//------------------------------// // Apple Pie // Story: Pinkie's Apiecalypse // by Sparkle Cola //------------------------------// Everfree Forest The forest floor muted Twilight’s hoof-clops as she made her way towards Zecora’s hut. However, the predator to her left, who stood a whole head taller, hardly made a sound. Muscular arms swayed back and forth as the creature exuded a casual, confident manner. He knew that his claws, edged as they were with adamantine points, could make quick work of most threats around. Quickly he turned, grinning back at Twilight with his razor sharp teeth. “I dunno, Spike. I still think you are hiding something.” The adolescent dragon rolled his eyes before shrugging. “I don’t know what you want me to say, Twilight. For all we know this could be completely normal.” “And for all we know this is entirely abnormal! I mean, your growth pattern hasn't exactly been linear.” Reaching overhead, Spike snapped off a dry limb before using it to scratch at a spot between his scaly shoulder blades. “Well, last time I checked, a pony’s growth pattern isn’t linear, either," he reasoned. "I mean, they’re called growth spurts for a reason." “Hmm…” Twilight lifted an eyebrow as she studied him. “That still doesn’t explain your radically explosive rate—all during the past three months! In fact, if your rate doesn’t slow down soon you'll outgrow the castle's entrance! I can just see the headlines now: Twilight Sparkle, the Princess of Friendship, had to dismiss her loyal assistant today because his hips go stuck and blocked the castle door!” "Hips? I think you mean my biceps!" Twilight snorted. “I can just see it now!" Spike chortled. "All future tours of the Castle of Friendship are currently postponed until the resident masculine dragon gets his bulky and muscular shoulders unstuck from the castle doors! Starvation diets thus far have proven ineffective. Mares from all around have come to gawk at the sight!." Twilight lifted an eyebrow and studied Spike for a moment. "Until the medics on the scene determined it wasn't the dragon's shoulders that was the problem. It was the dragon's bloated head!" Spike pursed his lips but didn't make a reply. "But that's okay. I can still help you with your resumé. One well mannered but very big-headed dragon applying for work among the other libraries of Equestria. Only libraries with oversized doors need respond." Now it was Spike's turn to snort. "Okay, okay you got me... Twilight Snarkle." Twilight ignored that. "But wait, there's a problem! "No sane librarian would permit a fire breathing dragon near their books!” Suddenly smirking, Spike turned and patted Twilight’s withers condescendingly, taking her off guard. “Well then. That just confirmed something I’ve always wondered about.” “Oh? And what’s that?” “...You are no sane librarian.” “Oh, Hah hah. Fine, then. I'll just install a dungeon below the castle, and leave a door big enough for you down there." They walked on in silence for a moment, before Twilight’s smile began shrink. That last phrase came out a little harsh. Feeling slightly abashed, she looked up to find Spike looking at her anxiously. “You aren’t still worried that this is a relapse in my dragon greed, are you?” Spike looked down at his feet, as they continued down the path. “Because I swear—this is nothing like that!” “No, it’s not a relapse of your dragon greed.” Twilight consoled him. "We've already established that, at least." They walked on for a few more moments in silence, before Twilight looked up again with a smirk. “Spike, the only thing you’re hoarding right now is the fascination from some of the more hormonal mares of Ponyville.” Watching for his reaction, Twilight’s smile grew as she caught him blushing out of the corner of her eye. That confirms it. He's actually noticed. And why not? His developing muscular frame give him quite the striking figure… Spike dropped back down into a quadruped gait, something that he was doing with increasing frequency. “Either way, my growth spurt is probably topping out. Dragon Lord Ember is ten years older than me, and she isn’t much taller than this.” He had a point there. Dragon Lord Ember wasn’t that much bigger. That being said, her growth rate was nothing compared to what had recently happened to Spike. “Oh? And how is the lovely Dragon Lord Ember doing, by the way? Are you still keeping up with your pen-pal?” Twilight giggled. “She’s fine.” Spike rolled his eyes at Twilight’s teasing. “She’s been quite busy lately, settling a dragon clan dispute. I tried giving her some advice on some of the best pony approaches in diplomacy, but she replied that such approaches wouldn't be very useful in a clash between dragons." Spike smiled sheepishly. "Go figure. But she is doing well, all things considered. She’s also been a good source of advice for me.” Twilight’s ears perked up at this and she turned to regard Spike. “Oh? What kind of advice?” Spike looked chagrined for a moment, before he smoothed his features. “Oh, you know… dragon stuff.” Hmm. Now he's being evasive. I need to get to the bottom of this and quit putting this off. Twilight slowed her gait for a tick so she could circle behind him and meet his gaze from the other side. “And, come to think of it, I wrote Ember six weeks ago. Even gave her a sixteen point outline with questions indexed at the bottom regarding my observations of your rapid changes and growth. She never really gave me clear answers on more than half of them.” Spike’s pupils constricted a little. “You wrote Ember about that? Geez Twilight, give a guy some space!” “I was just looking for a little help!” Twilight exclaimed in her defense. “It wasn’t anything too personal, was it?” Twilight's ears folded back in consternation. "Was it?" “No, no… nothing personal,” Spike mumbled. Twilight had known Spike since he hatched from his egg. She knew his every nuance and inflection, as he was every bit like a little brother to her. Observing him now, combined with earlier instances of acting evasive, could only mean one thing: there was something going on, something that he seemed fully aware of, but yet was trying to keep secret. It was high time she tried a little scientific inquiry. Good thing her next two days were rather free. *** “Tarnation, Applejack! What’s gotten into you? Why, back in my day we didn’t run off for some silly bake sale at the end of cider season! That cider press is gonna be hell to clean.” “I told ya, Granny. It’s not a bake sale, and it’s not even a baking contest. This event here is to help Pinkie Pie with something important!" Applejack paused for a second before continuing in a subdued tone. "I jus’ wish I knew exactly what...” Granny Smith missed the end of what Applejack said, but she glared when she heard about the mastermind of the whole thing. “Pinkie Pie? That mare’s nuttier than a squirrel turd.” Applejack chuckled. “She’s not that bad, Granny. Anyways, Big Mac promised he would finish up the rest of the chores this afternoon. That was his way of apologizing for busting up the cart-wagon last night” Granny stood stock-still. “He did what, now? How in Tartarus did he break Betsy Number Two?!” Checking to see if anypony was within earshot, Applejack leaned in to Granny’s ear.  A quick glance over at Shoeshine’s Shop showed that even she planning to participate as she turned her sign from OPEN to CLOSED. “Well, you were probably going to hear this through the grapevine, so I might as well let you know. Last night at Berry Punch’s Tavern, Big Mac was challenged to a wagon pull contest by Stolid Smith.” Instead of looking upset, Granny’s face lit up with a grin. “The town’s new blacksmith? Now we’re talkin! That there colt is my kind of stallion! Got a good chest on ‘im, and a good strong pair of hips!” Blinking for a moment, Applejack simply shook her head before continuing. “Anyway, they were both feelin’ kinda spirited after throwing back a few from Berry Punch’s new Fireberry Whiskey Reserve. As the story goes, they started talkin’ real big, all in front of a sizable group of mares eggin’ the both of them on…" Granny’s eyes gained a calculating look as she watched more ponies converging towards Sugarcube Corner. “Well, good! It’s about time that boy started struttin’ his stuff, especially if it takes a mare for him to do it! And how ‘bout yourself?” Not sure where this was coming from Applejack raised an eyebrow. “…What about myself?” Granny gave her a nettled look. “You still haven’t decided to settle down yet. And neither one of you have had any colts or fillies to help at the farm neither!” “Granny!” “Well, you haven’t! What about this here Stolid fellow?” Applejack gave an exasperated sigh, wondering which got off course faster, this conversation or the cart-wagon last night. She took Granny’s foreleg and began to pull her towards the back of the bakery. “Can we get back to the subject? Big Mac has got the chores covered, like I said.” “Yes well, I’m sure he can handle the outdoor chores, but that boy don't know a thing about getting stuff done around my kitchen. Besides, what about my winterizing?” Applejack rolled her eyes. “Granny, we don’t need to winterize the barn for another two weeks, not until after the family reunion in Appleloosa. We still got the harvest residuals to ship out.” “Who said anything about the barn? I ain’t talkin’ about the barn, I’m talkin’ about ma hip!” Finally arriving at the back door of Sugarcube Corner, Granny Smith froze as she spotted the mare emerging from the kitchen, narrowing her eyes in enmity. The earth pony that stepped out had a light cream coat and a two-tone pink and indigo mane. Apparently, Pinkie’s had named Bon Bon as her sous chef, and apparently there was some kind of tension going on between her and Granny. “Well," Granny glowered, "if it isn’t the confectioner saboteur herself!” Bon Bon’s brilliant blue eyes flashed in icy recognition, and her earth pony musculature tensed under her pillowy exterior. “Granny Smith. We meet again.” The back door was flung open again, ejecting an energetic and bouncing mare of pink poof. Pinkie landed between Granny and Bon Bon, and held out an apron to each, grinning ear to ear. Bon Bon’s apron matched Pinkie's perfectly, while the apron in Pinkie’s right hoof turned out to be two, both a bright apple-red apple color and obviously intended for Applejack and Granny. Applejack took hers and shook it out, reading some impressive embroidery across the front. Pinkie’s Apiecalypse. In smaller letters underneath were the words TEAM APPLE in bold print. “Great, you’ve all made it!” Pinkie crowed. “Go ahead and put these on and we'll get this party started!” Granny and Bon Bon didn’t move. In fact, in the immediate vicinity the temperature seemed to be dropping by a few degrees. Applejack looked from Granny to Bon Bon, growing anxious as the mares seemed like they were about to launch themselves into a blood feud. If her body language was anything to go by, this is how Granny used to act when talking about Grand Pear. Applejack finally glanced up at Pinkie. “Uh. Do ya know anything about this, Pinkie?” Pinkie opened her mouth to reply, but Granny spoke up first, pointing a wobbling hoof up at her nemesis. “Well, this candy-makin’ menace done tainted my pies during the Runnin’ of the Leaves festival three weeks ago! I had no sooner set up my stand when she— ” “ —What?!” Bon Bon huffed. The candy maker glared back at Granny, shaking her hoof in the elderly mare's face. “My candy stand was in full production before you arrived, just downwind of me, I might add! And when my caramel—” “ —You’re darned right it was your caramel! Your careless handling of that boiler—” “ —That’s enough, the both of you!” Applejack interjected. “Granny, I’m sure your pies were edible, even if they were wind-spritzed with caramel. As I recall, you sold out that day!” Granny muttered something else under her breath, something about mares, candy, and a donkey for some reason. “Look,” Applejack continued. “Since we’re here now, can we jus’ get past this business and get to makin’ pies?” Pinkie nodded her head in a blur. “Yep! For today, your business is nothing BUT pies! Let’s get bakin’! Ponyville’s a-waitin’!” She started pushing Bon Bon from behind towards the back door of the bakery again. Bon Bon looked back over her shoulder at the elderly mare. “To take down Miss Matriarch Apple? It’ll be my pleasure.” With that, Bon Bon stopped resisting and nosed her way back into the kitchen. Pinkie Pie followed, but she had no sooner passed inside before her head popped back out again, leaving Applejack with a wink. Shaking her head, Applejack turned her head to look back down at Granny who was smirking back at her. “You okay, Granny? "Okay? I'm fitter than a fiddle! You handled that altercation jus' swell, Jackie! That'll do ya some good when you finally get around to making me some grandfoals!” “What.” “I’m only saying: you showed some pretty good mothering instincts there, Jackie!” Flicking her tail in annoyance, Applejack let out a weary sigh. How was she already feeling tired when she hadn't even peeled an apple yet? “Let’s just get in there and make some pies, Granny. C’mon.” “Yer darn tootin’! Let’s show ‘em how we get it done on the farm!” *** The kitchen was just as she remembered it, intimidating as all get out with its well-stocked glory. Only now there were two chef’s toques, perched at the head of each table. Applejack heaved a sigh while she replaced her trusted Stetson with one of the toques. If the sounds outside the service window were any indication, the dining room sounded like there was standing room only. With a mechanical whir, the scrolling door retracted upwards again as Pinkie wriggled with glee, her hoof on the button. Little by little, a kaleidoscope of colorful ponies was revealed as many sets of eyes looked over, drawn by the movement. As soon as it was open, Pinkie leapt through the window onto the counter, nearly kicking the register with her back hoof. Bewildered, Applejack scratched at her mane. Why didn’t she just use the Tartarus-darned door? Pinkie tapped the microphone a few times to get the room’s attention, which seemed unnecessary, given her unique entrance. “Okay, everypony. We've got the bakers! We've got the apples! We've got the Apples! Now that we are set, first pies are up in forty-five minutes!” Pinkie’s announcement seemed to cue up a music set from DJ Pone-3, as Vinyl Scratch had apparently set up her system off in the corner of the room. The ponies all cheered as festivities were launched into full swing. Applejack leaned further and further out of the window as she panned her head from side to side, taking in more details. Banners were hanging everywhere, professionally printed with colorful logos representing either Team Pinkie or Team Apple. Further inspection showed numerous sponsors printed beneath the main lettering, including brand names advertising products such as Sparkle Cola and the new energy drink, Hydra. All of the tables were decorated in tablecloths of either pink or light orange, and balloons and signs were everywhere. Pinkie’s Party Planning Agency, now a national brand, had obviously set up and catered the event, and had tapped many of its connections to do so. It was all very impressive. Applejack shook herself from her thoughts as Thunderlane swooped down with a notepad and pencil. “Okay, everypony!” His deep voice boomed out. “Cloud Kicker and I have established the line, and we’ve got 3:2 odds for Team Pink winning the vote! Place your bets, everypony! Place your bets!” Before he finished speaking, Cloud Kicker had started sweeping around the room, responding to various hooves that popped up to log their bets. Before long, she paused in her writing to growl something out to Thunderlane, her pencil still firmly clenched in her teeth. “Hey Thndrhd!” Cloud Kicker sit her pencil back out. “Get your flank to the other side of the room and help me! Pinkie didn’t miss a beat as she watched the two work the room. Before long, she turned a manic smile back towards the kitchen. "Let's DO THIS!" *** Applejack was bouncing back and forth between two appliances, going from peeling apples to slicing them in a flash that would impress even Rainbow. The only problem was that Granny was situated between the peeler and the slicer, and she wasn't about to ask the mare to move. Nopony could make a flakier crust than Granny, but since she had chosen the exact middle of the work table to roll out her pastry dough, Applejack work around her as best as she could. “Keep ‘em coming, Granny!” Applejack hollered, swapping yet another peeled apple with a fresh one. All things considered, she had a good system going. Applejack would knock a peeled apple off into the basin and pop a new one on while the tines of the peeler were still spinning, repeating the process until about thirty apples were denuded. Then, with the basin held in the crook of her foreleg, she would whirl to Granny's other side and slap the slicer on over her wrist, pounding her hoof up and down like a pile driver. Once that was done, she had enough fruit prepared to fill four pie shells after being tossed with sugar, cinnamon, lemon juice, and butter. Allowing her attention to wander for a moment, Applejack gawked at Pinkie and Bon Bon as they worked. Pinkie displayed uncanny efficiency, never wasting a movement, never missing a moment. All four of her hooves displayed a fantastic economy of movement, as she used her rear hooves to drag apple crates near before kicking them away the next moment, or using the same hooves to reach back into drawers and retrieve utensils without even looking. The rate at which she was churning out dough was stunning. Bon Bon didn’t use her tail or her rear hooves, but what she lacked in dexterity she made up for in strategy, kitchen expertise, and speed. Her earth pony muscles twitched with exquisite control as she deftly maneuvered fruit, spices, and bowls, all seeming to move on their own in a perfect assembly line. Taking quick stock of her own team’s output, Applejack redoubled her efforts. Granny wasn’t likely to keep with Pinkie’s frenetic pace, but she couldn’t do a whole lot about that at the moment, putting her head down to push her own speed to the max. Finally, breathing out a sigh of relief, Applejack affixed the last pie with a pie-shell top, only to find that Pinkie and Bon Bon had already closed their oven door and were giving each other a high-hoofing. Applejack grumbled as she slammed the last of the first twelve pies into the oven. How Pinkie rope her into this again? Once the door slammed shut, Granny trotted up to Bon Bon, meeting her snout to snout. “That’s right! Yer gonna have to get up earlier than that if you want to come out on top against the Apples!" "Uh, Granny, they finished their first batch before us." Pretending that she didn't hear, Granny continued. "But where you're really gonna fall short is on taste! Whether or not you really do have a degree from the Culinary Institute of Canterlot, which I doubt!” Bon Bon looked down her nose at Granny before pushing the mare back with a hoof. “Why don't you back up just a step? No one gets up earlier than the Candymare,” she retorted. “Because I know the truth. Colts and fillies don’t really want your apples unless they’re covered in my sweet caramel.” Bon Bon’s smile grew wide and menacing. “This mare gets up early enough to defeat your saggy crusted crepe.” “Crepe?” Granny screeched. “Insult my pie in Prench? I’ll give you saggy crusted, you no good, bouncy-flanked floozy!” Before Pinkie or Applejack could step in between the two mares, that back door to the kitchen sprang open again, this time permitting a bright orange pegasus to pop in, tossing her fuschia-colored mane. “Hiya, Pinkie! ...Applejack? What are you—Bon Bon and Granny Smith? Wha-what are all of you doing in here?” Scootaloo looked from mare to mare in surprise, apparently unaware of the pie contest. “Hey Scootaloo!” Pinkie beamed. “Are you here to cast your vote in the 1st Annual Ponyville Apiecalypse?” “A pie called what now?" Scootaloo shook off her confused expression before continuing. "Uh, no. I was just wondering if any of you have seen—” “ —Who, Rainbow Dash?” Applejack grinned as she dabbed her forehead with a towel, sizing up the younger mare. Scootaloo pouted.. “Hey! Just because I’m asking for somepony, doesn’t mean I’m lookin’ for Rainbow Dash!” She continued scowling for a few moments, before giving up the facade. “So, yeah... do ya know where she is or not?” Applejack set down her towel and walked up while Granny set about preparing the table for the next batch. “Listen, I don’t know where that speedster is, but I do need a favor from ya.” Applejack brought Scootaloo under a muscular foreleg, pulling her against her side. “Could ya find Applebloom real quick for me?” “Uh, yeah, we just arrived and were looking to see what all the commotion was about. I left her hanging around the front entrance.” “Well, run and get her for a minute. Just tell her that big sis says this is a matter of defending our family honor…” “So, you all are making pies for a contest? What’s the prize for the winner?” Applejack held Scootaloo at arm’s length for a second. “No time for questions! Just get Applebloom, so she can help us against Team Pink over there.” Applejack pointed a hoof at Bon Bon and Pinkie who were busy getting their table ready as well. Smirking, Scootaloo gave a little hop. “So it IS a pie contest! That’s cool, anything I can do to help? I’m up for anything!” Trying her best to not allow her element of honesty to get in the way, Applejack struggled to keep a straight face. “Well, this here team’s called Team Apple, and we uh… really just need another Apple on it. But maybe you could… uh, Pinkie? Help me out here.” Pinkie looked up, chiming in without skipping a beat. “Hiya, Scoots! Why don’t you and Sweetie Belle help Pumpkin and Pound Cake serve the pie to all of our taste testers! They’re going to need help handling the numbers out there." She finished in a sing-song voice. "Servers also get to help themselves to all of the left-over pie…” “Sounds good Pinkie! I’ll be right back!” Scootaloo turned on her hoof and began to speed back out the door. Applejack trotted forward, leaning her head out the door and calling after her. “Hustle up now. Remember, family honor!” Closing the door and joining Granny at Team Apple’s table, Applejack shot Pinkie Pie and Bon Bon an apologetic look. “You don’t mind none, do ya sugarcube? Granny and I don’t seem to know our away around your kitchen as well as you do.” “Don’t talk nonsense, Jackie.” Granny looked up, patting her granddaughter’s shoulder. “Truth of the matter is I’m about thirty years past my prime, an’ I just can’t move as fast as I used to.” Pinkie waved off their concerns. “Nah, that’s fine! I won’t penalize ya for adding Applebloom to your team. “Buuuut…” “But what?” Applejack asked nervously. Pinkie turned around with a transparent baggie held up with one hoof. “You're not allowed to add anypony else without a penalty!" “Uh, what are those?” “Ghost peppers!” *** Zecora’s enchanted tree-like hut came into view as Twilight and Spike rounded the corner. Smoke was floating up from an outlet near the top of her hut, and Spike smiled in nostalgia. It had been months since he had last visited here. While the aesthetic was vastly different, and on a much smaller scale, it still triggered memories of the old Golden Oaks Library where they used to live. Spike knocked on the front door a few times, and after a brief moment, a familiar voice rang out from inside. “Welcome my guests, don’t wait ‘til you’re blue. Just open the door ‘cause I can’t leave my brew!” Spike and Twilight both smirked as they listened to Zecora’s peculiar habit of speaking in rhyme. Twilight’s magic pushed open the door allowing them to take in the familiar view of lit candles, colorful hanging vials, and floor-to-ceiling shelves stocked full of jars, containers, and books. At the moment, Zecora was precariously perched at the edge of her caldron with a hoof upturned in front of her face. After her eyes tracked to her visitors and lit up in recognition, Zecora focused on the caldron again. With a short breath, she blew some sparkling dust from her hoof into the bubbling brew below. Once the dust made contact, the potion began to roil with golden arcs of energy. After watching the process for a few more seconds, Zecora nodded in satisfaction before turning to give a warm smile to her visitors. “Princess Twilight, I know you well. But what of your assistant? Hexed by a growth spell?” Twilight grinned as she glanced at Spike before turning back to the Shaman. “Not as far as I can tell, Zecora. We just have a healthy and growing dragon on our hooves.” She nudged her assistant, poking him in the ribs. “Right Spike?” Smiling sheepishly, Spike scratched the back of his neck with a claw. “ Uh, yeah… Healthy!”          Zecora took a few measured steps forward, studying Spike the entire way. She cocked her head to the side, one hoop earring brushing her shoulder as she studied his physique before meeting his gaze again with an appraising eye. Spike swallowed, not exactly comfortable under the scrutiny of the shrewd Zebra. “Healthy and growing - so you say. But might some other power hold sway?” Zecora circled around behind Spike, her steps somehow taking a precise rhythm with the cadence of her speech as passed to his other side. “Some other method, or something new?” Zecora intoned, now meeting his gaze again from the other side. “Another reason for speed that he grew?” Spike fought to keep up his stoic façade, but internally his fires were starting to churn. It was like Zecora had already caught on to his secret. His mind raced so that he might put her off the scent. They would all know his harmless gambit in due time, but he didn’t want the truth to come out just yet. Specifically, he wasn’t ready to hold that particular conversation with Twilight just yet. Puffing out his chest and folding his muscular arms, he decided to go with what had been working thus far—operation obfuscation. So far he had been able to take advantage of a general lack of information on dragons. It was Dragon Lord Ember that had told him what he needed to know. “Well, I am a dragon after all.” Spike maintained, opening a palm and holding it out in a plaintive gesture. “Dragons don’t stay small forever, it’s just one of those inevitable things, right?” “Hmm.” Zecora gave Spike another moment to sweat before she gave him a quick wink and turned towards Twilight again. “And so, young Princess, this is the reason you came out to see me so late this fall season?” Twilight gave a slight cringe before removing her coat, her ears folding back in chagrin. “Actually, we are visiting because of me.” She turned slightly so that Zecora could see her back half and the singed remains of her once beautiful tail. “Let’s just say I was standing too close to a furnace while I was distracted… and that furnace suddenly sneezed.” Spike held up a finger in his defense. “Only because it tickled my nose while I was asleep!” “Yes, Spike.” Twilight sighed, before continuing her story. “I accidentally grazed his nose with my tail while I was stretching out after a long night of study. Bottom line, my tail wound up teleported to Canterlot, just in time to garnish Princess Celestia’s breakfast.” Zecora could only blink for a moment, before trying and failing to stifle her laugh. “So you… then he…and then she...” Zecora continued to chortle for a few more moments before wiping her left eye with a hoof. Twilight only stared straight ahead, her expression stoic like the Captain of her Guard, Ms. Berrytwist. Turning around, Zecora trotted over to the shelves in the back of her hut where she kept some of her more popular brews, which she now sold to the residents of Ponyville for a nice profit. She nosed around on her cosmetics shelf until she snatched a small blue bottle, turning around with a smile and holding the bottle up as she spoke. “For you, my Princess, you may require a brew to replace what was lost to the fire.” She walked back to Twilight, holding the bottle out so that Twilight could see the silver label with blue lettering. “For twenty-five bits, you’ll have nopony to blame. Your tail will grow back with this dose of Roam-mane.” Spike scoffed, looking at Zecora’s proffered bottle dubiously. “Romaine, huh? Sounds more like a vegetable. Why don’t you call it Re-Mane? You know, ‘cause it regrows a pony’s mane?” Zecora glared as she pulled the bottle back, stroking it’s cap in a loving manner. Twilight got between the two and cleared her throat to get the topic back on track. “That would be great, Zecora. I’ll take it. Just bill me at my address. Now, are there any special instructions or interactions I should avoid?” Zecora passed the bottle over to Twilight’s magical aura. “There on the bottle the instructions you’ll find. And also some warnings, to these you should mind! Add some mane clippings, and mix them in well. And you’ll soon see a potion work better than your spell.” Twilight raised an eyebrow, but she brought the unassuming bottle closer, reading through the warnings. “Thank you, Zecora. I’ll just follow your instructions, then.” Spike rolled his eyes as he watched her put her coat back on, threading her wings through the wing slits. He was glad his dragon physiology made the uses of winter coats almost completely unnecessary. “Yeah, just like you followed the instructions and burned the water while trying your hoof at spaghetti, eh Twi? Twilight’s ears turned down as she made to reply through her teeth. “Spike? I thought we agreed to never mention the noodle incident again…” She began to not so subtly nudge him towards the door as he held up his claws trying to stave off her horn. “Heh, I never agreed to that. It was totally hilarious!” Twilight finally succeeded in bodily moving him through the now open door, but he spun around her really quick and continued his story for the bemused Zecora, poking his head back in. “You should’ve been there, Zecora! Poor Daisy was peeling half-cooked noodle paste off of her back windows for a couple of hours! I didn’t even know pasta could fly that far!” Twilight used her magic to lift her assistant that was being more of a royal pain than a loyal friend and deposited him to the side before turning to give Zecora some final words. “Magic is a perfectly appropriate shortcut to bring water to boiling.” Twilight turned to regard the dragon behind the door, thrusting her nose upwards in a perfect impression of some of the Canterlot elite. “It’s just that one needs to calibrate the magic properly.” Spike popped his head back through the door, this time pushing through under Twilight’s upturned chin and between her neck and the doorjamb. “I guess somepony was too hungry to calibrate! Anyway, thanks a bunch, Zecora!” He waved before ducking back out of the doorway again, causing the the Zebra to shake her head at the juvenile antics of the both of them. “Stay out of trouble, and I’ll send you the bill. And give my regards to all Ponyville.” She could still hear the young alicorn and her mischievous assistant as they continued down the path,bantering about the appropriateness and ethical use of magic for all things mundane. *** The votes had been collected, and all of the bets had been secured as the hour wound down to the big announcement. It was just past lunch, that turned out to consist mostly of pie as most ponies had decided to push back whatever other projects and errands they had for that day in lieu of hearing the results of the vote. At precisely 1 PM, Vinyl drew her set to a close and sat back, making eye contact with Mrs. Cake and giving her a nod. Mrs. Cake hurried over and thanked the DJ for the microphone before turning to address the excited crowd. “Okay Dearies, now simmer down!” Mrs. Cake suddenly looked embarrassed as all eyes in the room suddenly focused on her. Her light blue complexion colored a bit as she cleared her throat. “Now, I know you all need to get back to your Saturday errands and chores, so it’s time to announce the results! Has everypony voted?” A series of cheers went up indicating the affirmative, so Mrs. Cake went on. “Okay, then! Mr. Cake and I have been in the back, and we unlocked the bottom drawer of the ballot box—” “ — Is that the only drawer you unlocked? What else was going on in the back?” Cloud Kicker called out, much to everypony’s amusement. Mrs. Cake batted at an earring, her face coloring a little bit more before she cleared her throat loudly and resumed. “All of the counting was done in the presence of witnesses, including Pumpkin Cake, Pound Cake, and Mayor Mare. All we are waiting is for Mr. Cake—oh, there he is now.” Mr. Cake was walking up from the back room with two cards in a hoof, but his face was drawn tight with anxiety. At the same time, the two baking teams emerged from the kitchen to observe from behind the food service counter, all nervously shuffling their hooves except for Pinkie, who was doing a quick inventory of several stacks of uneaten pies, rubbing her chin with a hoof. “What is it, Pinkie?” Applejack whispered. “What’s wrong?” “Nothing. Only…” She rubbed at her mane vigorously with a hoof. “There are so many pies left! I must’ve done my math wrong, but I could’ve sworn I used the Jordan measure correctly, so my Reimann Integral calculations should’ve been spot on.” Mr. Cake was urgently whispering in Mrs. Cake’s ear, and as he continued to whisper and gesticulate, the crowd began to grow a little restless. Mrs. Cake’s expression began to morph from skeptical to fearful, but her head was turned so that only Applejack and her fellow bakers could see it. While Mrs. Cake was whispering her reply yet again, Pinkie bounded up and snatched the two ballot tallies from Mr. Cake’s hoof. With another bound, she had snatched the microphone from his wife. Applejack glanced from Pinkie over to Granny, only to notice that she and Bon Bon were glaring at each other again. In another second, Pinkie was standing on the counter again, holding a bright pink envelope and a light orange envelope over her head and waving them around in excitement. She didn’t notice Mr. and Mrs. Cake desperately trying to flag her down. “Okie Dokie Lokie, everypony!” Pinkie began to pace back and forth on the counter, comically missing that the Cakes were right on her heels from the floor. “The ballots are in, and the votes have been counted. It is time to finally announce the Ponyville Pie Champion! Time to indicate the winner of 400 bits! Now we crown the best baker of Ponyville! Official bragging rights for the ages! Alicorn status for the future! And heir to all of Equestria!” Mr. Cake face-hoofed while Mrs. Cake was trying to call out to get Pinkie’s attention, but without the microphone, her voice was drowned out in Pinkie’s monologue. Holding a light orange card overhead, an exact match for Applejack’s coat, Pinkie waved it around frantically. “The final tally for Team Apple comprising of Applejack, Granny Smith, and Applebloom over there…” Pinkie ripped the top off of the envelope and pulled out the card. “Team Apple has a final tally of… one hundred and twenty-eight votes. Way to go, Apples!” The announcement was followed by a deafening cheer, both inside the dining room and now coming from ponies standing around outside of the building, having drawn attention from more ponies than could possibly fit inside. Mr. Cake added a second hoof to his face and ducked his head, stalking back towards the back room again. Meanwhile, while Mrs. Cake stood transfixed, both hooves in front of her mouth. Pinkie only beamed, pumping her hoof repeatedly in an effort to excite the crowd and draw out more cheers. Finally, Pinkie lowered her hoof and held up the pink card with a grin, eliciting another cheer before the ponies finally quieted down to a hushed murmur. Giggling again, Pinkie lowered her voice into a whisper. “If you haven’t figured it out, all of Team Apple’s pies were served on the yellow paper plates! Like her mane!” That brought a mixed cry of dismay from some and cries of recognition or elation from others. Pinkie plowed on ahead, this time not letting the room quiet down all the way. “And now for Team Pink!” She lowered the pink card from overhead, ripping it open. Mrs. Cake was trying to clear her throat to get Pinkie’s attention, but either Pinkie didn't hear or she didn't care. “The final tally for Team Pink—pies that were served on the reddish pink plates…” Pinkie paused to poof her mane out a little. “...is one hundred and twenty-EIGHT votes! Hah-ha! Huh?” The room erupted at first into a roar, but then the sound broke into uneven chaos as ponies started shouting exclamations and calling for clarifications and for the rules on tiebreakers. Several ponies then went straight for Thunderlane, who immediately took to the air, waving his hooves and trying to allay fears and answer questions of the ponies who had made wagers. “Now hold on, everypony!” Pinkie’s call through the mic was answered by a feedback squeal from Vinyl’s sound system until she leaned forward to turn down a dial, giving an embarrassed grin. The noise effectively brought everypony’s attention back to Pinkie, leaving the room was silent with an tense anticipation. All ears stood ramrod straight as they waited for what Pinkie would say next.  “Eh heh, it sounds like we are going to have a tie-breaker round. And… well, look at all of those UNEATEN PIES!” “Wait a minute!” Cloud Kicker shouted, springing out of her seat and flapping over to the counter Pinkie was perched on. Pinkie’s eyebrows shot up, but she passed the microphone over to the current head of the Ponyville weather team. “Ahem.” Cloud Kicker cleared her throat, making sure all eyes were on her before she fixed her mane a bit. “Now. A tiebreaker round is only good if we can get more ponies in here to vote. But if ponies go out and recruit their friends, especially ponies that have already made a WAGER, what is to stop them from tipping them off? They could potentially stack the vote!” Thunderlane flew up to join her, wresting the microphone from her hooves. “That’s right! And now everypony knows that the yellow plates were for Team Apple, and the other plates were for Team Pink! Someone needs to get plates of another color!” As Thunderlane was propelling himself further and further above Cloud Kicker’s head, she simply tugged the cord of the mic straight down, catching it in her hooves nonchalantly. “Hey doofus! That will take too long, and there may be other ways ponies could use to tip off the vote! Let’s just blindfold mayor mare and have her cast the final vote!” Raindrops flew up, getting in Cloud Kicker’s face. “You mean the Mayor Mare that is sitting right over there? She already voted!” Raindrops pointed to the mare in question, who was sitting in the corner and nibbling on another piece of pie. More voices began to call out ideas or suggestions, and the room steadily grew more chaotic, until Granny cliimbed up on the counter and yanked the microphone down by the cord, popping it out of Cloud Kicker's hooves. “We don’t need no highfalutin’ tie-breaking vote!” The shrillness of Granny’s voice brought the room’s attention over to her. She pointed an accusing hoof at Bon Bon. “What we need is to penalize Bon Bon and her team here by five votes! Back when we was a-cookin’, Bon Bon here propelled some flour right up my nose! I couldn’t help but sneeze it all out and the mess ruined a whole batch of pie filling!” Inexplicably, the sound of a record scratch squawked out of Vinyl’s speakers, but beyond that, the entire gathering became deathly still. Regardless of coat color, many in attendance began to look distinctly green. Thunderlane and Cloudchaser both landed with a thud, while Lilly stood up and shouted, “The horror! The horror!” before fainting and falling across a stricken Roseluck’s lap. Granny waved her hoof overhead frantically to get everypony’s attention again. “No, no, no! The penalty should apply only ‘cause I had to throw that batch out! Straight into the waste bin, I tell ya! Then I had to sanitize my workstation!” This news was greeted by a collective sigh of relief. With a bounce, Bon Bon suddenly jumped up on the counter, deftly snatching the mic away from Granny. “That’s only because she started it! Don’t mistake this old mare for a saint! She smeared some shortening across my rear hoof when I wasn’t looking, and when I took my next step I slipped and landed right on my earth pony cushion!” She tapped her rump with a hoof. “Fell right into the sugar bin and covering my sweet flanks in something sweeter!” She wiggled her well-rounded hips for emphasis, sharpening the attention of not a few ponies. “She should be the one penalized by ten votes for almost making me break my hip!” “Ten vote penalty? How about I break a pie on your face?” At this point, Applejack grabbed a hold of Granny and brought her back down behind the counter. “Hah! That’s about all your pies are good for!" Bon Bon pointed a hoof down imperiously. "They’re only fit to be projectiles, unless they have a little of my caramel topping!” Amazingly, Granny began hopping in place, her little head bobbing up and down from behind the counter. “Lemme go, Jackie! I need a pie!” Nopony knew who threw the first shot. There are legends to this day of how it all began. Some claim it was Lyra who had telekinetically positioned a pie to foil Granny, before she could launch her first volley. Others say that Granny’s throw flew first, but went wide and hit Mayor Mare instead, upsetting her entourage. Suffice to say, the great Ponyville Pie War had begun.