No, I Am Not A Brony, Get Me Outta Equestria!

by BronyWriter


The Cake Twins

"I'm telling you, these aren't going to be as good as Pinkie's!"

"Honestly, darling, they can't be all that bad! Besides, if you're going to be working at Sugarcube Corner, it's imperative that you learn how to bake."

As Rarity and I look at the tray of practice cupcakes that I have pulled out of the oven, I begin to wonder how much I'm improving. "Look, I know these ones aren't burnt, but that doesn't mean they're suddenly amazing."

"Oh, come now, darling," Rarity says lightly as she levitates a cupcake over to her. "I'm sure they're perfectly delightful."

I watch uneasily as she takes a very classy bite out of my recent attempt. She freezes, and slowly chews the bite of cupcake before swallowing. Her face is expressionless, which makes me nervous. "Uh, Rarity... are you okay?"

She doesn't respond. She only levitates one of my cupcakes over to me. I sigh and, realizing that I'm not getting out of it, take a bite.

Huh... not half bad.

I look over at Rarity who has actually finished the entire cupcake, and is smirking at me. "See? With enough practice, you can actually succeed."

I snort and roll my eyes. "I'm sure there's a friendship letter in there, or something like that."

Rarity returns my snort and glances up at the clock. "Well, now, TD, it's time for you to go, at any rate. Do be sure to be careful when watching the Cakes. I heard they made Pinkie Pie cry the first time she watched them."

My mouth drops open at this new development. Maybe agreeing to watch them was not a great idea. "Uh... so would you have any advice on dealing with them?"

Rarity shakes her head as she puts the dishes in the sink. "Honestly, no. I've never actually done it myself. Pinkie Pie said something about flour, but I don't know what she was talking about."

I frown and tilt my head a little. "She told you her secret ingredient?"

"No, she just said something about how the twins like something about it. You know yourself she isn't exactly the clearest communicator around, yes?"

"Ah..." I shrug in acceptance and peek around at the mess I made in making my practice cupcakes before turning back to Rarity. "You can just leave this and I'll clean it up when I get back."

"Oh, nonsense," she replies, waving a hoof as her horn glows, already sweeping up the remains of the experiment. "You go and watch the Cakes; I'll deal with this."

I would argue but I wasn’t running a little late. So, with that said and done, I rush out the door – only stopping briefly to change shirts – towards the confectionery.

The walk over is much faster now that I am not calling ponies out on bad behavior. Even with my recently aggravated arm, it takes me no more than fifteen minutes from ‘home’ to the job; in fact, it’s more than enough time for the trip. At any rate, I make it early enough that I get to merely lean against a counter, watching the goings on in the bakery. The Cakes are baking something or other in one oven, and Pinkie Pie is baking cupcakes for the day in the other.

I'd help, but the wholly justified 'I know what my nightmares would taste like' crack convinces me of the contrary.

"Now, TD, are you sure you know how to take care of foals?" Mr. Cake asks as he rushes around, trying to figure out what goes where for some order or another.

"I already said I don't, but practice makes perfect, right?"

It’s enough for Mr. Cake to screech to a halt and give me a look of sheer appall.

"It'll be fine, dearie," tranquilizes Mrs. Cake. "We'll only be gone two hours; the twins should be asleep for all of it."

"Exactly," Pinkie Pie, who just finished putting a batch of cupcakes in the oven and is bouncing over to join the conversation, pipes in. "He'll do fine!"

"If you girls say so." I shrug. "Anyway, when should I take the cupcakes out?"

"The timer should go off in about twenty minutes,” answers Pinkie. “Be sure to take them out right when it does!"

"Twenty minutes...” Mr. Cake repeats. His pupils shrink. “Twenty minutes! Honey bun, we have to be there in twenty minutes!"

Panic mode. Yeah, that's the only term I can use to describe the state both Cakes are in right now. I don't think I've ever seen a duo load so many cake tiers and so many cake boxes in the span of thirty seconds! They’re out the door before Pinkie Pie can so much as say goodbye.

"Well, that was interesting," I remark.

"Yeah, the Cakes sure can move fast when they're catering for a big party."

I nod and straighten up. "So, any advice on dealing with the twins if they wake up?"

Pinkie grins at the question, something that makes me uneasy. "If they begin crying, all you gotta do is dump an entire bag of flour on your head and they'll stop!"

I blink. "I have to what?"

"Dump an entire bag of flour on your head," she repeats. "Sometimes I go through about five in an hour!"

"Five an hour?"

"Gotta go now," she says as she puts her bag thingies on her back. "I should get back not long after the Cakes do."

I raise my hand in a sort of wave. "Well, cool then. Good luck."

"You too!"

As she walks out the door, I reflect on the slightly ominous way she said that last part, but that's probably just my nerves getting the better of me.

I put my hands in my pocket and pull out my long dead cell phone – it died sometime yesterday, and I don't know what it’s still doing in my pocket. Maybe I can get Twilight to re-charge it or something, if unicorns can even do that kind of thing. As it is now, though, I have nothing but an expensive brick in my pocket. I rue the fact that my laptop is not far behind.

I glance at the timer in the kitchen. Ten minutes left before the cupcakes are ready. Hopefully it’s the only thing I have to do today, as long as the twins don’t…

… and now I’m hearing baby noises coming from the upstairs room. The twins are awake. Right as I thought it! Dude, how does that work?!

I groan quietly as I rationalize that just because they're awake, it doesn't mean that they need to be checked on. I mean, they're in a closed room; what kind of trouble can they get into in their own cribs?

At that exact moment, a loud crash alerts me to how wrong I am.

I bolt up the stairs, hoping not to walk in on two baby corpses crushed under something heavy. I don't much fancy being lynched for negligence, especially by Pinkie Pie.

I throw open to door, and Hell is revealed. Well, the closest thing that I can think of at the moment that is.

Both twins are not only up and about, but they have turned their crib on its side and are now both zooming around the room at speeds improper for minors. My mouth drops wide open when I see that not only is the pegasus one flying around, the unicorn one is doing the same via self-levitation.

How does that even work?! Sure, I saw them do it last night, but they’re babies! The effort those actions must take is not supposed to be normal for toddler-age kids, let alone at this speed!

The babies both stop their racing contest in favor of staring down the intruder with those dead eyes that I’ve come to associate them with. They can smell the unease that I am feeling, I'm sure of it. I can only stand as I am, wondering how to get them back into their crib for the next two hours.

Fate is not so kind, and the situation soon goes from bizarre to outright painful. After a few short seconds of peering at me, the twins both rocket towards the open door, which has only one thing in the way: a non-athletic human college student with a healing arm.

Yeah, guess who won that struggle.

With only one arm to speak of, I only have the opportunity to grab one of them. As luck – or rather lack thereof – would have it, I am so out of shape that my pitiful attempt at a spectacular one armed catch ends with less success than I’d probably have if I tried with my legs instead. Both ponies zoom past me and out the door, leaving me only about a half-second to attempt a turnaround catch. Thankfully, the unicorn pony is close enough that I get to wrap my healthy arm around her. "Gotcha!" I yelled triumphantly. "Now, let's get you–"

Her horn fires up and before I can so much as think of the next literal step, she start to pull me around the room, wakeboard style, to the laughs and cheers of her amused brother as he eggs her on in his own baby way. I do my best to reel the thing in, but seriously, this baby is absurdly strong!

As we go out the door, it hits me how not in charge I am here. I see with wide eyes as the stairs come closer with each passing second, and I’m forced to make a choice: either let go of the pony and risk not catching her later, or get at the very least sore as I can be as I bounce down the stairs, but not losing my grip on her. As it turns out, I foolishly go with option 'B', and more than pain is gained – the pony doesn't care that I'm currently bouncing down the stairs, oh no; she just wants to drag me along like a shark would drag a river canoe.

I am aware that the pegasus kid has been following us throughout my painful journey down to the lower floor. I figure he might be easier to reign in, since he has no unicorn magic to give him torque, so, with all of the agility I can muster by this point, I let go of his sister and latch on to his legs. He shoots me a not exactly satisfied glare, but it’s as I predicted: without magic, he has nowhere the power necessary to move a human being several times heavier than he is.

I allow myself a victorious grin as the baby pony struggles to get out of my grasp to no effect. I reel him in and use my sides to trap his wings thus putting him completely under my control. "Okay," I mutter to myself. "Next time, just leave them in the room, TD."

I look up at the ceiling, where the female is flying around without a care in the world. Her brother gives a sad grunt as he reaches towards her, something I’m having none of. "Oh no, ya don't! You're going back into your room."

I rush back up the stairs with the increasingly angry pegasus oh hand towards the door that leads to his room. When I arrive, I quickly push the crib back to its proper upright position before I deposit the now wailing foal inside. I rush out the door and slam it shut behind me, not having the time to care about how his cries can be heard for miles around the bakery – if I'm going to survive my mistake, I’m gonna have to focus on the other one before I do something about him.

I am not surprised to see the unicorn still blitzing up high in the main room, just beyond my reach. I groan and grab a chair over to try and catch her. However, before I can do that I hear the one noise that I simply do not need to hear right now

Ding!

The cupcakes are ready.

I look in horror over at the oven, and from it, back at the unicorn. Why did that have to happen now?!

It’s not really a choice, so with a groan, I direct myself to the oven, grabbing a towel on my way so that I can take the cupcakes out of it. I peer back at the unicorn, with the intention of giving her the harshest glare she’s ever had in her short life… that is, it is my intention until I realize that more things can go wrong than the inconvenient timing of the baked goods. Either because the baby has run out of magical power or because the spell expired on its own, she is now dropping like a stone towards the floor.

Without thinking, I dive towards the little shape with one arm outstretched in hopes of a last second save. Adrenaline pumps through me, and my perception of time seems to slow down as my outstretched arm reaches to intercept her trajectory. If I can't catch her, then who knows what kind of day I'll have.

You know, because it hasn't been stressful already.

In the heat of the moment, I don’t realize I overreached, and instead of landing on my hand, the baby bounces off of my forearm and lands not too gently on the floor.

Great, now both of them are crying.

I scoop up the wailing unicorn and run up to her room, where her brother is crying in the crib. When he sees us come in, he stops, but promptly starts up again when he sees his sister crying. I swear my eardrums are going to burst if they keep this up.

I don't know what to do with them so for now I put them in their crib and just wait for them to get over it. I can't help them, really, and if the pegasus wants to cry just for the heck of it, then I can't stop him.

I exit the room and shut the door, thankful to be out of the room full of noises of discontent babies. Sure, the racket reverberates throughout the whole building, but at least I'm not standing right next to the source anymore.

I sigh as I walk down the stairs, the cries of the twins ringing in my ears. I think I'm gonna pass if the Cakes ever ask me to do this again.

Wait, there's something else I had to do, wasn't there? I recall... a burning smell?

Oh no, the cupcakes!!

I rush over to the oven and pull out the pastries. Okay, they’re not totally burnt, but they are a tad singed. I don't know if I should leave them or if it would be better to bake new ones to make up for these.

However, before I can muse on that some more, the twins’ wails somehow get ten decibels louder, and I realize I can't simply ignore that situation anymore. I go back into their bedroom, pick them up – thankfully to no real resistance this time – and put each on one of my knees, proceeding to bounce them up and down, hoping that the motion soothes them. No such luck.

"Please stop crying," I whimper. "I'll give you each ten bucks every day for the rest of your life if you and just stop crying for the next hour and a half!"

Let it be known that bribery never works on a living thing that doesn't completely understand the concept of sanity.

* * * *

"Shut up little babies, don't say a word,
TD's gonna buy you a mockingbird.
I don't know the rest of the words to this song,
Please don't make me... uh...make up words."

I swear I'm going to have permanent ear damage from this. The twins haven’t piped down at all in the past half hour, and I'm completely at a loss for what to do by this point. All nursery songs I knew of fell flat, distracting them with toys was futile at best, and the less said about how I tried to convince them to play little baby games, the better. I've tried everything short of feeding them or changing them – they don't need either, as far as I can tell –, so for now, I’ve resigned myself to waiting for the Cakes, or Pinkie Pie, to come back home.

I rack my brains for the n-th time, desperately trying to figure out what it was that Pinkie Pie said for me to do to. She did say that there is some secret or other to make them shut up for a few minutes, but for the life of me I can't remember what!

"Please just kill me now…" I’m rambling to nobody in particular by now. "If I’d known that I would end up here in this God-forsaken noise factory, I would have hit Celestia in her ovaries. See how she likes that." If only I knew where her ovaries are in her body. "Please, for the love of whatever you hold dear, stop crying!"

No dice, they're still going.

Currently, I'm walking around with them on my arms, hoping that the rhythmic movement of walking will calm them down, but it's not working that well: the two of them are still as upset as they were half an hour ago. I lean against a cabinet with a groan, trying to puzzle out what deity out there has a beef with me and why, and I feel a slight tickling sensation on the back of my neck. I frown – I really could go without having an itch of all things – and do my best to rub my shoulder against the furniture to scratch the spot. It doesn't get any better, like there's something actively brushing against me.

I turn around to see the source of the irritation, which turns out to be a small stream of flour coming out of a large sack placed on the top of the cabinet. I examine it for a brief moment before my eyes light up.

Flour! That's what Pinkie told me to use!

It is with renewed vigor that I place the screeching twins down on the floor and grab the flour from up above. To my delight, since their cries aren't as loud now that they see what I'm up to, it seems to be working already. I grit my teeth and, with a great degree of difficulty, seeing as how I only have one arm worth its weight, I upend the bag.

I drown in the flour. I cannot see two feet in front of me thanks to the flour. My world is flour, my reason is flour, I am flour. All hail the flour.

However, being in a flour shower has obvious disadvantages, particularly when it comes to breathing. I found myself in need to inhale right in the middle of my flour shower, and predictably, upon me doing so, a decent amount of flour comes in through my nose instead of the sweet sweet air that I need.

The end result is that, instead of striking a silly pose as I had originally planned, I find myself bent over, hacking out a piece or three of my right lung.

I am vaguely aware that the twins have stopped crying, which is a plus, but that doesn't really do me much good if I'm passed out from asphyxiation! I continue to cough for what is a solid minute for sure before my respiratory system decides that it's in the right condition to work properly again.

I breathe deeply, relishing the feeling of oxygen in my lungs as opposed to unprocessed starch. "Gosh darn it, that was not pleasant..." I wheeze, and since there are still traces of flour in my throat along with the dryness of my throat, my words come out sounding more like Clint Eastwood than TD Powell. Sure, it's cool as it can be, but getting to this point is not a trick I'm not going to emulate ever again.

Suddenly, though, I hear a sound that I haven't heard in eons. A sound I thought I would never hear again. A child's laugh! Or, well, two children's laughs if you apply basic math to the situation.

I look over quizzically at the twins, only to see them rolling on the floor at my funny voice. I raise an eyebrow at their joy and say, "Get off my lawn," in my Clint Eastwood voice. I am rewarded with a second uproarious bout of chortles, and find I myself managing a small smile at this revelation. Bingo.

* * * *

"Well, he should have armed himself if he was going to decorate his saloon with my friend." The twins think that this one is the funniest line yet. I don't really see why, but hey, they're laughing at the voice, not the line.

I have spent the last hour quoting every Clint Eastwood line I can think of in an attempt to stay on their good side, and I'm extremely glad to say that it has been a complete success thus far: they are having the times of their lives with hearing their babysitter's chatterbox acting silly. I have to admit myself that this little stand-up is kind of fun, if a bit grating on the vocal cords.

"Decorating? Who said something about decorating?" My heart leaps and sings a Disney song at jet engine volumes when I see Pinkie Pie come inside.

I put the twins in their crib and breathe a huge sigh of relief, something that causes trace wisps of flour to come out of my mouth. "That was just me doing some quotes," I explain to the slightly confused pony. Then, I sigh. "You would not believe how rough this day was... I can still hear the crying."

"Oh, I know all about that," she giggles. "Before you came along, I babysat these two all the time!"

“I suppose,” is my reply. "Thank for the flour tip, by the way. It really helped me out."

"No problem at all!"

I slowly stand up, feeling some of my joints pop back in place, and discover that the activities of the past two hours have been really quite tiring on more than just my larynx. It seems that hearing nothing but screams for a solid half hour could substitute physical exercise if you want to feel spent. "Sorry if I burned the cupcakes down there," I say as I rub my sides. “I got a big fright at the time, and I couldn't get to them in time.”

"Aw it's fine," Pinkie says calmly with a waving hoof in dismissal. "We'll just go down to the basement and get some more ingredients to make some more!"

"Uh-huh..." I answer numbly.

In a few moments, we were in her basement for a second time.

"Okay," she says after she places a bag of flour on her back. "I need you to go to that top shelf over there and grab that large jug."

I look up at the shelf and see a really big jug filled with a blue liquid of sorts. I shrug and reach up to grab it, but fail to take into account just how tired I am. One second I am controlling the jug's movement well enough, the next, it's out of my grasp and turned on its side, drenching me to the bone with its contents.

I let out a few swear words on accident before I regain my bearings. "Shoot, sorry I spilled that," I say humbly.

"Aw it's okay!" Wait, why is she sounding so upbeat all of a sudden? "We just gotta get you washed up is all. We'd better do it soon, though, that's highly flammable!”

With a surprised yelp at the idea of being covered in what pretty much sounds and looks like premium unleaded gasoline, I quickly make my way to the basement door...

… which promptly slams shut, encasing the whole basement in total darkness.

"Ooh, it's really dark in here! I'd better light a candle if we're going to find our way out!”

Light a...

A match scrapes against the side of a matchbox, and next thing I know, I'm seeing Pinkie holding the match in her mouth as she attempts to light the candle. "Pinkie, no..." I whisper in full alert, very conscious that I'm dressed in–

And that's when Pinkie Pie tosses the match aside, and by aside, I mean directly at me.

The small embers of death are a SCUD missile from my point of view. I do my best to move out of the way, but it's far too late.

The match hits me.

If the flour shower meant that all was flour, well, now my whole universe is fire. I scream as I get engulfed in a fraction of a second, dropping to the ground in a roll. I don't care that I can't feel any pain, I more care about the fact that I am a human torch right now!!!

I writhe around on the ground, the stop-drop-and roll thing we were taught in grade school the only coherent action my brain is processing. Oh Gosh, I hope it works before I'm to a mirror image of the cupcakes I so frequently failed at baking!

However, before I can extinguish myself, I feel a splash of water hit me directly. I find myself lying on the ground, barely daring to move.

"How are you doing?" I hear Pinkie Pie ask in that same bizarrely cheerful voice.

All I can do is cough. The last few seconds just beat my already sore throat into submission with a police baton.

"That was really cool, that effect just now! Some hot stuff for certain!"

More coughs. Please don't let me catch bronchitis, the burns are bad enough already!

"Good thing it wasn't real fire, huh? Can you imagine what you'd be like right now if it was?"

… wait... "Not real?" I ask weakly.

"Of course not, silly! Why would I set you on fire for real?"

"You... did that on purpose?!"

"I sure did! I had you watch the twins so you'd be really, really tired when I asked you to get the jug of cold flame down from the top shelf, so you'd be too weak to hold it up and would spill it all over yourself! Why, were you really, really scared?"

I nod dumbly, making a titanic effort to sit up. However, my efforts are blocked when a pink hoof nonchalantly slams into my chest and pins me to the floor. My eyes widen in fear as Pinkie Pie puts her mouth really close to my ear and says eight words in a tone so filled with malice it would make a convicted criminal on Earth flinch back.

"That's why you never break a Pinkie Promise!"