//------------------------------// // LaFlour's LaMent // Story: The Bunny Suit and Other Silly Stories // by BrassHeart //------------------------------// Story the Second: LaFlour's LaMent My name is Madame LaFlour, and I am waiting for death. I am the last member of the Legion of Party-Goers, the beings thought into existence by the broken mind of Pinkamina Diane Pie. There were four of us, once. Sir Lints-a-lot, a dustbunny from behind the couch. Rocky, a pile of stones from the backyard. And of course, my dearest friend, Mr. Turnip, who came from the same pantry I did. Such a sweet fellow, even though he probably tasted like turnips. They're all gone now. Last I heard, Rocky had retired to a zen garden, and fell in love with a boulder there. Tom, I think. Tom Dan. They're happy there, and raising a large number of little pebbles together. Sir Lints-a-lot died in valiant battle with his most hated enemy, the vacuum. I saw it happen. One second, he was there, and the next, he was simply gone, vanished down the beast's terrible gullet. His death was not pointless, however. He had still been wearing his party hat from months ago, and the beast choked to death on it. Mr. Turnip was chopped up and used in a soup. Apparently, it was a horrible soup. And now, I wait here in the darkness of Sugarcube Corner's pantry, waiting for her, the one who gave me life, to come back and end it. She's been going back and forth all day, each time taking one of my brethren and whisking them away, never to return. I have been lucky so far, as I have been for months now, but my luck has run out. I am the last sack of flour in the pantry, and when she comes back, she will come for me. She will carry me to the kitchens, tear open my skin without a care in the world, and use my innards in one of her baked treats, probably while singing some silly song about the process, forcing me to listen as my death is narrated to me. ...I've been listening to that insane bottle of sprinkles for too long. Nevertheless, I've lived a good life, and I can only hope that whatever I am turned into, it will be something delightful, something that will spread joy and happiness to a wide array of ponies. I've always been partial to cookies, myself. I hope that is what she turns me into. The door has cracked open. She stands there now, a silly smile on her face, unaware of the atrocities she is about to commit in the name of baking. She sees me. She picks me up over her head, and bounces out of the pantry. None of the other ingredients mourn me. They only hope she will not be back for them. I can see the kitchen doors ahead now, opened wide and inviting. I hear the oven calling out, ready to swallow and bake me. I always knew I would die like this. And I am ready to embrace why are we turning left. That way. The kitchen is that way, you imbecile. Where are you taking me? I am supposed to die in the oven, like a true bag of flour! What are those... things? Why are they crying? What is... No. Oh no. No. No, it can't end like this. I DON'T WANT IT TO END LIKE THIS! NOOOOOOOO! With a smooth, practiced motion, Pinkie Pie opened the sack of flour and dumped the contents over her head, turning herself completely white. Pumpkin Cake and Pound Cake's wailing stopped, replaced by amused laughter. And so ends the life of Madame LaFlour. A/N: This idea for this story came from a suggestion made by outlaw4rc, and was written well before I saw that comic about Madame LaFlour sacrificing herself to save Pinkie's act. I swear.