Carrot Cake's Compromising Courtship

by Bronystories


Minestrone Machinations

Carrot Cake flew through the air before landing roughly on the cobblestone road with a thud. His saddlebags landed beside him; their contents spilling on the ground.

“Never set a hoof in my store again, you filthy pervert!” Butter Brickle said, his face flushed red with anger. Traces of Carrot's job interview still lingered on Butter Brickle's mustache. It glistened in the sunlight as the irate blue stallion threatened to call the royal guards.

Carrot busily began to scoop his affects back into his bag, pausing only a moment as he stared at the news clipping that had caused so much trouble.

“I could've sworn that job title had a second 'T' in it.” Carrot said before shoving the paper back in his bag.

Carrot ran down the road as Butter Brickle and his wife threw rolling pins, pots, pans and stoves at him. Buttercup watched this scene unfold through the store window. Her parents soon reentered the store, feeling enraged, yet slightly vindicated.

“What's society coming to when your not even safe from a random facial in your own office?” Butter Brickle said, still fuming as he rubbed his hoof across his mustache in order to clean it, “What kind of social circle creates such degenerates?”

“I bet he's one of those homos.” Buttermilk said, “You know what I'm talking about, dear? Those colts obsessed with homosapians.”

“Oh, right.” Butter Brickle said, “I watched a report Fawkes News did on them. It's a disturbing trend where young stallions sit around all day watching My Little Human; A show clearly intended for young fillies.”

“Those homos all sick. They're all either colt cuddlers or blank flank fiddlers.” Butter Brickle said, growing more enraged, “There ought to be a law!”

Buttercup continued to stock the shelves as she listened intently to her parent's tirade. Their rant was cut short as the bakery door swung open.

“Top o' the mornin' tew ya,' Mr. Butter Brickle,” a young, green colt with a curly, red mane said. He had a cutie mark of a bowl with steam rising from it. On his back were several pots and pans and a rolling pin, “I was strolling down the road when I came across these lying on the ground. They all said 'Property of Butter Family Bakery,' so I thought I'd do the decent thing and return 'em.”

Buttercup ducked behind the shelf, peering out through a space between the boxes.

“Oh, great,” she whispered sarcastically, “It's that jerk Cock-a-leekie O'Soup.” O'Soup had been attempting to court Buttercup for several months now. After she showed no interest, he changed his tactic. O'Soup reasoned that if you can't win over the filly, win over her parents. O'Soup took a big sniff.

“Something smells good!” he said, “Could that be yer new cherry tarts?”

They are,” Buttermilk said, completely enamored by the polite, young stallion.

“Would you like to sample one?” Butter Brickle asked, his previous foul mood all but forgotten.

“Maybe I'll just take it tew go,” O'Soup said, “If I ate it here, I'd want another and another, and before yew know it, I'd eat the whole tray. I couldn't do that. That would be denying the rest of Fillydelphia yer tasty treats.”

“O'Soup, you are a treasure,” Buttermilk said, beaming. Buttercup gagged from behind the counter.

“I dun' suppose the lovely miss Buttercup's about?” O'Soup asked hopefully, scanning the store. Buttercup pushed the boxes together, completely obscuring her from view.

“She was stocking the shelves.” Butter Brickle said, “She must be getting more stock from the back.”

“Another time then,” O'Soup said, “I'd hate tew disturb a working filly.”

“Oh, you disturb me plenty, you two-faced little toad,” Buttercup thought to herself, "What's my life come to? I'm a stocker with my own stalker."

“Speaking of work,” Buttermilk asked, “How's business with your soup cart?”

“Things are going great,” O'Soup said, “As we say in the soup business, 'the Borscht is yet to come!' I just hope tew one day be able to emulate yer family's success.”

“Some days I just wish we could adopt you,” Buttermilk said.

“Well, there are other ways tew join a family,” O'Soup said, a playful smile crossing his lips. A small “eep” escaped Buttercup's mouth. O'Soup's eyes darted towards the sound, but he didn't say anything. His smile grew wider and more thin. He then looked back at Buttercup's parents. They didn't seem to have heard it.

“I think it's time I was off,” O'Soup said, “Thank yew again for the tarts. They are sure tew be a delight!” As O'Soup exited the building, Buttercup slumped down, feeling like she had dodged a bullet.

“That's the kind of stallion our little Buttercup needs to marry,” Buttermilk said, “So honorable. So respectful.” Buttercup put her fore-hooves on her face.

“I don't want to marry that mealy-mouthed worm,” she thought, “I want to marry a colt who's wild and carefree. Somepony like that yellow colt from earlier.”

The yellow colt in question was currently hiding in the bushes outside the front of the bakery. Carrot knew that he literally 'blew' his chance at that job interview, so he was doing his best to stay hidden. What brought him back at all was that cute, blue filly.

“Buttercup was flirting with me, I know it.” Carrot thought to himself, “If I could just talk to her, I could be sure we feel the same way about each other.”

Carrot's thoughts were interrupted as a cart came to a stop in the ally next to the bakery. He could smell the warm aroma of soup.

“Boy,” Carrot thought, “This must be a busy part of town. Even the allies have soup vendors.”

Both Carrot and O'Soup were waiting for Buttercup to leave her parent's bakery. O'Soup was unaware of Carrot's presence in the bushes, but neither knew of the others' motivation.

After waiting for nearly an hour, the two stallions heard Buttercup leave the bakery; a list of supplies in her saddlebags. As she passed by the bush, Carrot was going to call out to her, but was interrupted by O'Soup calling out instead.

“There's my Buttercup,” O'Soup said, “What a coincidence bumping into yew here.” Carrot felt crestfallen.

“She already has a special somepony?” Carrot whispered sadly, “That's just my luck.”

“I'm not 'your' Buttercup, you creepo,” she said, defiantly, “What kind of pathetic loser stalks where I work to try and talk to me?” Carrot felt a sense of hope, that he still had a chance with Buttercup, while at the same feeling embarrassed for meeting her pathetic loser criteria. Not wanting to tip his hand too soon. Carrot stayed put in the bushes and listened to the drama unfold.

“I've told you already,” Buttercup said, “I just want to run a candy kitchen like my parents.”

“Yew've been doing that yew're whole life and yer cutie mark still hasn't appeared. I think the reason why yer flank is still blank is that yew have yet tew embrace yer one trew calling: Soup.” O'Soup said, “Marry me, Buttercup. Become Mrs. Cup O'Soup.”

“Never,” Buttercup spat back, “I'd rather be the Cup used in 'Two Fillies, One Cup' than be your simpering wife.”

“I think yer pigtails may be tew tight,” O'Soup said, moving menacingly closer to her. O'Soup backed her into a corner. Buttercup was wedged between his scalding hot soup cart, and the wall of her parent's bakery. O'Soup's fore-hooves were rested on the wall and his cart, so as to prevent any possible means of escape.

“Cock-a-leekie, let me go this instant, or I'll scream,” Buttercup said, nervously.

“Ah, don't go,” O'Soup said, leaning in closer, “I just want tew Consommé our love. We could make beautiful Vichyssoise together.”

That was a rape threat if ever Carrot Cake heard one. Stepping out from the bushes, he confronted O'Soup.

“You heard the filly, Caca,” Carrot said, trying to sound as tough as possible, “Let her go right now, you Bouillabaisse bully.”

“Stay out of this, String Bean,” O'Soup snapped back, “This doesn't concern yew.”

“String Bean's my cousin,” Carrot Cake said, “The name's Carrot Cake. And it's not hard to see why you're scaring her. Anypony with a face as Goulash as yours should have to wear a bag in public.”

“That does it,” O'Soup said, turning around to face Carrot, “Yew've gone and pissed in the soup, and now O'Soup is pissed.”

Carrot and O'Soup charged each other. Carrot attempted to buck his opponent with his hind legs, but O'Soup was ready and performed a counter move, causing Carrot to flip in the air before falling flat on his back.

“I probably should have mentioned that I have a black belt in Kimchi,” O'Soup said, panting while striking a martial art stance, “Now I'm going tew open up a can of Campell's Cream of Whoopass soup!”

The fight continued, fiercer than before. Every time Carrot would try to land a blow, O'Soup was ready with a counter. O'Soup landed hit after hit. A hoof to the face, a hoof to the gut.

“Stop it!” Buttercup shouted, “You'll kill him!”

Carrot collapsed in front of Buttercup; the blood flowing freely from his nose dyed parts of his coat an orange color that matched his mane.

“Wait one Menudo,” Carrot said, bracing himself against the soup cart as he rose to his hooves. Wobbling slightly, Carrot stood between O'Soup and Buttercup, flecks of blood flying from his mouth as he spoke. “Bring it on, you Gumbo bozo,” he said, “I'm ready for you.”

Carrot changed his means of approach; instead of a direct assault, he kept his long limbs limber and focused on bobbing and weaving, avoiding his opponent's attacks. After wearing him down, Carrot saw an opportunity to connect, and bucked O'Soup right in the jaw. The green stallion flew through the air before landing on some trash bags.

A thin trail of blood trickled from O'Soup's mouth as he got back on his hooves. Wiping the blood away, O'Soup looked at it, then back up at Carrot, who was protecting Buttercup, a look of determination in his eyes.

“Impressive,” O'Soup said, closing his eyes and smirking, “A valiant effort. But I'm afraid it's tew Lentil, tew late. Yew can't hope tew beat me.”

“Hey, Caca,” Carrot said. O'Soup opened his eyes. Carrot had repositioned the soup cart. Standing behind it, Carrot took aim.

“Why don't you make like Pea Soup...” Carrot said as he bucked the cart with all his might, “...and Split.”

“No!” O'Soup cried as his cart careened towards him. O'Soup connected with the cart, which veered out of the ally and onto the road, scalding hot soup sloshing all around the green pony as it sped down the path.

Once Carrot saw O'Soup disappear from sight, he collapsed. Buttercup cradled the yellow stallion's head in her lap as she cried, dabbing at his bleeding nose with her list. Buttercup stayed by his side, watching him breathe.

In Carrot's subconscious, he thought about himself and Buttercup. He knew he was no good for her. She deserved better than a slacker like him. He was way out of his league, but he just wanted her to be happy. Carrot thought that If she wanted to run a candy kitchen, then he would make sure she got her cutie mark!"

After a minute, Carrot Cake awoke. Not knowing where he was, he jumped up and ran towards the road.

“Wait!”Buttercup said. Carrot stopped and turned around.

“I didn't even get to say thanks for rescuing me,” Buttercup said, as a tear ran down her face.

"Now's not the place,” Carrot said, “I don't want another run in with your folks. It would just be... awkward. If you want to thank me for helping you, then meet me at the park tomorrow night. I'll bring dinner, then afterwards I'll make a mare out of you.”

Without a word, Carrot ran off and Buttercup sat there for a moment trying to process the instructions. Her head was swimming. Then without a word she got to her feet, threw her bloodied list in the garbage and slowly walked back to her room, still in shock.