a pony called Octavia. Octavia..."
>He pauses, you know who he's talking about
>"Octavia Melody"
"What the hell you need her for? These ponies arn't cheap, you know" You say, trying to end this conversation quickly
>“Yes, I know. Look, it’s very important to me.”
"Yeah I have an 'Octavia Melody' I bought it about three years ago"
>"You bought her-"
"It"
>"It... three years ago. Did you sell it off or-"
"No, It had an accident a few days ago"
>“Well, how bad are we talking?”
"It twisted her ankle stepping on a rock, broke one of my carts. There wasn't anything I could do for it"
>“That bad, huh?”
"Yeah that bad."
>“So there’s no chance she’s-”
>This fucker's persistant. You don't have time for this
"I shot the fucking thing, so no, there's no chance it'll 'get better'. Do you have a problem with how I discipline my slaves?
>“No, you’re right, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t tell you how to discipline slaves, I’m sorry.”
"That's right, now if you're done, I have work I need to get to."
>“...Thank you for your time.”
>You hang up the phone
"Arsehole" you say outloud
>You sign off another paper

The end.