Carrot Cake slouched by the sink as he absentmindedly hoof-dried the last of the recently washed plates for the night, setting it aside without even looking. By now, his chores were a simple matter of muscle memory, and his attention was fixated upon the evening sky. He looked at the sun, a warm disc falling slowly towards the horizon, producing colors of vivid shades of red and yellow, spread out yet correlated upon an azure canvas spotted with grey clouds.
The stallion anticipated the progression of the evening, causing the sky and all its myriad of colors to grow darker and darker, until nothing left was visible besides the twinkling stars and the glowing moon above. He would watch the sight of the town grow dimmer in light, matched with the growing quieter ambience of Ponyville. He eagerly waited, because when the sun had set, along with the beautiful light show it produced above, it also meant the day of work was over.
Not to say that Carrot didn’t like his job as a baker; quite on the contrary, he adored it. He loved working beside his wife as the owner and operator of their own store and restaurant, and in fact, he had claimed on numerous occasions that he would continue to run it until the day he died, and afterwards, he would pass the bakery on to his own children! But there was one problem with his claim, and it was his small family.
When Carrot married his wife, Cup, they moved to Ponyville with a dream to create and run their own family bakery. It only seemed right, considering that the yellow stallion had a baker’s cutie mark, represented by three slices of cake, which complimented the three cupcakes on his wife’s blue flank. They were destined to be bakers together, bound by the love they had for each other.
The two poured their hearts and souls into the dream, bringing it to life from the dirt up. They worked on it for many years, enjoying times of success as well as enduring hardships, but they never gave up on their dream of making the Sugarcube Corner what it is today. However, the Cake family put so much effort into their lifelong project that they forgot to plan for the family they dreamed about as well.
The maize-colored stallion set down the rag he used to dry the dishes and waltzed through the swinging door from the kitchen and into the parlor as he saw his beloved sky-blue wife polishing off a table. She stood up to find Carrot admiring her with a smile as he leaned against the wall. She couldn’t help but return a grin as their gazes met.
“Was there something you needed, dearie?” She knew that look on his face; the look screamed his thoughts aloud to her, it seemed. After a number of years in marriage, Cup could practically read him as easily as he read the Equestria Daily papers each morning. She already knew what her husband was about to suggest, but it made her spouse feel better when she allowed him to think that he wasn’t so predictable.
“I was thinking, honey bun,” he took off his apron as he spoke, setting it on the coat rack in the corner, “we’ve been working so hard lately; I think we owe it to ourselves to close early this evening.” The way he said it almost sounded like a question, and in some sense, it was: Cup never cut any corners in the family business, and Carrot knew this better than anyone else in all of Equestria.
“Oh really, dear? And do what exactly?” she shot him a sly smile, raising an eyebrow as if her response was sudden. This wasn’t the full story, and she was waiting to hear the rest of his explanation. Carrot started to blush slightly as he rubbed his hoof in circles against the wooden floor.
“Well, sugar, I was hoping that maybe we could, y’know, try again before it gets dark.” He grinned back at his wife, who simply rolled her eyes as if she had no idea what was coming.
“Carry, we tried last week. These things take time.” She comforted the stallion by setting her hoof on his shoulder. She kissed his cheek tenderly as a tear rolled down it.
“How much time?” Carrot tried to hide his crying, but in vain, “We’ve been trying for a foal of our own for about two years now!” he gently sobbed as Cup wrapped her forelegs around her husband.
“I know, dearie,” she started to tear up as well, “But we already sent the request form to the postal service last week, and the month before that, and the month before that one, too! I’m sure we’ll hear back from them soon!” She tried to reassure her husband, but the attempt had backfired and the mention of the postal service caused him to break from the embrace and go into an emotional rant.
“Why are you always on their side?” he blurted out to his wife, “After waiting two long years, we still have never gotten a response from those mail ponies!”
“Carry, sweetie, please calm down!”
“And you know who I think is responsible?” his distress and frustration turned to anguish. He wasn’t thinking straight anymore, and he was more than ready to lash out at anypony, “It’s that new girl, the young Pegasus mare who they assigned to our block!”
“Don’t you dare talk about her that way, Carrot Cake!” defended Cup, unaware that she was yelling in return, “She may look a bit off, but she’s a good girl!”
“Cup, I honestly couldn’t tell you how many times that wall-eyed filly has mixed up our packages with the store across the street! Who knows? I wouldn’t put it past her to think that she delivered our baby to somepony else!” The mare was about to come to her defense once more, but her husband continued, “I don’t know how she keeps her job! The ponies running that service are a bunch of lousy good-for-nothings wh-“
He was interrupted midsentence by the sound of the bell that hung above the door, notifying the two of a guest. The couple turned to look at their customer, who seemed just as embarrassed to walk in on the older couple’s fight as they did. She was a new face to the bakery, a pink pony whose age was in the grey area of somewhere between a filly and a mare. With her, she carried a bulging suitcase on her back, as well as saddlebags which hung low on her sides. The three stood frozen as the ringing bell continued to interrupt the moment, but it soon died into a silence. She awkwardly brushed a hoof through her straight magenta mane as she started to turn around.
“I’m sorry,” she said weakly, as if she was about to cry as well. The two were ashamed to think their quarrel had offended her to such an extent, though in truth, that wasn’t the source of her unhappiness at all. The filly started to head back out into the growing night, but Cup was quick to fix her mistake as she disregarded her upset husband to go to the pink visitor.
“Oh please, do come in, sweetie!” she ringed, as if she forgot the whole fight ever happened. “Welcome to Sugarcube Corner! Here, let me help you with your things!” The straight-faced filly set her suitcase down as Cup assisted her with taking off the saddlebag, hanging it next to Carrot’s apron. The blue mare showed the guest to a table and put a small menu in her hooves.
“Can I get you something to drink while you look at the menu, sweetie?”
“I’m fine,” she moped, as she continued to read with eyes glued on the menu. Cup could hear the pouting clops of her husband upstairs, indicating that he had already turned in for the night. ‘He gets so emotional,’ she thought to herself, grimacing at the ceiling above. But her blissful expression had returned when she heard the visitor’s voice:
“I’ll take the sweet apple tart,” she told her hostess plainly.
“Excellent choice, dear! That’s my favorite!” the young mare rolled her eyes, clearly unimpressed with the enthusiasm that Cup wore. The blue mare headed off into the kitchen shortly, then returned, setting a plate with the treat in front of her. “Enjoy!” The filly didn’t even respond when she began to nibble at it. Cup always chose to make friends with her customers, but now she tried more so than ever: aside from the previous conflict she had witnessed, an instinct told her that the pink pony needed a friend now more than ever!
“So I’ve never seen your pretty face around here before,” she tried to start up a conversation with the pink visitor, but she only received a ‘gee, point out the obvious,’ look in return. Despite her rude manners, Cup was still bound and determined. She was as keen on making her happy as the guest was stubborn on staying upset. She disregarded her behavior, and started to think of other ice breakers, when she remembered the luggage she hauled into the store earlier.
“I noticed your hefty luggage, are you planning to stay in Ponyville long, sweetie?”
“No,” she hardly looked up to answer monotonously, dismissing any further questioning from her hostess. Cup decided to respect her privacy: the visitor obviously didn’t want to talk about it, and it wasn’t any of her business after all. The guest continued to eat in silence, undisturbed by the older mare who had resumed her clean-up routine at a new table. When the pink guest was done, she pushed the platter into the center of the table and trotted to her saddlebag, producing a small coin purse from within. Cup sprang to her hooves once more as the young mare dug through it.
“Oh heavens no, dearie. This one’s on us!” It was a usual gesture for Cup to give out a free pastry to newcomers, but it was the last trick she had to leave the filly feeling warm and fuzzy inside. And to her delight, it worked! The younger mare produced a shy smile! Cup had become giddy from her accomplishment and began to hop slightly as she helped the pink pony with her saddlebag, handing her the suitcase on the way out.
“Thank you for your hospitality, ma’am,” said the small pony as she was heading out. Though she couldn’t show it aside from a simple smile, she sincerely appreciated being welcomed.
“Please, call me Mrs. Cake!” her sweet victory brought even more joy to her voice, “Oh, but do hurry home: its well after sundown, and you wouldn’t want your parents to worry about you, dear!”
The gloominess returned to the mare’s expression, erasing all indications of her previous felicity. Her cyan eyes looked as if they were about to cry again as she slammed the door on the way out. Cup bit her lip at the mare’s sudden mood swing. ‘So much for serving up smiles,’ she thought, as she picked up the empty platter to set in the sink. With a guilty conscience, she returned to her normal nightly routine as she closed up shop.
. . .
It was even later in the night when Cup began to ascend to her room after finishing the chores. She did twice the work she normally did: after her husband’s tantrum, Cup figured it’d probably be for the best to just let him turn in early for the night while she did the mundane work all by herself this once. It wasn’t as if he’d make a habit of it, after all. In truth, Carrot usually did go beyond the call of duty in his work, without asking for any recognition or reward: he did it because he loved his wife and what they had together. In retrospect, Cup figured her spouse was right in his argument when he said that they owed it to themselves to take it easy every once in a while; but between the two of them, they could never find time to rest except for after sundown.
She opened the door to her room and found Carrot already fast asleep in bed, leaving the lamp over by his wife’s side turned on for when she came back up. She imagined that he had likely tried to stay up for when she came in, but the worn out stallion dozed off sometime in between then and now. It was a sweet gesture, she thought, but he really did need his sleep. Regardless of her husband’s intentions, Cup tried to be as gingerly as possible as she approached the bed, in hopes to not awaken her sleeping spouse. She climbed in, and the mattress began to shrug slightly, as it usually did. To Cup’s demise, the feeble motion was enough to jolt Carrot awake and upright.
“Wha-? Oh there you are! I was getting worried.”
Cup sighed as she reached for her book and glasses on the night side table. She opened to the page where she left off the previous night, but before she started to read, she looked back at her dreary husband.
“You worry in your sleep, dear?” she retorted, chuckling slightly.
“Ha-ha,” Carrot mocked her joke, and then the room grew quiet and serious. He figured it was time to say what needed to be said, “Look, I’m really sorry about earlier. I was frustrated, and I took my anger out on you. It was wrong of me, and I’m sorry. I love you, honey bun!” It was his turn to kiss her on the cheek, and even though Cup knew his apology was a standard kiss-and-make-up line straight from the book, she accepted it. Carrot meant the things he said.
“I forgive you, Carry dear.” The stallion was relieved his cheesy line worked. The mare returned to her book with a smile, and her husband rolled over to go back to sleep. He glanced at the clock and was surprised at the hour of night it was!
“Why were you up so late, sugar? Did that filly stay long?”
“No, the sweet thing left as soon as she finished her meal,” Cup recollected as she faced her husband once more. Remembering the pink mare’s depressed face unintentionally brought a sense of sorrow to her demeanor, “but the nightly chores did take me a bit longer than they should have.” She returned to her book, but Carrot’s yellow face was now a bright orange.
“Oh jeez, I’m so sorry, honey bun!” he began, fumbling through his mind for ways to make it up to her, “Tell ya what: you can sleep in tomorrow morning if you want. Or wait, no- I insist you sleep in tomorrow! I’ll get everything ready in the morning!” She knew that it was a fair tradeoff, but Cup shook her head.
“It’s really no big deal, Carry,” she turned over to kiss the stallion, “I couldn’t ask you to do that.”
“Please, just do it for me?” his green eyes looked into Cup’s, and though they were sincere, his persuasion wasn’t working with the glazed I-just-woke-up look on his face. But alas, she shrugged her shoulders: she could use the extra sleep after tonight, and more importantly, it would make her husband happy.
“If you say so, dear,” she winked at her husband through her reading glasses, “but you better go to bed now, you have a bunch of work to do tomorrow!” She turned back to her book as he fell back to sleep in an instant.
Cup always read before bedtime: it was the only time when she could forget her own problems and calm down if she was worked up. During the day, she never had time to pick up a book during work, even on their slowest days. As was said before, the two had enough on their busy agenda to keep them on their hooves day in and day out, whether it was shopping, baking, or the lunch rush. Even on Sundays when they opened late and closed early, they could never manage to find a midday respite! In that respect, a book at the end of each day was the perfect escape from all the hustle and bustle of work.
When she was about to close her book for the night, she heard storm clouds rumble in. She’d nearly forgotten that the Weather Team had scheduled a nighttime shower that night!
“I can read one more chapter tonight,” she wittily remarked to herself, “After all, I’m sleeping in tomorrow,” If it wasn’t reading, the most peaceful thing she liked to do was watching the rain. She cautiously crawled out of her sheets, (thankfully Carrot remained asleep this time,) and tiptoed downstairs with her book and reading glasses in hoof as she turned on the parlor lights. Cup sat in her favorite chair by the window as she read.
From this seat, she would have had a panoramic view of all of Ponyville, granted there was any light shining on the town. But for now, she could watch the storm from her peripheral only to about the distance of across the street in the darkness. She smiled at the peaceful pitter patter sound of the rain as she read her book, looking out only on occasion to watch the street receive the steady downpour.
After she finished the chapter, she slid in the bookmark and took one final glance at the storm, which had grown immensely since she moved downstairs. When lightning crossed, the town was illuminated in the drizzle, and although she found it exciting, she could’ve sworn that she saw a pony huddled up across the street.
“The lack of sleep must be getting to me,” she reassured herself, but for some reason, the recollection was burned within her mind as she started upstairs: as much as she tried telling herself the thought was absurd, she just couldn’t be convinced that it was a figment of her imagination. Halfway up the stairwell, the sound of a large thunderclap caused her to jump; if the sound startled her when she was safe from the elements, she thought, then if there was somepony out there, she could hardly imagine how they must feel!
“Well there’s no harm in checking,” she mumbled. Part of her thought she was crazy, but something inside was telling her to take a closer look. Cup set down her glasses and novel as she headed down the stairs to retrieve her rain jacket from the closet by the door. She wanted to believe there was nopony outside, but when she opened the door, she saw differently:
Over yonder by the local Quills and Sofas, Cup witnessed what looked like a smaller pony in the fetal position, hiding beneath a tree for shelter. Though the rain made it difficult to confirm for certain, Cup dashed out towards the poor pony. As she came closer, the picture became less hazy, and soon enough, she could clearly identify the victim as the mysterious young mare from sundown!
Cup nearly slipped on the wet grass as she halted next to the filly. Her magenta mane drooped over her pink coat, soaked to the skin. She could hear the mare whimpering beneath the hooves that covered her face as she shivered uncontrollably. Cup nudged her as the filly raised her head to attention.
“Sweetie! You must come inside! Hurry!” she didn’t want to shout, but the noisiness of the situation gave her no other alternative. The filly looked around and saw the opened door to the Sugarcube Corner. She quickly scampered inside as Cup followed, dragging the waterlogged luggage that the filly left behind.
Cup dropped the suitcase on the floor, setting the saddlebag atop of it as she closed the door. She turned around to hang her jacket on the coat rack, and saw the filly wallowing in a puddle of water, still a weeping and shivering mess. Producing a towel out of a drawer, the two mares headed for the bathroom to dry off.
“There, there, you’re alright, sweetie,” she began to rub the shaken filly down in attempt to dry her coat, “Everything’s going to be alright, you’re safe. Do you feel better now?”
The young mare nodded to the older’s question, followed by hugging around her shoulders as the water from her mane dripped down her savior’s body. While the older mare didn’t mind the dampness, she searched for a remedy to the wet hair.
Upon breaking from their embrace, Cup placed a small hairdryer in the hooves of the pink pony, who glanced at her with a look of uncertainty. It wasn’t an uncommon utility, so it was a fair judgment to assume that she’d at least know how to use a basic hairdryer. Her assumption was wrong, and the blue pony blushed as she began to take her through the ropes.
“You just slide this to here-“ the air jet turned on, startling the filly at first, but she smiled and followed through with what came naturally afterwards. “There! Now when your mane is nice and dry, come back into the parlor; I’ll have a surprise for you!”
Cup stepped out as the filly began to use the strange invention to dry her magenta mane. It was a long process for sure, but the blowing of warm air felt much better to her head than being weighed down in water. The wetness had evaporated from her head, causing the once straight mane to grow into a curly frizzled mess. The delighted filly giggled at her reflection in the mirror before she set the device invention down, shutting it off in the same way Cup had turned it on earlier. Soon after, she returned to the parlor, antsy for the surprise that awaited her!
The older mare stood at the counter, thrilled to see her little friend grinning from ear to ear as she exited the washroom, proudly baring a magenta mayhem on her head. She couldn’t help but quietly laugh at the girl’s mane as she skipped forward.
“We can fix your mane tomorrow, dearie,” she giggled, spinning around so that her flank faced the filly, “but I have a surprise for you!” she turned again to reveal a mug of hot chocolate, with three or four marshmallows floating on its surface. The filly gasped at her treat, shortly before gulping it down in a matter of seconds. Though she was flattered that the filly enjoyed it, she was still appalled.
“That super extra delicious drink was so super cocoa-rrific! Can I have another?”
Cup wasn’t sure how to respond, and much less what to think: the sudden change in the girl’s personality over a series of minutes was surprising, but never had she seen a pony gulp down a heated beverage in such haste as she did! Was it even possible, she wondered? With the shake of her head, she disregarded the question.
“You may have another in the morning, dear, but now it’s time for you to get some rest. You have a big day ahead of you tomorrow!”
She wasn’t quite certain what she meant by that last part. Cup knew absolutely nothing about the mare, besides her liking apple tarts and hot chocolate, but all of a sudden, she felt like a guardian to the filly, as if she had somehow taken up responsibility for her.
The older mare led the younger up the staircase and through a short hallway, stopping at a decorated brown door. Cup twisted the knob to reveal a fairly large bedroom with creamy walls matched with a green wooden floor. There was a bed in the corner, with a spread that matched the floor, and a maple headboard resembling a balloon! The entire room was jubilant in scheme, from its coloration to the cute furniture, much to the filly’s delight.
“This will be your room tonight, sweetie,” the mare smiled as she motioned in the pink filly, “I hope it’s comforting enough for you!” The girl stood in awe around what was now her room for the night: Cup was afraid that the girl was about to faint, but her fears were discharged as the filly started to bounce in place, eyes wandering nearly at the speed of light as she wore a smile far too big for her face! She wrapped her forelegs around her hostess tightly, so tight that she lost her breath.
“Oh thank you thank you thank you soooo much, Mrs. Cake! I’ll see you bright and early in the morning!” The girl happily trotted into her room, still eying the place like a toyshop. But before she left her alone for the night, Cup needed to ask the pony a simple question:
“Oh, and sweetie?”
“Yes ma’am?”
“What should we call you?” It had occurred to Cup that she never got her name earlier.
“My name is Pinkamena Diane Pie! But my Granny Pie called me Pinkie!” The grin on Pinkie’s face never ended. Cup wished her goodnight as she began to shut the door to her room.
“Wait!” Pinkie yelped, catching the mare’s attention as she did a double take. Her curly mane bounced as she skipped towards Cup once more.
“Thanks again!” her voice was less sporadic as the filly hugged the blue mare again, this time allowing her to properly breath. It brought a tear to Cup’s eye. Pinkie proceeded to hop into the bed, her lower body digging under the green covers. Before lying her head down, she eagerly waved goodnight at the older mare as she flipped off the light switch.
“Such a sweet girl,” she muttered to herself as the door shut closed. Walking to her own bedroom, she didn’t dare look at the clock, but she was aware that sunrise was only a short while away. Though she knew it cost her a night’s sleep, she was glad to have helped the poor soul out of the rain and into the shelter of her warm home. The feeling was exhilarating, but there was odd sense to it: not a negative kind of odd, but more like unexpected, as if a gap that was previously vacant in her life had been filled. After the night’s events, she started to feel a very special connection to her, a very guardian-like relation to the pink filly. She had no way of knowing at the time, but all three of them, Carrot, Cup, and Pinkie, were about to embark on a fateful journey of friendship that would last forever.