Chapter 2: PIE! And lots of it!
Soarin’ awoke dark and early out of habit. Most ponies would have called it bright and early, but the sun wasn’t even up yet so it was anything but bright. He got out of bed, dropped to the floor and started doing pushups. Some of his teammates didn’t see the point of doing pushups with their hooves, but Soarin’ knew a few tricks that incorporated running and liked to keep himself in tip-top shape. After fifty pushups with his hooves he did fifty with his wings, followed by sit-ups and some stretches.
His morning warm-up out of the way, he went downstairs and out the door onto the part of cloud that qualified as his front porch. He walked around it to the eastern side of his house and laid down on his stomach. It was almost time for Celestia to raise the sun. There was a faint pink glow emanating from the horizon. As he sat and watched, the glow transitioned to orange and then to yellow as the sun slowly rose over the horizon. The few clouds floating lazily through the sky were painted a dull purple.
He smiled. He always enjoyed watching the sunrise. He didn’t like the sunrise on the day of the summer sun celebration as much; it passed by too quickly. When Celestia raised the sun on a normal day, she did it much more slowly, as there was no need to put on a show for anypony. It was just beauty for beauty’s sake.
As more of the sun came over the skyline, the colors began fading to sky blue. He stood up and walked to the very edge of the cloud. He lifted his head up slightly and closed his eyes, feeling the cool morning breeze against his coat and the first rays of sun warming his face. He took in a deep breath, smelling the crisp morning air and relishing in the promise of a new day.
He slowly leaned forward and fell off of the cloud. After falling for a few seconds he opened his wings and let the wind carry him. He flew into an updraft and slowly rose higher and higher, then let himself circle lazily down. He tried not to exert himself; he knew he could probably goad Spitfire into a race or an aerial contest and wanted to save his strength.
He’d been aimlessly drifting for about half an hour when he saw a bright yellow speck heading in the direction of his house. With a few flaps of his wings he flew in that direction as well and alighted on his porch in a matter of moments. Spitfire was standing there waiting for him.
“Hey,” she greeted him, “I brought you breakfast.”
She pulled a paper bag out of her saddlebags and hoofed it over to him.
“Thanks,” he said. “Come on in. We can leave as soon as I’ve eaten.”
“Um, actually,” she began as she sheepishly rubbed a hoof to the back of her head, “I can’t. Sorry, Boss wouldn’t give me the time off until later this week and even getting him that far was a challenge. I have to get to the field for practice. I’m really sorry, Soarin’.”
His ears drooped and he hung his head a little. “It’s okay, Spitfire. I’ll just have to find something to do with myself for a few days.”
“Actually, I think I can help you with that,” said Spitfire. She reached back into her saddlebag and pulled out a flyer. She placed it on the cloud for Soarin to see.
“’Come one, come all to the annual Ponyville Founders’ Day FUNraising Fair,’ ” he read. “Come help raise money for a worthy cause. This year all proceeds go to Ponyville Elementary.’
“A fair? That’s the awesome Spitfire’s idea of how normal ponies have fun? Knowing you, I was expecting something like a rock concert or a rave.”
“What can I say? I’ve just got a not-so-wild-but-still-cool side to me too. Just give the fair a try. You promised me you’d try to have fun during your vacation. Besides,” she began, an idea crossing her mind to get him interested, “where there’s a fair, there’s usually games and contests; specifically…,” she paused for effect, “…pie eating contests.”
Soarin’s eyes boggled and a wide smile spread across his face.
All pegasi have a naturally fast metabolism. They need it to get energy for flight to their bodies as quickly as possible. If a pegasus is particularly active, they require larger amounts of energy. This need for vast amounts of energy prompts one of two responses from individual pegasi; they will either take frequent naps to conserve energy, or they will eat food rich in calories or carbohydrates. Soarin’ typically chose the latter of these two options, and his favorite food of all time was pie. Any time the word pie was mentioned, Soarin’s mouth started to water. Be they blueberry, apple, cream, or any other flavor, he loved them. He would eat pies any time, day or night. Spitfire’s mention of a pie eating contest sent Soarin’s mind into a near catatonic state with only one thought and purpose: getting to the pie, wherever it was.
“Glad to see you’re interested,” said Spitfire with a smirk. “So are you going?”
He shook his head to rouse it from the dreams of pies. “Hmm, well I suppose,” he replied, feigning disappointment, as if she were forcing him to go, “but you owe me one.”
She rolled her eyes and took off. “Whatever. See you later this week.” With a flap of her wings, she was off in the direction of the Cloudiseum.
Soarin’ took the breakfast Spitfire had brought him into the house and put it in his fridge.
“I’ll eat that later. I need to save room for the pie.”
He went to his room, got some bits for the day and left the house. The flight to Ponyville didn’t take long and he arrived a while before the festivities began. Ponies were walking around setting up the last few things needed before the fair started. Tents were being erected all around the town center. Streamers, banners and signs displaying the names of games and events were being put up everywhere. The entire town seemed to have an air of joviality and merriment.
Soarin decided to discretely land near the edge of the festivities and approach on hoof. Without his uniform, he wasn’t as easily recognized as a Wonderbolt, but still thought it best to be as inconspicuous as possible. If he had to have a vacation, he was going to have fun, and avoiding paparazzi was not part of that.
As he was approaching the fairgrounds, he passed several ponies pulling at ropes to set up a large tent. They had the main tent pole up and were holding the ropes taut to keep it up. As he neared them, a grey stallion with a scruffy, charcoal mane and three, four-leaf clovers for a cutie mark waved to get his attention and tried to mumble something around the rope in his teeth.
“Coof roo cake gis fer a mimae?”
He looked at the stallion quizzically. “What?”
The stallion rolled his golden eyes then gave his head a couple of small jerks upward. “Cake ga wope.”
“Oh, you want me to take the rope?”
The stallion nodded. Soarin’ took the rope and the stallion let it go.
“Thanks pal,” said the stallion. His deep voice had the slightest hint of a southern drawl. “Now just keep it taut for a minute while I get the stakes.”
Soarin’ did as he was told and the stallion went to a nearby bag and pulled out a stake and a mallet. He came back over to Soarin’ and pounded the stake into the ground at an angle. Once that was done, he took the rope from Soarin’ and tied it to the stake.
“Thanks again, buddy,” said the stallion. “Do you mind helpin’ me put down all these stakes?”
“Sure.”
“Alright. There’s another mallet in the bag. Just put them in the ground at an angle and the ponies holdin’ the ropes will tie them good and tight.”
Soarin’ got the mallet and some stakes and began putting them in the ground. The ponies holding the ropes tied them up and soon the tent set up was done. The two stallions put their mallets away and stepped back to admire their work.
“Thanks for the help,” said the gray stallion, offering a hoof. “I’m Clover. Haven’t seen you around town before; you here for the fair?”
Soarin’ shook his hoof. “Yeah, I am.”
“Well, let me be the first to welcome you to Ponyville. Hope you have a good time.”
“Thanks.”
The stallions parted ways and Soarin’ walked around the fairgrounds for a little while longer. After about a half hour, ponies began making their way over to the town hall. He knew this meant the festivities would be getting underway soon and decided to follow the crowd.
The crowd soon reached town hall. There was a podium set up on a stage and a large red ribbon spanned from it to one of the hall’s support beams. After a few minutes, a sandy-coated mare with a frizzy gray mane and glasses stepped out to the podium on the stage. She cleared her throat and began to make a speech.
“Fillies and gentlecolts, welcome to Ponyville’s fifty fourth annual Founders’ Day FUNraising Fair. I would like to begin by sending out a special thank-you to all of the wonderful ponies who have volunteered their time and resources to make this event a success. Many of the local restaurants have donated food and our very own Sweet Apple Acres and Sugarcube Corner have donated the majority of the food that will be used in some of the games and contests, as well as donating proceeds from the sale of their own wares. Most of the other shops and stores around town will be open today and will be donating some of their proceeds as well. We have bulletin boards posted all around the fairgrounds announcing the times and locations of everything around the fair, so be sure to have a look at that.
“As I’m sure you know, this year all proceeds from the fair go to help Ponyville Elementary. We’re hoping to raise enough to purchase new books and desks and hopefully build a new playground.
“And now for the moment you’ve all been waiting for. Here to get the festivities underway is Ponyville Elementary’s very own school teacher, Ms. Cheerilee.”
The audience clapped their hooves and cheered as a fuchsia mare with a two-tone pink mane stepped onto the stage.
“Thank you everypony,” said the teacher. “Without further ado, I declare the fifty fourth Founders’ Day FUNraising Fair officially…” she took a pair of scissors and cut the ribbon “…open!”
The crowd erupted into cheers and applause before dispersing to enjoy the fair. Soarin’ made his way to one of the bulletin boards to find out where the pie-eating contest was. Whoever had set up the board had been a very organized pony. There was a map of the whole town explaining where everything was and detailed lists of all the games and events’ times, rules and entrance fees. Near the bottom of the board were two small boxes with pieces of paper in them. The first had a checklist of all the things you could do at the fair. The second had a checklist of things you could do at the places on the first checklist.
There were several pie eating contests taking place throughout the day. The first one started soon, so Soarin’s made his way over to the location near the town library. Upon arriving he couldn’t help but chuckle to himself. It was the same tent that he had helped put up earlier that morning. He went around to the entrance and stepped inside.
The interior was a large, round area. On one end of the tent stood a long table on a raised platform for the contestants to eat at. To the side of this was a large cart filled with dozens of pies and a stand was set up near the door with even more pies. The smell of them wafted over to Soarin’s nose and he relished it, eliciting a growl from his stomach.
He walked up to the table near the entrance to register for the contest.
“Howdy, partner,” said the orange mare wearing a cowpony hat stationed at the table. “You hungry?”
“As a horse,” he replied. His stomach grumbled its agreement.
“Alright then, could Ah have yer name?”
“Soarin’.”
She wrote his name down on a piece of paper. “What kinda pie do ya want ta eat in the contest? We got blueberry, apple, pecan, rhubarb, coconut crème, and boysenberry.”
“Apple pie! That one’s my favorite.”
“Alright,” said the mare, writing his choice on the sign-in sheet. “It costs five bits to enter the contest.”
He took out the money and gave it to her. She placed it in a bin and gave him a bib with a picture of an apple on it.
“There ya go. That’ll let our runners know which kinda pie yer eatin’. Go on an’ take a seat at that table. The contest’ll start in a few minutes.”
“Thanks.” He slipped on the bib and made his way over to the table and sat down.
Ponies were trickling in and taking their places in the audience and a few were signing up for the contest. The first other contender was a small, purple and green dragon. He came in with a purple unicorn who kept worrying that he would get a stomachache, but eventually relented, paid his fee, and took her place in the audience. The dragon ordered the pecan pie and took his place near the other end of the table.
The next contestant to sit at the table was a slight surprise to Soarin’. It was a gray, roly-poly colt with a black mane and tail. Soarin’ couldn’t help but feel a slight admiration towards the colt. He had a lot of spunk to want to enter a pie eating contest at such a young age. But, judging by his cutie mark of a knife and fork, eating was probably his forte. He ordered the coconut crème pie.
Two white unicorns were next to enter the contest, a filly and a mare. The mare seemed to be extremely against the idea.
“But, Sweetie Belle, a pie eating contest is so…undignified. Not to mention that all those calories will go straight to my hips.”
“Aw, come on, Rarity,” pleaded the filly, “We did really good at the pie eating part of the sisterhooves social.”
“Well…yes, but I…that was…”
The filly looked up at the mare with a pleading smile. The mare only lasted a few moments before she caved.
“Oh, alright. Applejack, my sister and I would like to…” she shuddered, “enter the pie eating contest.”
The orange mare registered the two and they took their places at the table. The filly had ordered the blueberry pie and the mare, not wanting to stain her coat too badly, ordered the rhubarb.
The last contestant to register was Clover. He ordered the apple pie and took the seat next to Soarin’.
“Hey, it’s you,” he said as he approached. “You enjoyin’ the fair so far?”
“Well, I haven’t really done anything else, but yeah, so far I am.”
“Good to hear. I’m sorry, but I didn’t get your name before.”
“It’s Soarin’.”
“Well, Soarin’, good luck.”
“Thanks, you too.”
Just before the contest started, the orange mare and a pink earth pony mare took stacks of pie boxes from the cart and placed them behind the contestants. The pink mare started placing pies in front of the contestants and the orange mare stepped to the front of the stage and addressed the crowd.
“Fillies, gentlecolts, an’ foals of all ages, thanks fer comin’ to this here pie eatin’ contest. Ah’m gonna go over the rules fer the contestants real quick. Each of our contestants picked out what kinda pie they’re eatin’. Pinkie and Ah are gonna replace the pies on the table as the contestants eat ‘em. The contestant with the most empty pie tins after ten minutes is the winner.”
The mare stepped behind the table. “Alright, folks, on yer mark…”
Soarin’ placed his forehooves on either side of the pie tin in front of him, wings fluttering slightly in anticipation.
“Get set…”
He took a sniff of the pie. It smelled like it had the perfect blend of the most delicious apples and just the right amount of cinnamon. It was a pity he would be eating it too quickly to fully enjoy it.
“GO!”
Soarin’ brought the pie tin up and moved his face down to meet it. He began wolfing the pastry down in earnest and was soon at the bottom of the tin. He began working his way out and around. Within minutes the tin was empty and he had his face shoved into another one.
When he had finished his second pie, he chanced a look at the other contestants. The dragon was making good progress, but kept looking dreamily at the unicorn mare. The colt was about halfway through his second, but showed signs of slowing down. It looked like the filly had tried to flip the whole pie into her mouth and succeeded only in landing it atop her head, covering herself in blue from horn to hoof. She had started on another pie, but had opted to just shove her face in it. The mare was only part of the way through her first pie. She was using her magic to eat it in small, dainty bites while simultaneously trying to get some of the pie filling off of her sister with a napkin. Soarin’ turned to see Clover was matching him pie for pie. He realized he needed to kick it into high gear and began going at his third pie of the day.
The minutes ticked by and Soarin’ and Clover stayed neck and neck. The audience was cheering loudly and stamping their hooves. The clock wound down to only a few seconds and the audience counted down with it.
Ten…nine…eight…seven…
Soarin’s mouth kept working, trying to eat as much of his fourth pie as he could.
Six…five…four…
His lungs burned as his snout was too busy buried in the pastry to bother breathing.
Three…two…one…
DING DING DING
The contest ended and Soarin’ removed his muzzle from the tin, panting. His entire front was covered in pie filling; as was everypony at the table, save for the unicorn mare.
“YEEHAW!” cheered the orange cowpony. “That sure was a good contest everypony. Let’s tally up the pie plates and see who our winner is.”
The orange mare walked up to a chalkboard with everypony’s (and dragon’s) names on it. The pink mare started at the other end of the table and started counting off the pie tins.
“Alrighty here, first we have Spike with a total of one and a half pies eaten.”
The orange mare wrote Spike’s score next to his name on the board and the audience applauded politely.
“Next, we have Chowder with a total of two and five eighteenths of a pie inside his little tummy.”
The little colt beamed with pride at his accomplishment. Soarin’ was impressed. He didn’t think the little guy would get very far.
“Next we’ve got Sweetie Belle with a score of about thirteen sixteenths of a pie in her tummy and another one that doesn’t count on the rest of her. Wait a minute…Applejack, I think we might have given her the wrong pie. Blueberries are blue, and her face is most definitely NOT blue, it’s green. We didn’t even have any green pies.”
“Ugh,” groaned Sweetie Belle, holding her stomach, “I don’t feel very good.”
The mare continued down the line. “Now we have Rarity with a score of about a third of a pie. Lastly, but most definitely not leastly, we have Soarin’ and Clover, both tied with a score of three and most of a pie left.”
“Alright,” said Applejack, “looks like this contest has two winners-“
“Hold on, Applejack,” called the pink pony. She put her face extremely close to the leftovers of both Soarin’ and Clover’s pies. After a few tense moments, she turned to the audience.
“Soarin’ ate twenty seven sixty fourths of his fourth pie and Clover ate twenty four sixty sevenths of his. Soarin’ wins by two hundred and seventy three, four thousand two hundred eighty eighths of a pie!”
The crowd applauded. Soarin’ just stared at the pink mare incredulously for a few moments, not fully believing that anypony could possibly be that good at fractions. He snapped out of his reverie and waved to the crowd, flashing them the crooked, toothy smile he used when he made Wonderbolt appearances.
“Thanks for coming, everypony,” said Pinkie. “Don’t forget we’re also selling pies at that stand over there, so be sure to buy some and support the school. We’ll be having another contest in a few hours, so if you want to eat lots and lots of pie, come on down.”
Applejack began placing ribbons on the winners as ponies began filing out of the tent. She placed a yellow ribbon on Chowder and a blue one on Soarin’.
“Sorry, sweetie,” said Clover as she gave him a red ribbon. “I was hopin’ to take the blue ribbon home to put on the mantle.”
“Don’t you worry, sugarcube,” said the orange cowpony, giving him a loving smile. “Yer still a winner as far as Ah’m concerned.” She leaned in and gave him a little peck on the lips, getting pie filling on her face.
“Heh heh,” she chuckled, wiping it off, “come on, let’s get you folks cleaned up.”
She led the group over to a bucket of water and passed out some wet rags.
“Oh, I almost forgot,” said Clover as he finished wiping the gooey filling from his neck. “AJ, this is that stallion I was tellin’ you about that helped me put up the tent. Soarin’, this is my marefriend, Applejack.”
“Howdy,” said the cowpony, taking his hoof in a rather vigorous hoofshake.
“Hey,” said Soarin’, “uh, do you mind if I ask you something?”
“Sure, go ahead.”
“Could I eat the rest of that pie I didn’t finish?”
“Are you sure about this, Scootaloo?” asked Apple Bloom. The two of them were on the balcony of the library. Scootaloo was taking two tablecloths out of the saddlebags they brought with them.
“Of course I’m sure, Apple Bloom,” replied the orange pegasus. “Don’t worry; we just tie a corner of these tablecloths to each hoof, like this.” She began tying the tablecloth to her friend’s legs. “Then when we jump off, the tablecloth will slow our fall just like a parachute. We’ll have cutie marks in parachuting by the end of the day.”
Apple Bloom still wasn’t totally convinced. “Ah’m not sure. Don’t ya think we should at least wait fer Sweetie Belle?”
“Sweetie Belle’s doing the pie eating contest with Rarity,” said Scootaloo as she tied a tablecloth to her own legs. “Come on, Apple Bloom. You want to get your cutie mark, don’t you?”
“Of course Ah do.”
“Well then help me climb on the railing.”
Apple Bloom hesitated for a moment. Something about Scootaloo’s plan didn’t really sit well with her. But, then again, the orange pegasus had come up with some good plans before. None of them ever led to getting their cutie marks, but they were still pretty good plans. So, the little earth pony decided to go with it.
“Alright,” she said, helping her friend up on to the railing. Once she was up, Scootaloo gave her friend a helping hoof. The two of them stood on the railing, looking out over the fairgrounds.
“Ready?” said Scootaloo, her purple eyes gleaming in anticipation of the coming adrenaline rush.
“Yup,” replied the fellow crusader, even though she really wasn’t ready.
“Okay. On three. One…two…”
“APPLE BLOOM!!”
“THREE!”
A/N: Aren't cliffhanger endings annoying?
Please please comment. If you think the whole thing's crap then tell me, I might partially agree with you.