Bake: Pinkie Pie
The bakery was sweltering. Pinkie watched as the air danced while the sweat rolled slowly down her brow and muzzle. In the high summer this was the worst place to be, the most miserable place to be, the absolutely most—most—not happy place to be. The heat caused her to be more lethargic and her giant frizzy mane drooped down, a large chunk was over her eyes cutting the world up into pink framed rectangles. As the baker’s assistant it was her job to make sure certain things were done, and like all assistants and interns everywhere she had to suffer a little for her job. The Cakes made sure she had plenty of cool water and took regular breaks, but they were allowed the luxury of planning, designing, and decorating what was made. They passed the recipes along to her and she baked the rounds, the cupcakes, and the cookies. Pinkie would rather spend her time decorating.
Every order she heard Pinkie planned out her own version in her mind. A half circle could be carved from pound cake, and an inverted cone on top of that. A rod through the center to keep it up and steady, some clear but firm plastic on that before the sheets got put on top. Stars on wires and a moon on a string, the observatory telescope could support the weight of the night sky. Purples, blues, a little green for highlights; bronze for the telescope…? Were telescopes even made of bronze? She wasn’t sure, she’d have to check. Yellow and white with a pearl dust for shine on the stars and moon. Maybe she would wire it to rotate slowly so the sky would actually shift in time with the real night sky. A small smile formed as she thought about it, her chin rested gently on the table top. She could ask Twilight about the sky, constellations and all of that…and about the telescope. Maybe she could use a real telescope as the rod for support? Would they like that or would it be scoffed at?
The timer pinged behind her, and Pinkie’s ears twitched gently. The rounds were done. And once they cooled they would be stacked into a boring old four tier cake. The frosting would be piped on by careful and skilled hooves and mouth, a few stars on a plain dark blue background. It would be delicious. The scientists and crowd would love it enough. But it wouldn’t be fun, they wouldn’t smile or laugh from it and everypony could use a laugh now and then, even scientists. Pinkie had to force herself up to grab the over mitt, as she pulled the rounds out the heat rolled out and stung her nose and eyes.