//------------------------------// // Chapter Two // Story: The Muffin // by DismantledAccount //------------------------------// Baked Bread was sitting behind the wooden counter and carefully wiping a plate with a small, clean rag. Whistling distractedly, he held it up to the dim candle on the desk. Setting the clean plate behind him with the others, he put his forelegs on the countertop and placed the bottoms of his hooves under his chin.  He looked at the ornate gold-plated windup clock that was sitting by the edge of the counter and stared at it as the seconds ticked by. “Tick,” said the clock. Opening his mouth awkwardly because of the hooves under his chin, he yawned slowly. “Tick,” said the clock. He blinked sleepily, his eyelids slightly out of sync. “Tick,” said the clock. His muzzle slowly pushed his forelegs apart, and his head slipped closer to the counter. “Tock,” said the clock. “Huh?” grunted the stallion, jerking his head up. Lethargically reaching over, he grasped the clock in one hoof and flipped it around. “Tock,” said the clock. He found the small knob on the back and gave it a few turns, the mechanism clicking tiredly. “Tick,” said the clock once again. The stallion nodded, satisfied. Turning it over once again, he noticed that it was almost closing time. He stood up and stretched each of his legs legs in turn, working out all of the stiffness. Suddenly a loud banging sound filled the small room. Baked Bread quickly looked up to see the door closing with another loud bang. The stunning grey mane with the golden mane had her back against the door and was panting heavily. “. . . Hi,” said the stallion, finding his voice. The mare quickly looked up and focused her right eye on him, while her left appeared to be staring at the ground. “Oh, I’m, uhhhh, sorry. I thought that . . . This isn’t . . . I’ll just be, ummm, going now,” she stammered quickly, standing up. A light blush formed on her cheeks as she looked over her shoulder towards the door. “It’s fine, you can stay. I haven’t closed up yet,” he said, stepping around the counter. “But . . .” began the mare, brushing her slightly windblown mane out of her golden eyes,  somehow managing to look attractive, shy, approachable, and nervous all at the same time. “What took you so long to come back?” he asked, concern in his voice. “It’s been over a week; I was starting to think that you weren't coming back.” “I just . . . I’m sorry . . . I just didn’t want to mess it up . . .” she mumbled, lowering her head and folding her ears back. “Mess what up?” he asked. “You, this, everything, like I always do,” she mumbled. As he got closer, he saw that there were tear stains on her cheeks, matting her soft coat. “Are you okay?” he asked softly, walking to within a few feet of her. She wiped at her muzzle with a foreleg before responding. “Yes.” She didn’t look up. “That’s what I thought,” he said, stepping closer and tentatively wrapping his foreleg around the mare’s shoulders. “Do you mind telling me what happened?” he asked. “No, I mean yes, I mean . . .” She wiped her eyes with a foreleg to prevent more tears from escaping. “It’s nothing . . .” “It’s obviously not nothing,” he stated. “I’ll sit with you and listen if you feel like sharing. Sometimes it can help to just tell somepony and get it off of your chest.” Biting her lip and humming quietly, she paused for a few moments. “Promise you won’t laugh at me?” she asked, peering up at the stallion through her golden mane. “Promise,” he said. “Well . . .” she started hesitantly. “Pretty much all of my co-workers were making fun of me because I messed up my deliveries,” she said finally, letting it all out in a rush. “Deliveries?” he asked. “I’m a mailpony,” she answered. “Ahhh.” He nodded. “So what did you mess up?” “It’s too embarrassing,” she mumbled. “I already said I wouldn’t laugh, what more do you want me to say?” he asked. “You better not,” she said, glaring at him. “We already went over this, twice; I promised I wouldn’t laugh. But if it makes you feel better I can say this: I swear it on the countless hours I have spent sitting behind my counter, I will not laugh,” he stated with authority. She let out a long sigh. “All right, I crashed into a tree and dropped my mailbag into a lake.” Immediately after saying this, she looked down and away from him. “Really?” he asked. “They made fun of you for that?” She slowly nodded and flattened her ears against her head. “The same lake. Twice in one day.” “That’s nothing. A long time ago, I blew up three houses trying to make a new flavor of bread.” She quickly looked up at him. “What?” He nodded sagely. “I still don’t know what I put in that batter, but I haven’t done it since.” “Yeah . . . but you only made a mistake once,” she mumbled, hanging her head low again. “Once? Try hundreds of times,” he chuckled. “Everypony makes mistakes. Like . . . your co-workers, for instance. They shouldn’t make fun of you for an honest fumble; that's a mistake.” “But nopony makes as many mistakes as I do,” she sighed. He gently stroked her mane with his foreleg. “And you believe that? Are they really that bad?” he asked. “What happened to that happy mare who came in just last week? It looked like it would be fun to get to know her.” He pointedly didn’t mention the fact that she yelled at him. It was no use making her feel even worse. She didn’t respond for a few minutes. “I’m feeling better now,” she said, wiping a few tears from her eyes. “And I should probably be going before it gets too dark.” “If you’re feeling better, then why are you still crying?” he asked gently, rubbing his foreleg along her back. She didn’t say anything for a few moments, but before long, the stallion felt her shoulders begin to shake. “Be-cause they’re right . . . I’m just dumb and-and clumsy!” she sobbed suddenly, leaning into the stallion. “I d-drop things and-nd crash all the time.” “I can’t possibly believe that; you seemed like a fine, intelligent mare when I talked to you.” “That-s be-cause you don’t know me . . .” she cried, her body shaking. “Is that why you didn’t come back? Because you didn’t want to ‘mess up’ my opinion of you?” he asked, making the connections. The mare pressed her face into the stallion’s chest and nodded slowly. The stallion brushed her mane out of her eyes then lifted her chin until her good eye met his own. “I think you are a beautiful mare, nothing you could do will change that,” he said. She blushed slightly and asked shakily, “W-why are y-you being so n-nice to me-e? I’m just a clumsy mare that can’t do anything right.” She smiled weakly. “See? Look at me, crying in f-front of a stallion I don’t ev-en know.” As she began to regulate her breathing, she gently pushed the foreleg away from her face and wiped her muzzle, sniffing slightly. “Better?” asked the stallion. She took a deep breath then let it all out slowly. “A little,” she murmured. “See? I told you I mess everything up . . . Now you think I’m pathetic and dum—” “Don’t call yourself that,” he interrupted forcefully. “You’re not dumb,” he stated, tapping her chest with a foreleg. “You are a normal mare, and don’t let anypony tell you otherwise.” “Do normal mares destroy the town hall when they don’t watch where they are going?” she asked sadly, making a small circle on a floor with her hoof. “That was you?” he asked. She nodded slowly. “Hmm. Impressive.” “I . . . what?” “A single mare who can destroy the entire town hall just by crashing? I think she would have to be pretty strong—both mentally and physically.” She paused for a moment for a long moment before responding. “I should really be going now,” she mumbled, “It’s starting to get late.” “Right, do you want a bit of The Muffin to eat on the way to your house?” he asked. “I would like that,” she said, wiping her face again. “Wait just a sec, and I’ll be right back with a piece,” he said, unwrapping his foreleg and trotting back over to the counter. He took the covering off of the case that masked that it had already been eaten; he couldn’t put chewed food on display. He entered the combination and slid the padlock off, catching it in his hoof this time. He walked behind the counter and pulled out a short, heavily serrated bread knife. Working carefully, he opened the clear lid and began slicing into The Muffin. A thousand lesser beings made of muffin flesh from an alternate dimension cried out in agony as their god among gods was slowly wounded, bleeding crumbs and a holy smell that could promote peace across the land as the evil knife tore a chunk out of The Muffin’s very being. After cutting roughly a regular muffin sized piece of The Muffin, the stallion wrapped it in a small sheet of soft, thin cloth, specifically designed for this purpose. Picking up the chunk in his hoof, he limped back over to the mare, his hooves making soft thumping on the wooden floor. The mare was standing on her hooves and shifting impatiently. She smiled a bit as she saw him carrying the treat over. When he got closer, he held out his foreleg and offered the bread to her. “Thank you,” she said, taking the piece of The Muffin out of his hoof, “for everything.” She stepped forward and threw her forelegs around him. “You were right, it was really nice just talking to somepony.” “You’re welcome,” he replied, smiling and returning the warm hug. “I really appreciate that you kept your promise and didn’t laugh at me,” she whispered into his ear. “Some ponies start laughing the minute they see me.” He noted that there was a hint of bitterness in her voice. “They don’t know who they’re missing out on,” he replied. She disengaged from the hug and flashed him a quick smile. “I really do need to go now,” she said, wiping her muzzle one last time “Of course,” he said, opening the door for her. “But please come back sooner next time.” “But I thought that . . .” she trailed off, staring at him strangely. “Thought what?” he asked, cocking an eyebrow. “Well”—the mare started blushing and kicked at the ground awkwardly with a foreleg—“I just made a complete fool of myself by crying in front of you, not to mention last week when I yelled at you, and then I went and told you that I’m the clumsiest mare in all of Ponyville. I kinda thought that you wouldn’t want to see me again . . .” she mumbled. “I see,” said the stallion. “Those do sound like pretty good reasons.” The mare’s ears lowered and she began walking out the doorway. “But,” said the stallion, causing the mare to stop halfway out of the building. “But if you don’t come back, then who’s going to eat the rest of The Muffin?” he asked. “It is yours, you know.” The mare glanced over her shoulder and looked at the stallion. He smiled and asked. “Will you stop by tomorrow, then?” A wink and a wave of her wing was his only response as the mare trotted off into the night.