((Prompt: The first three hundred))
Five minutes. Three hundred seconds. That was all it took. It had to be some kind of record or something. They hadn’t even made it out of Sugarcube Corner yet!
Pinkie’s eyes went wide. Her mouth hung open. “Omigosh, Rarity! I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to—”
“Well, this feels familiar,” Rarity said as a glop of cake frosting dripped from the side of her face.
Four of those first five minutes had gone so well, too. Rarity had shown up, looking as ravishing as she always was. Her dress had been pristine—neatly pressed, perfectly in style for the season, and most importantly, free of cake.
Pinkie had come down the stairs as soon as the door opened. Sweet Celestia, she had brushed and braided her mane just for Rarity. It still poofed at the corners, but it was an incredible sight to behold nevertheless.
Rarity had brought a gift, of course. A lovely light blue chapeau, which looked ever so adorable there atop those pink braids. Pinkie had hugged her fiercely in gratitude, which Rarity had returned in kind.
Next, Pinkie had shown her the fruits of her own labor. A cake, naturally. A great, heart-shaped confection painted in pink frosting and trimmed with red and purple. A gaudy affair, to be sure, but most definitely heartfelt, and the combination of color and shape was pleasing to Rarity’s keen eyes. Especially the decoration in the center, which contained a picture, rendered as accurately as a pony could make with a tube of frosting, of a pink mare and a white mare leaning against one another and smiling. Captioned in a red drizzle, it read, “Our first date!” Rarity particularly appreciated the aesthetic appeal of that part.
Alas, just as she had been about to suggest that they put the cake aside for the moment so they could get a start toward the restaurant, the fifth minute began. The cake twins, who could be held by no mortal crib, each had struck as one. Pound Cake passed by in a low aerial buzz while Pumpkin Cake launched one of her toys like a slobbery missile. While Pinkie twisted to keep Pound from landing in the cake, the damp plastic toy placed itself squarely beneath her hoof.
Her footing compromised, Pinkie had spun like a top. A wide-eyed, squealing top with a cake momentarily in her hooves. Only momentarily, because the force of the spin quickly took hold of the pastry, sending it flying through the air, directly at a very stunned, fabulously dressed unicorn.
It had taken Rarity all of five minutes to wind up covered in cake. It was becoming a pattern for her, it seemed.
Rarity closed her eyes, and took a deep breath. “No worries, Pinkie, I came prepared,” she said.
Her horn ignited. The dress came free of her body, levitating into the air. Squinting in concentration, Rarity gave the dress a vigorous shake. Dabs of cake frosting freed themselves from the dress and spattered onto the floor. With an illuminating flash, Rarity re-fastened her now once-again immaculate dress back on herself.
Pinkie gaped.
“Cake-proof fabric,” Rarity explained, smoothing out a wrinkle in the hem. “I imagined I would get a chance to test it tonight.”
Pinkie Pie squealed. “That is so awesome! How does it work? Omigosh, you could make aprons like that!”
Rarity laughed. “I’ll tell you all about it later. But for now, we should get this mess cleaned up and be on our way. Our reservations are at seven.”
Rarity had been prepared for the first three hundred seconds of her date with Pinkie. Now to see what the rest of it would bring.