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          “Tell me again why we’re going,” Spike complained, “it doesn’t make much sense to me.”

          Spike, five of the six, and I stood on the platform at the train station in Ponyville. We were awaiting the arrival of two more ponies before we departed.

          “We’ve decided that Big McIntosh needs a vacation,” Twilight explained, “But there’s no way he would go on his own, so we’re going to have you two go with him to Manehattan for a week, how bad can it be?”

          “You’re going and that’s that,” we could hear Applejack say as she neared the station. She was pushing Big Mac every inch of the way.

          “Nnnnnope,” the work stallion resisted.

          “You’ve never taken a break your whole life. You’re going to take it easy for a week.”

          “But AJ, the hay…”

          “Nothin’ doing,” AJ strained, giving Mac one more buck onto the platform, “I can handle it.”

          “I don’t need to go,” Spike said, jumping on the excuse train, “What if you have to pass urgent correspondence to the princess?”

          “I can take care of it, Spike. I’ve already informed her that you won’t be with me this week.”

          “And the city noise,” I whined to Rarity, “I may not get a wink of sleep all week.”

          “Darling,” the unicorn nuzzled up to me, “you lived in Fillydelphia for long enough to know how to deal with a little clatter. You’ll be back before you know it.”

          “No use arguing, I suppose. C’mon you two, the sooner we leave the sooner we get there.”

          “Now remember,” AJ said, “Aunt and Uncle Orange will take care of you when you get there.”

          “And remember to have fun,” Pinkie Pie shouted, firing some confetti into the air.

          Soon the three of us had departed Ponyville. The trip to Manehattan was not very long at all, and before we knew it, we were in the thick of it. Even for me, an experienced city pony, Manehattan can be kind of unnerving, so you can imagine what Big Mac, who had never seen a building bigger than Ponyville City Hall in his life, was going through. To put it mildly, he was quaking in his horseshoes. Applejack had removed the yoke that he usually kept around his neck, and I think part of his soul was left in that thing.

          “It’ll be OK,” Spike reassured him, sitting on his back, “we’ll just find the Oranges and get settled in.”

          It didn’t take very long to find the Orange residence. They lived in a very modest apartment in a very middle-class section of the city. Not that they weren’t quite well off, but I suppose you can’t be related to Applejack without being at least a little modest.

          “McIntosh,” an orange pony with a green mane greeted, “great to see you, son. And you must be Spike the Dragon and Art Colter.”

          “And you are Uncle Orange, I presume?”

          “Naturally, but you can call me Mosely. Aren’t you excited to be here, Mac? It’s been a long time since you left the old apple farm.”

          Mac couldn’t even stutter out one of his trademark one-word answers.

          “Well I’ve never been to Manehattan before,” Spike spoke up, “There’s so much to do. How am I going to get to all of it in a week?”

          “I’m sure you’ll figure it out,” a mare’s voice said.

          I turned to see a slightly-lighter colored mare with light orange hair.

          “Pleasure to meet you, Mr. Colter and Spike, my name is Valencia Orange, I’m Mac’s aunt. Oh Mr. Colter, I could hardly wait to tell my book club that you were going to be in town. Perhaps you could make an appearance at our meeting this week.”

          “Now dear,” Mosely interjected, “I’m sure Mr. Colter doesn’t want to be fawned over too much while he’s here.”

          “I appreciate the invitation,” I said, “We’ll see how it goes. And please call me Art. I insist.”

          “I’m sure you boys are all hungry after your trip. Supper will be in a short time. We’re meeting a group of friends; you three are more than invited, of course. In the meantime, you can unpack your belongings.”

          “You gonna be OK, Mac,” I asked when we were away from his relatives, “You don’t look too good.”

          “Nope.”

          “Look, I know the girls wanted you to take break. And I would hate to under-stay your aunt and uncle’s welcome, but if you wake up tomorrow and still aren’t feeling well, I’ll pay for the train ride home, OK?”

          Mac nodded.

          “Besides,” Spike said, “you’re probably really hungry too, and they said dinner is soon.”

          Supper couldn’t come fast enough. The three of us, along with the Oranges, walked a short way to where a friend of theirs was hosting the dinner party. All of us had dressed up, as per the norm for the occasion. Valencia had tied Mac’s mane into a short ponytail and had ordered a large, tailored, dull orange suit for him. Spike wore a purple tuxedo, the only formal wear I knew of him to own. I donned the same outfit I had for the Winter Formal Ball, minus the bowtie.

          After meeting and greeting some ponies, which included the usual faux compliments that I was used to, we finally sat down to dinner. Starting with the first course, a small mixed salad, I could see the uneasiness return to Mac. For a pony that was used to wolfing down food, the idea of using specialized silverware was a bit confusing. Valencia had tried to explain it to him, but a fork was a fork as far as Mac was concerned. I specifically seated myself across from him to give him some subtle clues as to what utensil he should use.

          We made it through the salad course, which was followed by the main course. The unicorn waiters brought out large, domed trays for everypony while Spike joked about being ‘hungry as a horse’. I was hoping that the servings would be sufficient, or else Mac might faint from hunger. But when they had set the trays down and lifted the lids, I saw that we might have a problem. The servings weren’t enough to feed a new-born foal. I tried to keep a poker face, but Mac was less patient.

          “Excuse me,” the big red stallion coughed, leaving the table. I motioned to Spike and we followed him out the door and into the hallway of the apartment complex. I was worried he was going to have a mental breakdown.

          “It’s OK Mac,” I calmly said, “just take a breath.”

          “No Art,” he said, reaching back and undoing the ponytail, “I’ve had enough. This isn’t relaxing. It’s more work to hold my tongue in there than it ever was plowing fields or bucking apples.”

          “Spike, go back in there and say whatever you need to. I’m taking Mac for a stroll.”

          The baby dragon gave a little salute and went back into the apartment.

          “What are you doing,” Mac asked.

          “I’m going to help you relax. But you’re going to need to keep the suit on. You OK with that?”

          Big Mac paused for a moment, “Eeyup.”

          I led the workhorse back down the stairs and out into the warm Manahattan night.

          “First thing first, we need to find a meal that will satisfy both of us. And I know just the place.”

          We walked a couple of blocks to my favorite place to eat in all of Manehattan: ‘Hay Oats’. It wasn’t the biggest place in the city, and it certainly wasn’t the fanciest, but it was the best.

          “Here it is,” I said, magically opening the door for Mac, “hope my guy’s around. Hey Oats!”

          “Is that’a who I think it is,” a big voice with an Italian accent bellowed, “I haven’t seena you in forever.”

          Out from the kitchen of the restaurant stepped a very large Earth stallion. His coat was dark green, slightly covered by his red-and white-striped shirt, and while his white mane may have been receding, he more than made up for it with his massive moustache. His matching green eyes peered out through thin black frames.

          “Mac, I’d like you to meet my good friend, Vitto Oats.”

          “Good to meet ya Mac,” Vitto said as the two Earth ponies shook hooves, “Now Art, why do I have the pleasure of seein’ you tonight?”

          “Well Oats, it’s like this. We needed something good to eat, and we needed a lot of it. Look, I’ll pay your next two months’ rent if you can scavenge up enough food to feed my friend’s sizeable appetite.”

          “Make it three and you can eat too,” the restaurateur joked, returning to the kitchen, “Don’ta worry, I’ll have you two sorted out, no problem.”

          We suited up, stuffing our napkins into our collars in anticipation. It wasn’t long before Vitto brought out two towering plates of spaghetti. I could tell that Mac was still a little worried about his etiquette; we weren’t the only ponies in the establishment after all. To ease his concerns, I picked up a slice of complimentary bread and a fork with my front hooves and began using the two in unison to shovel spaghetti into my mouth. Mac followed suit, and soon the two of us were blowing through the first plate, then a second plate. After that, I began to get pretty full, but Mac was still going strong.

          “Hey Oats just bring him the top five things on the menu,” I shouted at Vitto, “Trust me, he’ll eat it all.”

          Big Mac did not make a liar out of me. I knew that the workhorse could eat, but I’d never seen him eat so much. This was the most comfortable he’d been the whole day, the whole trip.

          I paid the bill, on top of the two months’ rent I had promised. Vitto showed Mac and me to the door.

          “Good seein’ ya, Art, and good to meet you Mac. If you’re ever in Manehattan again, you know where to find me.”

          “Eeyup.”

          We two stallions started down the street again, back the way we had came. But when we got to the street that the Oranges lived on, instead of turning down it, I kept going.

          “Uh, don’t ya think we should turn in,” Mac asked, “its awful late.”

          “On the contrary, my friend. The night is young. There is one more thing I want us to do tonight.”

          As we kept walking and passing other ponies, I noticed that Mac was doing everything in his power to avoid eye contact, keeping his head and eyes down.

          “Eyes up, McIntosh,” I scolded, “Trust me, the more you don’t want people to notice you, the more they will. Head up, eyes forward, seize the night.”

          “If you say so, Art.”

          As we would walk, every time we would pass a young mare I would slightly bow my head in their direction. Mac followed my lead, and, being the big strong stallion that he was, I heard more than one giggle escape the lips of the ladies we passed.

          “Now here’s what we need to settle all that pasta in our stomachs.”

          I had stopped in front of a high-end Cider Bar in the middle of the city.

          “Are you sure, Art?”

          “Sure I’m sure. We’ll have one pint and then we’ll be gone.”

          But as I went to step inside, I was blocked by a rather large pony in a black t-shirt and dark sunglasses.

          “Who are you,” the heavy asked.

          “I’m Art Colter, well-known author.”

          “I’m afraid I can’t let you in.”

          “And why not?”

          “There’s a private party being held here tonight, nopony who’s not on the list. And you’re not on the list.”

          “I’m on everypony’s list. If you don’t believe me, ask the host.”

          The bouncer talked into an earpiece for a moment.

          “Wait here.”

          The bouncer stepped away from the door but quickly returned. He was accompanied by a pretty young mare that I recognized from billboards around the city.

          “Aren’t you Emerald Elegant, the supermodel,” I asked.

          “Yes, yes I am. Guy told me Art Colter was at the door and I had to see for myself. I loved your book ‘The Complete Guide to Jewels and Gemstones’. Come on in.”

          “This is Big Mac,” I introduced, “he’s a personal friend of mine. And I don’t come in unless he gets in.”

          Emerald looked Mac up and down. Mac was able to crack a little smile as she did so. She nodded at the bouncer, and he let us through.

          “Was it that important to get in here,” Mac asked.

          “This is the best cider in the city,” I responded, “Maybe not as good as Apple Family Cider, but definitely above average.”

          “One pint and we’re gone?”

          “One pint and we’re gone.”

          I went up to the bar and grabbed drinks for both of us. When I brought them back, Mac took a nervous first sip. Finding the cider not below his standards, he took a second, larger sip.

          “So Art, you don’t mind if I call you Art, do you,” Emerald said to me, “What brings you to Manehattan?”

          “Big Mac’s on vacation,” I answered, “I came with him since he’s never been to the city before.”

          “You came with him? Don’t you mean he came with you? Seriously, Art, you’re the celebrity, he’s the workhorse. I know you’re being nice, but isn’t he just your bodyguard or something.”

          Upon hearing this, Mac made a move to leave, but I stopped him.

          “Now wait just a second, my little unicorn princess,” I said sarcastically, “Big Mac is a good friend of mine, and I’m not going to stand for you insulting him like that.

          I took my first sip of the cider and purposefully spit it right in Emerald’s face. The groupies let out a simultaneous gasp.

          “And on top of that, this so-called workhorse makes cider that is infinitely better than this watered-down concoction.”

          “Well I never,” Emerald yelled in anger and embarrassment, “do you know who I am? I am a supermodel. I have the connections to get you banned from every bar in Manehattan!”

          “Oh is that right,” I said, getting real close so only she could hear me, “Do you know who I am? I’m a writer, and I have the connections to make sure that everypony in Equestria knows about that horn extension you got. To tell you the truth, your doctor didn’t do a very good job.”

          As Emerald stood there slack-jawed, I magically picked up my glass of cider and dumped it on her head, ruining her mane and partially-detaching her false eyelashes. Probably the meanest thing I’ve ever done.

          “C’mon Mac,” I said, “I think they would like it if we left now.”

          We went back to the Oranges to sleep, and the next morning we got on a train back to Ponyville. Mac and I had had enough fun for one vacation. When we got back home, we went straight away to Sweet Apple Acres.

          “Big Mac, what in tarnation are you doin’ back ‘ere,” Applejack said, quite perplexed, “You were supposed to be on vacation for a week.”

          Mac didn’t say anything. He walked right over to AJ and, using his powerful neck muscles, tossed her bodily into the nearest apple tree.

          “I think that’s Mac’s way of telling you never to send him on vacation again.”

          “Eeyup.”

Description

          “Tell me again why we’re going,” Spike complained, “it doesn’t make much sense to me.”

          Spike, five of the six, and I stood on the platform at the train station in Ponyville. We were awaiting the arrival of two more ponies before we departed.

          “We’ve decided that Big McIntosh needs a vacation,” Twilight explained, “But there’s no way he would go on his own, so we’re going to have you two go with him to Manehattan for a week, how bad can it be?”

          “You’re going and that’s that,” we could hear Applejack say as she neared the station. She was pushing Big Mac every inch of the way.

          “Nnnnnope,” the work stallion resisted.

          “You’ve never taken a break your whole life. You’re going to take it easy for a week.”

          “But AJ, the hay…”

          “Nothin’ doing,” AJ strained, giving Mac one more buck onto the platform, “I can handle it.”

          “I don’t need to go,” Spike said, jumping on the excuse train, “What if you have to pass urgent correspondence to the princess?”

          “I can take care of it, Spike. I’ve already informed her that you won’t be with me this week.”

          “And the city noise,” I whined to Rarity, “I may not get a wink of sleep all week.”

          “Darling,” the unicorn nuzzled up to me, “you lived in Fillydelphia for long enough to know how to deal with a little clatter. You’ll be back before you know it.”

          “No use arguing, I suppose. C’mon you two, the sooner we leave the sooner we get there.”

          “Now remember,” AJ said, “Aunt and Uncle Orange will take care of you when you get there.”

          “And remember to have fun,” Pinkie Pie shouted, firing some confetti into the air.

          Soon the three of us had departed Ponyville. The trip to Manehattan was not very long at all, and before we knew it, we were in the thick of it. Even for me, an experienced city pony, Manehattan can be kind of unnerving, so you can imagine what Big Mac, who had never seen a building bigger than Ponyville City Hall in his life, was going through. To put it mildly, he was quaking in his horseshoes. Applejack had removed the yoke that he usually kept around his neck, and I think part of his soul was left in that thing.

          “It’ll be OK,” Spike reassured him, sitting on his back, “we’ll just find the Oranges and get settled in.”

          It didn’t take very long to find the Orange residence. They lived in a very modest apartment in a very middle-class section of the city. Not that they weren’t quite well off, but I suppose you can’t be related to Applejack without being at least a little modest.

          “McIntosh,” an orange pony with a green mane greeted, “great to see you, son. And you must be Spike the Dragon and Art Colter.”

          “And you are Uncle Orange, I presume?”

          “Naturally, but you can call me Mosely. Aren’t you excited to be here, Mac? It’s been a long time since you left the old apple farm.”

          Mac couldn’t even stutter out one of his trademark one-word answers.

          “Well I’ve never been to Manehattan before,” Spike spoke up, “There’s so much to do. How am I going to get to all of it in a week?”

          “I’m sure you’ll figure it out,” a mare’s voice said.

          I turned to see a slightly-lighter colored mare with light orange hair.

          “Pleasure to meet you, Mr. Colter and Spike, my name is Valencia Orange, I’m Mac’s aunt. Oh Mr. Colter, I could hardly wait to tell my book club that you were going to be in town. Perhaps you could make an appearance at our meeting this week.”

          “Now dear,” Mosely interjected, “I’m sure Mr. Colter doesn’t want to be fawned over too much while he’s here.”

          “I appreciate the invitation,” I said, “We’ll see how it goes. And please call me Art. I insist.”

          “I’m sure you boys are all hungry after your trip. Supper will be in a short time. We’re meeting a group of friends; you three are more than invited, of course. In the meantime, you can unpack your belongings.”

          “You gonna be OK, Mac,” I asked when we were away from his relatives, “You don’t look too good.”

          “Nope.”

          “Look, I know the girls wanted you to take break. And I would hate to under-stay your aunt and uncle’s welcome, but if you wake up tomorrow and still aren’t feeling well, I’ll pay for the train ride home, OK?”

          Mac nodded.

          “Besides,” Spike said, “you’re probably really hungry too, and they said dinner is soon.”

          Supper couldn’t come fast enough. The three of us, along with the Oranges, walked a short way to where a friend of theirs was hosting the dinner party. All of us had dressed up, as per the norm for the occasion. Valencia had tied Mac’s mane into a short ponytail and had ordered a large, tailored, dull orange suit for him. Spike wore a purple tuxedo, the only formal wear I knew of him to own. I donned the same outfit I had for the Winter Formal Ball, minus the bowtie.

          After meeting and greeting some ponies, which included the usual faux compliments that I was used to, we finally sat down to dinner. Starting with the first course, a small mixed salad, I could see the uneasiness return to Mac. For a pony that was used to wolfing down food, the idea of using specialized silverware was a bit confusing. Valencia had tried to explain it to him, but a fork was a fork as far as Mac was concerned. I specifically seated myself across from him to give him some subtle clues as to what utensil he should use.

          We made it through the salad course, which was followed by the main course. The unicorn waiters brought out large, domed trays for everypony while Spike joked about being ‘hungry as a horse’. I was hoping that the servings would be sufficient, or else Mac might faint from hunger. But when they had set the trays down and lifted the lids, I saw that we might have a problem. The servings weren’t enough to feed a new-born foal. I tried to keep a poker face, but Mac was less patient.

          “Excuse me,” the big red stallion coughed, leaving the table. I motioned to Spike and we followed him out the door and into the hallway of the apartment complex. I was worried he was going to have a mental breakdown.

          “It’s OK Mac,” I calmly said, “just take a breath.”

          “No Art,” he said, reaching back and undoing the ponytail, “I’ve had enough. This isn’t relaxing. It’s more work to hold my tongue in there than it ever was plowing fields or bucking apples.”

          “Spike, go back in there and say whatever you need to. I’m taking Mac for a stroll.”

          The baby dragon gave a little salute and went back into the apartment.

          “What are you doing,” Mac asked.

          “I’m going to help you relax. But you’re going to need to keep the suit on. You OK with that?”

          Big Mac paused for a moment, “Eeyup.”

          I led the workhorse back down the stairs and out into the warm Manahattan night.

          “First thing first, we need to find a meal that will satisfy both of us. And I know just the place.”

          We walked a couple of blocks to my favorite place to eat in all of Manehattan: ‘Hay Oats’. It wasn’t the biggest place in the city, and it certainly wasn’t the fanciest, but it was the best.

          “Here it is,” I said, magically opening the door for Mac, “hope my guy’s around. Hey Oats!”

          “Is that’a who I think it is,” a big voice with an Italian accent bellowed, “I haven’t seena you in forever.”

          Out from the kitchen of the restaurant stepped a very large Earth stallion. His coat was dark green, slightly covered by his red-and white-striped shirt, and while his white mane may have been receding, he more than made up for it with his massive moustache. His matching green eyes peered out through thin black frames.

          “Mac, I’d like you to meet my good friend, Vitto Oats.”

          “Good to meet ya Mac,” Vitto said as the two Earth ponies shook hooves, “Now Art, why do I have the pleasure of seein’ you tonight?”

          “Well Oats, it’s like this. We needed something good to eat, and we needed a lot of it. Look, I’ll pay your next two months’ rent if you can scavenge up enough food to feed my friend’s sizeable appetite.”

          “Make it three and you can eat too,” the restaurateur joked, returning to the kitchen, “Don’ta worry, I’ll have you two sorted out, no problem.”

          We suited up, stuffing our napkins into our collars in anticipation. It wasn’t long before Vitto brought out two towering plates of spaghetti. I could tell that Mac was still a little worried about his etiquette; we weren’t the only ponies in the establishment after all. To ease his concerns, I picked up a slice of complimentary bread and a fork with my front hooves and began using the two in unison to shovel spaghetti into my mouth. Mac followed suit, and soon the two of us were blowing through the first plate, then a second plate. After that, I began to get pretty full, but Mac was still going strong.

          “Hey Oats just bring him the top five things on the menu,” I shouted at Vitto, “Trust me, he’ll eat it all.”

          Big Mac did not make a liar out of me. I knew that the workhorse could eat, but I’d never seen him eat so much. This was the most comfortable he’d been the whole day, the whole trip.

          I paid the bill, on top of the two months’ rent I had promised. Vitto showed Mac and me to the door.

          “Good seein’ ya, Art, and good to meet you Mac. If you’re ever in Manehattan again, you know where to find me.”

          “Eeyup.”

          We two stallions started down the street again, back the way we had came. But when we got to the street that the Oranges lived on, instead of turning down it, I kept going.

          “Uh, don’t ya think we should turn in,” Mac asked, “its awful late.”

          “On the contrary, my friend. The night is young. There is one more thing I want us to do tonight.”

          As we kept walking and passing other ponies, I noticed that Mac was doing everything in his power to avoid eye contact, keeping his head and eyes down.

          “Eyes up, McIntosh,” I scolded, “Trust me, the more you don’t want people to notice you, the more they will. Head up, eyes forward, seize the night.”

          “If you say so, Art.”

          As we would walk, every time we would pass a young mare I would slightly bow my head in their direction. Mac followed my lead, and, being the big strong stallion that he was, I heard more than one giggle escape the lips of the ladies we passed.

          “Now here’s what we need to settle all that pasta in our stomachs.”

          I had stopped in front of a high-end Cider Bar in the middle of the city.

          “Are you sure, Art?”

          “Sure I’m sure. We’ll have one pint and then we’ll be gone.”

          But as I went to step inside, I was blocked by a rather large pony in a black t-shirt and dark sunglasses.

          “Who are you,” the heavy asked.

          “I’m Art Colter, well-known author.”

          “I’m afraid I can’t let you in.”

          “And why not?”

          “There’s a private party being held here tonight, nopony who’s not on the list. And you’re not on the list.”

          “I’m on everypony’s list. If you don’t believe me, ask the host.”

          The bouncer talked into an earpiece for a moment.

          “Wait here.”

          The bouncer stepped away from the door but quickly returned. He was accompanied by a pretty young mare that I recognized from billboards around the city.

          “Aren’t you Emerald Elegant, the supermodel,” I asked.

          “Yes, yes I am. Guy told me Art Colter was at the door and I had to see for myself. I loved your book ‘The Complete Guide to Jewels and Gemstones’. Come on in.”

          “This is Big Mac,” I introduced, “he’s a personal friend of mine. And I don’t come in unless he gets in.”

          Emerald looked Mac up and down. Mac was able to crack a little smile as she did so. She nodded at the bouncer, and he let us through.

          “Was it that important to get in here,” Mac asked.

          “This is the best cider in the city,” I responded, “Maybe not as good as Apple Family Cider, but definitely above average.”

          “One pint and we’re gone?”

          “One pint and we’re gone.”

          I went up to the bar and grabbed drinks for both of us. When I brought them back, Mac took a nervous first sip. Finding the cider not below his standards, he took a second, larger sip.

          “So Art, you don’t mind if I call you Art, do you,” Emerald said to me, “What brings you to Manehattan?”

          “Big Mac’s on vacation,” I answered, “I came with him since he’s never been to the city before.”

          “You came with him? Don’t you mean he came with you? Seriously, Art, you’re the celebrity, he’s the workhorse. I know you’re being nice, but isn’t he just your bodyguard or something.”

          Upon hearing this, Mac made a move to leave, but I stopped him.

          “Now wait just a second, my little unicorn princess,” I said sarcastically, “Big Mac is a good friend of mine, and I’m not going to stand for you insulting him like that.

          I took my first sip of the cider and purposefully spit it right in Emerald’s face. The groupies let out a simultaneous gasp.

          “And on top of that, this so-called workhorse makes cider that is infinitely better than this watered-down concoction.”

          “Well I never,” Emerald yelled in anger and embarrassment, “do you know who I am? I am a supermodel. I have the connections to get you banned from every bar in Manehattan!”

          “Oh is that right,” I said, getting real close so only she could hear me, “Do you know who I am? I’m a writer, and I have the connections to make sure that everypony in Equestria knows about that horn extension you got. To tell you the truth, your doctor didn’t do a very good job.”

          As Emerald stood there slack-jawed, I magically picked up my glass of cider and dumped it on her head, ruining her mane and partially-detaching her false eyelashes. Probably the meanest thing I’ve ever done.

          “C’mon Mac,” I said, “I think they would like it if we left now.”

          We went back to the Oranges to sleep, and the next morning we got on a train back to Ponyville. Mac and I had had enough fun for one vacation. When we got back home, we went straight away to Sweet Apple Acres.

          “Big Mac, what in tarnation are you doin’ back ‘ere,” Applejack said, quite perplexed, “You were supposed to be on vacation for a week.”

          Mac didn’t say anything. He walked right over to AJ and, using his powerful neck muscles, tossed her bodily into the nearest apple tree.

          “I think that’s Mac’s way of telling you never to send him on vacation again.”

          “Eeyup.”