EqD Writer Training Grounds short stories by Georg

by Georg

Into The Depths of The Big Apple

Into the Depths of the Big Apple

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Warning: This fic contains scenes of a Gastronomic nature. If you or any member of your family is on a diet, or may consider being on a diet in the near future, you are advised to turn off your computer now and go outside to get some exercise. This has been your only warning.

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“Come on, girls! It’ll be fun!”

“I dunno, Pinkie.” Applejack was trying to enjoy the day with her friends after the debacle of the fashion show, which she was eternally grateful not to have been drafted into modeling for, but all of their exploration of the city sights and attractions was beginning to raise the hair on the back of her neck. The endless warnings of her Aunt and Uncle Orange sounded at the back of her mind. “Don’t fill your plate, Applejack.” “Small portions for small fillies, Applejack.” So far the six of them had managed to touch base at nearly every cafe and food stand in the Big Apple, and the accumulated calories were only making the little voices in her head louder. “How’s about we stop in for a movie and get some weight off our dogs for a bit instead. I ain’t never seen this picture playin’ over at the Ponyville cinemascope.”

Applejack pointed at a movie theatre which had more lights, mirrors and glass in it than Rarity’s bathroom. She normally would have shied away from such a garish building, but a movie ought to be something that would calm her down and allow a chance to catch her breath. Besides, that hunky stallion in the tuxedo looking out from the movie poster could saddle her up anytime.

“The latest Reins Bond flick!” squealed Fluttershy. “He’s such a thoughtful character. Did you see in the last movie where he dove off the road to avoid hitting those ducks?”

Rainbow Dash scoffed, “Those were explosive ducks, Fluttershy. And I suppose we could take a break for a bit.”

In a matter of a few minutes, Applejack was wedged into the theatre seating with her friends, watching the interminable previews and ads roll up the screen. Pinkie Pie had acquired the popcorn and snacks, and Applejack had just gotten good and settled into her seat when she looked down at the contents of her hoof and froze.

“Pinkie? What’s this?”

“Popcorn, silly!” Pinkie promptly gobbled a few hooves of the light and fluffy concoction, dripping with butter and seasoned salt. “It’s so gooood. Even better than Ponyville’s.”

“Well, yeah Pinks, but they make it with coconut oil here. You must have bought a giant tub of it for each of us. Do you know how many calories that is?”

“Hush, Applejack,” scolded Twilight. “The movie is about to start.”

Try as she would, Applejack just could not shake the dark gloom that dragged her down, and it wasn’t entirely the sticky floor in the theatre either. As Reins Bond swooped through the sky with his jetpack, or under the sea with enchanted flippers, fighting the forces of H.A.L.T.E.R. throughout the movie, she sat and sulked. She was a country pony, used to the hard work and long hours of country living, and Granny had always said she had a stomach made of iron, but the collection of treats, samples, and food they had been gorging on ever since they had left the hotel this morning formed a bubbling lump in her belly like molten lead. What was worse, when the lights came back on after the movie was over, she found her seat surrounded with empty popcorn buckets, candy packages, and even one slightly-chewed ticket stub.

“So that’s where all the popcorn went,” groused Twilight, turning over the last tub and poking around for spare kernels.

“It wasn’t me!” protested Applejack with a buttery burp. “At least, not all me.”

“Don’t worry, Twilight,” chirped Pinkie Pie while picking up the empty buckets. “They have free refills.”

* * *

As they walked back into the hotel that evening, Applejack yawned and veered towards the elevators while the rest of the group headed for the hotel restaurant. “You girls go on and eat dinner. Ah’m just gonna go upstairs and have me a quick lie down. Ah ain’t got no appetite after all them vittles we done put away today anyway.”

“But Applejack, darling! If you don’t want to eat with us, at least you can sit with us and talk. Besides, if your stomach is upset, I understand the chef here prepares a wonderful salade de tomatoes et mozzerella which is very low calorie and quite delectable also. Please, won’t you dine with us?”

Five sets of mournful eyes (Spike was reading the menu) tore at her willpower, and after a brief fight, Applejack gave in.

“Well, ah suppose. What harm could it be?”

* * *

“Are you sure you don’t want the last piece of pizza, Applejack? You know, we don’t get Manehattan style pizza back in Ponyville very often.”

“Naa, RD. I’m good.” Applejack lifted a napkin to her lips with all the delicacy of a Manehattan native and dabbed gently at the tiny speck of salad dressing left behind. “Ah do declare, this has been the most exhilarating night I’ve had in simply ages, and I’m all in. Shall we adjourn to our rooms for the evening? I’d like to get a good night’s sleep before we head out tomorrow.”

“Sounds good, Applejack. Come on, everypony. Time to hit the hay like a certain dragon already has.” Twilight Sparkle stood up from the table, with sleeping dragon already nestled on her back while she trotted with her friends to the elevator. Within minutes, they were all busily getting ready for bed.

Except for one.

* * *

“Psst!”

Stuffed Shirt, the maître d’hôtel for the Main Fair Hotel, looked around the entranceway to the restaurant. There did not appear to be anything leaking, but the noise repeated.

“Psst! Garcon.” The source of the noise seemed to be coming from behind a potted plant, spoken by a young orange mare, wearing a disreputable western hat of considerable wear, as well as an obviously fake moustache and one of the hotel towels thrown across her shoulders. It was a quite gauche and outlandish display—

“Here.” A hefty pile of bits cascaded into his hoof.

—but obviously the young mare was simply looking for privacy, and as an employee of the hotel, it was his solemn duty to provide whatever the guests desired.

“What is it you wish, Mademoiselle?”

“Show me the buffet.”

“What? I’m sorry, Mademoiselle Applejack, but this restaurant does not have a buffet. However, we do have room service, if you would like.” He passed over a menu which rustled briefly before being used as a display

“Ah want one of those eggplant parm-izz-johnies, a champignons poleoleo thingie, two of those bulgur wheat fricassee cause they’re so darned small, a roasted butternut squash platter, and the cheesecake cart delivered up to room 315. And don’t skimp on the portions, ya’ hear?” Another cascade of bits followed, and Stuffed Shirt paused with his pencil over one last troubling entry on the order.

“Which one of our cheesecakes were you wishing to sample, Mademoiselle? We have over two dozen of the finest, including cherry, raspberry, strawberry, Prench chocololate—”

“Just send the whole durned cart.”

* * *

Five worried friends and one dragon sat in the private train car on their way back to Ponyville, looking nervously at Applejack. It had taken all of them to carry her vastly swollen bulk to the train station, with Twilight covering them all with a tarp and loudly proclaiming they were moving a piano. Now the bed was completely covered by the bloated farm mare, making grunting noises and twitching at the sound of the passing lunch cart, but unable to move. The first thing Twilight had done once Applejack had been placed on the bed was to magically create a whole set of ropes and chains that secured her tightly, and now that precaution was showing its worth as the ropes creaked under her weight.

Unearthly growling and rumbling filled the train car as the friends huddled together in fear at what had overcome the once athletic pony, now sniffing the air in the hopes of a single roasted parsnip or caramelized endive leaf thrown her way.

“Hungry,” moaned Applejack, testing her bonds as her stomach growled again, a deep reverberating thunder that shook the floor and made Fluttershy cling tightly to Rainbow Dash. “Did’ja save that last piece of pizza? Come on, RD. Just one little piece of pizza. An olive? A teeny-tiny roast truffle?”

“No,” snapped Twilight Sparkle, flipping frantically through her book, a dark and ominous tome bound in verdigrised copper bands around a suspiciously pale binding. “There’s got to be an answer in here somewhere. With a startled gasp, she stopped, reading down the page with increasing horror until she flung the book away from her with a panicked screech.

“What is it, Twilight?” gasped Rarity. “Is it something too horrible to describe?”

“Yes,” wailed Twilight. “She’s doomed. We’re all doomed! Look!” She grasped the heavy book in her magic and dragged it back across the floor, slowly, as if it were somehow contagious. With trembling magic, she parted the pages and pointed at the last entry.

Those who have tasted the fruit of the Big Apple are forever within its grasp.

Comments

[Georg]

Yeah, I'm going to Pony Hell for this one. But it's worth it.

Chapter Two Author notes

I would like to take this opportunity to apologize for nothing, and give a buttery raspberry to Mayor Nanny Bloomberg, and Weight Watchers. In addition, I think the Center for Science and the Public Disinterest needs a good jab in the flank with a fork too. Coconut oil forever! You may take our lives, but you will never take our beloved fluffy popcorn!

Now I would like to thank some people, in particular, the talented Pen Stroke, and his creepy story Into the Depths. Check it out, along with the sequel, From the Depths.

Yes, I stole borrowed the title. I had to. There’s an entire box of maple-walnut fudge in the kitchen that forced me.

Credit to my warped personality goes to the following:
Bette Midler - Fat As I Am

Hail to Thee, Fat Person, by Alan Sherman

And of course, the Great One
Weird Al - Fat

[j-grizz]

Lord, my soul is ripped with riot,
Incited by my wicked diet.
We are what we eat, said a wise old man,
And Lord, if that’s true, I’m a garbage can!
I want to rise on Judgment Day, that’s plain,
But at my present weight, I’ll need a crane!

So grant me strength that I may not fall
Into the clutches of cholesterol.
May my flesh with carrot curls be sated
That my soul may be polyunsaturated.
And show me the light that I may bear witness
To the President’s Council on Physical Fitness.

At oleomargarine I’ll never mutter,
For the road to hell is spread with butter.
And cake is cursed, and cream is awful,
And Satan is hiding in every waffle.
Mephistopheles lurks in provolone,
The devil is in each slice of bologna,
Beelzebub is a chocolate drop,
And Lucifer is a lollipop!

Give me this day my daily slice -
But cut it thin and toast it twice.
I beg upon my dimpled knees,
Deliver me from Jujubees.
And my when days of trial are done
And my war with malted milks is won,
Let me stand with the saints in heaven
In a shining robe – Size 37!

I can do it, Lord, if you’ll show to me
The virtues of lettuce and celery.
If you’ll teach me the evils of mayonnaise,
The sinfulness of hollandaise
And pasta a la milanese
And potatoes a la lyonaise
And crisp fried chicken from the south!
Lord, if you love me, SHUT MY MOUTH!

-Victor Buono (King Tut on Batman)

[Georg]

3820624 Victor Buono's "I'm Fat" is on YouTube, but only in Mono here.

[j-grizz]

3820663

That's the one I was looking for when I found the Dieter's Prayer. The (sadly defunct) local radio station KFAT used the first stanza as a station ID back in the late 70s - early 80s.

I'm fat, I'm fat;
that's all there is to that.
You might think it etiquette
to say that I am heavy-set or just big boned;
You wanna bet? I'm fat, I'm fat, I'm fat.

[sopchoppy]

It's a good thing that living in NYC requires a lot of walking and stair climbing, because the food is that good. This made me laugh.

[Seether00]

Hmmm... I was thinking more along the line's of Weird Al's Eat It.

Also, coconut oil makes an excellent mix in for coffee vs. cream and sugar.