After I had washed my hooves and face and plastered up my bigger cuts and scratches, I scanned the kitchen for the recipe books. Eventually I spotted them, on a high shelf, and instinctively tried to use my magic to bring them over to me. Since I had no magic, it didn't work.
I sighed, walking over to the books, rearing up on my hind legs and stretching my front hoof towards them. Though I could reach them, my hoof just scuffed uselessly over the spines.
I was about to give up and ask one of the Cakes to get the book for me when I remembered how Pinkie could somehow grip spoons and whisks with her hooves. I was determined to get hold of the book, whatever it took.
I reached for the book again and tried to prise it off the shelf. It tilted forwards a bit, but then the back corner of the book hit the shelf and it refused to move any further. When I let go of the book it fell back into its original position.
Frowning, I prised it out again before clamping both of my hooves around the book and pulling. My hooves slipped off it and it fell back again. I frowned again.
About ten minutes later, I finally got the book out and using my hooves, flipped to the page on a vanilla Victoria Sponge, which I somehow knew was what I had eaten. I scrolled through the ingredients and trotted over to the fridge, returning with a block of butter and a box of eggs in my mouth. After I had collected flour, sugar, milk and vanilla, I got out a mixing bowl and spoon. I set the oven to the temperature the book stated.
My eyes fell on the first line of the instructions. Cream the butter and sugar in a bowl.
Cream them?
Maybe that means add cream to them, I thought. But there's no cream in the ingredients. But then, who am I to argue with a book?
I went to the fridge and found single, double and whipped cream. Unsure, I decided to use them all.
I put the butter and weighed-out sugar in the bowl and then poured some single cream on them. Then a splash of double cream, and after a bit of struggling with the aerosol, a spray of whipped cream.
The next line read Add the eggs and whisk until light and fluffy.
I frowned. I'd never tasted eggshell in one of Pinkie's cakes, but I decided to follow the instructions exactly and gently put three eggs in the bowl. Then I searched for an electric whisk. I found it, gripped it between my hooves, and switched it to full power.
Only a few seconds later I was standing, speechless, covered from head to hoof in egg and cream. The whisk was still smoking, a large block of butter jamming the whisks.
I quickly cleared up and started again, though I couldn't get the butter out of the whisk. This time I didn't add cream, instead I just mixed the butter and sugar, and broke the eggs first. Soon I had a smooth-looking mix. I returned to the book.
Add a few drops of vanilla and pour in the milk. Beat well with a wooden spoon.
That was easy. Or so I thought.
I struggled with the tiny bottle of vanilla extract, trying to add just a few drops. But my concentration slipped for a second and I poured the whole bottle into the bowl.
There was nothing I could do, and I couldn't start again since I had no vanilla left. So I added the milk, staying entirely focused this time.
Only when I finally pushed the cake mix into the oven in two tins did I take a breather. I had eventually managed to stir the mix, holding the spoon with my hooves (don't ask, even I don't know how I did it). Now, my mane white with flour and the remains of my failed first attempt still splattered over me, I turned to the book again to get started on the cupcakes.
I was still juggling with the cupcakes when the oven timer beeped. I pulled out my cakes proudly; a bit lopsided, but pretty good for my first try. I put the two separate cakes out to cool; I'd sandwich them later. Now I pushed a tray of cupcakes into the oven and with trepidation began to work on the eclairs.
The choux pastry recipe was ridiculously complicated; I was kneading my very sticky dough when the cupcake timer beeped. I turned to the oven, but my dough stuck to my hooves. I shook my hooves, trying to get the dough to fall off them, but it didn't work. I shook my hooves harder, tried to pull it off, stretched it, and finally the dough flew off my hooves to stick fast to the ceiling. But I had no time to worry about that; my cupcakes were burning.
I pulled the tray from the oven in a hurry. The cupcakes were dark brown, with a little bit of black creeping in. I put them on the side, then hurried to sandwich my cake.
I spread jam on one cake and plenty of buttercream on the other and carefully put them together before sprinkling the top with icing sugar. I felt very proud, and was carrying my cake out to the front when the eclair dough fell from the ceiling to land on my head. I cursed and, very slowly, reached up to pull it off, my finished cake balanced precariously on my back. The dough was stuck firmly. I frowned, then jumped a foot in the air as there was a small explosion behind me. I had forgotten to turn off the electric whisk, and it had been smoking away until it finally overheated and exploded.
When I jumped, my cake went flying, to land with cartoon perfection directly on Mr Cake's head as he entered the kitchen.
After he'd cleaned the cake off his face and taken a quick look at his messy kitchen, Mr Cake gently suggested that I take a few days off until I was thinking straight again.
As I left, I couldn't resist a quick bite of my cake, which was lying on the side in a bit of a state. I almost spat it out; the taste of vanilla was overpowering, and I was sure I'd be able to taste it for several days.
It was then I realised that neither Mr or Mrs Cake had looked at me strangely. Looking down, I saw that my changeling-like coat was back to its normal solid state. I smiled, starting to bounce as I headed for the library.
you forgot my latent magic suggestion
2525385 Well I didn't really understand it... so I couldn't use it. Sorry.
Did you spot the reference in chapter 5?
2525415 no can you elaborate i may not have heard of it
2525418 well it was the bit when all the rabbits were putting their paws up- it reminded me of the 'I am Spartacus' thing. If you haven't heard of that, sorry.
2525421 gonna look it up right now but it WAS pretty funny
IM SPARTACUS AND SO'S MY WIFE do you get the referance?
I'm loving the story so far I just want to point out one thing. Ponies don't have hands. In the first sentence of this chapter you said that Twilight washed her hands. Other than that I don't recall any other mistakes. So just keep writing, just keep writing, writing writing writing. What do we do? We write.
I am in love with this story! I also strangely like the idea of the mane six not being able to fix this and Twilight eventually settling into her role as the new Pinkie.
3054339 i your profile pic!