//------------------------------// // Chapter 3: An Offer I Can't Refuse // Story: Diary of a Baker // by Wildebeest //------------------------------// Chapter 3: An Offer I Can't Refuse 12:30 PM. Still an hour until my date. Doggone it, why does time have to move so SLOW? For Celestia’s sake, strike one already! I had been up since 6:00 that morning. True, we had agreed to meet at 1:30, and the café was only a five- minute walk away, but I wanted to make sure that I had time to shower, shave, have a nice breakfast, throw on some cologne, rehearse in the mirror for a couple hours, and pick out my best- looking sweater for the occasion. Oh, shut up. Sweaters are cool. If Bill Clopsby can wear them, so can I. Anyway, there I was, at the counter, head in my hooves, wishing that the clock would move just a little faster. Maybe I can show up early, I thought. No harm in getting there a little before 1:30, is there? In fact, maybe she’ll be impressed by how punctual I am!...But if I get there too early, won’t that make me look a little desperate? Oh, lord, I hope she doesn’t think I’m desperate…but if I get there too late, she’ll think I’m uncaring! Maybe I should get there at EXACTLY 1:30. But then what if her watch is faster than mine? Or slower? For thirty agonizing minutes, I went through this thought process again and again and again, until I could finally take it no longer. Buck it. I’m going over there now. I took a deep breath, straightened my collar, took one last glance in the mirror to make absolutely sure that I looked presentable, and trotted out the door. Stand tall, Carrot Cake, I thought as I casually trotted to the café. Be strong. Be CONFIDENT! Fillies don’t like colts that don’t believe in themselves. You’re the man. You’re not just going anywhere, you’re going to spend the afternoon with a beautiful mare! Other stallions can only DREAM of being in your horseshoes! You’re a GIANT! You’re a BOSS! You got SWAG!...‘Swag’ is a good thing, right? I’m so out of the loop when it comes to new slang… I walked into the café like I was walking onto a yacht and confidently strutted up to the maitre’d. “Table for two, please!” I announced in the most authoritative voice I could muster. The maitre’d carefully looked me over. “Name?” she asked. “Carrot Cake.” “Ah! We’ve been expecting you. Right this way.” They’ve been expecting me?, I thought as she led me to a table. But how in Equestria could they be…oh, no… I was right. She led me into the middle of the busy café, disappeared out of sight, and just as I suspected, there she was, lazily glancing at her watch. “Took you long enough,” she said with a snort. “Now wait just a minute,” I argued, not wanting to let this wily filly get the best of me. “You agreed that we’d be meeting at 1:30.” Cup Cake looked up at me and smiled smugly. “Then why’d you show up at 1:05?” “What? I- but you- I just- you were-“ I stopped myself, took a deep breath and regained my composure. I wasn’t going to be defeated that easily. “Well, why are you here at 1:05?” “Because I knew you would try to get here early,” she retorted. “Well, maybe I knew that you’d be here early. Did you ever think of that?” “Then why’d you act so surprised when you saw me here?” Horse apples. There was no way out of this one. I dejectedly slumped into my chair. Chalk another one up for Cup Cake, I guess. How was I going to impress the mare who was always one step ahead of me? “Aw, buck up, little guy,” she said, noticing the resigned expression on my face. “I’m just having a bit of fun.” Yeah, at my expense, I thought as I browsed the menu. “Is the spinach lasagna here any good, by the way?” she asked. “It looks tempting.” “Oh, it’s superb,” I said. “I’ve had it a few times myself.” Cup Cake smirked as she continued to look through the menu. “I’ll take your word for it. How are the nachos?” “The nachos are okay.” “And how’s the minestrone?” “The minestrone’s fantastic.” “And how are the waitresses?” “The waitresses are fi-“ I stopped myself as soon as I realized what I was saying. Cup Cake could barely contain her laughter. “Cup Cake,” I pleaded, “will you please stop toying with me?” “But it’s just so much fun!” she uttered in between giggles. I was going to protest some more, but long last, our waitress finally arrived. “And what will you two be having today?” she asked. “I’ll have one order of your spinach lasagna, please,” said Cup Cake. “Excellent choice, madam,” said the waitress, causing a self- satisfied grin to spread across my face. Cup Cake just rolled her eyes. “And you, sir?” “Just a chef’s salad, please,” I said. “Right-o, one spinach lasagna and one chef’s salad, coming right up,” said the waitress, hastily jotting our order down. “Just a chef’s salad?” Cup Cake inquired as the waitress walked away from our table. “No wonder you’re so skinny.” “I’m not that skinny,” I said rather bashfully as my gaze drifted down towards the floor. “You are!” she insisted. “You’re nothing but skin and bones. Wouldn’t hurt for you to beef up a little.” She was right, of course, but I wasn’t planning on spending the afternoon talking about my dietary habits. “So what’s Baltimare like?” I asked, trying to change the subject. For the next fifteen minutes or so, Cup Cake decided to grant me some mercy and engage me in idle, harmless conversation. We talked about the weather, current events, the economy, movies, music… typical stuff. Then, after we had both finished our meal, we started delving into dangerous territory. “So how’s the Sugar Shack?” she asked. “You must get a lot of customers.” “Not really,” I admitted with a sigh. “Business is kind of mediocre these days, actually.” Cup Cake gazed into my eyes with a look of genuine empathy. “Oh, geez, I’m sorry to hear that, Carrot,” she said. “I just don’t understand what I’m doing wrong!” I cried. “What do I need to do to get this town’s attention?” Cup Cake mulled over my question for a few seconds before finally producing an answer. “You wanna know my opinion? I think you should change the name.” I eyed her curiously. “Why?” I asked. “What’s wrong with the name?” “It’s not appetizing,” she explained. “’Sugar Shack’ sounds shabby. You need a name that sounds sweet, that rolls off the tongue.” “Like what?” “Oh, I don’t know, how about… hmm…” Cup Cake furrowed her brow as she tried to come up with a suitable name. “How about Sugarcube Corner?” Sugarcube Corner… Sugarcube Corner… I repeated the name to myself a few times, and the more I repeated it, the better it sounded. “I like it!” I exclaimed. “Has a real nice ring to it. What else do you think I could do to improve business?” “Well,” Cup Cake said with a smirk, “I asked you before, but I’ll ask you again: couldn’t you use a couple of extra hooves?” By now, it seemed abundantly clear that this lass wasn’t ready to take ‘no’ for an answer. “I’ll think about it,” said I. Cup Cake lost her smile. “No, you won’t,” she replied tersely. “What do you mean, ‘no I won’t’?” “I mean you won’t actually think about it. Nopony actually means it when they say, ‘I’ll think about it’. What you meant was, ‘No, I don’t wanna. Get out of my mane.’” “T-that is NOT true!” I cried. “I was going to give your suggestion some… some serious… consideration…” I suddenly noticed that a sly smile was starting to creep back across her face. She started leaning forward onto the table, until her face was just below my chin, all while she continued to gaze dreamily into my eyes. “Yes?” she sang, batting her eyelashes. She was toying with me again. I knew she was. But I also knew that I was powerless to resist her. Who in Equestria could turn down a face like that? “All right,” I sighed. “Come in on Monday morning and I’ll show you the ropes.” “Glad we could work something out.” And that was that. I paid the check, walked her to her door, and then promptly retreated back into the two- story bakery I called home. All the while, I couldn’t shake the feeling that I had lost total control of my life…