Electric sighed tiredly as she slowly crawled out of her bed. The alarm clock was going off, and had been placed all the way across the room. Why did she do that again? Oh yes, to get her out of bed. It was genius. It was torture. Electric Guitar regretted this fire-proof plan every morning. She crossed the room, bumped into the dresser that the alarm sat on, and finally managed to turn the blasted alarm off. With a groan, she turned and stopped in front of the tall, narrow mirror that was laid against the wall.
The pegasus sighed as she studied her visage, as she did every morning since she was old enough to fuss about her looks. She was pretty enough, but her kept her figure a bit butch, just enough for stallions to be comfortable enough around her to invite her to sports. The natural yellow highlights in her black hair and tail made her seem wild and unapproachable, and after years of being treated as such in her teens, she began to adopt that type of personality because she thought things would never change for her, though she desperately wished it would.
She sighed and gave brushing her wild mane a try. It resisted her first few attempts to behave, but after some struggling, it finally molded the way she wanted it. Taking a look back in the mirror, she gasped. Before her stood a goddess. She had styled her mane as well, the points curling outward. The tips of her mane curled into thick spirals. Electric had never seen herself looking so pretty. She closed her eyes to the image, tears welling up and threatening to fall down her cheeks.
She opened her eyes again, and the image from her imagination was gone. Her regular, stiff hair was still there, just like it always was when she imagined she could make herself pretty. Electric Guitar sniffled, dried her tears, and went to get ready for work.
Butter Ball looked down at the mix of vegetables in front of him in his kitchen at home. Cucumbers, broccoli, squash, tomatoes, all kinds of veggies and fruits he'd need to make a salad. His own patented special spicy sauce was in an airtight container on the far end of the counter. He'd need it soon, but until he was finished he liked to keep loose liquidy stuff away from him. And sealed. Sometimes watertight was best, too.
Butter Ball's kitchen had been outfitted with sheets of metal for every surface. It was absolutely essential, given what happened every time he tried using utensils. Really, anything could be an unintended weapon in his hooves, including the twelve pairs of chopping knives at his left side. He'd need every last one of them, for as soon as he had one knife in his grip, it seemed to slip and become a deadly projectile.
"All right," he said to nopony in particular. "Let's begin." He reached down and grabbed a cucumber. He loved cucumber, so fresh and cool to the tongue. He laid it down on the cutting board before him, then grabbed the knife farthest from him, and set the edge to the middle of the vegetable. He stared at the two objects quietly, letting his unique focus settle on what he needed to do.
As Butter Ball focused, he felt the familiar feeling of his vision and his senses narrowing. There was sight, and there was touch. There was no sound, there was no smell. With his vision darkening everything but the cutting board, the vegetables and the knives, he began.
Butter Ball's knife flew at dizzying speeds. Twenty cuts lengthwise, flip, one cut straight down the middle. Switch to hold the cucumber vertically. First knife is gone. Grab the second one, cut straight down the middle. Next vegetable. Same pattern, same speed. New veggie. New knife. Thirty cuts, straight. Vertical. Horizontal. New knife.
When all was said and done, when all the knives had left their resting place, Butter Ball had created a plate of salad. On it were arranged dozens of the finest cut vegetables that no other chef in Ponyville could even hope to come close to. Butter Ball took in a deep breath, and slowly let it out as his senses returned to him. Now, he thought, let's see the damage.
As he looked around the kitchen, he looked upon what appeared to be the remains of a knife fight movie set. Knives were stuck in the wall, lying prone on the floor, and even a few stuck into cupboards up into the sheaths. But what was perhaps the most surprising was that at least three knives, in their bizarre travels around the room, were stuck straight up underneath Butter Ball's body. With the angle of entry, they should've connected with his back. This was part of Butter Ball's chaotic routine in the kitchen: Defying physics and creating chaos.
Butter Ball let out a light chuckle. He'd been preparing salads and all kinds of food by himself since he was five years old, and not once did this ever not happen to him. Despite dangerous objects flying every which way, despite other ponies sustaining injuries when they were too close, Butter Ball was never once knicked, or cut, or bruised by his own chaotic cooking.
Butter Ball then went about the process of gathering his knives from the wall, ceiling and floor. At least two of his knives would need to be replaced, and they were expensive. It's a good thing he received good pay at his parents' restaurant, where he was due to be working tonight.
Electric counted up her tips. Ten, fifteen, twenty...thirty bits. What a horrible, slow job that barely pays more than a slow day's tips. Some days, she'd make more than twice her daily wage in tips, and some days she'd barely make a quarter of that. Today wasn't so bad, but she'd had three days like this in a row. She had already saved up nearly a thousand bits in the bank, but this was over nearly two years of work. The cost of living in Ponyville without a decent job was one of the slowest, most unrewarding experiences ever. As soon as she got herself back in the singing business, she'd make something of herself and never have to take it slow like this again.
Settling the coin currency into her saddlebags, she made her way wearily out of the restaurant. Wispy Winds wasn't working tonight, so she wasn't in her usual spot to greet guests. Electric supposed it was just as well; she wanted to go home and rest.
The white pegasus glanced down the street. While it was around the same time now as as her incident yesterday, the streets were deserted. She was still apprehensive when she passed the back alley where she'd met that portly pony that managed to save her, scare off those jerks, and manage to summon a tornado of chaos that just wrecked the whole place. She stopped and surveyed the area. It was all clean now - well, as clean as a back alley could be. She shrugged and kept on moving, and had nearly reached her street when her stomach began to grumble. "Yeah, yeah, just wait till we get home..." she trailed off and stopped as a thought came to her.
She turned around, and noticed that the corner of her street stood facing The Silver Dish. Electric began to nibble at the inside of her lower lip, a habit of hers when deliberating. Finally, she shrugged, eliciting a light jingle of the coins in her saddlebag. Why not? she thought. What's an entire day's wage worth if all it does is pay for a fancy meal? A beat. Don't answer that, Trick. Her favorite nickname for herself made her chuckle as she made her way towards the restaurant.
As Electric Guitar stepped inside, the first thing she noticed was the decor. It was tasteful, the walls were decorated with random, soft and subtle shapes that blended in well with the tan walls and dark red border paint. Chairs and tables were neatly placed with room for four to a table, and they were all placed to fit into a diamond pattern.
The second thing she noticed was...no ponies. The lights were on, the tables were set. Heck, even some candles were lit. But the dining room was completely deserted. Weird. Just as well. Saves me bits. Electric shrugged and turned to leave when she heard a great crash from the back. So someone is here? Doesn't seem like they're serving, though...She frowned and looked at the door, and heard another crash. Some shouting this time. It really wasn't her business, but...well, truth be told, she hadn't come for the food. She reminded herself of this as she made her way to the back.
Electric slowed down as she made her way to the door. She nosed it open slowly, and her eyes beheld a familiar scene: It looked like a train or a tornado or some other kind of disaster had come through the kitchen. Pots and pans everywhere, the floor littered with lettuce and other vegetables, some spots of the floor swimming in what looked like soup that was slowly draining. Her eyes were drawn to the center of the large, spacious kitchen as she saw a tall, red-maned pony with similar coloring to Butter Ball pacing back and forth, talking a mile a minute in a tone that was completely unmistakable: fury.
"I can't keep this up, Garde!" he was saying, his words directed to somepony she couldn't see yet. "Every night he's here, it's accident after accident! I know we should be used to this by now, but he's getting worse!"
"He's gettin' betta, honey." came a new, feminine voice. It was a deep, thickly accented voice that reminded Electric of that orange farmer pony who sold apples in town, but different. More twang, and with a hint of Fancy in it. "The betta he done gets, the bigger mess he makes. That's all that be."
"It's too much! Any more injuries, any more damage he makes will put us under, Garde! I...I can't let him cook here any more. We can't take any more losses." There was a deafening silence in the kitchen before the next words came out of the stallion's mouth. "I have to let Butter Ball go. I'm sorry, sweetie, but that's my final word."
"We see about that, connard!" the feminine voice, shouting the last bit, a word that Electric didn't understand. The tone of it suggested it wasn't very nice, though. Deciding she'd eavesdropped enough, the pegasus stepped away from the door and turned to leave. She gasped as she noticed somepony behind her, her heart jumping into her throat. After last night, she didn't want to feel cornered or surprised again.
Instead of a pair of troublesome jocks, however, Electric saw the one pony she wanted to see. Butter Ball had crept in while she watched, and had taken a seat at one of the tables. In his hooves he grasped a bottle that looked like it would cost Electric a month's pay. It was opened, and he was drinking straight from the bottle. "Evening, miss Guitar. I see you've been appraised of my situation." He said in a polite but tired voice as he tilted the bottle in the direction of the kitchen.
"Uh. Yeah. Sorry about that," she said as she approached Butter Ball's table and took a seat. She found Butter Ball's presence comforting, and she wasn't sure if it was simply because he was a likable pony, or if it was because he came to her rescue. "I just wanted to come in and s-get something to eat," she lied. "I...I guess it was a little silly to think the place was open after...well, this," she gestured to the empty dining room.
"Oh. It's all right, no harm done," he offered generously. He took another swig of the wine and made a face, then let out a breath. "Good stuff. I'd hate for this to go to waste." Electric didn't get what he meant until she saw that the tip of the bottle was broken, and he'd been drinking from the sharp tip of the bottle.
"Are you crazy?!" She lurched forward before he could take another sip. He pouted and reached for the bottle before she slapped his hooves away. "Why the hell are you drinking from this? You could really hurt yourself!"
Butter Ball looked at Electric like he could cry. Geez, is he really upset about the wine? she asked herself. No, stupid! He just lost his job! Finding the situation quickly becoming awkward, the pegasus looked around until she found one of the dinner glasses on the table. She poured the wine into the glass, then slid it slowly to the earth pony. "...So you won't cut yourself. Go on." she said comfortingly. Butter Ball bravely held back his emotions as he took the glass, tipped it back, and swallwed the whole thing in one go.
"So, do you wanna get outta here?" Had Butter Ball still been drinking when he heard this question, he might have choked. He stared at her as if she'd just asked if he wanted to see her bed. "...To go talk, numbskull. You look like you could use an ear."
"Oh. Oh. Uh, oh." Butter Ball blushed and held a hoof to his face. "Y-yes. I could probably use an ear tonight, thank you." Electric smirked to herself as she stepped over to help Butter Ball out of his chair. He stood a little wobbly before getting his balance. "This is very kind of you, miss Guitar, you really don't have to-"
"No, I don't, so you're welcome. And what's with the 'miss' crap? Call me Electric, or Trick if you like. C'mon."
The two ambled slowly out of the busy restaurant, and disappeared together into the night air.