A Midnight Legends Press Production  

Charmingly Rustic

Written By: Your Antagonist & Starwind Dood

Edited By: The WattsMan

Chapter 3: Dining with the Dashing

In a local coffee house located a stone’s throw from the Canterlot Chronicler, one of the odder couples of the evening were discussing issues of a volatile nature over a table full of emptied out, upside-down coffee mugs that began to form a small settlement akin to those of the Appaloosian Buffalos.

“So, Ms. Finish, you claim that Fancy Pants stole something from you?” Hot Tip prodded as he reached over to another cup of coffee and drained it in a fashion similar to a leech, tossing the now emptied husk into the ever growing pile; currently he counted six empties and was aiming to make it ten before leaving.

After recoiling disgustedly at her companion’s lack of restraint towards his consumption, Photo Finish quickly regained her composure before continuing, “Not somezing, somepony.”

“Stolen ponies, huh? I can see the headlines now: Fancy Pants Involved in Equestrian Trafficking Racket! I like it Ms. Finish, tell me more.” Turning towards the counter, Hot Tip yelled at the intern he’d appropriated from the office, “Hey, Chip, bring me another round, I’m runnin’ on fumes over here!”

Photo Finish brushed off the reporter’s rambling before continuing, “You misunderstand, 'e 'as stolen my model: Fleur de Lis-”

“The one he’s dating now?” the caffeine-addled reporter interrupted her.

Photo Finish twitched as she resumed speaking, “Yes.”

“Lightbulb! Fancy Pants Holds Fleur de Lis Against Will, Fashionista Photo Finish Jealous, Wishes It Was Her Instead.”

“Vat?!” Photo Finish bellowed out with an offended tone while slamming her hooves down on the table.

Hot Tip patted her left-hoof sympathetically. “It’s quite alright, Ms. Finish. I understand that you’re upset because he didn’t choose you first- Hey Jack, where’s my cup of mud?! I’m dyin’ over here!”

The intern scurried over nervously. “S-sorry for the delay, sir. Here you are: four black mexicoltian roast coffees just like you asked for. Careful they’re-” Hot Tip seized the first cup available and downed it without hesitation. “...hot.” The intern concluded flatly. “And my name isn’t Jack, it’s--”

Photo Finish shot a death glare at the intern. “Silence, whelp!” Returning her gaze to Hot Tip, her eyes narrowed with irritation. “Are you insinuating zat I would be jealous over Fancy Pants?”

“Well doll, only if the saddle fits, and I’d say we have quite the flank-filler here.”

Photo Finish struck the three remaining coffee cups with her hoof out of anger and sent their burning contents spilling across Hot Tip, who merely grinned through the searing liquid. “The jokes on you doll, I ain’t slept in three days so I can’t feel none-a-this.”

Photo Finish glared at Hot Tip. “Why you--”

A new voice cut the Fashionista’s threat off mid-sentence. “Excuse me, I hope I’m not interrupting anything.”

“Not at all, chief, would you care to join us?” Hot Tip offered a seat.

“And you are?” Photo Finish asked condescendingly

“Where are my manners, I’m the Editor-in-Chief of the Canterlot Chronicler: Deus ex Machina, and sorry Tip I can’t stay long. I’m just here to inform you that Fancy Pants has been spotted around town with some new stallion, and we want you to investigate what all this hub-bub is about. Who knows, it could be our next front-pager!”

Hot Tip saluted the chief. “You can count on me chief!” The chief returned the gesture with a simple nod before leaving.

“Well, Ms. Finish, would you care to accompany me?”

“Not particularly, but I suppose for now.” Photo Finish struck a pose and pointed at one of the Batista's behind the counter while looking at something obscure in the distance. “We go!”

A barista behind the counter overheard this. “Not without paying you don’t-- Hey get back here!”  It was too late, his demands fell on deaf ears as Photo Finish and Hot Tip had already dashed out of the coffee house leaving the intern alone to deal with the bill.

With a sigh, the intern reached for his wallet. “I’ll pay for them, how much do I owe you?”

“Your friends over there drank over eighty-eight bits worth of imported coffee, I do hope you have enough bits to cover that charge.”

Opening his wallet, the intern saw a literal moth fly out and a singular rusty bit was all that remained. “Uhh... heh heh, do you take I.O.U.s?”

"No."

"So how are you enjoying yourself in the capital city of Equestria, Big Mac?" Fancy Pants asked his evening companion, more eager for an answer than he was willing to admit.

"Ah'm having fun," Big Macintosh replied. "There aren't as many interesting places in Ponyville. Only place to go for fancy clothes like this is Rarity's place, though she kind of lacks the stallion touch," Big Macintosh chuckled. "The towns really a mare's place, but it's where my family is."

"That's right, Rarity lives in ponyville."

"You know her?" Big Macintosh asked.

"We met briefly, and I must say she's an acquaintance I was happy to make. I'm sure she'll go far in Canterlot in her own time."

Big Macintosh began to shift uncomfortably. "Say, Mr. Pants, what exactly is it you do here in Canterlot?"

"My job? I'm an entrepreneur here in the fashion industry. I started a business with aspiring artists who wanted to change the world. Then I got roped into all the tabloid nonsense and front page scandals. Not the life I had expected." Fancy Pants thought back to this very morning. He woke up next to a mare he felt no true love for, and was almost immediately mobbed by strangers with cameras. Tonight he would be expected to lay on top of her and go through the motions, like a perverse dance, and all just for the entertainment of ponies he didn't care about, but he went along with it anyway. Is this my life now?

Big Macintosh noticed his partner's sudden change in demeanor and tried to change the subject. "Well, Ah can't say much about fancy coats, but I'm pretty good when it comes to selling apples."

Fancy Pants was brought back to reality. "Selling apples? I'm sure there are some inner working of the business that are similar to the fashion industry if the goal is the same: sell more than the competition."

"Eeyup, and no other pony sells more apples than Apple Acres."

Fancy Pants raised an intrigued eyebrow at that statement "You almost sound prideful, Big Mac. I dare say that's the most emotion I have seen out of you all day-"

"Fancy Pants!"

Fancy Pants recognized the voice calling him. He turned, slowly, to face the one mare he, deep down, prayed to both princesses he would not see this day, but there she was. She stood there, a predictable entourage stalking her from the accepted distance, her beautiful face smiling at him. "Fleur De Lis," Fancy Pants called back to her, proper etiquette and customs pulling him along.

"Fancy Pants," the mare strode up to him, "I didn't know you were going out on the town tonight. I would have joined you."

"Yes, well, I had no idea myself," Fancy Pants mumbled, feeling more uncomfortable as the mare inched closer. "It's a surprise to myself, really. I just happened to make a new friend." Fancy Pants stepped away from Fleur De Lis, getting closer to Big Macintosh. He held a hoof out, gesturing to the red stallion. "This is Big Macintosh. Big Macintosh," Fancy Pants turned back to the white mare. "This is Fleur De Lis. She's my-"

"Fillyfriend," Fleur De Lis finished for him. "charmed to meet you" She extended a hoof to Big Macintosh.

"Ah reckon the feelins mutual Ms. de Lis," he answered. "I'm Fancy Pants' friend."

"Well, a pleasure to meet you," Fleur De Lis replied dryly. "So when will you be done on your guys night out?" she asked, turning back to Fancy Pants.

"I'll be late. You probably shouldn't wait up for me." Fancy Pants felt this conversation becoming too dangerous to continue. "So, I suppose I'll see you back at the suite later?"

"Yes," the unicorn model responded. "See you." She playfully rubbed a hoof under Fancy Pants' chin before trotting off, stalked by her shadow of paparazzi.

"Well, that was... interesting?" Big Macintosh broke the silence between the two. "She's beautiful. You're a lucky stallion."

"Well," Fancy Pants sighed, "between you and I, she has horrible morning breath... Anyhow let us be on our way Big Mac!"

“Right... dinner...” Big Macintosh looked at the ground with a hit of resignation in his eyes

Fancy Pants took quick notice of this and addressed his companion’s sudden change in demeanor. “Is something the matter Big Macintosh?”

        Big Macintosh shook his head while adorning a grin. “Not at all Mr. Pants, now come on, Ah reckon dinner ain’t gonna order itself.”’

“Right you are Big Macintosh, is there anywhere you wanted venture in particular?”

A grin spread across The farmer pony’s face “Ah reckon I got someplace in mind, if y’all can take a ride on the wild side.”

A certain  bush along the streets of Canterlot currently played stake-out residence for  Photo Finish and Hot Tip, who were currently on the trail of Fancy Pants. While Hot Tip elected to wear the same shirt he wore for three days straight, Photo Finish chose the path of the eccentric and wore an entire dress made from a woodland camouflage pattern and leaves,  topping it off with a beret.

“Did you see zat? 'e just completely blew Fleur off, zat unappreciative--”

“Uh, Doll? Do ya think you could move your leg? There’s not enough room in this bush for the two of us, and I can’t get a good shot. Plus I think you used poison ivy with some of those leaves, cause I gotta tell ya I’m catchin’ a rash the size of my mother’s puss-filled hoof-boils," the reporter said while trying to adjust the focus and zoom on his camera.

Photo Finish recoiled in disgust at the description. “Oh hush you and stop ze complaining. In fact, why don’t you find your own bush? Zis bush ees mine, and you schtink like ze sweat of a hydra! YOU GO!” The fashionista whipped her hoof out of the bush towards the street.

“Not happenin’, Doll,” Hot Tip turned his attention towards his camera and began scrollig through the saved photos. “Anyhow, I think i got some good shots of Mr. Fancy Pants, but who is this?”

“Let me see zat...” Photo Finish snatched the camera away from Hot Tip, and began scrolling through the pictures.

“Hey, not so rough with it, ya might break it, and that camera’s worth a fortune!”

“A fortune on your salary perhaps... I’ve never seen zis stallion before in my life,” She tossed the camera back to Hot Tip before continuing, “but if Fancy Pants finds such a backwoods stallion to be important enough to blow off my Fleur, zen zere must be somezing bigger going on 'ere, no?”

“Hmmm... you make a good point, Ms. Finish.” Stepping out of the bush, Hot tip began flexing and stretching his wings. “The investigation continues for your investigative eye in the sky! Grab on, Doll.”

“Ehh, vat vas zat? I zink I 'ad somezing crazy in mien ears.”

“We’re going to follow them from above, so grab on.”

Photo Finish pondered this for a second before responding “I zink I’ll just trot.”

“C’mon, Doll, they’re gettin’ away.”

“Couldn’t you at least shower first?” A nervous expression began to set into the fashionista’s face.

“No time!” With that, Hot Tip seized Photo finish from the bush, threw his camera into her hooves and took off like a rocket while holding onto her waist, resulting in a high pitched squeal from the fashionista as they continued to climb upwards. Photo Finish would never admit it to anypony but she was deathly afraid of heights.

The intern galloped up just in time to see Hot Tip leap out of a bush and moments later drag Photo Finish out with him

“Mr. Hot Tip, sir, I need to speak with you about recompensing for that-”

Hot Tip shouted “No time!” before grabbing Photo finish and taking off towards the sky.

The intern cursed his bad luck since getting involved this particular reporter and begrudgingly followed the screams of Photo finish that filled the night air.

A scream in the night caught Fancy Pants’ attention “Did you hear something Big Mac?”

“Eenope.”

"Anyhow, I must ask, just where are we?" Fancy Pants gazed at the restaurant before him. With broken windows, holes in the wall that were barely patched with a couple of two-by-fours, and door with broken hinges, no sane buildings inspector would dare to step inside this establishment. "The broken spur?" Broken is right.

"It's a nice place to eat if there ever was one," Big Macintosh replied. "You can get filled up for only a few bits, and it's pretty friendly."

"If you say so," the well-groomed stallion replied, but if Big Macintosh, the most honest pony he'd ever met in his life, said it was a good place to eat who was Fancy Pants to argue? "Lead the way."

Big Macintosh threw open the broken doors, almost knocking them into the air. "Here we are," he gestured in. The inside of the establishment looked no better than the outside. Most of the chairs were broken, leaving ponies to make their orders and eat at the front bar table. "I'm certain you'll have no problem affording this place."

"I must admit, my wallet is the last thing on my mind," Fancy Pants chuckled, his eyes staring at the metal contraption in a far off corner of the restaurant.

"Big Mac!" a thick country voice called out. "It's me! Hayseed Turnip Truck!"

"Oh, hey Hayseed," Big Macintosh replied back. "How's Canterlot treatin' yuh?"

"Oh it's great!" the vanilla pony replied. "Everypony is just so nice here. Why, the other day, this nice fellow gave me a bit just cause he said I need it. Ain't that nice?"

Both Fancy Pants and Big Macintosh looked at each other, knowing exactly what the sentiment of the bit meant. "That's... nice, Hayseed," Big Macintosh replied.

"Gee, Big Mac, you look fancy in your new threads. Where's you get them?"

"Uh," Big Macintosh looked back at his jacket.

"Somepony owed me a favor," Fancy Pants replied.

"Well gee, Mr. Fancy Pants, sir, you sure are generous." Hayseed turned back to Fancy Pants, offering a barbecue-sauce covered hoof to shake.

Fancy Pants took the hoof with a wince, and shook it. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Turnip Truck."

"Oh just call me Hayseed," the slow colt drawled.

"You're fitting in well," Big Macintosh commented. "I had a few doubts about taking you here."

"Is that a challenge I hear?" Fancy Pants replied, vigorously washing his hoof with a disinfecting towel to get rid of the barbecue sauce.

"I just hope you're stomach is ready for some real cooking, nothing frou-frou."

"I was a runny-nosed colt before I was a gentle-stallion, Big Mac. I'm afraid if you're hoping to see a pish-posh pony wince at the sight of barbequed coco leaves, you will be utterly disappointed."

"Good to hear," Big Macintosh replied. "Because it's all you can eat barbecue night."

"Well... that I wasn't expecting that."

An hour later, Fancy Pants found himself face down on a table, a sauce-splattered bib around his neck, and Big Macintosh chuckling to himself. "You did a decent job of keeping up with me, Mr. Pants. Can't say many ponies can do that."

"To think that my ability to consume food is what impresses you, and not my status."

"Why would I be impressed by that?"

"You would be surprised how many ponies care about that," Fancy Pants groaned. "It's almost suffocating. I won't lie, I love fashion, but I just want to do my job, but now my job is taking a back seat to some life," Fancy Pants ranted, all the aches of his life being buoyed to the surface by a flood of barbecue sauce.

"Some life?" Big Macintosh

"Tell me," Fancy Pants wanted to change the subject, "what is that contraption over there?" He motioned to the machine in the corner.

"That's a mechanical bull, Mr. Pants. You put in a bit and then it goes up and down and you try to hang on for as long as you can."

"Then I'll have at it." Fancy Pants sluggishly got up from the bar table.

"Oh shoot!" Hayseed chortled. "Mr. Fancy Pants wants to ride Jesse!"

"Jesse?" Fancy Pants stared at the contraption. "It has a name."

Moments later, Fancy Pants was on the the mechanical bull, bobbing up and down as he tried to stay on the iron nightmare he would later refer to it. Jesse was too unassuming a name for this thing. Around him, a crowd counted off the seconds, anxious to see him fall of his iron horse, or see him break the record.

"Ninety-seven!" they counted, "Ninety-Eight! Ninety-Nine!"

Fancy Pants was thrown off the mechanical bull, landing flat on his stomach in an unseemly prostrated position. "I can't remember the last time I had so much fun!" he cried, his bones aching, muscles sore, and stomach turning.

"You rode that bull pretty well," Big Macintosh told him, helping his friend back on his hooves.

"I can surprise even myself sometimes," Fancy Pants answered, collapsing to the floor again the moment Big Macintosh let go. "Oh dear, I hope I didn't pull something."

"I'll help you home, Mr. Pants. Least I can do after egging you on about fitting in."

"I showed you though."

"Eeyup, you did."

        "This is it," Fancy Pants sighed. "Home sweet home." He turned back to Big Macintosh. "I suppose this is good bye. I've had a blast."

        "Are you feeling better?" Big Macintosh asked.

        "Yes, I am..." And yet, I feel terrible. "Er, Big Macintosh..."

        "Yes?" Big Macintosh replied, staring deep into Fancy Pants' ocean-blue eyes.

Fancy Pants planted a kiss on Big Macintosh’s cheek which warranted a shocked reaction from the farmer pony. “Mr. Pants, what was that all about?”

Fancy Pants hadn’t planned out the kiss, he just let himself go into it, and now he stood facing a mortified Big Macintosh. “Errr... well you see, Big Macintosh, it’s tradition in Canterlot to say goodnight with a kiss on the cheek.”

Big Macintosh looked skittishly to the side for  moment before making eye contact with fancy pants again and responding, “Well, this is how we do it on the farm” Big Macintosh seized Fancy Pants behind the head with his forehooves and drew him in close, placing his lips on Fancy Pants’.

There was an electric sensation in Fancy Pants mind that reverberated throughout his body, making him feel weightless. He closed his eyes and saw fireworks as another rush of hormones took him, and he realised in that moment: this is what he’d been searching for. After all those years of closet misery with Fleur, bearing the weight of Canterlot’s expectations, his inhibitions were finally released with that one kiss. It was as though his happiness had been dammed up and released all at once, but it was over all too quickly as Big Macintosh broke the kiss.

“I’m so sorry, Mr. Pants, Ah... Ah... “ Big Macintosh looked as though he were on the verge of a breakdown, still trying to come to terms with what he’d just done.

“No apologies, dear boy,  I rather enjoyed that-”

“But Ms. Fleur, and your reputation, Ah’m sorry, Ah... Ah...”

"It’s quite alright, I assure you- Big Macintosh wait! Don’t go!” The pleas fell on deaf ears as Big Macintosh turned and galloped as quickly as his legs would carry him, while Fancy Pants sank to his haunches and began to weep as well.

Here he’d thought he’d been rescued from the sea of plastic that consumed his life, but  just as quickly as he’d been saved, he was condemned back into its freezing waters, yet again.  

Amongst the silence an audible click could be heard, and a certain pegasus reporter and fashionista grinned maliciously from behind a bush.