//------------------------------// // Hayseeds // Story: Elements of Larceny // by TheManWithTwoNames //------------------------------// Elements of Larceny A “My Little Pony Friendship Is Magic” fanfiction By TheManWithTwoNames Elements of Larceny: Officially Too Great For Equestria Daily To Handle! “No cops! I still can’t get over it, Patsy!” Masky guffawed as he left the library and the purple narwhal behind him. “This whole town is like one big potato just waiting to be peeled!” “Where do you even come up with these?” Masky just gave a shrug and continued his push toward Sweet Apple Acres. The plan was the same as before: snoop around the place, find where they were keeping the goods, and then come back later when no one was around. The corners of Masky’s mouth pulled up every time he thought about how he was able to turn that catastrophe in the library into his ticket to pulling off the biggest heist of his career. There were no flies on Masky. He would have charged them rent. The only thing that was ruining his mood was his partner’s constant bellyaching. He had hoped Patsy would stop talking if he just ignored him, but it after a while it was apparent that he would have to shut up the dragon more directly. “What’s eating you now?” “This town is giving me the creeps,” Patsy said quietly, his tone almost nervous. “Big bad dragon’s afraid of a little pony town? Some beastie you’re growing into.” “I’m serious, Masky. This isn’t right.” He turned his head around his shoulder and glared at the ponies behind him in case someone was eavesdropping. “Look around you. Haven’t you noticed it?” “Noticed what?” “The ponies!” Patsy immediately lowered his voice again. “They’re everywhere!” “I knew it,” Masky said acusationally. “You ate that herb from that pincushion when I wasn’t looking. And now you’re going to be tripping all day.” “I’m not high. Look at this pony walking by us. Orange top, yellow coat, carrots on her flank.” “It’s a nice flank.” Masky let his eyes hang on the passing mare for a few seconds before looking back to Patsy. “What about it?” “Well, look over there.” Patsy grabbed Masky’s face and pointed it towards a group of mares gossiping on the side of the road. “Doesn’t one of them look familiar?” Masky’s eyes widened when the truth struck him. “It’s Carrot Bottom again!” “Keep it down,” Patsy hissed. “Don’t say anything, but I’ve seen that purple unicorn with the diamonds three times today, too. Now do you see why we have to get out of this loony bin?” Masky’s mouth opened and closed a few times before he shook his head fiercely, letting a few strands of his mane slip out from under his hat. “The only thing I see is that I’m getting some kinda contact high from your scaly hide. Now quit playing around, we’ve got to cover this whole town in one day. I want to see some hustle out of you,” Masky barked as he kicked up dust in Patsy’s face and strode off. “I told you I didn’t eat anything!” Patsy cupped his hands and shouted after him. He lowered his hands when his stomach roared noisily. “I keep telling him, but he doesn’t believe us. Tell you what, if he keeps going with this,” he said as he softly patted his stomach, “we can just eat him.” ========== Apples as far as the eyes could see. Red Delicious apples, Honeycrisp apples, Jonagold apples. Paula Reds, Wealthys, Golden Delicious, Ginger Golds, McIntoshes, Cortlands. Ambrosia apples, Gala Supreme apples, Goof apples, Saturn apples, Shinsei apples, Opalescent apples. Keepsakes, Junamis, Topazes, Mutsus, Pink Ladies, Jonagolds. For acres and acres in every direction, apples hung on every branch of every tree. Some of the trees had wooden buckets placed at their bases should any of the fruit fall from the branches prematurely. And as Masky and Patsy passed under the shade of Sweet Apple Acres’ bread and butter, the stallion twisted his head left and right just to find if there was even one single orange or a turnip anywhere in the whole farm. “I think I’m going to be smelling like apples for the rest of my life because of this,” Masky said as he glared at the offensive fruit. “These hicks really can’t be making their whole living offa just peddling apples, can they? They’ve gotta have some other veggies around here. What, does the entire town just eat apples? If not, then there ain’t no way they could ever turn this place into a profit. But I’ll tell ya, I always think it should be a crime to sell something that grows from the ground. What, is there gonna be a tax on eating grass next?” “That’s it, I can’t take it anymore,” Patsy declared, swinging his arms out to his side. “Prop me up, I’ve got to eat something or I’ll die.” Masky only gave him an accusatory jab in the chest. “I knew it! You’ve got the munchies now!” “I’m not high! I’m malnourished! Now help me up or I swear I’ll rat you out to the next chump we meet.” “Fine,” he spat darkly as he helped his partner climb onto his back, “if it’s really that important to you.” While the two threatened each other more often than they said “hello” to one another, they never said something drastic unless they were really serious. When Patsy wanted his bandana, he gave Masky the choice of either getting it for him or having the pictures scorched out of his private magazines. That day, Masky bought him an eyepatch and another magazine just for good measure. “Hurry it up, gecko,” Masky grunted as he shifted his back muscles to something more comfortable under Patsy’s rough foot scales. “When was the last time you filed your claws?” “Come to Papa Patsy,” he whispered to a shining apple dangling just a few inches in front of him. After struggling to reach, he jumped onto the tree trunk and clambered up and vanished inside the leaves. The branches rustled and shook as the dragon greedily snatched every apple he saw and shoved them into his mouth. He swallowed five in a single gulp before he took a moment to pause and look at his reflection in an apple. He was a dragon, and he was reduced to stealing apples for food. “Dear sweet holy Ryūjin, what’s happening to me?” He turned his palm over and let the apple drop, bopping Masky on the head. Masky rubbed his head with a grumble before scooping up the apple, inspecting it for any sort of flaws, any bruises or pocks in it. Nothing. Great. He didn’t like eating “perfect” food. Anyone who worked that hard on perfection either had a screw loose or something to hide. Maybe there’d be a worm inside it. “Eh. If you can’t beat ‘em, eat ‘em.” There were three crunches. The first was the sound of Masky biting down into the apple (and finding a worm). The second was the sound of Masky crashing into the tree. The third was the sound of Patsy falling out of the tree and landing directly on his tail. “You stinkin’ varmints are in for it now!” Masky didn’t see the speaker yet, as his mask and hat had fallen over his eyes when he was brutally smashed into the tree, and he imagined he would have a difficult time seeing straight at the moment anyway. The voice was feminine with a thick accent, which completely betrayed the strength behind those steam pistons for gams the dame must have been sporting. He was really hoping that Patsy would do the talking for him, seeing as it really hurt to breathe. “You crazy barnyard bimbo! I think you broke my tail!” Patsy cried out, delicately cradling the bent green extension so it wouldn’t fall on the ground. “Ya both got more comin’ to ya, ya lowdown snakes!” “You broke my tail!” So much for letting Patsy take control of the situation. Masky pulled himself to his hooves and straightened out his effects to return the orange and yellow earth pony’s glare with his own sneer. “Criminy! Lady, what is your problem?!” he barked as he stretched his mouth into a frown. However unsightly Masky’s smile was, it had nothing on how repulsive he could make himself look when he was angry. Usually, it was enough to make any pony giving him the business back down. Unfortunately for him, the loyalest and most dependable pony in Ponyville did not knuckle under others so easily. Applejack butted her head against his own. The two stubborn ponies pushed each other back and forth, their hats grappling on top of their heads with Applejack’s stetson taking the upper hand over Masky’s newsboy cap. “Ah don’t tolerate thieves on my farm.” “You can’t prove anything.” “Ah saw yer little varmint steal an apple! You’re takin’ bits right outta our family business!” “You broke my tail over a stinking apple?!” Patsy threw his claws in the air, accidentally releasing his tail and letting it smack the ground. He yowled in pain and quickly scooped it up again. “You sent me to the hospital over a few bits?!” Applejack lost some footing in her battle of wills when she momentarily considered that she might have been an smidge overzealous in her protection of her farm. She stepped to the side towards the dragon and roughly examined his tail, making him wince and whine in protest. “Ah don’t think this is a break. Ah think ya just sprained it, is all.” “You think I sprained it?!” Patsy snarled as he stole his tail back, holding it away from the bumpkin to protect it and letting some licks of flame slip from the corners of his mouth. “That’s not how I remember it.” “What the hay are y’all doing snooping around my farm, anydangway?” she asked, quickly changing the subject. “Twilight sent us over to find some dame named Applejack who lived here.” The mare’s ears folded down in embarrassment. “Well, ya see,” she said, biting down on her gum, “that’d be me.” “I knew it!” Masky exploded. “That purple tomato set us up! Ugh. And ponies have the gall to ask me why I don’t like unicorns.” “Now just hold on a minute, don’t go flying off the handle now! Twi’ didn’t have nothin’ to do with this! She’s a good pony and a good friend a’ mine.” “Yeah, with a stable full of assassins for friends. What kinda barn were you were raised in?” “That one over there.” Masky followed Applejack’s hoof toward a towering red barn that stood proudly on top of a hill overlooking all of the farm, visible even through the branches of the rows of apple trees. “You set up your barn on the far end of the farm away from town? Not very neighborly, is it?” “What? Shucks, no. Y’all took the long way around and wandered in here through the back of the farm.” “I told you we were going the wrong way,” Patsy said smugly into Masky’s ear. The pony frowned and smacked his tail out of his claws, feeling satisfied by the yelp he received. “Anyhow, ya both’ve gotta come with me now.” “What, are you giving us a tour?” Masky snarked. “Sorry, we don’t run tours of the farm on weekdays.” Masky gave a low internal moan once he realized the sort of mind he was dealing with. “Ah’ve gotta take you to see the head of the Apple family to talk about what we’re gonna do with you for stealin’ our apples.” “What, slugging me and snapping Patsy wasn’t enough?” “Sorry, fellers, but it’s just the way we do things here,” Applejack said as she began to slacken a rope lasso tied to her hip. Masky arched an eyebrow. “And what if I don’t want to?” “That’s what the rope is for.” ========== “And this here is a very special tree ta me. It was the first time Ah was ever able to take down every apple on a tree on a single buck. Ah was bouncin’ around the farm that whole day, Ah was so excited. Ah’m still waitin’ for Apple Bloom to get big enough to start bucking the farm. It’s tough enough with just Big Mac an’ me doing most of the work. A’course, she’s always runnin’ off with her friends tryin’ ta find her cutie mark. An’ Ah told her, Ah told her that ya can’t rush these kinds of things, but she’s more headstrong than a bull with a helmet...” “I think there’s blood in my ears,” Masky thought out loud, if only to remind himself what his own voice sounded like. It felt like years since he had heard it. What was it about this town that encouraged its mares to blabber on and on? The dames in Manehattan never talked this much. They always kept it succinct. “Help! Police!”, or, “He stole my purse!” Short and sweet like that. “What was that?” Applejack asked over her shoulder, checking to see if the ropes connected from her harness tied around her prisoners were still tight. The both of them were powerfully and vocally opposed to the usual practice of being hog-tied and dragged to the farmhouse, and seeing as they were friends of Twilight, she supposed that it wouldn’t be unforgivable if she cut them a tiny bit of slack and let them just walk themselves. The three were marching in single file, with Applejack in the front, Masky in the middle, and Patsy at the rear. Masky constantly scratched at the rope tied around his neck, partially to try to loosen the rope so he could scram, but mostly because it itched like a mean mother. Patsy grumbled along with his wrists bound, which he found made it exceedingly difficult to keep his crooked tail from dragging on the ground. “I said I think there’s blood in my ears,” Masky answered bluntly. “Well, it ain’t that much farther to the farm. So just hold on a little bit longer, alright, pard? Hey, come to think, Ah don’t think Ah ever caught your names.” “Are you always this polite to ponies you tie up, or are we just special?” “Bein’ polite was letting ya walk instead of dragging ya,” Applejack said irritably. “Asking for yer names is just a bit of common courtesy.” “Masky.” “I‘m Patsy.” “Nice ta meet’cha. An’ you already know I’m Applejack. So, where are you two from?” “Manehattan,” Masky answered begrudgingly. He hated to tell the truth whenever he could avoid it, but he had to keep his story straight if he wanted to avoid trouble later on. He’d heard plenty of stories of stallions who tried to stitch together half a dozen lies when they were confronted by half a dozen angry mares who discovered they were all sharing the same boyfriend. There were no happy endings. “The Big Apple? Well how do ya like that? My Aunt and Uncle Orange live out there. Ah actually lived there a long time ago.” Applejack lost some enthusiasm in her voice for a moment. “Judging by the duds you’re wearing, it must’ve been even longer than Ah thought. Does everypony over there dress like that now?” “It’s Black Sheep Chic.” “Ah’ll take yer word on it. We don’t get many folk traveling through here. So, Manehattan boys.” “And proud.” “Ah’m glad y’all both like it. Everypony should have a place they can feel safe to call home.” Patsy gave a little snort that went unnoticed by the cowgirl. “Ah just never could get used ta it. Never much cared for all that steel and concrete. And it always had that... smell in the air.” “I know,” Masky sighed wistfully as his face spread with a dreamy smile. “Speaking of, hold up for a second. Hey, Patsy, top me off.” It took Applejack by surprise when Patsy clicked his tongue in the back of his throat and bellowed a thick spray of black smoke that completely absorbed the pony in front of him. After enjoying his revitalizing breath of fresh air, Masky strolled out with a happy grin. “Ah never could quite get over all the strange characters, either,” the farmer muttered to herself before resuming her march. And though Masky might have ignored the comment, it did not escape Patsy’s acute hearing. “Speaking of strange,” the dragon began, surprising Applejack, “what’s with the accent?” “Ah don’t know what ya mean,” she said with a shrug. “That. That thing you’re doing with your voice when you talk. Are you from somewhere else?” “Nope, Ah’m a Ponyville girl, born and raised,” Applejack answered, her voice swelling with pride. “We Apples have been livin’ here in Ponyville since our family founded it.” Masky raised an eyebrow. “So Ponyville was started and named by farmers?” “Yer right on the money.” “Called it.” “What do you mean, pard?” “Nothing, nothing,” he said hurriedly. “So, if this town was built around those original hayseeds, then why are you the only one who’s got that accent?” “Huh. Ya know, Ah never put much thought to it...” While Applejack contemplated her vocal tic, Patsy took the momentary distraction to begin chewing through the ropes binding his wrists. His dragon’s pride had been raging against him for his ready submission to being a pony’s prisoner. But even more compelling than that was how, over a lifetime of being a career criminal, he had gained a heavy aversion to being put in handcuffs. Masky noticed his partner’s scheme and silently moved himself to better hide Patsy from view. It didn’t take long until Masky felt the rope slacken around his neck. He smiled with pride knowing that Patsy was only out to save his own tail and that the dragon wouldn’t be coming back to help him. “Eenope!” Out from the rows of trees came the sound of cannon fire. Masky had no time to react before a screaming green missile exploded toward him, blasting him with enough force to lift him off his hooves. Masky wasn’t sure if he was dead or not. He didn’t think being dead would hurt quite this much, but he didn’t have much first-hand knowledge about the subject. Even second-hand knowledge was very difficult to come by. If being dead meant feeling like he was being buried under a pile of bowling balls then he wanted nothing to do with it. Besides, with his record, he didn’t expect to wind up anywhere but Tatarus which was a decidedly unsavory place to spend the rest of eternity. Especially when he would likely have to meet a lot of ponies he owed a small mountain of bits and a few of his limbs to. He hoped his Nana wouldn’t be there. Tatarus would be agonizing without that face-stretching old bird, rest her soul. Then it came. A horrible, drawling, slurring sound that he foolishly hoped he would never hear again. “Now what in tarnation were y’all just tryin’ ta pull?” For the love of all things dark and shifty, he hated these country hicks. “I’m gonna wizz red,” Masky moaned as he gently put his hoof against his kidneys. After bracing himself, he shakily climbed to his hooves and blinked his eyes open. Once his vision cleared, he found himself staring into a red mass of fur and solid muscle. He had to check just to make sure that it wasn’t just a hairy brick wall. Masky had seen plenty of stallions--and in some more disturbing cases, mares--in Manehattan who were on the juice to help give them that extra level of disgusting musculature you just couldn’t get the honest way. But none of them could hold a candle to the pony he was facing. There was no doubt in his mind that this giant had become overinflated through years of hard work and good health. ‘If I ever meet the pony who said hard work is good for you,’ Masky thought to himself, ‘I’m gonna break his jaw.’ “Ain’t ya gonna answer me?” Applejack said impatiently. Once Masky was finished accepting that the red goliath was truly a living creature, he turned his attention to the farmer. “I feel like I got run over by a cart, give me a minute! Criminy...” He ran a hoof over his head and growled when he felt his messy black mane. He turned his head and found Patsy lying spread on his stomach, his bent tail pointing up in the air with Masky’s cap hanging from the tip. He roughly snatched the hat and dropped it in its rightful place before facing the two farmers again. “Well?” “‘Well’ what?” “Are ya gonna explain why my brother caught Patsy tryin’ to run off?” “Because your brother isn’t blind, how about that?” The Apples didn’t seem to be interested in jokes. “Fine, he was trying to vamoose. But you shouldn’t have tied him up. He’s terrified of ropes. Ain’t that right, Patsy?” “Grooah...” “Great. Thanks, drip, you went and busted my dragon. So how are you planning to pay for this?” “Now you listen here,” Applejack cut in, narrowing her eyes venomously. “Ah don’t know how you ponies get along in Manehattan, but here on Sweet Apple Acres we care about the importance of honesty. Honest work, honest words, and honest living. Now, Ah’ve got a nose for this sorta thing, and mister, you smell more rotten than a bad apple in a pig trough.” Masky chose his next words carefully. “So would you say that you’re in your element with honesty?” The farmer’s brief hesitation told him everything he needed to know. “You’d better listen real close. Ah don’t care if Twilight sent you, because as far as Ah’m concerned, you an’ yer friend are thieves. And yer gonna work off the trouble and time you’ve cost us with whatever punishment Granny Smith picks for you! Now get a move on!” Applejack swatted Masky in the nose as she turned back for the farmhouse and nearly began dragging him by the throat. He checked on Patsy over his shoulder and was relieved to see that he was looking considerably more conscious. And even better, the big red drip was carrying him for him. “Thanks, mac. But holy cow, your sister needs to take it down a few notches.” Masky frowned when Big Macintosh stayed quiet and kept his eyes forward. “The brunos don’t talk and the dames never stop in this town. What, do they ration words here and just let the girls get all the speaking time?” “Eeyup.” ========== Pinkie jumped in the air with a frightened eep when a loud thud boomed around her room. She rubbed a hoof against her eye and was shocked to feel some crust in the corner of her eye. Looking on the floor, she saw her book laying underneath her table. “Pinkie?” came the voice of Mrs. Cake from downstairs. “Is everything alright up there?” “I’m fine, Mrs. Cake!” Pinkie called back. “I guess I just fell asleep reading.” She scrunched her nose at the words. She had never fallen asleep before a party before. That was no good. She brushed past a few streamers she had left scattered around and put the book back on the table. With a grunt of effort, she opened the book back to where she remembered leaving it. To her disappointment, she had hardly made a dent in the book so far. Even worse, she hardly had started planning the party, and she had even less progress getting the new Pinkie Promise written. But she couldn’t finish the Pinkie Promise until she had read enough of the book, and she couldn’t get Masky and Patsy to come to the party until the promise was ready. “This is all making my head all itchy, Gummy,” she said to the baby alligator waddling around her room who stopped to look up at her at the mention of his name. “I guess I’ll just have to kick it up a notch!” Gummy seemed uninspired. “Chapter Fifty-Nine: Proper Regalia... Hm... I bet Rarity could help with this! I’ll just run over real quick and ask her!” Pinkie picked up Gummy to give him a hug before she left like always. “I’m sure I’ll still have enough time. Right, Gummy?” Gummy remained pensive on the issue and decided to keep his silence. “You’re right. I can totally handle this!” Pinkie gave a little twitch before walking out the door. ========== It didn’t take much longer for the four to reach the farmhouse. Patsy had recovered from his punch-drunkeness and had progressed to punch-hangover and was able to stand on his own two feet again, though the slightest noise felt like someone lighting a warehouse of illegal fireworks on fire. Now he almost felt bad for that one time he blew up that warehouse full of fireworks. “Now you two just wait right there where Big Mac can keep an eye on you,” Applejack ordered, “and wait while Ah go get somepony who’s going to want to have a nice long chat with you. And after that, you’re gonna be workin’ until you’ve paid for all the trouble you’ve caused ‘round here.” “Half a dozen apples, what’s that gonna be? Half an hour?” Masky said cheekily, unfazed by the farmer’s glare as she left the room. In any other situation, he would have already been out the door and carrying off the nearest object that hadn’t been nailed down. But after seeing Red Menace’s adjustments to Patsy’s complexion, he decided to play along. He gave a nicker and began to idly look around the little living room. It was quaint and rustic, which to him, meant it smelled like old people and didn’t have anything worth stealing. Just photo albums, magazines, and knick-knacks resting on the coffee table and the fireplace. He could always just steal them for the pleasure, he supposed. The sounds of hoofsteps and an agonizingl voice warned Masky that his favorite mare was coming back. And if he was going to get an earful from these Reubens, he thought as he laid down on his back on the throw rug in the center of the room, he decided he might as well make himself comfortable for it. He shifted himself a bit and closed his eyes to get a few seconds of peace while he still could. “And that’s about the whole story,” he heard Applejack conclude over the sound of two sets of hooves clopping against the wood floor. “So what do you reckon we do with them?” Masky prepared himself for the racket. After listening to the younger farmer talk all day, he shuddered to imagine whatever the loud-mouthed wheat that spawned her would sound like. But after several long seconds of waiting, he was pleasantly surprised when nothing came. He couldn’t hide a smirk. After hearing how dumb the story sounded, he figured that the big guy in charge would be giving her a dead glare about now. “Granny? Are you alright?” Applejack asked. “You look like you got your head up in Cloudsdale.” It took Masky a few seconds longer than he’d care to admit for the pieces to click together. He had never moved faster than he did jumping up to hide himself. His cheeks burned as he let a small groan escape him. He couldn’t just have some loud old stallion shout at him for a few minutes, no. Granny Smith blinked a few times and closed her mouth. She pursed her lips in thought for a few moments before taking a few slow steps closer to the suddenly unnerved stallion. “You must be that Masky feller I’ve read so much about,” Granny began in a creaky voice. “Everything she told you is a dirty lie, see?” Masky sputtered louder than he had wanted. “And I... wait a Manehattan minute, did you say ‘read’?” “Applejack’s been telling me you and your friend have been causing some excitement here on Sweet Apple Acres,” the old mare continued. Applejack flashed a cocky grin, eager to see justice be done. “Now, we don’t mind folks sampling a few apples, but we prefer to be asked first. But there’s no harm done.” Applejack’s grin dropped like a chunk of lead. She shook her head a few times, unable to believe what she was hearing. “Granny, you’re not really just gonna let them off the hook just like that, are ya?” she asked beggingly. “What about all the time working they cost us?” “The apples aren’t going anywhere any time soon.” “Except fer maybe into a sneaky lizard’s belly,” Applejack said bitterly as she watched Patsy flip through some of the magazines sitting in a pile on a table. One in particular caught Patsy’s eye and he flipped open to a random page. He took one glance at the page and he looked like he was about to split in half from laughter. Applejack tilted her head to try to get a better look at what was so interesting for the ankle-biter in Granny’s magazines, but could only get a glimpse of the title: Something-xy Grandma Weekly. She shrugged it off and tuned back to what the others were talking about. “So, how did you like the farm?” “This place would be great if it weren’t for all the beatings,” Masky said as he took a step back from the old mare after she “accidentally” bumped up next to him. “Maybe consanguineous mating affects the temper?” Patsy offered from behind his reading material. “Consarnawhatnow? And we barely roughed y’all up,” Applejack objected. “Ya know, for an earth pony, ya sure are kinda flimsy.” “Hey! I’m strong where it counts!” Masky hurriedly scuttled away when he saw Granny Smith’s eyes bob down just the slightest bit. She gave a smile that may have passed for being coy sixty years ago. “I’m sorry about my grandkids. Is there anything I could do to make it up to you?” “Maybe if you have some jewelery...” Masky and Applejack exchanged sharp looks for a brief moment before Granny Smith stepped between them. “We don’t have anything fancy like that. But I could point you in the direction of a nice young mare who can take care of your little dragern on Applejack’s dollar. And while she works, you can come back and we can talk some more...” Patsy rolled off his chair laughing. =========== “Patsy,” Masky said as they rushed away from Sweet Apple Acres toward the next Element of Harmony, “you have my full permission to burn that place down when this is all over.”