“Hey, Ditto, how ‘bout another Yahooves?” Juice asked. Butter wouldn’t have melted in his mouth.
Ditto squinted at his brother through his glasses. “...kay,” he said, never once breaking eye contact as he picked up a piece of paper. “This Yahooves Nights Mystery comes to us from --”
"Drg-dr-dggd-dr-dg-dg-dt," Juice rumbled.
Ditto pursed his lips. "Comes to us from --" he tried again.
"Chug-chgga-dr'chn-ch-chg," Juice said.
Scraps giggled. "I think your microphone's got some feedback there, Juicer."
“CJGHW'CHGA-WGGACHGGA-CH-CHGGA'DR-CHGG, I WANNA MUNCH!” Juice yelled.
“Squad!” Scraps cheered.
“Squad,” said Ditto, a reluctant smile twitching at the corners of his mouth as he set the paper back down.
“I WANT TO MU-UNCH.”
“Squad!” both of his brothers chorused.
Juice grinned. “Welcome to Munch Squad, a radio show within a radio show where we bring you the latest and greatest in fast food innovations.”
“Uh, for those new human listeners out there, please remember that thing about not taking anything we say seriously,” Ditto added.
“Yeah, you gotta have a real liberal use of air quotes,” Scraps agreed.
“This month!” Juice began. “As we enter the hot, lovin' summer, here’s a line of new perfumes and colognes guaranteed to drive your lover wild.”
“Oh Celestia,” Ditto said.
Scraps gripped the side of the table, nibbling at his lip. “And -- and who exactly is making this fabulous innovation, Juicer?”
Juice grinned broadly at his brothers. “Why, the good folk at Hayburger, of course!”
“Oh, fuck me!” Ditto groaned, putting his head in his hooves.
“Well, that’s what they seem to be claiming your partner will say once you apply one of their new signature scents, based on their new menu offering -- the Double Tofu Hayburger.”
“Oh, no!” Scraps said. “Oh, no no no!”
Ditto merely groaned again, louder this time.
“Now -- now boys,” Juice said, shaking with barely-suppressed laughter. “I want to play a game with you.”
“Is it like the game in Saw?” Ditto asked. “Please say yes, I don’t want to live in this world anymore.”
“No, no, nothing like that. There are seven scents in this delicious new lineup, and I want you boys to take your best guess at what they might be.”
“Okay,” Scraps said. “Uh, hay.”
“Yep, that’s one,” Juice said.
Ditto nodded, his lips a firm line. “Mmkay. That’s not so bad. Smell like fresh-cut grass, some creatures like that. Uh, I’m gonna say tofu.”
“Yep, yep,” Juice said.
“Uh…” Scraps scrunched up his face. “...Bun?”
“Mm, mm-hm!” Juice said, his lips pressed tight together.
“Now you too can smell like fuckin’ bread,” Ditto said. “This is dismal, Juice. This is super upsetting.”
“Now, hold on,” Scraps said. “Fresh-baked bread smells great!”
“Uh, yeah. Fresh-baked bread does. Hayburger buns that’ve been defrosted and sitting out for a couple hours? Not so much.”
“Okay, agree to disagree,” Scraps said charitably.
“Four to go, boys,” Juice interjected.
“Oh, Luna. Uh, lettuce?”
“Yeah, that’s on there,” Juice said.
“Alright, that’s not so bad--”
“What about ketchup?” Scraps asked.
“Oh, no,” Ditto said, his eyes going wide. “Oh, please no.”
“Yep, you can buy ketchup-scented perfume,” Juice said.
“OOOOOHHHHH, NOOOOOOO!” Ditto howled. “No, no, no!” He looked from one brother to the other. “No! Discord no!”
“Shouldn’t that be Celestia no?” Scraps asked.
“Celestia had nothing to do with this one,” Ditto said. “Fuck. Please tell me mustard isn’t on there? Because mustard gas is, uh, a little much even for this segment.”
“No mustard,” Juice confirmed.
“Thank Cadance.”
“You can, however, buy cheese-scented --”
There was a sudden clattering as Ditto pushed away from the microphone, rose from his chair, and left the room.
Scraps leaned into his own microphone. “Well, um. Ditto’s left. He, uh…”
In the distance, the clear sounds of Ditto yelling, “No, no, no!” were audible.
“He’s left,” Scraps repeated. He looked at Juice. “So… just to be clear here, you mean Amareican cheese?”
“Uh, it doesn’t get that specific, Scrapper, but I don’t think they do any other kind.”
“Not a nice cheddar, maybe, or a blue cheese?”
Juice stared at him. “You’d rather have it smell like blue cheese?”
“Listen. It’s pungent, yes. But! It’s also very pleasant.”
Ditto stormed back into the room and threw himself into his chair. “Alright,” he said. “Last one?”
“Yep.”
“Pickles.”
“Nope.”
“Sesame seeds.”
“Presumably part of the bun.”
“Tomato?”
“The ketchup would make that redundant, Dit, come on.”
Ditto wracked his brains, then shook his head. “No. I got nothin’.”
Juice pursed his lips. “Prench fries.”
Ditto let out an animal wail of distress and buried his head in his hooves. “Oh,” said Scraps. “Oh, I don’t like that! Do -- do they make it with the leftover fry grease?”
“No,” Ditto groaned. “Don’t guess their methods. Don’t look into the abyss, my brother whom I love so very dearly, or it will look back into you.”
“Because that would be really bad for your skin, right? That’s just bottled acne!”
“Of course,” Juice said smoothly, “the point of the Munch Squad isn’t to force our perspectives down your throats, dear listeners. It’s to get the word straight from the horse’s mouth, and I will do so now, with this press release from Hayburger itself.”
“Oh, dear sweet Celestia,” Scraps said. “I know you’re listening. Please save my ears from what they’re about to experience…”
“This is what Bell Whistles, senior marketing director for Hayburger had to say about their new line of signature scents.
“At Hayburger, we’re known for bringing ponies together --”
“So you’re trying to get ponies to make babies?” Scraps asked, incredulous. “Ponies who smell like ketchup?”
“I would also like to point out that Hayburger is not known for bringing ponies together,” Ditto said, folding his hooves over his chest. “I think of them as a kind of restaurant of last resort, for when you’ve been looking for hours for somewhere to eat dinner and your children are screaming about kiddie meal toys and you’ve just given up on life generally.”
Juice regarded Ditto coolly over the top of his press release. “Well, that may be what you think, Ditto, but you’re not a quick-service restaurant professional like Ms. Whistle is, are you?”
“...Guess not,” Ditto admitted.
“If I may continue?”
“Yeah, okay, go ahead…”
“So what better way to get together with your loved one than with our specially-released line of Double-Tofu-Burger-Inspired scents?”
Ditto whimpered.
“This summer, treat your spouse --”
“--soon to be ex,” Scraps interjected.
“--to the savory, delicious scent of Hayburger.”
Ditto was visibly shaking now. “Hey! Ponies! Come to Hayburger, and we’ll show you how to treat your lover right.”
“Hayburger! We fuck now!” Scraps added.
Remorseless, Juice soldiered on. “With over a hundred possible scent combinations --”
“OVER A HUNDRED?” Ditto demanded, his voice a squawk. “That can’t be right, that’s bullshit--”
“We guarantee you’ll find the perfect scent to fit the mood.”
“Oh, sure!” Scraps said. “Is the mood ‘depressing scene from a bad family vacation’?”
“Well, if that’s what turns you on…” Juice said with a shrug.
“NO!” Ditto howled. “No! This is legally torture. This is actual torture to me, and we’re inflicting it on innocent humans. Oh my Cel -- uh, oh my goodness.”
Scraps and Juice both looked at him judgmentally and shook their heads. “Listen, if you’ve got better swear words that aren’t the names of ponies who actually listen to this program, I’m open to suggestions,” Ditto said flatly.
“I think you might change your tune here pretty quick, Ditto,” Juice said. “They’ve got suggestions for scent combinations.”
Ditto gave a strangled cry and put his head down on the desk. “No, no. Oh, no no. Juice, I’m begging you.”
“First, we have Fast Casual: Hay, Bun, Ketchup, and Fries.”
“Fast Casual?” Scraps repeated. “That-- that might be the least sexy name I’ve ever heard for anything.”
“Oh, just you wait, because next on the menu is On the Side.”
“Oh! Oh no!” Scraps said, blanching.
Ditto sobbed quietly.
“On the Side consists of three scents, Fries, Ketchup, and Lettuce. Then we have All the Trimmings: Cheese, Tofu, Lettuce, and Ketchup, and the final option, Carbo-load: Bun and Fries.”
“Oh no!” Scraps repeated. He didn’t seem to know what else to say.
“This is fucking dismal as fuck, Juice,” Ditto said, not lifting his head from the table.
“Yeah -- yeah, I can’t disagree with you there,” Juice admitted. “Uh, All seven scents will be available to purchase at participating Hayburgers starting June 5.”
Ditto lifted his head from the table. His glasses were askew, his eyes hollow. “Participating Hayburgers,” he echoed, his voice dead.
“Uh, yep. Yep, that’s what the press release says--”
“You’re telling me,” Ditto said, his voice beginning to shake, “that after all that selling and pitching about the hot new way to ruin your romantic life forever, there’s a chance I might not even be able to buy this at my local Hayburger? There’s a possibility that I won’t be able to wreck my entire stuff by giving the love of my life the fucking ability to smell like a fast-food meal? Is that what you are saying to me right now Juice? Is it?”
“I - heh - uh, well…”
“LET ME RUIN MYSELF WITH CHEESE PERFUME, JUICE. LET ME SPRAY MY WIFE SO THAT SHE SMELLS OF KETCHUP. WHENEVER WE KISS, I WANT THAT SAVORY TOFU TASTE ON MY FUCKING LIPS.”
Ditto fell back in his chair, shaking. Whether it was from laughter or genuine fury, neither of his brothers could discern,
“Uh…” said Juice. “This… has been the Munch Squad that killed my brother, apparently.”