To Grander Pastures:

who cares

To Grander Pastures-
Home is where the heart is:

"Mac !!!" Apple Fritter exclaimed, excited beyond belief to see not only her cousin but also a member of her family.

Being one of the few apples that operates in Manhattan, Fritter being appreciative of Big Mac's company was an understatement.

Caught in the middle of an embrace on a scale she didn't anticipate, Fritter was having a hard time acquiring air.

"Mac.....can't breathe" soon Fritter began taping on Mac's tree trunk that is supposedly mandated to be called an arm, which swiftly turned from tapping into hammering.

"Hmm, OH!" Mac quickly realized he turned a passionate hug with one of his distant cousins, into a PFC; sleeper hold.

Is this going to end in fucking?

Sue me, to lazy to add green.

I smell incest.

Does a bear shit in the woods

Fritter stated to breathe in air like a Saddle-Arabian would water after a week being lost in the middle of a dessert.

Mac started to consul Fritter, "Fran I'm so sorry !" Fritter quickly retorted with a softer hug "I know, I know, I missed u too." Fritter hushed.
Mac didn't react he just let it happen afraid he'd mess up again.

After Mac claimed his luggage the two apples headed off to Fritter's farm, in up-state Manhattan.
Their mode of transport was Fritter's Pick-up truck, along the ride Fritter dumped her music collection on Mac's lap asking to pick something.

MANEHATTAN, EXCUSE ME
Auto correct is a bitch.

The mini cardboard box held multiple cassette tapes with one thing in common, they were all country.
Holding band names ranging from:
The Rolling Gems, The Dixie Fillies, to the classic Alabamare.
Mac didn't have a real preference, due to the fact that he lived in a small village and had little time to be listening to music, from working on the farm "non-stop" so he picked something random.

How about you help Big Mac, play something.