I knelt down and opened my bag. It contained a coupla notebooks and pens, my CCA-issued chef's jacket and a box. Good thing the box only had the smaller knives, though, as I didn't want to imagine a large knife poking out of the box an' the bag and scarin' people.
I adjusted my beanie and gloves, then hid my face behind my scarf. I made sure that the box was safely secured in my bag and set off for my destination: the bus stop across CHS, my old high school. Faust was principal until my freshman year there, where she up an' left to become the superintendent.
"Yoohoo~" A bubbly voice broke the silence.
I scratched my ears for earwax and sighed. Another yell prompted me to look around and flinch. I covered my eyes with my gloved hands, squinting against the light and saw pink blob with her five friends, including a baconhead. I brought my phone out of my pocket and saw that it was two o' clock. Seeing as I had nothing better to do and the bus wouldn't come for an hour forty-five, I decided to cross the street and follow the voice.
"Hiya! My name's Pinkie Pie. What's yours?" She stretched out her hand and cracked a smile. I stared dumbly at her, then returned her hand shake and introduced myself as Char Broil.
"Pinkie Pie?" I asked. "What are you doing here?"
"I go to school here, Charlie." Pinkie giggled. "You shouldn't stay in the cold by yourself." She grabbed a chocolate bar from her hair and took a bite.
"That's because I'm waiting for the bus." I chuckled and felt a chill on my spine. "Eatin' chocolate in this weather's not a good idea. It'll freeze and your tongue will stick." Pinkie paid no mind and continued to munch on the bar. I heard a faint growl, but it came from my stomach.
"...Want some?" She offered. I shook my head and clung to my sweater.
"Didn't you see today's news?" Pinkie said with a concerned look. I shook my head.
"Don't you have a ride?" I shook my head. "Well I'm going to fix that, Charlie, because you're riding with me!"
"I can't do that. Isn't there somesorta rule against underage drivers and older people?" I protested, but to no avail. Pinkie bounced along with a tight grip on my arm. Snow piled up on my bag and hood, adding weight. Pinkie stopped bouncing for a moment and turned to her right. I trudged along but my legs felt cold and heavy.
"Where... Huff... Are we going?" I groaned.
"C'mon, the car's not gonna start itself!" Pinkie beckoned.
"Here we are!" Pinkie beamed at the building in front of us. I stared at the car. It was pink all over and the doors were bedazzled. I felt my masculinity die a little.
"What?" I stared at her dumbly.
"Sugarcube Corner, silly!"
"You do realize I can just walk there, right? It's three blocks away from the bus stop." I coughed.
"But it's cold outside." Pinkie pouted. I sighed and shook my head. I could have told her that I wanted to go home, but it's cold there, too. When we exited the car and entered Sugarcube Corner, the only people here are the Cakes. It was almost clean, save for some confetti on the floor and a coupla balloons on top. The booths were clean and the windows were cleared of mist. Looks like the Cakes recently hosted a birthday party.
"Welcome to Sugarcube Corner. What can I get you?" Mrs. Cake intoned in a motherly voice.
"Uh, I'd like a large cup of joe and an apple turnover." I licked my lips.
"That'll be ten thirty-nine." She walked over to the display counter and handed over the apple turnover. I turned back to Pinkie, who floated down with a balloon in her hand. "How did you- forget about it."
"Have you heard of butterscotch-cinnamon pie?" Pinkie asked in a serious tone and leaned closer to me. Her eyes bulged as she waited for my answer. "No." I replied in a flat tone.
"WHAT!" I covered my ears as her loud shrill echoed. Her hair puffed up for a moment. "You should try some right now!"
"Well, I don't pay too much attention to the Internet nowadays. Trade school and wha'not." I shrugged. Mrs. Cake looked up towards us with an interested look.
"This pie's on the house, Charlie. It's okay." Pinkie reassured. "It's almost like the time I totaled your car."
"What was that?" I raised an eyebrow at her comment.
"Oh, nothing." Pinkie shook her head and quickly thrust a slice of said pie into my face along with my order. I groaned and followed her into a nearby booth. I sat down and looked at the pie in front of me. Knowing that this pie took the internet and swept many hearts away filled me with... determination.
The plate was adorned with a pie with a dull brown filling and a braided crust, topped with powdered sugar, a generous drop of whipped cream and a lone cinnamon stick. I drooled at the scent of butterscotch and cinnamon wafting through the air. The slice called out to me, seducing me with its... saccharine wiles. I wiped off the drool hanging from my mouth and my right hand trembled as it reached out for the fork. Alarms rang in my head and my mind screamed loudly. Thoughts of my first driving exam and the sight of my new apartment plagued my thoughts and filled me with unease.
As I held the fork, my arms and eventually my face was enveloped in a comforting warmth. Even my back felt warm as small jolts flew up my spine. I saw a glimpse of a child waking up to the embodiment of a mother's love and that was more than enough for me to take a bite. A trifecta of flavors assaulted my senses as thick caramel flowed down my lips and mixed with the sweet and nutty pecans, merging into the pale brown butterscotch that ran down my throat. I found myself choking from the cinnnamon, but wanting more as if overwhelmed and possessed.
Filled with adrenaline, hunger drove me to take larger bites and I tore into the rest of the pie like a slab of meat. The crisp texture of the apples and the soft dough joined the butterscotch and the cinnamon and I could swear my stomach screaming "More" in a fitting way.
"So, what do you think?" Pinkie leaned closer. "How is it?"
"I don't like it." I set down the fork, drank the coffee and stood up to and faced Pinkie with a serious look on my face. "I love it. " I said in hushed awe.
"That was a close one." Mrs. Cake gave a relieved sigh. She was about to say another word when the bell chimed and the door opened, announcing the arrival of a baconhead clad in a pink sweater with a red and yellow sun emblem on her chest. Two-toned purple stripes ran down her orange skirt followed by sky blue leggings and a pair of purple-tipped boots.
"Hey, Pinkie." The baconhead greeted her friend and turned towards me. "Charl!?" We flinched and gaped at each other.
"Pinkie!" Pinkie joined in.
I groaned then my eyes rolled backwards as my body fell forward. The last thing I tasted before blacking out was floor ice cream.