Combat Bakery Wreckerellac / Draconic Griffin / Swing Family Feuding [Random-ish, Comedy]
Applejack reclined on the bedroom sofa and sighed. Pinkie Pie still paced the castle floor furiously.
“I still can’t believe it,” Pinkie said. “That griffon judge just wanted ponies to lose the dessert contest. Why would they let a judge be so mean when he judged the Cake’s entry?”
“Pinkie, maybe he just don’t see desserts the same way. To some ponies, most of what you bake probably is sweeter than they like.”
“I still don’t like it.”
“There’s not much you can do at this point.”
“Hmm… Maybe there is.” Pinkie punched one forehoof into another. “I’m going to give him a piece of my pie.”
Applejack jumped up. “What? You mean ‘piece of your mind?’”
“No. I mean I’m going to bake a pie and give him a piece.”
Applejack relaxed. “Oh, okay. I don’t think that’ll help any, but if it makes you feel better, go for it.”
Applejack kept her head down and pulled the pie wagon. Winning this fight was important to Pinkie, and while that was good enough for her to help out, she found the entire situation absurd and, somehow unsurprisingly, out-of-control. Then again, that sort of thing happened more often around Pinkie. When she asked, Celestia said that it would be safest to let the situation play itself out, so here she was, delivering pies to the battlezone of the largest food fight she had ever heard of just a little east of Canterlot.
When she reached the front lines, one of the commanders thanked her for the delivery.
“The pies are far more effective than the toast we get from those two hooligans and their bulk toasting contraption, no matter which side we apply the butter to,” he said.
“Knowin’ them, you won’t see much improvement unless you butter both sides.”
“Maybe we will.” His frown became apparent after that. “I have other news: please inform the bakers that there have been dragon sightings when you return.”
“Are you expectin’ trouble?” Applejack asked while she untethered herself from the wagon.
“We’re not sure yet if they’re siding with the griffons or just scavenging, but I imagine the bakers will have to adjust their recipes if we’re going to appeal to them.”
“Alright, then. The next batch is due in about forty minutes. You might wanna send somepony else along if somethin’ happens before then.”
Applejack hooked up to an empty wagon and started back for the combat bakery.
When Applejack got back to the bakery, she wisely kept her mouth sealed regarding the Flim and Flam brothers when she informed Pinkie of her conversation with the commander.
Not long after, one of the Royal Guard’s scouts arrived with further news. He looked like he wanted to be anywhere else when he delivered it. “Miss Pie, the, uh, dragons are setting up a scone furnace in the eastern foal Mountain foothills.”
“Whaaat?! The dragons and griffons are teaming up?”
“It appears that way, yes.”
Pinkie’s mane delated just a hair. “I’m going to have to find a gem dust supplier if these pies are gonna work… Maybe cupcakes! Dragons think small desserts are adorable, don’t they?
“Who am I kidding? The dragons are being meany-pants and I can’t even bake that much.”
“You’re dismissed, I guess.” Applejack nodded towards the scout. She turned her attention back to Pinkie. “Would an inspirational song help?”
“An inspirational song always helps! I just don’t know if it would help enough. If Rarity here? We had a great inspirational song for helping those ponies at the Tasty Treat.”
“Rarity’s out at the front lines,” Applejack said. “I think she’s scoutin’ out some ‘handsome warriors’ to model some o’ her clothes.”
“Well… okay. Maybe we can figure out another way to bake more pies.”
“Pinkie, maybe you’re thinkin’ about it wrong; instead of tryin’ to prove to them that pony desserts are the best, why don’t you bake somethin’ suited for a griffon? Isn’t it just as good to show that ponies can bake for anybody?”
Pinkie touched a hoof to her chin. “You know, you might be on to something Applejack! But what would knock the socks off a griffon? Not that griffons have socks, but if they did we’ve gotta make something that would knock them—
“I’ve got it! Applejack! You’re a farmer; find some bacon! I want everypony else to scootch their ovens back – I need space to work here!”
“Do I even wanna know…?”
“I’m going to bake that griffon judge the fabled bacon soufflé. A tasty, hearty griffon dessert so legendarily tasty to a griffon’s tongue that King Guto’s mother baked one that successfully retrieved him from hiding in a closet after the Idol of Boreas got stolen.”
The shadows on Pinkie’s face grew especially dark for a moment and her tone grew serious. “I’m going to have to pull out all the reservse to make it right.”
Applejack gulped.
Applejack couldn’t decide what she found more disturbing: that the weather within a few dozen meters of Pinkie’s oven had turned to red-tinted thunderclouds complete with lightning, or that Pinkie seemed perfectly at home in it. Some time ago, the other bakers had found it wise to flee the area completely.
Applejack made a mental note to never again let Pinkie near her oven; the risk wasn’t worth it.
“Ní féidir go mbeadh soufflé i bhfad ar oideas milseog traidisiúnta na hÉireann ach toisc go ndéantar an ceann seo le Bailey, is dóigh linn go mbeidh buaiteoir againn,” Pinkie chanted. “Chun grá Grogar agus gach rud atá neamhghnácha, ardú!”
Applejack watched in abject horror as the oven’s contents turned into a vacuum for nearby life energies. The grass shriveled and smoldered. The wind started gusting. She couldn’t be sure if she just heard the wind or if it was a chorus of disembodied, demonic laughter.
“It’s… arise!” Pinkie started to laugh maniacally.
At that point, Applejack settled on a vow to pretend that never happened and especially to never mention it to Twilight. Chances were that Pinkie would return to ‘normal’ at some point. Maybe none of the princesses would see fit to exile her for what she did.
The rest of the bakers raised banners and formed a procession around the completed soufflé. Nearby pegasus guards set up a no-fly-zone around it. Some ponies swore that Princess Celestia pointed a few more of the sun’s rays at the whole thing. Tiny little flowers blossomed in their wake.
Never before had anypony witnessed a dessert so perfect.
As the procession approached the ranks of griffons and dragons, the enemy took in the exacting amount of fluff and a whiff of bacony goodness. With but a fleeting glance at their own scones and biscuits and toasts, they tossed aside their own efforts which were naught but blasphemy to compare to such heavenly goodness.
Pinkie cleared her throat. “Griffons! Dragons! Behold!” She paused for a moment. “There is a grinch among you who dared doubt the baking of me and mine! I challenge you to take upon yourself even one bite of this, the most scrumptious of baked goods, and keep to your sour mood!”
From their ranks one griffon stepped forward. The griffon judge. “I will not apologize for the judgement I have passed on you,” he said. “I still doubt that your offering is worthy. However, I will not deny that you have played your hand well; I have heard of this dessert and its nigh-unbelievable taste. You present me with a good opportunity to see if those claims are worth their salt.”
Some of the bakers brought forth a folding table and set it up with a tablecloth. Pinkie Pie cut a healthy slice of the souffle and served it on a plate. The griffon took his spoon and scooped out a bite.
The entire gathering held its breath.
The griffon hadn’t even swallowed before tears started to stream down his face. He took a second bite.
Everybody sighed. Ponies started to cheer. Some of the griffons did too. Before long, both sides in their entirety started celebrating the end of the food fight with more baking.
Throughout eating his portion of the soufflé, the griffon judge remained speechless as he cried. Even Pinkie couldn’t get a word out of him. After he finished, he had but one thing to say:
“I will never see food the same.”
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"But... but those pigs're just for huntin' truffles!"
"We both know that's not true."
In any case, exquisite madness here. I half-expected Pinkie to sprout a curving horn and bat wings given her flagrant displays of black-pudding magic. Thank you for it.
This was wonderful. Either you're getting better at seamlessly incorporating the pieces of word salad you're offered, or this chapter was blessed by the Random Number Gods.
Possibly a bit of both.
And was that a Doctor Seuss reference I saw?
9179155
I suppose it did turn out pretty good, especially considering I wrote it up piecemeal and haphazardly patched it together in something resembling chronological order shortly before posting it. I guess that process worked out okay as well if you figure it was "seamless". I'm going to blame the new process for allowing me to incorporate more words more easily, but we'll see if that's reproducible.
There was an intentional Seuss reference, yes. There was another less intentional one that's less significant as well.
9179080
The thought process went something like this:
Silly-yet-serious fight involving pastries. Draconic Griffon is immune to normal pastries, so Pinkie must bake something special.
Pinkie will use earth pony magic or such to bake something very special. That'll take care of all those 'arcane' words.
I wonder if Pinkie using pseudo-necromancy is a legitimate way to get a soufflé to rise.
At that last point, I was doomed to write it and I knew it.
Haha, that was great! XD
Wonderful.
Who's Bailey, though?
10009122
"A soufflé may not be much of a traditional Irish dessert recipe but given that this one is made with Bailey's, we think we're on to a winner."
As I've put in the author's note, you can thank Admiral Biscuit for that.