Special Thanks to:
Editor: DaMobbs
Proofreader: Meeester
*****
Hah! I betcha didn’t see that coming! An exploding pie! Who would’ve thought?
…..
Oh c’mon! You seriously didn’t think that was funny!? Well of course you wouldn’t; it exploded in your face!
…..
Now now, no need to get hostile. It’s just a joke. Everyone likes jokes. Although, I’m still very curious as to how Pinkie Pie managed to bake a cherry bomb pie. Remind to ask her about it later, would you? Ohhh I can see the look on my co-worker's faces already.
…..
What office? Well, it’s an office. Ya’ know, tall building with walls of windows and cubicles as far as the eye can see? You got a problem with where I work?
….
If I went and told you the name of my office, I’d be breaking over a dozen clauses in my NDA. Maybe if you’d let me finish this riveting tale, I might let it casually slip by after a couple of drinks. Now don’t worry; all will be revealed in due time…
Besides, I’m more interested in reading what happens next rather than tell you of my amusing life, don’t you agree?
…..
You agree partially, huh? Good enough. Let’s continue shall we?
*****
Chapter 7: Offer
You didn’t know what to feel.
Anger. Confusion. Laughter. Any of those emotions would have fit the bill, but neither of those took the plate; you were hungry. Plain and simple hunger. With a shrug, you wiped the pie off your face and took a cautious sniff. Throwing all caution out the door, you licked the cherry red filling off your hoof and reveled in its sweetness. After a minute of sucking the last smudges of pie off your hoof, you got up from the table, your fur literally caked in that delicious pie.
You stepped out of the kitchen to see Mrs. Cake handling the register while Pinkie Pie giggled like a madpony behind the counter. With a deep breath, you began to formulate a thoroughly detailed and factually accurate response to her explosively delicious pie.
Pinkie noticed your presence and ooh’d at your cherry predicament. Mrs. Cake noticed Pinkie Pie and followed her gaze until she laid eyes upon you.
“Oh my! What happened to you!?” she gasped.
“Oh no, you got swallowed by the evil cherry pie!” Pinkie managed to eek out between fits of laughter. ”I knew you’d break free! So what was it like being eaten by a pie? Tell me, tell me, tell me! Ooh! Or maybe it exploded… I mean those old pies can be—“
Blast the calm approach, you lost it. Before you knew it, your hooves were on Pinkie’s shoulders, and you were scolding her for covering yourself in pie. However, it only served to fuel her incessant laughter.
“Aw come on, Mr. Top Hat! Nopony got hurt, and sometimes these pies have minds of their own!”
You pointed out that pies were inanimate objects and that she made absolutely no sense. Mrs. Cake sighed in annoyance.
“Pinkie, I don’t know what’s with you and your pranks, but testing an exploding pie on a guest just isn’t proper… in the store, too!”
“But Mrs. Cake, it’s not my fault the pie has a mind of its own.” she pouted. ”Those evil pies are crafty... sometimes too crafty—“
“That’s enough, Pinkie!” Mrs. Cake admonished. She turned around to find you brushing some stray pie crust off your top hat with your off-hoof. Thankfully, it seemed to have dodged that proverbial bullet.
“I’m sorry about all this.” said a rather embarrassed Mrs. Cake. ”We have a bathroom upstairs if you want to wash off the rest of that pie.” Pinkie was about to open her mouth to say something, but Mrs. Cake motioned her to stay quiet, which she thankfully followed. “And no Pinkie, you can’t join him. I’m sure he has had enough of your randomness today.”
“Awww…” Pinkie said disappointingly.
You could have sworn Mrs. Cake was psychic, but you just filed it away as her knowledge of how she’d act in similar situations. Seeing as you couldn’t just walk around covered in pie for the rest of the day, you graciously accepted her offer. While you were still angry at Pinkie Pie, you had to admit one thing:
That pie was pretty damn good.
*****
It took almost half an hour to get to cleanse every nook and cranny of your body of that scrumptious pie. You could have shaved ten minutes off that if you didn’t lick some of it off but it was a crime to let such a delicacy go like that. Their bathroom was pretty modern when compared to their overall theme. You’ve seen fancier bathrooms in your time, but still, it wasn’t too bad. They had enough soap and shampoo available thankfully; you even managed to get rid of that stubborn stain you acquired in that bar in Canterlot. That soap was some powerful stuff.
As you walked down the steps, a rhythmic hum on your lips, you noticed a couple of ponies perusing their wares. Pinkie Pie wasn’t anywhere in sight, and Mrs. Cake was at the counter. You assumed she had gone back to the kitchen to either clean up her mess or to bake more exploding pastries.
As Mrs. Cake rang up a customer and handed the mare her goods, she waved you over.
“Did you enjoy the bath, dear?” she asked as she packaged up a baker’s dozen of muffins. You nodded with a smile on your face. “I’m glad. Again, I’m very sorry about Pinkie’s behavior. She usually gets like this whenever she’s with a friend. Sometimes I wonder how they even put up with her personality. Honestly? It baffles me.”
You asked her if Pinkie considered yourself as a friend. As Mrs. Cake finished tying up the box of muffins, she sighed.
“She’s always trying to make friends, even with the new ponies in town. She tries really hard, but sometimes she gets a little carried away. I hope you’ll forgive her for that. That’s just how she is.”
You tapped a hoof on your chin in thought. If she wanted to be friends with you of all ponies, did she have to act so... spontaneous? Granted you’ve had your share of fan-mares, but they were an entirely different brand of crazies.
Regardless, if she was trying to be friendly with you, you couldn’t really hold it against her. It still bugged you to no end though.
“So, you must be that new musician pony around here?” came a mare’s voice.
A new voice from behind you caught your attention and you whipped around. A purplish mare with a mulberry-colored mane walked in through the door. Her cutie mark was what looked to be a stem of grapes and a single strawberry. Something seemed familiar about her despite that this was your first face-to-face meeting with this unknown mare. You recalled seeing somepony similar in the crowd while you were playing for tips. She smiled as you mentioned this.
“Glad you remembered me and yes, I did listen to your performance in the market today. I’m sure you get this a lot, but you’ve got some serious musical talent.”
You nodded in appreciation of the praise. She giggled as an embarrassed blush shot up her face.
“Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t introduce myself. My name’s Berry Punch, and it’s a pleasure to meet you Mr…?”
“His name is Mr. Top Hat!” shouted somepony from the kitchen
Why did she keep calling you that!? Hadn’t you made it explicitly clear when you stated several times it wasn’t your name? Pinkie popped up out of nowhere with her sheepish grin. “And he’s one super duper musician! You should’ve seen him yesterday at his party! He was like lightning, or sugar, or sugar lightning, or maybe like me, hee hee!”
“Yes, well, nice to see you again too, Pinkie.” she replied hesitantly. ” So, Mr. Top Hat then?” You facehoofed, wondering why ponies blatantly ignored your every request to call you by your actual name. For the sake of not starting up with Pinkie again, you nodded. “Strange name… but it fits you, so Mr. Top Hat it is then.” Berry concluded. You double facehoofed. Were all the ponies here always this insufferable!?
“Well, anyway, I hear you’re the new pony in town. Still trying to get used to things around here?” You nodded in response, to which Berry smiled. “What about a job? Do you have one yet?”
With another shake of your head, you told her that you hadn’t bothered to properly search for a job yet, as you were still getting a feel for the tow; however, the hidden meaning behind that question didn’t escape your keen mind, and you brought it up.
“Straight to the point, huh? I like that. In that case, I run a place called Berry’s Delights, or in other words, a bar. We’re looking for talented musicians like yourself to liven up the place a bit. There are tryouts later today at the pub, but If what I heard this morning was anything like you normally play, I’m sold.”
To say you were slightly taken aback was an understatement. It’s only been a couple days since you moved in, and you had somepony practically offering you up a job on a silver platter. The best part was that you hadn’t even looked around yet! However, the name of the bar seemed rather suspicious. In fact, it reminded you of that Sock Club your band mates took you to one time in Canterlot. The night was all a blur due to the astonishingly large amount of hard cider that you had downed. By astonishingly large, however, you meant that single shot they tricked you into drinking. The only thing that remained clear in your head of that entire night was this:
There were socks everywhere.
You shook your head to stop your train of thought before it barreled through the rest of that fuzzy night. Either way, you weren’t fondly interested in bars as seven out of ten times, drinking lead to trouble; however, that only seemed to happen at the shadier bars, so you inquired with Berry about the bar itself.
“It’s a regular bar with drinks, tables, music, and, well, drinks. Is there a different kind of bar that I should be aware of?”
“Ooh ooh, what kinds of drinks, Berry? Are we talking grape juice, or maybe apple juice? Ooh, Ooh, or is it pomegranate juice!? I love that stuff!”
“Pinkie, I’ve been in town for quite a long time. How do you not know what kind of bar I run?”
“Guess I forgot!” she nonchalantly replied.
“Honestly, Pinkie…”
An inkling in the back of your head pushed you to ask if it was a sock club, but your common sense reeled it back in. Your first impression was a good one, and botching up the face-to-face with a snide question would probably dig your own grave. Besides, she already clarified that it was as normal as a bar can be. Still, the chance to perform again left you apprehensive at best. Sure, there was that street performance, but that was strictly for breakfast bits. Accepting a job to perform on stage nightly was a whole ‘nother shtick especially after Canterlot.
Admittedly, your bit bag was as empty as Pinkie Pie was pink, and a steady job would do wonders in rectifying that problem. That and the tension you felt while up one the stage, the audience’s eyes watching your every move as you played through a set, was something you just couldn’t replace. Then again, it wasn’t like Berry had yourself in a magically binding contract that wouldn’t go away until she died, so you could leave whenever you felt like it.
So, with a noticeable upbeat tone in your voice, you accepted Berry’s gracious offer. In return, Berry smiled. “Glad to hear it! So, this evening then?” A quick nod was your reply. “Great! Now I need to get going, since I was supposed to be at work like five minutes ago. See you there!”
She waved her goodbyes as she walked out the exit and into the bustling town. Glad that that was over, you turned to find Mrs. Cake and Pinkie smiling at you.
“I’m glad to see everything worked out just fine.” quipped the older mare.
“Yeah! I can’t believe Berry owned her own bar full of drinks and stuff! I have to throw a party there now! There’s gonna be sarsaparilla, apple cider, apple juice, fruit punch—”
Just how oblivious could this sugar-coated pink mare get!?