A teenage colt, with a yellow coat and an unkempt orange mane, trots down a road in Fillydelphia. It's early in the morning. Celestia is just now raising the sun through the purple twilight as she prepares to lower the moon. The colt looks up and sees the fabled 'Mare in the Moon.'
“Ah, that's kids stuff.” he says, dismissively.
The colt's name is Carrot Cake and, despite having turned 17, has yet to receive his cutie mark. Carrot's not worried about it, though. One reason for his lack of a cutie mark may be that, up until now, Carrot hasn't done much with his life. While other blank flanks run around trying to force their cutie marks to appear, Carrot is a slacker who doesn't do anything meaningful. However, his attitude changed recently when he saw a job opening that plays to his strengths.
Carrot couldn't believe it his luck. He still had the news clipping from the help wanted section in his saddlebags. “Wanted: Skilled masterbaker to assist in bakery. Contact Butter Family Bakery for more information.” This place was looking to pay somepony to perform Carrot's favorite and most private of pastimes. It may have cost him a small fortune in hoof-moisturizing cream and tissues growing up, but his constant clopping was finally starting to pay off.
“What kind of bakery would hire somepony to clop?” Carrot thought, “Maybe they plan to use my 'secret ingredient' for a new salty, sweet treat.”
Carrot arrived at the Butter Family Bakery. The place looked too wholesome for the debauchery which obviously took place here, Carrot thought to himself as he walked in.
Looking around the shop, Carrot's eyes were drawn to a blue filly with pink pigtails stocking shelves. She had her back to him and didn't hear him enter. She was listening to her Walkmane. Carrot thought she must be listening to the latest Maredonna tape. Something about the young mare was hypnotizing. Carrot couldn't help staring at her tight, blue butt as she bobbed in tune to her music.
“She's also a blank flank,” Carrot Cake said to himself.
“Buttercup, dear, we have a customer,” a white mare behind the counter said.
“What, mom?” Buttercup asked, pushing her headphones back.
“A guest,” Buttercup's mom repeated, “See what he needs.”
The blue filly turned to look at Carrot. Their eyes met. Buttercup blushed at the strapping young stallion that stood before her. Carrot blushed as well. Taking her lollipop out of her mouth, Buttercup greeted him.
“Wuh...welcome to the Butter Family Bakery,” she said, “Where we're bursting with buttery goodness! Would you care to sample a cherry tart?” Carrot was doing his best to act professional and not hit on the bosses' daughter.
“I'm,” Carrot said, his voice cracking, “(ahem) I'm here to speak with your father about the job opening.”
“Of course,” Buttercup's mom said, coming out from behind the counter, her long, pale, blond mane bouncing as she walked. She stood beside her daughter, facing Carrot Cake.
“My name's Buttermilk,” she said, “I see you've already met my daughter, Buttercup.” Carrot looked at the daughter. He couldn't believe it; she was licking her lollipop seductively! Her tongue was caressing and wrapping around it, before putting it back in her mouth with a wink. Carrot started to sweat.
“My husband, Butter Brickle, is in his office,” Buttermilk said, “Go on in.”
As he approached the office door, Carrot shot a cursory glance behind him. Buttercup was watching him walk away. Once she realized he was watching her, she returned to her work.
Carrot knocked at the door.
“Come in.” Butter Brickle said. Carrot walking inside and stood there, looking anxious. Butter Brickle, a deep-blue earth pony with a golden-yellow mane and a thick mustache, sat behind his desk, pouring over papers..
“So you're applying for the job.” Butter Brickle said, “What qualifies you for this position over the other candidates?”
“Well sir,” Carrot Cake said, trying to look as professional as possible, “It's said that a dream job is something you love to do, that somepony is willing to pay you to do and you can do it better than anypony else. That's what this job is to me.”
“Hmm,” Butter Brickle mused, “How long have you been perfecting your craft? When did you start?”
“I've had about five years experience,” Carrot Cake said, “It began when I started looking at old issues of Equestrian Geographic. Seeing those photos of indigenous cultures helped stiffen my resolve to pursue this path.”
“I didn't even realize Equestrian Geographic included those types of pictures.” Butter Brickle said, surprised.
“Oh yeah,” Carrot Cake said, smiling, “Round, moist cupcakes, big, sticky buns. The creative things those natives did with melons was so tantalizing that you wanted to reach through the pages and put 'em in your mouth.”
“So you received inspiration by studying delicacies from around the world,” Butter Brickle said, summarizing, “Where did you go from there? How did you first begin to leave your mark?”
“The first time was a fluke,” Carrot said, “I didn't know what I was doing, but I couldn't argue with the results.”
“So your initial experimentation yielded a positive outcome?” Butter Brickle asked.
“Yeah,” Carrot said, “The only downside was that after I finished, I had a big mess to clean up.”
“That's only natural,” Butter Brickle said reassuringly, “In my early attempts I ended up making a mess all over the kitchen. But you see Carrot, that's the wonderful thing about experience. We learn from our mistakes and improve.”
“I'm much neater about everything now,” the yellow colt said, “I take the proper precarious so there's less of a mess to clean up afterwords.”
“Good, good.” Butter Brickle said, commendably, “What technique do you use to knead your dough?”
“Techniques I use on 'my dough,' huh?” Carrot said, musing at his bosses' choice of euphemism, “It's not so much kneading; mainly it involves lots of beating.”
“Beating? Interesting,” Butter Brickle said, jotting down some notes.
“Yeah, you know,” Carrot said,”I like to mix it up. Pull it, slap it, roll it around.”
“How do you fair at setting and achieving goals?” Butter Brickle said, “How much can you produce a day?”
“I used to average between two and three a day, but I wanted to see what my personal best was.” Carrot said, “Working nonstop, with one hoof tied behind my back, I was able to churn out 15 in one day.”
“Well, it sounds like you have a firm grasp on the subject,” Butter Brickle said, “I must say it will be nice to have an experienced hoof like yours around here.”
“I do the best I can with the tools I've got,” Carrot said, humbly.
“I must confess, I had hoped that my daughter would've taken this job, but she never showed any desire,” Butter Brickle said, “My wife and I even showed her how to do it.” Carrot Cake threw up a little in his mouth.
“This is one kinky family,” he muttered to himself, “Don't say anything, though. This job's as good as yours.”
“I think this is going to work out,” Butter Brickle said, “One last thing, though. Would you be willing to show me an sample of your work?”
“What here?” Carrot Cake said, in disbelief, “Now?”
“Yes. Do you think you'll be able to perform?” Butter Brickle said, “I hate asking you to whip up something on such short notice, but I'm quite anxious to taste the results.”
“Whatever floats your boat.” Carrot Cake said,”You're the boss.”
“I'll give you a moment to prepare yourself while I step into the next room to grab some supplies.” Butter Brickle said as he left his office, the door shutting behind him.
“Okay Carrot,” he said quietly to himself, “five years of experience all boils down to this moment. You've got to make a good impression.”
Carrot couldn't start from nothing. He needed inspiration. There were no Equestrian Geographic's here. He needed something, anything to motivate him. Wait! On Butter Brickle's desk. There was a picture of his daughter. Staring at the photo, Carrot could feel himself rising to the occasion. He thought about that cute, blue filly in the pigtails. (clopclopclopclopclopclop) “Mmmph!” The way she seductively licked her lollipop. (clopclopclopclopclopclop) “Hnnngh!” Her tight, blue cheeks...
At that moment Butter Brickle opened the door and started backing in to his office. Clutched in his teeth was a wheeled cart full of ingredients and cooking utensils. He turned around just as his door closed. “Yeeaah!” Carrot Cake screamed. A splat sound was heard coming from inside Butter Brickle's office.
“Oops” Carrot said, sheepishly, “Well, you did say you wanted to try a sample of my work. So, do I get the job?”