//------------------------------// // The Great Ice Cream Incident (Part 1) // Story: Not My Fault // by Daemon McRae //------------------------------// Chapter 12: The Great Ice Cream Incident (Part 1) I could not believe my eyes. Nothing in this scenario made sense. I’d been listening to music, or, more specifically, making it more awesome than it already was, when I heard a noise downstairs. Through noise-cancelling headphones. With the dial at 11. Needless to say, I was intrigued. I ran downstairs, two at a time, and noticed that DAMN there’s a lot of stairs in Spitfire’s house. Why are there so many stairs in Spitfire’s house?! She FLIES! WHAT. Anyway, I get down there, and stop at the ground floor, cause I can’t tell where the noise came from. Then I hear some scuffing and yelps and stuff, and start following the noise. Eventually, I trace it back to the kitchen. And I, being the heroic and amazing mare that I am, throw the door open. “Nopony move! I’m here to save you!” My yell seemed instantly redundant, however, as I saw what had caused all the noise. Namely, Spitfire lying on top of Octavia, both of whom were covered in chocolate sauce and whipped cream. Spitfire looked from me to Octavia back to me. “I can explain.” She sounded like a foal with her hoof in the cookie jar. I crossed my forelegs and leaned against the door frame. “Oh, please do.” -------- Ok, backing up for a minute, this whole scenario actually started much earlier this morning when I came down to have something for breakfast. I thought about waking you up, Vinyl, but it was only like 9 A.M. So I went downstairs and had breakfast. Or, tried. There was an Octavia in the way. Namely, I couldn’t get to the fridge, because she was practically climbing into the thing. I coughed to get her attention, then flinched when her head hit the shelf above her. I half expected something to break. “Owww, Vinyl...” She turned around, and seeing it wasn’t in fact Vinyl, started to stammer out an apology. “Oh-Miss Spitfire! I’m so sorry, I... I was looking for eggs and I-” “I don’t have any eggs.” I gave her a bemused look. “Can’t eat ‘em.” Her eyes got wide like I’d told her she’d killed my dog. “Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t know... I-” “YOU are apologizing way to profusely for my lack of eggs and your head injury. Or maybe you should be apologizing for calling me Vinyl. That’s a rather serious grievance, you know.” That got her to loosen up, and she laughed. “Yes, I can imagine so.” ------- “Hey!” I said from the doorway. Spitfire and Octavia had by now separated, and Octavia was cleaning herself off with a wet rag. Spitfire rolled her eyes at me. “You want me to tell you the story or not?” She gave me a grin and waved me off. “Fine.” ----------- Anyway, after we stopped laughing at your expense, I showed her where all the breakfast stuff was. Namely, the protein shakes and high-fiber cereals. She said she wasn’t hungry anymore, so I shrugged and got myself some of each. A nice, balanced breakfast for any athlete. At least, that’s what I explained to her. “You do remember I’m an artist, right?” Octavia gave me a quizzical look while peeking around my cupboards for something artsy to eat. “So what, you live on croissants and lattes?” I was halfway through a bite of cereal when I saw the look on her face. I almost choked. “Oh my god you do! HA! I thought that was just a thing college kids did!” She blushed and laid her face on the counter. “I... never really grew out of it. They were just so tasty!” I rolled my eyes, again, and took pity on her. Throwing her a banana from the fruit bowl, I came up with a solution. “Alright, tell you what. I’ll finish eating my real food, then we can go down to this little coffee shop and grab you something to eat. Why didn’t you bring any of that with you when you moved in yesterday?” I took another bite while waiting for her to answer. She pawed at the ground. “Well, actually, I don’t really keep much food in my house. I usually eat out with friends, and I have this regular coffee shop that I go to, so...” Her voice trailed off as she looked at me sheepishly. I had to let out a sigh. “Right. We’re so going grocery shopping. You-” I jabbed a hoof at her, “-are going to learn the value of home cooking and saving money. I-” I jabbed a hoof at myself, “-am looking for an excuse to eat something I really probably shouldn’t.” She stopped for a second and laughed a little. She was pretty cool, and didn’t seem very tightly wound. “Ok, fair enough.” She finally conceded, and ate the banana. ------- It wasn’t long after that that we ended up walking down to this quaint little cafe up the road from the house. I was rather charmed with it- ------- “Whoa, hey. Why are you telling the story?” I asked Octavia, as she finished toweling off. I looked over to Spitfire, her head in the sink, and all I got from her was “Gurgle gurgle.” I nodded sagely as Octavia gave me a placating smile. “Right, go on.” ------- As I was saying, this cafe was rather... cute. Not like the hustle and bustle of the chain restaurants I usually visit. There were very few ponies around, but they all seemed to recognize Spitfire. And not in the celebrity way. There were hoofshakes, and tipped hats, it was all rather sweet. Finally, Spitfire sat us down at this little counter separating the dining room from the kitchen. This older mare in an apron, I believe Spitfire said she was the owner, leaned on the counter and gave Spitfire and I a hello. “Well, hi there.” She seemed a little... rustic. It was quite charming. “I don’t think I’ve seen you before. Who’s this, Spitfire?” Spitfire nodded, and gestured towards me. “This is Octavia. She’s... living with me till they fix her apartment up.” Apparently the waitress caught on to that little pause, and gave Spitfire a knowing look. “So what happened?” Her voice was stern and motherly. If not for the fact that she looked nothing like Spitfire, (she was off-white with a light tan mane, and a cup of coffee for a Cutie Mark, as well as... matronly plump), I’d swear she WAS her mother. Spitfire sighed. “Ok, you know how I told you Vinyl and I finally started dating?” The waitress mare nodded, and Spitfire explained the whole situation. Well, enough of it to explain my presence. She was considerately vague on certain details, which I appreciated. “...and that’s where we are now.” Spitfire took a sip of a drink I hadn’t notice she’d received. I looked down and, in fact, I too had a cup of coffee to drink. I was about to ask for cream and sugar when I felt Spitfire’s elbow in my side. I looked over at her, and her expression said quite plainly, ‘Just drink the coffee.’ It was, in short, delicious. “Now where are my manners!” The exclamation caught me by surprise, and had I not just finished my drink, I probably would have spilled some. I looked up to the waitress giving me a warm expression. “I haven’t even introduced myself. Name’s Cafe Latte! Pleasure to meet a friend of Spitfire’s!” I was about to protest that we aren’t... exactly friends, but her expression was too warm and welcoming for me to have the hart. Instead, I shook her extended hoof, and smiled. “It’s nice to meet you, too. I’ve never had a cup of coffee like this before.” I thought complimenting her brew was a good start to a conversation that I had the feeling was going to last a while. Latte nodded, and smiled proudly. “Best brew in Canterlot. And none of that sissy milk and sugar, neither! Glad to see a mare who can take it black as night!” I nodded knowingly, figuring that this was why Spitfire had wanted me to drink the coffee straight. The rest of the visit was uneventful, save for some delightful conversation and a rather tasty croissant, but immediately after, we went to the grocery store. ------- “And this is where it all goes downhill.” Spitfire’s voice caught my attention, as I looked over to the freshly clean, and deliciously soaking wet, mare leaning on the counter. “May I?” Spitfire asked. Octavia nodded and blushed. “Please... do.” I dropped down from my standing position against the door, and instead took a seat at the counter. The girls followed suit. “This should be good.” Spitfire tilted her head. “Well...” ------- Ok, so we got out of Cafe Dusty, and walked down to the grocery store. I think you know the place. Huge supermarket thing like five blocks away. Coltway or something. Anyway, we get there, and right away I can tell this one hasn’t been in a grocery store like this. Ever. I know, I couldn’t believe it either. The first thing we see is the grocery aisle, cause that’s how it’s put together. And for a while, it’s just walking around, looking for the bakery and the coffee aisles and anything else Octavia needs. I have to say, though, she looked adorable. Pushing that cart around and trying to look at everything at once. It was kind of funny. But then... then we get to the frozen foods aisle. At first it was just like every other aisle. She was looking around in total amazement at the things ponies invent to shove in their mouths. And to be honest, sometimes it amazes me too. Then, I heard four little words. Perfectly innocent. And I thought I was going to cry. “Spitfire, what’s ‘Rocky Road’?” I couldn’t stop myself. I did a total 180 and stared at her. She could have grown a second head and I’d be less surprised. More disturbed? Yes. But less surprised. “What?!” She flinched, and pointed quietly to a display case. “Um, I was wondering what Rocky Road was?” I take a moment to compose myself, and walk over to the display. It’s the ice cream section. Then a thought occurs to me. “Octavia, please tell me you know what ice cream is.” I almost beg. “Of course I do! It’s a vanilla flavored dairy dessert.” She smiled at me. Smiled. Like she hadn’t just said what I wish she hadn’t just said. I facehoofed. The only appropriate response. “Octavia, you are familiar with flavors, yes?” She looked at me like I was crazy. “Of course I know what flavors are, I... oh.” she looked at me, then at the display case. Then at me. “I’m sorry. I’d... well I’ve never had anything other than Vanilla... flavored ice cream. My parents were rather stringent about sweet things, and to be honest I’d never really had the occasion to eat it since I was a filly. I wasn’t especially a fan.” I thought my heart was gonna break. “That’s... the saddest thing I’ve ever heard. A kid who doesn’t like ice cream? Who’s only ever had vanilla?!” I decided right then and there to right this wrong. “That’s it. We’re making sundaes. YOU are going to try as many flavors of ice cream as I can make you before you get sick and I am going to forget my diet for a whole day to make this happen.” I put my muzzle up to hers. “You better understand the sacrifice I’m making here, Octavia.” She nodded. Of course a high-society girl understood the importance of a diet. So we pile it in the cart. Like, 15 different flavors. I’m even sure there was one in there I couldn’t pronounce. Octavia looked at the cart and frowned. “Are you sure you have enough room in your freezer?” I laughed. “Please! Half this won’t make it into the freezer anyway. and I’ll just build up some snow in the backyard and bury the rest. For... later.” We were on our way out of the store when I forgot something really important. “Oh, snap!” Octavia turned around and almost fell down she spun so quickly. “We almost forgot chocolate sauce! and whipped cream! And nuts!” She looked at me like I’d lost it. “Um, nuts?” I gave her a look. “Oh, you don’t even KNOW.” ------- I looked back and forth between Spitfire and Octavia. Then at the rest of the kitchen, which was a total mess. Ice cream lay everywhere. Dessert toppings lined the walls and floor like confetti and streamers. “So?! What happened?!” Spitfire gave Octavia a sideways look, and the grey mare spoke up quietly. “Well, as it turns out... there was a reason I wasn’t allowed many sweets, let alone ice cream, as a child.” I wait for her to finish, and she looks up at me with a guilty smile. “I believe they’re called... sugar rushes?” [TO BE CONTINUED]