//------------------------------// // Chapter 5: Coldest Story Ever Told // Story: Diary of a Baker // by Wildebeest //------------------------------// Chapter 5: Coldest Story Ever Told I woke up the next morning feeling an odd weight pressed against my lap. Something flat… and warm… and coppery… a tray? I opened my eyes. It was a tray. A tray stacked with a cup of coffee, a glass of orange juice, and a big ol’ stack of hot buttery pancakes. I looked up, and my eyes were immediately met with the face of my bright young employee. “B…breakfast in bed?” I muttered, still a little groggy. “Cup Cake, you shouldn’t have!” Cup Cake smiled. “Nothing is too good for my favorite employer,” she chirped, tousling my mane. I never admitted it out loud, but I loved it when she did that. “Now, eat up, Carrot, we’ve got a big day ahead of us.” And I did. To my surprise, everything was prepared just the way I liked it. How the hay did she know that I like my coffee black and my orange juice extra pulpy? I sure couldn’t tell you, but I can tell you that she spent the rest of the month going out of her way to make my life as easy as possible. She really pulled her weight: keeping inventory on all the ingredients and running out to the market whenever we were running low on anything, making Derpy a fresh muffin every morning she came in, cleaning up any spill that came her way… oh, and she was right about the name, by the way. The day after we rechristened it ‘Sugarcube Corner’, our business increased significantly. Sometimes I felt like she was running the whole operation on her own. In fact, I told her so one night when she was lugging a bag of flour into the building. “You know, you’ve been doing a heck of a job so far,” I told her. “Well, thank you,” she said sweetly, tossing the bag into the pantry. “And you know what else?” I said. “I bet you could run a whole bakery by yourself if you tried.” When I said that, Cup Cake immediately deflated, like a punctured balloon. The corners of her mouth started drooping downwards, and her head followed soon after. Even her mane seemed to be deflating. “What’s the matter?” I asked her. Was it something I said? “I did,” she said glumly. “You did? Did what?” “I did try to run a bakery by myself,” she said. “Back when I lived in Baltimare, I ran a bakery called Cupcake’s Emporium. Ponies came from all around the city for just a taste of my crullers, my croissants, and, for obvious reasons, my cupcakes.” “So what happened?” I asked. “Well, these two unscrupulous unicorns called the Flim Flam Brothers set up a bakery right next to mine. They were pastry- making savants who specialized in apple-flavored confections. I hate to admit it, but their apple cider donuts were incredible, Carrot Cake! And they were only selling them for two bits to a baker’s dozen! “They offered to merge with me, but I had too much pride to let myself get bought out like that. Besides, they insisted that they would keep 75% of the profits. No, if I was going to continue to survive in the market, I was going to do it alone. I wasn’t about to succumb to those amoral snakes. “I had no idea how they managed to sell their products at such a low price, but I ended up having to slash my own just to compete. But then my profits started to take a nosedive, so I had to cut costs somewhere. So I resorted to using cheaper, lower- quality ingredients, and my pastries suffered because of it. “And let me tell you, my customers noticed. At one point, a mare took a bite of one of my oatmeal cookies, immediately spat it out, and stormed right out of the store without paying. With every passing day, my sales got worse and worse.” Tears were welling up in her eyes, and her bottom lip started to tremble. “I had to give up, Carrot Cake. I didn't have a choice. I packed up all my stuff, moved away, and closed Cupcake’s Emporium for good.” Her eyes started to swell up and turn red as tear after tear streamed down her cheek. “I couldn’t beat them,” she sobbed. “I tried to stand up to them and they ran me out of town. I…I…I…” Suddenly, she stood up and banged her hoof on the counter. The resulting THUMP could be heard from miles away, I was sure. By this time, her entire face was drenched with tears and her nose was starting to run. “I LOST!” she screamed. I was shocked. There was something sobering, and a little bit scary, to see such a strong woman breaking down and crying like this. What in Equestria could I do to help her? She put her head down on the counter and buried her face in her hooves, ashamed that she was letting me see her like this. “I *sniff* lost, Carrot Cake,” she wailed. “I promised myself that I *sob* wouldn’t let them win, and I did. I lost…” I don’t think I’ve ever felt more powerless than I did at that moment. Here was the mare who single handedly changed my life, the mare who I thought was perfect in every way… reduced to a wailing, blubbering mess. There she was, face down on the counter, muttering “I lost” over and over and over again. What was I to do? “Cup Cake,” I said, putting my arm around her shoulder, “It’s okay. You-” “It’s NOT okay!” she cried. “I’m nothing but a failed businessmare. A…*sniff*... a loser.” “No, you’re not,” I said sternly. “I’ll have you know that you’re one of the most amazing mares I’ve ever met. In just a couple of months, you turned my business around, but more importantly, you turned my entire life around. You gave me a reason to strive to be a stronger, more assertive stallion, and you’ve shown me how much I’m truly capable of. Without you, Sugarcube Corner would still be the crummy old Sugar Shack. I couldn’t be happier to have you in my life.” Cup Cake looked up, showing me her tear-stained face. “R…really?” “Really,” I said, holding out my front legs to her. “Come here.” She stumbled over to me and let herself collapse into my embrace. I squeezed her as tight as I could with one hoof and gently caressed her mane with the other. “It’s okay,” I whispered to her, letting her tears run down my back. “Everything’s gonna be okay… shhh…shhh…” For hours, we just stood there, embracing each other on the bakery floor.