Chapter 4: Employee of the Month
Cup Cake bounded into the shop the following Monday at 8 AM with a spring in her step. This was going to be a long day, I just knew it.
“Well, look who’s here!” I said cheerily, trying to sound as enthusiastic as I could. “Right on time, too.”
“I know,” she said proudly as she threw on the apron that I had laid out for her at the door. “So, Carrot Cake, when can I get started?”
“Right now, actually,” I said, handing her a mop and bucket. “One of our customers had a pretty nasty spill last Friday night and I didn’t have time to clean it up.” I pointed under one of the tables, where the floor was coated with the remains of a chocolate milkshake.
Cup Cake’s smile quickly faded. “Seriously?” she grumbled. “I come into work for the first time, and the first thing you say to me is, ‘clean up that mess’?”
I shrugged. It did sound a bit callous the way she put it. Nevertheless, I wasn’t going to back down. “I’m sorry, Cup Cake,” I said politely but firmly, “but you said you wanted to help me run this bakery, right? Part of running a bakery is keeping it clean and presentable. Now get a move on, the customers are going to be coming in any minute now.”
Cup Cake sighed as her eyes drooped towards the floor. “You’re right,” she muttered. “I’m sorry.” With that, she got to work mopping up the spill.
‘You’re right’? ‘I’m sorry’? Those words echoed louder and louder in my head with each passing second. Goose bumps started popping up all over my skin when the truth of the matter finally sunk in: I just won an argument. I did! I stood my ground, refused to budge, and in the end, she was the one who backed down. I could barely contain my excitement. For the first time since that mare stepped into my life, I felt like I was the one in control. Carrot Cake the Pushover had been replaced by Carrot Cake the Boss.
She mopped up the mess surprisingly efficiently. I thought I was going to have to give her some direction, but it looked like she didn’t need it. So far, the day was going swimmingly. “Is there anything else you need me to do?” she asked as she joined me behind the counter.
“Not at the moment,” I replied. “I might ask you later to run over to the market and pick up some more flour, but for now you can rest easy until the first custom-“
“Morning, Carrot Cake!”
Speak of the Discord. Just as I was about to finish my sentence, in flew one of my most loyal patrons. While my bakery was never very popular, I could always count on her to pop in every Monday morning for breakfast.
“And a good morning to you too, Derpy. I take it you’ll be having the usual?”
“Yep!” she chirped. “An apple walnut muffin, plea-”
She paused as soon as she noticed an unfamiliar face next to mine. “Who’s that?” she inquired.
“Oh, her? That’s just my new assistant.”
“So she helps you ‘round the bakery?”
“Well, yes, Derpy, that’s what an assistant does.”
“Is she your fillyfriend?”
“What?!” I cried incredulously, balking at the question. Derpy was a sweet filly, but she wasn’t known for her tact. “I mean-no, no she isn’t. Just my assistant, Derpy.” Meanwhile, Cup Cake was doubling over with laughter.
“Oh, OK,” said Derpy, seemingly content with the answer I gave her. “Well, I’ll see you later, Carrot. Bye!”
“Wait!” I exclaimed, just as Derpy was about to step back outside. “Don’t you want your muffin first?”
Derpy chortled at herself and swiftly returned to the counter. “Oh, yeah, that’s right. My mistake!”
I grinned, rolled my eyes, and began to reach into my tray of pre-made muffins when I received a tentative tap on the shoulder.
“Yes, Cup Cake?” I said, turning around to meet her eyes.
“May I handle this order?” she asked shyly. “I want to make her a fresh one. Wouldn’t she like that more?”
“A fresh one? Cup Cake, that’ll take 30 minutes!” I said.
“It’s okay,” said Derpy. “I can wait.”
“See? She doesn’t mind,” said Cup Cake. “And besides, you certainly didn’t mind doing it for me.”
“T-that was different!” I stammered. “Listen, I appreciate the offer, but I’ll have to teach you how to bake before you try anything like this.”
“You don’t have to!” she exclaimed. “I already know. Let me show you!”
She didn’t sound like she was kidding, so I shrugged and backed away from the counter. “If you insist,” I said with just a twinge of wariness in my voice.
But as it turned out, I had no reason to be wary at all. Right before my eyes, she produced an entire tray of muffins all by herself. From scratch. And what’s more, Derpy loved hers. She loved it more than any muffin I had ever served her, I can tell you that.
“This is delicious!” she cried, swelling with joy. “I’m gonna tell all my friends in the Muffin Club about this place!” And with that, she swooped out the door.
“Cup Cake, that was AMAZING!” I cried, utterly dumbfounded by what had just transpired. “Why didn’t you tell me you could bake like that?!”
Cup Cake smiled mischievously. “You never asked,” she said. Well, I certainly can’t argue with that, I thought. “Though I’m a little surprised that you didn’t figure it out sooner,” she added, wiggling her flank at me.
It was then that I noticed that she had a cutie mark of three pink-frosted, cherry-topped cupcakes on her flank. “Muffins are my specialty, you know.”
“Muffins? But those are cupcakes,” I said, pointing to her cutie mark.
Cup Cake laughed. “You know what the difference between a cupcake and a muffin is? Nothing. A muffin’s just a bald cupcake.”
Well, I certainly can’t argue with that, either.
“You know, I still can’t believe you haven’t noticed my cutie mark until now!”
“I… um… I guess I’m not very observant,” I said apologetically.
“Oh, it’s fine!” she said. “You don’t have to feel bad about it. Look, if anything, it means that you haven’t been staring at my butt this whole time.”
I chuckled. “Oh, trust me, you don’t have to worry about that,” I assured her. “I’m not that kind of stallion.”
“Then what kind of stallion are you?”
I wasn’t really prepared to answer that. “Well, I… I guess I’m a…”
“Because I think I know what kind of stallion you are.”
I gulped. “What?” I asked nervously.
“An ADORABLE one!” she squealed, tousling my frizzy orange mane.
I blushed, giggling like a child. Cup Cake was nothing if not a charmer.
The rest of the day went by just as easily as the morning did. Business was only marginally stronger than usual (I hadn’t gotten around to changing the name of the bakery yet), but with Cup Cake at my side, everything was a breeze. She baked, she cleaned, she took inventory, she helped with the shopping, and she never complained about any of it (well, ALMOST never).
At long last, 9:00 rolled around. Time to close shop.
“It’s *yawn* closing time, Cup Cake,” I said as she was wiping off one of the tables. “You’re free to go.” With that, I laid my head down on the counter and began to drift off to sleep.
Cup Cake stopped what she was doing, turned around and stared at me with a bemused expression on her face. “You’re not going to sleep like that, are you?” she asked.
“Mmm… yeah, I am…” I replied drowsily.
“Carrot Cake, that can’t be healthy,” she said, visibly concerned about me.
“It’s no big deal, I do it all the time,” I said lazily.
Cup Cake shook her head. “Carrot, you’re crazy if you think I’m gonna leave you here like this. Come on, get upstairs and get yourself into bed.”
“Nah,” I said. “I’m too tired.”
“Then I’ll carry you,” she said.
I just quietly laughed off that last comment and assumed that she was joking. But just as I was about to fall back asleep, I was grabbed by my waist and hoisted up into the air. By the time I opened my eyes, she had already begun to ascend the first flight. She wasn’t joking.
And let me tell you, that filly was a lot stronger than she looked. She just tossed me over her shoulder like a rag doll and trotted up the stairs without any trouble at all. Just to be considerate, I asked her if I was too heavy for her. She shook her head.
But what a feeling! I hadn’t been carried like that since I was a foal. You’d think that a stallion like me would have too much pride to let a mare carry him, but at that moment in time I didn’t really care about my ego. It was… comforting, being cradled like a foal and feeling her front legs wrapped snugly around my back. I couldn’t complain.
When she got to my bedroom, she gently put me down onto the mattress, tucked me in, and gave me a light peck on the cheek. “Good night,” she whispered.
“Cup Cake… wait…” I muttered just as she was about to leave the room.
Cup Cake momentarily glanced back at me. “Yes?”
“Remember… remember to lock the front door on the way out.” I gently tossed the keys to the bakery into her hooves.
She smiled, nodded, and left without a sound, quietly closing my bedroom door behind her. That night, I think I slept more soundly than I ever had before.