Gifts from Old Friends

The sun was just setting past the Manehattan cityscape, the tall buildings blocking out the light long before Luna was even halfway to the visible sky.
Most ponies here are done with work for the night. Their high classes parties are just starting on one half of the city, while the low class just start their jobs.
There's an underworld here in Manehattan. Poor ponies with nowhere to go trot down the poorly lit streets, dealing out good times to those who can afford it or getting into fights over who can and who can't.
To Butcher though, these fights hold no intimidation.
Butcher's a relatively small guy, he lacks the powerful build and thick muzzle of most stallions. In fact, if it were not for his voice most everypony who met him would think him a mare.
But he fears no stallion.
He's a strange pony, even walking in a strange way. Seeming almost to be trying to avoid the ground, his hooves swing behind him as he trots. It's a bizarre sight, as though he were hanging from strings.
His bright yellow coat and gold eyes match that of the dim lights that direct him away from home and towards his work.
He's not like his 'low class' neighbors. He's got a good job, one that could buy him a pie in the sky.
He's a chef. A very talented, highly sought after chef.
The lights get brighter as he approaches the high class neighborhood. Seems those who can afford it like the safety of the light.
That is why Butcher lives where he does.
"Butchy! Daaarling!" Oh Celestia, what an accent.
The lovely, yellow pony strutting towards Butcher seems average enough and had she not used his name he probably would've walked by her.
"Masquerade!" Butcher's heart skips a beat. Masquerade is one of his best, and most wealthy, customers. Any night with her is a good night.
The pair press their muzzles together for a moment before trotting though a barred door under a sign reading "The Slaughtered Kelpie." Inside the decor makes the Everfree Forest look like the interior of Celestia's palace...
The walls are draped in beautiful but strangely dyed silk, it's hue is red but its dye seems to be browning in some areas. The windows are tinted and their frames decorated with colorful wooden beads. Or at least...they appear to be wood. They also appear to have a striking resemblance to teeth....
Butcher leaves his customer in the care of one of his staff and enters the kitchen, his normally bizarre gait only becoming stranger as he prances and hops joyously towards his favorite place in the restaurant...the freezer.
Inside are colorful boxes, labeled with their sources but lacking in content information.
Appaloosa, Canterlot, Fillydelphia....Hmmm, whats this?
Butcher runs a hoof over the label on a particularly bright pink box.
'Ponyville.'
His place-of-birth.
He can't help letting his tongue slide out, slipping it over his clearly sharpened teeth as the memories flood back.
His source from Ponyville never lets him down. They DID grow up together after all.
The rock farmer and the blank flank.
Why...They got along like hot sauce and pastries!
He pries open the box, his little heart pounding wildly against his chest as the colored wood gives way, exposing it's mouthwatering contents.