Mister and Missus Cake looked at their breakfast stable with a hint of worry.
The twins were still in bed, so thankfully they’d be spared this gruesome feast put out before the married couple. No sense in spoiling young minds with such horrors.
“Weeeeell?” Pinkie Pie, resident baker’s assistant slash house guest that after ten years still hasn’t left yet, asked.
“We, uh, appreciate you making us breakfast, Pinkie,” Mister Cake said, a hint of hesitation at his words.
“Yes, dearie, it’s a wonderful treat as always. Just… what are we looking at?”
“For that matter,” Carrot gulped, “what are we about to eat?”
Pinkie rolled her eyes at her employer’s confusion.
“It’s fsh!”
Both of the Cakes looked from each other, and back to Pinkie.
“Fsh?”
Pinkie nodded.
“It was fish, but I removed the eyes!”
They looked to the dead trout, which was, in fact, missing it’s eyes.
“Well…” Mister Cake began, paused, and licked his lips.
“Dearie, we’re not strangers to fish, but, why for breakfast?” Missus Cake asked, picking up the slack for her frail husband.
“Because Fred’s been shoved in the freezer for years, and I needed to make room for Francis.”
Blinking, Mister and Missus Cake looked from the dead fish to the freezer in the kitchen.
“So, this was Fred?” Carrot asked.
Pinkie shrugged. “I dunno what their actual names are, but I just like to pretend I do! Makes their death, cooking, and consumption that much more special!”
Cup Cake poked the dead, thawed fish. “Pinkie, you didn’t even gut it.”
“Well duh! I figured mutilation was a family thing!” Pinkie pulled out three large knives from… somewhere. “So, who wants to cut off the head?” She then pulled out a mini guillotine which was stained by its past victims.
“Do you even know how to dress a fish?” Carrot asked.
Pinkie blinked. “Wait, we can also dress fsh? I didn’t know that!”
She proceeded to pull out a miniature wicker hat and placed it on Fred’s dead head.
The Cakes watched as she struggled to then also add a small tuxedo, but decided it wasn’t worth the effort.
“Welp, Pinkie officially murdered breakfast,” Carrot said with a sigh.
“Mhm. Seems that way. Pancakes?” Cup asked.
“Yeah, sure, I’ll get the ketchup,” Carrot walked to the fridge as his wife began mixing the batter.