//------------------------------// // Pinkie Pie Pasta Part One // Story: Recipes For Friendship // by Mr Merritt //------------------------------// Peppermill, his black mane rustling in the early morning breeze, trotted into Ponyville from his home at Sweet Apple Acres. Like a number of the older ponies starting their day, he too was making his way to a familiar landmark in the town. To the uninformed it looked like a massive gingerbread house. But to the locals it was a town institution as the best bakery probably in all of Equestria. Sugarcube Corner would never find itself in dire financial straits, considering its popularity among the ponies of the sleepy burg. The amount of bits the shop made during the morning rush alone would have kept its owners, Mr. and Mrs. Cake and their budding family, financially secure for a long time. But it really wasn’t about the money; it was explained repeatedly, but the simple fact that they loved their vocation. The colt understood and whole-heartedly agreed with this opinion. Having been born a natural chef, and his talent nurtured by his equally successful chef parents, food was the whole and sum of his young life. There was little Peppermill didn’t know about the culinary arts, and he was always happy to offer his hoof or his knowledge to any pony who asked. This, he was certain, was the reason why he had been asked to come to the bakery this early in the morning… The message that had been delivered to the farmhouse two days ago didn’t specifically mention this subject. The only things that could be gleaned from it was that Pinkie Pie wanted to talk to the colt about something ‘super-duper double hush-hush important’. The fact that it didn’t resemble a standard Pinkie Pie party invite (though it was usually best not to assume anything regarding the Element of Laughter), was enough to raise a few eyebrows among the Apple clan. But Peppermill was born to be achingly polite, being raised in the high-class city of Canterlot, and he couldn’t refuse a request. It looked as though he had managed to avoid the usual morning rush of hungry workers looking for a sweet start to their day, for there were no other ponies in the shop as Peppermill strode in. The plump Mrs. Cake was tidying the counter with a cloth, and when she heard the bell over the door tinkle she looked up with a warm smile. “Hello Peppermill. How are you today?” “I’m fine…Mrs. Cake. How…is everything…here?” “Oh, busy as always. I admit having to juggle customers and hungry foals does make things hectic…” “I…can only…imagine…” Upon the sound of the colt’s raspy voice, the sound of happy babbling in response to it caught his attention. He turned and smiled at a pair of infant ponies, strapped solidly in separate high chairs beside the counter. The Cakes` twins, Pound and Pumpkin, were reaching for the colt happily upon recognizing a friendly face. With a chuckle the grey colt approached the pair and offered each a forehoof. Pound Cake, the Pegasus colt, grasped the appendage in a rather impressive double grip and waves it around. Meanwhile the unicorn filly Pumpkin had crammed the hoof into her toothless mouth and chewed noisily on it. It was hard not to smile at such behavior, and Peppermill was no exception. He grinned at the two young ponies, and indulged them as long as he felt he could. But he was expected, and he didn`t like the idea of being late for anything. “As much as…I`d like to…stay with you two…Pinkie is…waiting for me.” He pried his hoof from Pound’s grasp and carefully wiped Pumpkin’s drool off with a cloth Mrs. Cake conveniently handed to him. Bracing himself against the whines of the infants, the colt walked into the kitchen of the bakery and through another door leading to the stairway to the second floor. As Peppermill recalled from the message, Pinkie Pie held court in her bedroom at the end of the hall. Even upon reaching the top of the stairway, he could hear the unmistakable warble of the pink pony as she seemed to be having a one-sided conversation. “I’m so excited, aren’t you Gummy? Peppy is so super smart when it comes to cooking that I just know he can teach me. I wonder what kind of yummy things he’ll show me…” Peppy? Gummy? The first was the ‘pet name’ that Pinkie had placed upon the colt, much to his dismay. It wasn’t so much that he didn’t like it, per say. It was that he was afraid more and more ponies would start to follow the party mare’s lead and give him all sorts of nicknames that would run counter to his young male ego. The occasional Applejack ‘sugarcube’ was more than enough, in his books. The other name puzzled the colt. He vaguely recalled an occasional off-hoof comment from some of his older friends about a ‘Gummy’. But the idea that the pink mare had a toothless baby alligator as a pet was a concept that Peppermill found ‘Pinkie being Pinkie’ didn’t adequately cover. Making a mental note to start telling his friends to lay off the pet names, the colt knocked on the door to the bedroom. There was a sudden total silence, followed by a flurry of movement that caught Peppermill off guard. The door to the room, which had only been partially open moments ago, was flung open and a pair of slender forelegs grabbed the colt and tossed him into the room. Peppermill found himself sprawled flat on the floor in the middle of the room, with Pinkie Pie looming over him with a grin that stretched wide. “You’re here! You’re here!” cheered the mare. “It’s been so long since I’ve seen you!” “You saw me…two days ago, Pinkie…” “But two days is soooo long…” “…right.” Peppermill had learned fairly quickly not to take anything Pinkie said too seriously. Her…quirkiness could make even the most stoic of ponies lose their senses (and he knew this from experience, if watching Big Macintosh trying to deal with her was any indicator). “Anyways…you asked me…to come and…see you?” “Oh yes! I really, really, really need your help. You are the only pony that can help me with this.” “With what…exactly?” Pinkie certainly seemed to be sincere in her desire for his help, and his found himself growing curious over what was going on. The mare made a concentrated effort to calm herself down, and then spoke. “The other day I was at the cafe enjoying my third…or was it fourth…sarsaparilla float when I saw a pony order this amazing looking salad. Then I saw one having what looked like a yummy looking soup and another with these fancy toasted sandwiches. I watched and I looked at my float and I realized that I never ordered anything but ice cream floats from that place…” “Then when I came home I was having my dessert when I watched Mr. and Mrs. Cake eating these pretty green noodles and I realized I…well, I didn’t always eat the same stiff all the other ponies did. I couldn’t believe that there could be anything as delicious as sweets! Can you believe it?” She eats…all that candy…but still looks…the same… marvelled the colt. He wasn’t without a sweet tooth of his own, with his two biggest weaknesses being Sugarcube Corner’s ginger snap cookies and the hot cinnamon candies from the candy shop Bon Bon ran. But the thought of eating nothing but that stuff was enough to make him shiver. “I decided right there that I needed to start eating better, if only so I could enjoy all of the yummy things my friends liked to eat. But then I realized that it wasn’t enough to just eat better, I decided that I had to know how to make this stuff for myself. That’s where you come in Peppy…” “I…do?” Suddenly the mare threw herself at the colt’s hooves and looked up at his with a double-barrel gaze of baby-blue eyes. “Please teach me how to cook regular food, not sweets or cakes and stuff. You are the bestest cook I know and I just know you can teach me! Pleasepleaseplease???” “Ack!” Peppermill staggered back, having been unprepared for the mare’s plea. It was one thing to find himself wrapped around the hooves of the Cutie Mark Crusaders or even Silver Spoon when they played that particular trick, but a grown mare? It wasn’t like he would refuse the request, but still it was a bit much… “Okay…okay…please get…up Pinkie.” The mare bounded to her hooves, smiling hopefully. “I am more…than happy to…teach you as thing…or two.” “Thank you, thank you, thank you!” squealed Pinkie jubilantly. She lunged at the colt once more, but this time Peppermill was ready for her. “Pinkie, sit!” commanded the colt. He had picked up this trick for being around Applejack and Winona, having been fascinated at how the mare could control the dog so easily. Of course, the fact that Applejack was the only pony the dog would obey didn’t stop him from trying it out for himself. While not so effective on the dog, he discovered a firm voice worked quite well in most situations with others. In this case, it worked maybe a bit too well. Behaving exactly like a dog, Pinkie sat down on her rump and actually began to pant. Peppermill mentally shook himself, and spoke once more. “Cooking isn’t…something you…just do on…a whim. It takes…preparation. I need to…decide just what…kind of recipe would…work with you. I’ll need some…time to think.” Pinkie gave a small whine, which won her a dark look from the colt, unable to decide if she was just trying to be funny or not. “I’ll tell…you what. Give me…a day or two to…think and…gather some ideas. I promise I…will get back to you…before the end of…the week…” “Okey dokie lokie!” The ability of the Element of Laughter to switch from begging to cheerful amazed (and genuinely worried) the colt. He was about to take his leave when the mare gave a loud gasp. “Oh my gosh! I almost forgot! I wanted to introduce you to my sweet little Gummy!” “Um, that’s…alright Pinkie…I…” The colt’s attempt to make a quick getaway was thwarted by the mare tossing a small, green and scaly…something at him. The next thing he knew, he was feeling the sensation of a toothless mouth on his body. Only this time it was latched firmly to his snout, and the eerie sensation was compounded by the unstaring purple eyes staring at him from point blank range. There was only one thing Peppermill could do after this… … … … “Get…off…” *** “Ifin it makes you feel better sugarcube, that’s pretty much how anypony ends up meetin’ Gummy.” Applejack said as she took her seat at the dinner table in between Big Macintosh and Applebloom. “It’s not going…to stop the…nightmares I’m…going to have after…that ‘meeting’…” grumbled Peppermill as he brought the large pot of noodle soup to the table. “Aw Gummy ain’t scary. Well, as long as you don’t look him in the ahs…” remarked Applebloom. “Alraight, enuff yakkin’! Ahv been waitin’ fer this all day!” This sharp comment came from Granny Smith, who sat at the head of the table. Indeed, the elderly mare seemed quite anxious as the colt ladled out the broth to his family. “It’s just…noodle soup…Granny…” “Maybe to you sonny. But with mah teeth as bad as they are, this here is much easier to chew…” With that emphatic statement, the clan sat down to their meal… …slurp… …slurp… …slurrrrppppp… The four younger ponies gaped in various degrees of horror and embarrassment as the ancient mare noisy consumed her meal. Peppermill found himself thinking back to an incident back at his parent’s restaurant during a lunch rush when a similar soup was the special. More than a few of the servers had expressed disgust at how such high-class clientele seemed to think the ‘in’ thing was to consume every single noodle separately. While it may or may not have signified some sort of higher upbringing, it made eating slow and loud. “Honestly Granny…” grumbled Applejack. “This is why we don’t git to have this kinda soup more often.” “You young’uns have no raight to complain. I’ve seen the pigs wit their slop be more civilized than you at the table. Well, ‘cept fer Peppermill…” The colt was about to make a comment about having his impeccable manner driven solidly into his head by his mother when a sudden inspiration hit him. “Noodles…of course!” The colt suddenly bolted down the entire bowl of soup before him, to the amazement of the others. Upon finishing he slammed the bowl down and spoke. “May I…please be excused? I have…a recipe to find…for Pinkie…”