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Background Pony #631D
Funny thing, being called Big. I wasn't always big, hell I was born down right tiny.
But I had so much will, so much fight, so much heart; everypony just called me Big. No amount of respect just appears on your doorstep the morning ponies starts calling you Big more outta humor than actual respect for how much you try.
Bullies don't just back off. Nope. They'd back me up in a corner, outnumber me eight to one, and try to tell me what to do. I didn't listen. They tried to make me. I wouldn't budge. They tried to move me. With their sixteen clumsy fists.
I outmatched them so bad, I still feel bad bout it.
Not really, but it didn't seem right to send six colts and two fillies crying all they way back to their parents.
So Pa, rest his four hooves, sent me off everyday after school to get boxing lessons from some old friends of the family.
Bobcat and Black Bird.
They taught me how good I could be, and how much good I could do.
As well as how much pain and suffering I could inflict on others. And ever since, I held back.
Nopony bothered me, especially not after learning I had more lessons than they could count under my collar. But I didn't bother anypony else either. Life got easier, I got my cutie mark, and a little sister instead of my much prayed for puppy. Foal breath just ain't the same as puppy breath, but Applejack looks up to me, equal parts figuratively and literally.
Those days as Little Big Mac, or Middle Mac, were over.
Background Pony #5085
Beware the super-mac…