"The Other Side" Chapter 8- A Late Welcome

Fluttershy was in her room. She was trembling with excitement and confusion. Fluttershy talked to herself quietly, whispering from behind her locked bedroom door.

"He... he... I... can't believe it! Why did he touch my wing? He probably doesn't know... Oh, this is... I don't know what this is! He probably didn't know what he was doing... he was just curious. Yeah, that's it. Now what do I do? Do I tell him?"

What Fluttershy was trying to decide was whether or not to tell him the significance of touching her wing. In pegasus culture, it was among the most intimate of gestures, usually only performed by... mates. It was a romantic and sensual gesture, only done in the most private and consensual of times. The feeling it caused wasn't quite sexual, but it caused a kind of warm, cloudy pleasure to wash over the recipient's body.

Fluttershy was still feeling Dylan's hand on her wing. She was reveling in the ecstasy still coursing through her like a warm tide. She thought it was strange that Dylan ran right after he touched her. She was intrigued as to what had caused him to rush to the bathroom so quickly. She hadn't seen when he covered himself, but she had her suspicions.

"I... should tell him! But what if he takes it the wrong way? What if it drives him away? Ohhhhhhhh, this isn't good. It's bad. Very, very bad. I just met him... and if I tell him what touching my wing actually means... Cud!"

Once again, Fluttershy swore. It was not characteristic of her, but she was different when she was alone. Even she was surprised at her foul language.

"Oh my. Where did that come from?"

Fluttershy pawed at the floor with one of her hooves, staring sheepishly at the ground.

After a few moments, she took a deep breath and unlocked the door. The click of the lock's mechanism felt unusually loud in her ears. It wasn't only the sound of the door unlocking that seemed sharper and clearer; everything felt as if it was being experienced at twice the intensity. She turned the doorknob with a quivering hoof, slowly pushing the door open. She leaned around the corner of the door and looked down the stairs, listening intently. She didn't hear Dylan. In fact, she heard almost nothing. The only sounds she perceived were her own quick breathing, the creak of the wood under her feet, and the groan of the door opening. It was as if the whole house was still.

Normally, birds were singing and chirping, pigs were snorting, and her animals were starting their morning routines. This morning, however, there was only complete silence. The quiet was unnatural, as if something had hushed all life nearby. She put her hoof on the staircase's guardrail and descended slowly, the sound of her steps echoing like thunder in her mind.

"D-Dylan? H-h-hello? Are you finished with your bath?" No one answered.

She walked slowly towards the bathroom. Steam was still creeping under the door, reaching out like cold amorphous fingers. Fluttershy breathed heavily, reaching for the bathroom door with a trembling hoof. She almost collapsed under the sheer amount of adrenaline in her system. Her knees buckled halfway, the uncontrollable tension in her muscles sapping her strength. She took a hold of the door's handle and pulled herself upwards, trying to steady herself on weak legs. When she got up into a standing position, she swallowed nervously. The combination of her strange feelings for Dylan, her fear of rejection, and the waves of pleasure rolling over her senses made it hard to speak.

"D-Dylan! Are you done in there? C-can I... come in?" Once again, no reply.

She heard the sound of steadily dripping water and a faint breathing, but that was all.

She slowly opened the door, inch by inch. What she saw was Dylan's back, as he was facing away from her. It was scarred and covered in hard muscle from his countless fights, a testament to his vicious reputation back home. She crept forward, step by step. Time seemed to slow as she walked, images blurring and twisting as if they were distorted by heat. She moved, but it took all of her energy to do so. She reached towards his shoulder, trying to lay her hoof on it to get his attention. As she moved to touch him, she saw something in the corner of her eye, reflected in the water. Time seemed to stand still.

She didn't see what it was, but only the smallest sliver of an image; Fire... fire and a pair of burning eyes glaring at her. They seemed to look through everything that was Fluttershy. They bore through flesh, through bone, and into the very essence of who she was. Her soul trembled as what felt like fire washed over her skin.

Fluttershy couldn't speak. It was as if her lips were made of lead. She simply stared at the water for the half of a second that the image burned itself into the water. It disappeared, changing into the reflection of Dylan's haggard face. The reflection turned. Dylan was now looking into Fluttershy's eyes. The look in his was one of emptiness; His eyes were full of death, and a cold certainty. He blinked and the look was gone. It was replaced a gaze brimming with compassion.

The fear he saw in Fluttershy's eyes almost made Dylan cry. His mouth opened, parting to let forth words full of concern.

"What is it, Fluttershy? Why are you afraid?"

She stared at him for a few seconds with her jaw wide open before answering.

"N-no reason. I... I must be hallucinating. The nightmares I was having last night must have something to do with it. A-are you done with your bath?"

Dylan's forehead creased as he answered her the next question, "Yeah. How's about we have that wine now?"

Dylan hauled himself upwards to the edge of the tub, then swiveled to face her. He looked at Fluttershy's face, which was blushing again. He grabbed a towel from the wall and wrapped it around his waist. He felt up and down his arms and back, trying to determine if he was truly clean. Despite the amount of filth he had accumulated the day before, he had washed most of it off.

"Um... Its only the a-afternoon... I-Isn't it a little early to be d-d-drinking?"

Dylan looked at her with chilling knowingness.

"We need it now. I can tell."

He turned and walked over to the bathroom window, looking through the portal out into the world beyond.

So much joy, so much peace, so much... purity. I can't begin to comprehend what would happen if this world became like mine... I wish it could stay like this... but now I'm not so sure it will... Blood speaks louder than words. I can feel the death in the air.

"O-okay. Are you coming?"

Fluttershy was tilting her head, thinking intently. What is he thinking about? And what did I see? It was... horrible...

Dylan rubbed his eyebrows with his pointer finger and thumb, then turned around.

"Yes. Just forget about whatever's making you upset. I'm here. I won't let anything hurt you. I told you, remember?"

He breathed out, as if he was trying to push the darkness out of his chest. The sound of animals resumed, and the world seemed alive again.

"I... I do. Thank you. Now, let's drink."

*

They were halfway through the bottle of wine, laughing and talking like old friends. The two of them told stories about their lives, but Dylan had to withhold many of his, as they were too dark.

"So, this one guy comes up to me and asks 'Hey, kid. You got a light?'. I turn and look at him, then I say 'Yeah, what about it?'. He says 'Light me up.' I smile and whip out a flashlight, then turn it on in his face. He gets angry, 'Why, you little punk!' I smile and say to him, 'Naw. I'm more into metal.' I ran away laughing."

Fluttershy giggled, then looked confused for a moment.

"What else would he need a light for?"

"Smokes."

"Smokes?"

"Oh... You don't have them here, I take it?"

"I have no idea what they are."

Dylan scratched his thick beard, trying to think of an answer.

"Hmm... well..."

Suddenly a strange thought popped into his head.

Are ponies... they must be... only one way to find out... besides, I don't think she'd like the idea of smokes, anyways. That chick with the rainbow hair might, though. Back to business...

"What is it? Why are you taking so long to think about it?"

Dylan now grinned like a complete idiot, the alcohol in his system making him giddy and impulsive. His eyes lit up with mischief and glee, looking straight at Fluttershy.

"Um... Dylan... why are you looking at me like... tha-"

Her sentence was cut short as Dylan launched himself towards her, his arms outstretched. He grabbed her, wrapping his arms around her torso.

At first, Fluttershy's eyes filled with surprise and shock. They quickly were filled with uncontrollable joy and amusement, as did her voice. The reason for this was what Dylan was doing with his hands. He was tickling Fluttershy playfully, his fingers twitching and skittering along Fluttershy's soft belly.

She was giggling and squirming frantically, trying to escape from Dylan's hands. She was enjoying it immensely, and it took her mind off of her current stressful thoughts.

Dylan was snickering between his teeth, spasming in wild the wild throes of his drunken hilarity. He was thoroughly entertained as well, and he felt like a young child again. What he would have given to gain back his childhood... The most of it was pleasant and uneventful, a haze of warm and comforting moments wrapping around his mind gently, like a warm fog.

Some of it however... Was a dark and maddening pit of memories best left forgotten. He had tried to throw them out of his mind before, but with little success. They always came back, bringing with them their images and sounds of arguments... of fighting... of violence... and most importantly... of rage.

His father had never seen his own anger in him, rather believing his son to be calm and passive. He was completely and utterly wrong. Where his father had let his anger pour forth like a faucet, constant and predictable, Dylan had done something completely different. He had let his anger grow and strengthen inside him, feeding it thoughts and feelings of violence, of hatred and of rage. His rage was constantly being twisted and worked inside him; A living weapon, forever poised and readied to strike. When he chose to let it explode forth, destruction and death were right there with it.

Dylan's peaceful, kind beginnings as a child had matured him into what he was; He was a warrior.

Some men say that a warrior does not seek war, he strives to prevent it. Dylan knew how much of a lie that really was. One did not simply train and forge one's mind into a machine of violence to simply ignore its very purpose...

Man has made itself into a being of war; without it, man grows weak and loses its will to defend its beliefs. War, and the warrior... that was what man was.

War was part of man since the beginning. Ever since he first denied his master... his creator... in the Garden of Eden... Ever since he shed his fellow man's blood... Ever since family turned against family, clan against clan, nation against nation... Man has known nothing but war, and will know nothing else while we still live in this mortal world.

All these thoughts and memories fell upon Dylan's mind, even in this most wholesome of moments.

His laughter could not be brought back to him at this moment, for he was too absorbed in his own thoughts to continue with his merriment. This particular train of thought happened across his brain often enough, and the solution was simple. More wine.

He stopped his hands, pulling them back to his sides with a sigh. He then sat down on the couch, reaching for the wineglass as he leaned his head forwards to stare down into the red liquid.

"Dylan... Why did you stop? Is... is something on your mind?"

He bit his lip thoughtfully, then wrapped his fingers around the glass. He raised it up to his eyes, where he stared at it for a moment. He said his next words from the back of his throat.

"Old memories. But not old enough to die yet. Nothin' ya' wanna hear about."

He drank the glassful of wine in one quick throw, swallowing only once.

He pressed his lips together tightly in reluctance as Fluttershy asked her next question.

"Why wouldn't I want to hear about it?"

Fluttershy looked like she sincerely cared, her eyes full of maternal goodwill towards Dylan.

"Well... It has to do with why I fight so much. You see, my father wasn't much of a father at all. He yelled, he complained, and he fought. He fought with people at work, at the bar, on the street, and... My mother and myself."

Fluttershy stared at Dylan, feeling a deep sympathy for him, and a revulsion for his father.

"He couldn't stay calm for more than an hour before blowin' up about something, or someone... He'd push me and and my mother around, because to him, we weren't important. He was the man of the house; no one told him what to do. He more or less... did nothing. He'd tell my mom to do all sorts a' things that he shoulda done himself. When my mother would tell him how tired she was, or how she didn't have the time to do it, he'd get mad again... Real mad. He'd break things, he'd swear, he'd yell, he'd walk right up to her and strut like he was the almighty himself. She'd normally try and avoid his... anger... but the last time... well, she stood up to him. He was seriously mad, and he didn't like that defiance from her. Didn't like it one bit."

His muscles tightened, tensing as if he was about to get in a fight. In his head, he was. Dylan looked like he was going to smash the table in front of him to splinters. His face took on a grim look, and he poured himself another glass of wine. He was well inebriated by now, and he spoke easily, the words coming to him of their own accord.

"Wh-what d-did he d-do?"

Fluttershy's face was a mask of worry and fearful anticipation. She trembled lightly in her seat, ignoring the glass of blood red wine clutched between her hooves. She had her eyes frozen on him, waiting for an answer with nervous light shining in her eyes.

"He killed her. Right there in our house, right in front of me. I'm glad my brother didn't see him do it. But that isn't the end. Not... even... close."

Dylan looked to his yellow friend, who was now a sickly pale shade of her former self. He saw her wide-open mouth, her terrified eyes... he knew how much fear she must have felt in her heart. He felt a small spark of regret for telling her this dark part of his past.

He raised the glass up to his lips, but moved it away.

"Then... then I sent him straight to hell. Killed him, even though he begged me not to. Coward. Always knew he was. The truth is, if there had been a way for him to make amends... to repent... I wouldn't ever want him to. I'd sell my soul to make sure that bastard burned for eternity. There wasn't anything I wanted more in my entire life. Not... one... damn... thing...."

Dylan drank, the wine appearing like blood as a trail of it ran down his chin into his beard.

It might as well've been his father's blood he was drinking in that moment, because as he did, he realized Fluttershy had dropped her glass on the floor. It had shattered, and the wine had pooled out between the shards of glass.

It looked exactly like that night. The glass and blood scattered around his father in a corona of destruction looked almost identical to the wine and glass on the floor of Fluttershy's cottage.

Fluttershy was wholly horrified, and she was now quaking on her couch, staring at Dylan. Dylan was smiling, oddly enough. It was a smile of evil, a smile of murderous glee. But he cried at the same time, his tears dripping to the floor almost silently.

"I... I... I'm... S-sor-" "No. You have nothing to be sorry about. It's my past, it's not your fault. I shouldn't have told you... but you should know, this story was the nightmare I had after I passed out last night. I hope this doesn't make your nightmares worse."

Dylan stopped staring at the ironic and familiar sight on the floor and looked up at Fluttershy's fear-filled cyan eyes.

"I-it... it won't... That is horrible. I... didn't know."

"How could you? There's no way you could've. I just hope you understand how bad life in my world is. Things like that happen every day... every hour... every minute..."

The true darkness of the prospect finally sunk in to Fluttershy.

"How do you keep on living?" Dylan thought about this for a moment. A melancholy smile parted his lips as he found his answer. "We're all already dead."

*

The day had passed with a fair amount of tension afterwards, but the two of them managed to agree on needing to get outside. While Fluttershy tended to her animals, Dylan had gathered up what he could find of his clothes and carried them outside. He stood there with them folded in his arms.

"I think I need these fixed. Either that, or new ones altogether. The coat, jacket and shoes will probably be fine, though."

Fluttershy turned from a sick beaver she was treating to look back at Dylan. She looked dissapointed and relieved at the same time.

"That's too bad."

"Too... bad?"

Dylan had confusion in his voice as he contemplated the pegasus' words. Fluttershy looked embarrassed for a moment, but then answered somewhat confidently, "Um... You just got them. It's... too bad they got wrecked so quickly. Yes! That's what I meant."

"Oh... Okay..."

Dylan didn't look completely convinced, but he seemed satisfied enough. The real reason for Fluttershy's answer was thus: She liked seeing him with his clothes off.

It took a few minutes for Fluttershy to finish caring for her animals, but when she did, she was quick to run over to Dylan.

"You ready to go?" Dylan said with a sideways glance, resting his hands on his hips.

"Yes. I need to buy some things in town."

"And I need to pick up my cash, n' uh... gessum' new clothshes."

"Sure. But... um... when you're... finished, go to Sugarcube Corner... that is... if you want to, I mean."

Fluttershy looked slightly nervous at this, and she glanced down at her hooves shyly. Dylan quirked an eyebrow, smiling reassuringly.

"Ah, s'no problem. I'll go. But Fluttershy..." Dylan spoke to her with a serious tone in his voice. "Please, don't tell anyone what we talked about. I... I trust you. I'm jus' not sure I want yer' friends to know my past jus' yet."

He was drunk, he knew that much. But he wasn't drunk enough not to think straight.

"Now come on, off we goes! To Poneeefilllll! Yessir! We're walkin' ta' Peonyvale! Err, wait..." Scratch that. He was that drunk.

"Freedom!!!" Dylan charged down the road, carrying any imaginary flag and sword. For some reason, he had just thought of the movie Braveheart. He loved that fucking movie. "Mel Gibshen... IIIIIII've gat' cher' back! Hehehe. Ya' hairy crazy man, yeh. Yesh. Down wif' da' engleeesh! Huzzah! Fer' Shcotlund! Come on, ya' tea drinkin' panshies! We're hairy n' mean n' we're bigger'n all of ya! We're moonin' ye, you crook-toothed wusses! FREEEEEEEEDOM!"

Dylan stumbled and lurched down the road, spitting insults at imaginary foes. Fluttershy simply giggled and followed after him, she herself swaying gently back and forth.

It was only around six o'clock when the pair wandered into town. Dylan received quite a few surprised glances and amused looks from ponies on the streets, along with some disapproving ones.

"Whatsat? Yer' all ponies! Ahahaha. I loves poniesh... I wuvs em', I does. Ther' shorter'n horshes, but der' cuter! Hehehe... Ah... I'm so drunk. Ahoy! Island ho! That's me port in th' starm', bay'."

His accent was now a slurred Newfoundlander, as if he was a sailor traversing treacherous waters. He was stumbling towards the Carousel Boutique, wearing nothing but a loosely wrapped towel hanging on his waist and a pair of shoes. He walked up to the front porch, but tripped on the edge and fell face first into the wooden planks.

"Arrrgh! We be landin'!"

He slowly picked himself up and rubbed his stinging face. He looked completely haggard and unshaven, despite being reasonably clean. This was not how one should look when entering Rarity's place of business. He literally fell half against the front door, and opened it clumsily.

"Oh my! Are you all right, Dylan?" Rarity looked at the drunken redhead with deep concern.

She was in the middle of sewing a dress together, but she looked up immediately when Dylan bumped loudly into her front door.

"Aye, Cap'n highpansch! We're fit fer' fine weather! Cept' I'm in need uf' sum' new fasshen schtatemints."

"Sweet Celestia! Are you drunk?! Yes! You are! What happened to your clothes?! Where'd you get alcohol?"

Rarity looked completely shocked. The high-class fashion pony was not used to having inebriated persons in her shop.

"One questchin' at a time, M'lady, I'm not moving' with all sails, ya know. Drunk I'm yes. Vodka and me drank Fluttershy together! Wait... That's na' right... It was Whiskey an' me! No... Ah! Wine an ' me."

"WHAT?! YOU AND FLUTTERSHY WERE DRINKING TOGETHER?! WHERE?!" Rarity's yelling shook the room, and she appeared very, very angry. Her horn was glowing faintly, casting purplish light around the front of the boutique.

"Hey, calm down Ruritee! Itsch dokey okey! We was at House's Fluttershy."

"FLUTTERSHY'S HOUSE! WHAT DID YOU DO?!" The white unicorn tackled the much larger human with ease, as he was off balance and uncoordinated. Dylan grunted drunkenly as he slammed heavily to the floor. Rarity sat atop him, pinning him to the ground. She was glaring at him with a searing look of indignation, baring her perfectly polished white teeth.

"Hey. What wush' tha' fer'? Wait... ya' like meh dontcha Raritree? I shee how it ish."

Dylan smiled like an idiot, his voice practically dripping with humorous glee. Apparently, it wasn't funny to Rarity, as a hoof slapped him roughly in the face. He sat there stunned for a second, and then his face was full of rage.

"WHAT DID YOU DO TO FLUTTERSHY?"

Rarity boomed again. He stood up with no effort at all, his muscular bulk lifting the indigo-maned pony with ease. He held her up with his hands under her front legs, as if she were a child.

"DO NOT HIT ME."

His voice was deep and authoritative, and his teeth were flashed in a gesture of dominance. Rarity simply looked at him with wide eyes, too surprised to speak.

"I WOULD NEVER HURT HER. NEVER FORGET THAT."

His voice changed back to one of slurred drunkenness.

"She's mah' best mate! She lifed my save! Twicely! We jus' talked bout' stuff, and then we walkie-doodled the way down ere' to Po-poland! Ponyton? Ponyshire? I'm so drunk..."

Dylan put Rarity down gently, putting his face in his hands and rubbing it vigorously.

"Pull yourself together, Dylan. C'mon... Ah! Yes. The clothes! Here, lemme jus' pay-"

Dylan reached for a nonexistent wallet, then remembered he should've went to Applejack's first. "Oh. Forgot to pick up mah' moolah from Applebutt's. Heh heh. Applebutt's. HAW HAW HAW HAW! Ahh....."

Rarity had been trying to compose herself while Dylan went on. She was now relatively calm, and she began to speak.

"D-Dylan... Are you sure you're alright? How much wine did you have?"

Dylan counted on his fingers awkwardly, his eyes gazing upwards as he thought with a large amount of effort.

"Well, lessee... Fluttershy had about three glasshes... And I had about... Shix."

"Six! How're you still walking?!"

"How're you walking? You're the one with four legs. That'sch gotta be hard fer' ya' to walk, seeing as ya've got two too many! Hahahahaha! Oh, uh. About my clothes... Did Applejack Daniels tell you what happened?"

"AppleWHAT? Yes, Applejack told me you got in a fight with that barbaric ruffian Gilda."

"Ah. She tell you ah' won?"

"Along those lines, yes. Now, I can't have you drunk and half naked here in my boutique. I'll fix your clothes up for you, free of charge."

The clothes in question were lying on the ground, after they had been knocked out of Dylan's hand when Rarity tackled him.

"Oh my! Are these... Burn marks?!"

"Wha- Ah. Yeah."

"How did that happen?!"

"I have no idea." He, as a matter of fact, did. But telling someone you burst into flames and murdered someone with your bare hands was a surefire way to get sent straight to the nearest mental hospital.

"Well, that is completely bizarre."

"Life is pizzeria... I mean Byzantium. Shit... Bizarre. Yeah, that's the ticket."

Rarity was holding the clothes up before her with magic, surveying the damage.

"What happened to the pants and shirt?"

"Toasted. JAM!!!! PEANUT BUTTER!!!!"

Rarity stared at him incredulously for a moment, then shook her head and walked into the back room.

"Such a peculiar creature..."

Rarity whispered this to herself as she crept into the workroom.

"I prefer gentleman, your highness. My hat's off to you."

He reached up to the top of his head, and finding it bare except for his short-cropped hair, squinted his eyes in suspicion.

"Already off. Hmm..."

He now looked along the floor of the shop, searching for his imaginary hat with a look of intense seriousness.

"My hat... My hat... Wherefore art thou, hat? Dost thy hide behind Lady Rarity's curtains?"

"DON'T TOUCH MY CURTAINS!!!"

Rarity remembered what happened to the last curtains the human touched.

"Aww... I'll get you, Mr. Hat!!! I'll get you, if it's the last thing I do!!! After I get some pants..."

Dylan's drunken antics continued for some time before he received his repaired clothes, along with some replacement pants and a shirt. Rarity made sure he was out of her shop immediately after getting dressed.

He stumbled his way to Sweet Apple Acres, passing by the Town Hall and one extremely confused looking old mare. She wore a pair of glasses and had her mane done up in a professional manner. She was the mayor. Upon seeing the inebriated Caucasian man pass by the town hall, she promptly asked what he was doing.

"Hello, there. I don't think we've met. I'm the mayor of Ponyville. What are you doing out here looking so... rough?"

"I'm takin' a stroll ta' see mah' good friend Jackapples... Wait... Pappjelack... Uhhh... Snappleback? Bapjackle? OH YEAH! Applejack Daniels!"

"Oh... My... Well you take care of yourself... Mr?"

"MacLauchlan. But just call me Dilly- uh... Dylan!"

"Alright, Dylan. Hmm... Have you been-"

"Yeah, a lot. You gots no idea, Mrs. President."

"Mayor."

"Sure thing, your Majesty."

"I'm no queen... But thank you, I'm flattered."

"You look relativamally shapely-like. Don't look like you've bin' flattened at all."

"Oh, no no. That's 'flattened', dear."

"Oh. You're welcome for the complacent!"

"What? Are you sure you're okay, Mr-... Dylan?"

"I most certainly do play croquet. Would you like to play sometime?"

"Oh, why- You're not yourself, are you?"

"A'course I am, Lady Prime Minister. I's me, an' I knows it. Absolution."

"Uh... Have a wonderful night, Dylan."

"What?! A thunderbolt?! I didn't hear anything!"

"O....K...."

"Croquet again? No, I have to get some Applejacks cereal. Wait... Damn... Gotta go see Jack Sparrow... Wait... Grr... Damn you, brain. You work for me, remember! Oh! You want a raise? I don't remember you showing up for work yesterday! What?! Yes, I do have a meeting tomorrow! No. No. No. Chipotle! For a tea party?! You cad! Come at me, sir!"

Dylan was now boxing an imaginary opponent, and the mayor took this opportunity to run home.

"Good night!"

"Bye, Duchess! Take that! And... Wait... We've gotta pick up the celery... Wait... No."

Dylan looked around suspiciously.

"Ponies don't use celery for money! They use lettuce! Hey! Of course I'm sure! You traitor! I threw you an office party! Come on, let's get to Snapplecracks... Dammit, brain. Applejack, here I come."

Dylan finally came up to the farm's gate, walking slowly and surely, -albeit disorderly- towards his destination. The apple trees swayed in the evening winds, rustling gracefully in the half-dark. He unlatched the gate and skipped merrily towards the house, tripping multiple times on the way. The whole way there he sang off key, his voice groggy and his words slurred.

"Old' MacDonald had a farm! Eeyai eeyai o! And a restaurant chain... On this farm he had a duck! Eeyai eeyai o! Wabbit season! Duck season! Wabbit season! Duck season! Wabbit season! Wabbit season! Duck season! And that's final! Boom! Hahaha... Looney Toons... Eeyai eeyai o! Ha ha... I love Bugs Bunny... What a bugger! Hehehehe. Oh! The song! On his farm he had a... Pony! Hey Big Mac! Wait..... Old MacDonald had a Big Mac!...."

Dylan smiled like he had discovered the greatest thing in the universe, taking a deep breath.

"....I got nothin'..... Howdy dere', Big Mac! Buckin' all those fine young mares, yet? Hehehehe... I'm off to get laid! Wait... Paid... CURSE YOU MR. BRAIN! Sunday brunch is off!"

Big Macintosh simply stared as Dylan skipped by.

"...Eeyup..."

Dylan walked up the porch steps, holding the rail tightly as he ascended. Once he reached the front door, he looked at his hand. He had drawn a watch on it with a marker he had borrowed from Rarity when she wasn't looking.

"Hmm... It's... It's..."

He stared at the fake timepiece for a moment.

"IT'S CLOBBERING' TIME! Wait... Fuck me... Adventure time! Shit... Copyrights... Hmm... Epic mea-... Bacon strips... Mmmmmmmmmmm.... Dammit Mr. Brain, I will knife you in your sleep. Wait..................... You're a Pisces... Knives don't work on you... Damn. Oh! The time! Lunch time? Killin' time? Sexy time? Oh yeah!!! Money time..."

Dylan smiled, looking like a complete imbecile now. He knocked on the door, grinning to himself.

"Money money money money money!"

Applejack opened the door, not realizing who it was standing on her porch for a moment. Her face was one of worry and deep melancholy. She looked like she had been up all of last night. When she did notice, her face lit up like a Christmas tree. She squeezed Dylan in an affectionate hug, squealing with joy, which was uncharacteristic of her.

"Thankyouthankyouthankyouthankyou! I'm so glad you're OK!"

She was crying, the tears running down her face like rivers. Dylan had to work hard to get a word out because her embrace was so tightly wrapped around his chest.

"I'm h-happy to s-see you too! Wh-why w-wouldn't I be? OK, that is."

Dylan looked like he was in a moderate bit of pain, but the alcohol numbed it somewhat. Applejack wiped her tears away before answering.

"A-after ya left... Ah' realized how badly y'all were hurt! I was stupid ta' let y'all just run off like that! I thought you wouldn't come back!" She was staring at him with guilt written all over her face in wrinkles. She was exhausted, and her eyes were red from crying. "Ah' ran out after you, but Ah'... I jus' couldn't find you... I'm sorry."

She began crying again, fresh sobs and shakes rocking her body.

"Hey, hey... I'm fine. Don't you worry bout' ol' Dylan. Fluttershy patched me up. I almost bit the dust, but she fixed me up just in time."

"Oh, thank goodness."

"Twice now that little angel saved my life."

"So... You've been at her house?"

"Yeah, why?" "Is that... Liquor I smell on yer' breath?"

She broke the hug, stepping back slightly.

"Uh-huh. We had a few drinks."

"Alone?! Are you crazy?! Y'all don't know what could happen with the two of you drunk outta yer' heads!"

Dylan thought about it for a second. He knew he couldn't live with himself if something were to happen to Fluttershy, even though he just met her. That didn't seem important when considered next to what she'd done for him. And what he'd done for her.

"I wouldn't be able to live on if I... Hurt her... Or... Well... You know... I just... I'd probably kill myself before I let something like that happen to her..."

"Don't say that!" She looked at him, considering his words with utter shock. Her sense of telling people's honesty was second to none. Even drunk, she could see that he cared for her and that his words were truthful.

"I... believe you, sugar... Thank you fer' doin' that fer' me last night. It was... Mighty honorable of ya."

She smiled at him, patting his shoulder with a hoof.

"Is there anythin' I kin' do fer' ya?"

Dylan grinned.

"You got that pay that I... postponed yesterday?"

Applejack nodded, obviously happy he had remembered.

"Hold on a minnit'. Y'all can come inside, hon'. Ah' don't want you catchin' cold, now."

"Where I come from, this is as hot as it gets. I mean, hothothothothot. Tobuscus."

"What?"

"Nuffin'."

"Oh. Um... Okay then."

Applejack and Dylan walked inside. Dylan closed the door behind them, wiping his shoes on the doormat as he walked deeper towards the interior of the house. He could immediately smell that baking and food preparation had occurred recently. The aroma of baking apples and cinnamon made his tongue stick comically from between his lips. He was drooling, and he realized how hungry he was. His stomach commented on his hunger with a low growl. All he had eaten this day was that hell-sent oatmeal. Thinking about the slop almost made him lose the large appetite he was feeling like a knot in his guts.

"Baking again? Anythin' I can have? Om nom nom nom..."

Applejack shook her head emphatically.

"Sorry, sugar. That's fer' a... special occasion."

"Oh? What's that? A... party?"

"Erm... Uh... Did you say tarty? I was making tarts! Apple tarts, that is."

Applejack glanced frantically around the room, sweating nervously. She smiled sheepishly as she searched for a way to escape.

"I... Ah... Here! Meet Granny Smith!"

"Whuh? What're you doin', missy? I was watching mah' stories!"

"Say hello, this is Dylan. He's our new farmhand."

"New farmhand..."

Dylan smiled. He thought it was just a one-time job, just some odd work to make it by another day. Apparently Applejack liked him enough to keep him around.

"Ah' gotta go get somethin', Dylan! Ah'll Be right back, y'hear!"

Applejack disappeared in a flurry of movement, running out of the room with commendable speed.

"So uh... You're Applejack's grandmother? I bet you've had this farm quite a long time."

"Yessir! I've been 'ere since Ponyville was founded! I tell ya', makin' this town was hard work. There was crops to plant, an' buildings t' construct, an' ponies t' take care of! Come to think of it-"

At this moment, Granny Smith's head fell forwards and she began snoring. Loudly. Dylan waved a hand in front of the old farming mare's face, checking to see if she was awake. She was out like a rock.

He shrugged and looked around the living room. There were some pieces of furniture, including a coffee table -If ponies even drank coffee- a rocking chair, and a couch. There were also rows upon rows of family pictures hanging from the walls. There were dozens of faces, each belonging to a different family member.

Dylan's family was never so large, and definitely never as closely-knit as the Apple family seemed to be. He felt a twinge of loneliness, and he pulled his arms around himself, staring at the pictures and shaking his head. He turned when he heard Applejack come up behind him. His eyebrows raised and his jaw slackened slightly at what he saw. Applejack was carrying a giant bag of gold coins. He had never had more than one small piece of gold jewelry on him at one time. This bag was literally filled to the brim with pounds of gold. He was utterly astonished.

"B-b-but that's gold! I just worked here for one day! I-I can't possibly deserve this. I ca-"

"After fightin' off Gilda last night, an' helpin' keep mah' lil' sis safe, I think you deserve a lot more'n this. It's the least Ah could do, sugar." She walked up to Dylan and placed the bag in his hands with her hooves. She winked playfully.

"Jus' don't spend it all in one place, y'hear."

Applejack grinned joyfully, her green eyes radiating gratitude at the speechless man before her.

"Uh. I... I won't. Spend it all in one place... Wow... How does an apple farm make so much money?"

Applejack scratched her neck with a hoof, trying to look modest.

"Well... We do have the best darn apples in all a' Equestria... And some of the hardest workers..."

She looked at Granny Smith and snickered to herself.

"Oh. Well I guess that does makes sense. But... who exactly is in charge of the farm?"

Applejack tried to look proud, puffing out her chest and standing straighter.

"That'd be me! Granny Smith supervises over the Zap Apples, and Big Mac is Mah' right hand stallion... Even if he is a few spokes short of a wheel sometimes."

Applejack snickered again, shaking her head at her brother's simple way of thinking.

"Now, Dylan, Ah need you ta' accept this gift a' mine. If not for you, then for me. Can ya' do that, hon?"

Dylan felt the weight of the burlap bag in his hands, considering for barely half a second.

"For you, no problem. I'll make sure to buy you somethin' nice. Like maybe some earplugs..."

Dylan smiled as he looked at the loudly snoring Granny Smith.

"Aaah... The banshee wail! Hahaha. Oh! I've got to get to Sugarsnap Cafe or something... Wait... Sugarcube Corner!"

Applejack's face lit up with a mixture of dawning realization and worried panic.

"Uhm... Ah' gotta go, seeya!"

Applejack ran out the front door ahead of Dylan. She grabbed a cart full of sweet smelling treats as she darted past him. She nearly knocked him over in her rush to get outside. Dylan stumbled slightly as she bumped into his side, spitting out a low curse.

"Asscrackers!"

Applejack half-turned to apologize, but didn't slow down at all. Her southern drawl was barely recognizable over the sound of Dylan's curse.

"Ah'm mighty sorry bout' that, sugarcube!"

She ran off the farm to leave Dylan stumbling slowly after her. He stuffed the bag of coins into his coat before he began to run after his blond-maned employer.

It was pitch black by the time he walked up to Sugarcube Corner. It wasn't much of a problem to him, as he excelled and cherished the nightlife. He still felt the effects of the earlier alcohol, but to a lesser extent.

"I can see em'... You bloody Twi-hards sitting' there in the dark with your disgusting emo soft porn! Mary Sue! Mary Sue! I call foul on lack of good characterization, shitty monsters, and a lame-ass love story! And I haven't even read the book! Damn emos... Oh, and don't forget about the soccer moms. Go team BEDWORD. Go team JAYKUM. Durrrrr... 'Look at me me, Jacob, Bella's pregnant!' 'How the fuck does that even make any sense?! You're dead! You're a spermless white trash emo poser! Now, excuse me while I take my shirt off and stand her for ten minutes. Oh, and your unborn baby turns me on for some reason.' 'WHY?!' 'It's in my contract, sparkledick.' 'Up yours, you flea-ridden boyband lovin' punk nudist!' HahahahahahahHAHAHAHAHA! God, I hate those cartoons."

He gave a dopey look as he said that last sentence.

Dylan lurched up to Sugarcube Corner, which was completely dark. No lights were on at all, and the windows' blinds were shut. He stood at the door, scratched his beard, and knocked.

"It's the pizza guy!" Dylan shouted.

"Oh boy! I love pizza!" The voice was obviously Pinkie Pie's.

"Quiet, Pinkie! We didn't order any pizza!" This was Rainbow Dash's raspy tomboyish voice, which sounded slightly annoyed at Pinkie.

"It's getting cold!" Dylan said, shifting his stance.

The door swung open with a flash of light, blinding Dylan before he could shield his eyes.

"SURPRISE!" and "AHH FUCK! MY EYES!" were both yelled simultaneously.

Dylan stumbled backwards and faceplanted into a patio table. He slammed his nose into the table hard, and the inwards pain shot up into his brain immediately.

"Fuck! By dose!" Dylan was holding his stinging face in his hands, and his voice was distorted because of the pain.

"My goodness! Dylan! Are you okay?" Rarity spoke up, raising a hoof to her mouth in shock.

"Fuckin' son of a third-rate transvestite prostitute, this hurts like a bitch!"

"Uh... I don't think he is." Rainbow Dash said with a hint of frustration at the obvious question.

"Oh! I'm sorry! We were just trying to surprise you." Twilight's voice sounded regretful and slightly shocked.

"I think ya' did. Ow! Tits! Shit! Balls! My nose is hurtin' like a sunnavabitch."

"Dylan! Come here, let me take a look at that. It's okay, I won't hurt you."

Fluttershy calmly took Dylan by the cheeks and looked at his nose, which was slightly off to one side. "Oh! I... Uh... Your nose is broken, Dylan. Don't panic."

"Really? Oh. Hold on a sec. Just like in the movies..."

Dylan took his chin in one hand and his nose in the other. He twisted his nose back in the right direction with one smooth motion. A sickly snappin and popping sound was heard loudly by all present.

"GAH FUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUCK!!!! Shit! That really fuckin' hurt. D-damn it!"

Dylan's nose was back into its normal orientation, but it was red, blood flowing to it readily.

"You ready to partaaaaaay?!" Pinkie Pie squealed excitedly, bouncing like a jackrabbit on coffee.

"Shit. Yeah. I'm gonna need more booze after this... Mishap... ME BOTTLE O' SCRUMPY! OW! FUCK! MY NOSE AGAIN!"