Apple versus Pie
Celestia loved her little ponies dearly, and she enjoyed the rhythms and motions of governing, acting in her executive capacity. It came as natural as breathing, much as it had for well over a thousand years.
Five minutes until my morning briefing with our chief military officers.
Celestia’s hoof falls rang off the tall stone walls of Canterlot castle with a ringing tone. She preferred the natural sound of her own hoof falls, without the adamantine hoofguards in place, but that wasn’t an option when she had her public face on and was going about her normal duties. She wished she hadn’t been as resolute about uniforms and appearances a thousand years ago, but such things had become iconic now, and she didn’t have the heart to change them.
She did treasure these quiet moments, though, such as they were. She used to have attendants follow her, giving her briefings and schedule updates in the corridors between meetings, but she had long since done away with that. Unless there was some type of emergency to be handled, she could just be briefed when she got there. Having the quiet moments to just be was becoming an increasingly valuable use of her time.
Be. And just to breathe. Mentally in the moment. Natural, placid and serene.
What was not natural as breathing was having to deal with Luna’s resurgent joy in pranks. Celestia rolled her eyes as she thought about morning tea. As for herself, she knew that she had something of a reputation as a prankster. The occasional prank was vital to her serene mental state. And besides, it was highly entertaining to deflate some of the puffed up egos around her from time to time. The tabloid stories raving about her latest “Trollery Escapades” however, were greatly blown out of proportion. Truly, she wasn’t that bad.
Luna, on the other hoof, seemed to be trying to make up for lost time, and was on the highway to elite troll status. Celestia huffed as she thought about the situation in the breakfast dining room not even an hour ago.
Rounding the corner, Celestia looked down the final corridor on the way to the Briefing Room. Like many of the hallways of Canterlot Castle, this one was garnished with the typical trimmings and flare that was en vogue for modern ponydom’s tastes and fashion. Multiple tapestries garnished each side of the hall, interspersed with cold-fire torches and tasteful sculptures set atop pedestals.
After taking a few steps down the hallway, Celestia sensed a remote magical trigger of considerable power, causing a wave of an uncertain magical effect to flow towards her. Readying herself with a defensive spell and igniting her horn, Celestia paused for a moment, blinking in shock. All of the tapestries lining either side of the hallway were transforming, one after the other, until the area of effect reached her position. Somehow, the decorative tapestries that once displayed a beautiful spring green and gold motif had been transformed into actual pony tails, all in the color scheme of a certain bookish princess.
Then, if that weren’t enough, all of the cold-fire torches suddenly released themselves from their sconces on the walls, falling to the stone floor and rolling to a stop beneath what used to be tapestries, igniting them in flames and burning them to ash. Pealing laughter sounded from somewhere close by, likely coming from a branching off corridor. It sounded almost reminiscent of Nightmare Moon.
“The shenanigans… will last... forever!”
Apparently, Luna was up past her bedtime, and probably needed to be sent to her room. Celestia pressed her lips together in a thin frown. The illusion was decidedly not amusing. As the illusory smoke began to clear a single, innocent looking sticky bun sat on the floor before her.
Just you wait, dear sister. I will tanta-bust your flank all the way back to your chambers.
"Is uh... everything alright, Princess?" Raven called out. She sounded concerned.
Celestia’s left eye twitched as she looked up through the haze towards her head secretary who was standing in front of the double doors of the Day Briefing room. Raven was a no-nonsense mare with a coat of almost-white and a mane of deep brown hair normally styled up into a bun. She was currently bookended by two ponies of the Day Guard, who normally stood in a rather stoic manner in their gleaming golden armor. Except the three of them had completely lost their bearing, blinking with their mouths hanging slightly open.
Conjuring a breeze and giving it a pinpoint direction with her pegasus magic to improve visibility in the hall, Celestia smiled apologetically at the three by the door. “Good morning my little ponies. Raven, please let---"
Celestia's directive was rudely interrupted by the sticky bun exploding. Bits of glaze and fragments of bread peppered her coat and the walls around her. Stunned, she could only blink for a few seconds. Before clearing her throat, absolutely keeping any iota of emotion out of her voice.
"As I was saying, please let General Zenith know that our meeting will be delayed for several minutes. My dear sister needs a few bats cleared out of her belfry.”
...Either that or her bell rung.
"I will return shortly." Celestia ignited her horn for a homing spell on her sister, but paused to turn again. “Oh, and Ms. Raven? Please send a missive to the Lunar Guard’s captain that his troops are to report to corridor C-3 for cleanup duty, compliments of their Lunar Potentate. And have another enhanced coffee sent to my study. Our newest server Melon Seed will know what you mean.”
With a burst of golden light, Celestia materialized about a dozen sizable pastries and hefted them up into the air. Then, with a flash of her magic she was gone. Down the corridor a sound of scrambling hooves and a squeal of glee could be heard, followed by the sound of a few soft splats.
***
Ponyville...
Applejack paid no attention to the bustling sounds of the ponies in the market square as she approached the back door of Sugarcube Corner. Cider Season, now known as the End-of-Harvest Festival, had been a huge success this year, and the aching tension in her shoulders could attest to that fact. The End-of-Harvest Festival brought ponies from all over the region as a last hurrah before the winter months came in. Specialized products from local growers were especially popular and featured, such as the Apple Family's well-acclaimed cider and Golden Harvest’s famous deep fried Carrot & Potato Chips.
The end of the event also marked the unofficial start time for last minute projects before the snows hit: getting drafty walls patched, repairing leaky roofs, purchasing new blankets, and preserving the last of the crops. With the first scheduled snowfall only a few short weeks away, the residents of Ponyville tended to get a little short with one another this time of year.
As for Applejack, today was usually spent cleaning up all of the cider processing equipment back at the Acres. Normally, that was an all day affair, followed by preparing the remainder of the apples—those that didn’t meet Granny’s criteria for cider making—to be boxed and shipped to neighboring towns with the facilities to turn them into applesauce and other apple related products. However, the letter Applejack had gotten in her mailbox yesterday had altered her plans somewhat.
Stopping for a moment, Applejack re-read the letter again, shaking her head at the hoofwriting done in bright-pink crayon.
Dearest and Most Esteemed Applejack,
It is absolutely super-duper urgent that you come to Sugarcube Corner at Ten A.M. tomorrow.
Ponyville stands at a great crossroads, and is in need of your assistance!
An extremely important matter has come up, which must be resolved—to meet the needs of our fair community before another day passes!
Many times in the past we have joined forces, you and I, to battle against the likes of demi-gods of chaos, cutie-mark pilfering ponies, magic-snitchin’ centaurs, and mighty morphin’ power changelers! Now, we face our biggest challenge yet! We must save Ponyville from a dire fate tomorrow before high noon!
Please report to the back door of Sugarcube Corner by ten in the morning.
Be there, or be a square mare, okie dokie lokie?
Until Tomorrow, Pinkie out!
Now, if Applejack were new to all things Pinkie, she would’ve been fussed to find what all the commotion was about so she could respond appropriately if it were actually a matter of national security. But she had known Pinkie for a long enough time to determine whether something was a true emergency or if instead it was Pinkie simply being Pinkie again. Considering the current situation, she was leaning more towards the latter than the former, but when she thought about it, having a day away from the farm would do her some good right about now. She was still a little hot under the collar given what Mac did to the family’s cartwagon last night, and besides, he owed her a favor anyway.
Pushing her Stetson back from her eyes in bewilderment, Applejack re-read one particular section. What in the Tartarus was a mighty morphin’ power changeler? For that matter, why did Pinkie draw a few changelings along the margins of the note, ridiculously dressed up with brightly colored jumpsuits and visored helmets? Wasn’t their current color scheme garish enough?
With a bang, the back door burst open startling Applejack out of her reverie. Pinkie bounced up, garbed in a garishly yellow apron that clashed with her pink color scheme rather effectively. Further adding to her outfit, a chef's toque was perched atop of her poofy mane.
“Applejack! You made it, and with not a moment to spare! Well, no, actually... you wouldn’t even be here unless you really could spare a moment, so... HERE YOU ARE!” With that exclamation, Pinkie hopped up and wrapped her arms around the surprised farm pony.
Stepping back after the energetic hug, Applejack’s eyes flicked to the lettering embroidered across Pinkie’s Apron. “Pinkie’s Apiecalypse…” Making little to no sense of that enigmatic title, Applejack held up the note. “So, what’s this here note about? What do you got that’s such a big deal that it rivals Discord or dealing with the Changeling’s attack on Canterlot?”
Rearing up to fling an arm around Applejack’s withers, Pinkie leaned in conspiratorially. “Well… here is the ‘sitch, Cuz. I was working with Mrs. Cake the other day—well of course I was working with Mrs. Cake, it’s my job after all… And while I was finishing my end of shift cleanup, there they were!
“They? Who's 'they?'"
“Golden Harvest and Mr. Quill!” Pinkie crowed. “Apparently, they were arguing about whether a Pinkie Apple Pie would be as good as an Applejack Apple Pie. Golden said your pie was bound to taste better, the little traitor, but Mr. Quill bless his heart, took my side!”
“He did.” Applejack couldn’t even make her reply sound like a question. At this point she was trying to catch up to what Pinkie was on about.
“He absolutely did!” Pinkie replied. “But can you believe Golden? I mean, obviously Golden grows carrots, so she probably wouldn’t know a good apple pastry if it up and bit her in the flank!”
“Uh huh.” Applejack was beginning to wonder if she could take some of her chores back from Macintosh and get back to doing something productive.
“And seriously!” Pinkie stood up on her hind hooves, spreading her forelegs out wide. “Have you tried what I can dish out? Nopony in this town can bake ‘em as good as the HEAD BAKER of Sugarcube Corner!”
The clanking of dishes coming from the back window of Sugar Cube Corner suddenly stopped before a feminine voice called out. “What was that, dearie?”
Pinkie’s eyes grew wide before her features flipped back to a grin, and she called over her shoulder without breaking eye contact with Applejack. “Nothiiiing!”
Applejack only lifted an eyebrow, giving Pinkie a flat look. She couldn’t possibly be serious. Pinkie went and wrote that ridiculous letter, pulling her away from her chores on the farm, all to settle some… some taste test? All stemming from an argument between two ponies? Preposterous.
“Now hold on there, sugarcube.” Applejack held up a hoof. "I didn’t come all the way from Cider Season clean-up just to get into some kind of hare-brained, ego-driven baking match to see which mare’s got the fancier spatula or the better batter!”
Pinkie squeezed her eyes shut and tilted her head back, letting out a throaty chuckle. Then without warning, she reached out and latched on to one of Applejack’s ears, pulling her head close. Before Applejack could raise her voice to protest she felt Pinkie’s lips tickling the softer fur inside with a whisper.
“Silly AJ!” Pinkie breathed, causing Applejack’s ear to twitch wildly. “It’s not about the spatula OR the batter... it’s about the magically powered mixer!” Applejack attempted to pull away from the sensation of Pinkie’s lips that were tickling the sensitive velvet surface along the inside of her ear, but Pinkie simply followed the motion, remaining attached as if she were some sort of parasitic leach.
“Especially when that mixer is equipped with the extra-shiny bright-red super-puree button!”
Applejack snapped her head to the side, finally breaking the connection before whipping off her Stetson and fanning her flushed cheeks. “Pinkie. I can’t believe you went an’— ”
“ —But that’s not what I am talking about!” Pinkie had sprung back to a more comfortable distance. “As far as you or I know, I’m a MEMBER of the Apple family. So as an Apple family member, PLUS, being the head baker of Sugarcube Corner, my pies should be twice as good as any ol’ pie you can whip out!”
Pinkie leaned forward to whisper again, but Applejack was ready for it this time. “If you accept my challenge, I’ll even let you use the super-puree button!”
Applejack kept the exuberant mare back with a hoof while glaring at her frenetic friend. “First off, you don’t puree pie filling, you sugar-drunk mare! Secondly, I don’t care about some techno-whatsit puree button! If’n this is all some stunt to compare your baking to my Granny’s pie recipe—”
“ —Well, of course it’s a comparison to Granny’s pie recipe. It’s a tasting competition, you silly filly!” Pinkie gave Applejack a significant look, patting the pony’s withers while her tone became increasingly condescending. “I know you like to keep above the fray, AJ, but if you aren’t willing to defend the family name—”
That did it. Applejack’s eyes hardened like flint, and she set her teeth, jaw muscles bunching up under her skin as they clamped down like a vice. This mare had just crossed the line. “Pinkie! You did not just go there—”
“—Oh, but I did, I did!” The Pink mare jubilantly bounced, apparently rather excited for having scored a direct hit. “Ain’t no pie’s gonna best this Pie’s pie!”
“You’re on Ms. Pie. I’ll show you a real Apple family recipe from my heirloom at home, Granny Smith herself!” Applejack spat on her hoof and bumped it to Pinkie’s waiting hoof, grinning fiercely before catching what she just said. “I mean! It is an heirloom recipe, not Granny—Granny’s no heirloom!”
“Great!” Pinkie chirped, grinning ear to ear. For some reason she looked enormously pleased with herself as she winked at the farm pony. “Now we can settle this for sure.”
Pinkie walked backwards towards the back door of Sugar Cube Corner, never breaking eye contact and smiling the whole way, before she finally lifted a back hoof and pushed it open with an ominous creak. “Welcome to Iron Pinkie’s Battlefield!”
Applejack’s pupils shrank to pin-pricks as she surveyed the scene before her. Side by side in the center of the kitchen were two massive food prep counters. On top of each were bags of flour, tubs of shortening, buckets of sugar, cinnamon, measuring cups, and other sundry cooking utensils—all arranged with disturbing symmetry. Each counter was also equipped with apple peeling and slicing appliances, as well as a large dough mixer. At the edge of each counter was a professionally printed placard, labeling each side as belonging to either Team Pink or Team Apple.
Around the boundaries of the kitchen were stacks of crates, all teeming with apples. Each crate was labeled with the unmistakable logo of Sweet Apple Acres, and the crates themselves were surrounded by piles of empty pie tins. Curiously, the mixer on the Team Applecounter had a scrap piece of paper taped to one side, labeling a small red button with a green arrow that read Puree.
“Whoa, Nelly!”
Pronking past the nonplussed mare, Pinkie turned her head and grinned. “I know, right? But your cousin Nelly isn’t here!”
“Now, hold on a second Pinkie—what are we doin,’ feeding the entire Royal Guard? And how’d you acquire all the residuals from Sweet Apple Acres? All this here was set aside for shipping to Fillydelphia!”
“Big Mac found a better buyer!”
“He what now?”
Almost vibrating with excitement, Pinkie trotted to the far wall where the ordering window separated the dining area from the kitchen. It was currently closed off by a large metallic scrolling door which seemed to by muffling the murmuring sound of countless ponies on the other side. Without another word, Pinkie reared up to tap a green button, causing the door to roll upwards and retract into the ceiling.
Somehow, though she knew that with Pinkie nothing should surprise her anymore, Applejack’s eyes popped wide as she surveyed the room. It was at this point that she thought maybe it would be better to fight her way past Cerberus than to proceed with what Pinkie intended.
Diving through the now open aperture, Pinkie landed gracefully on the other side before hopping up on the counter and pulling a microphone out from somewhere. “HEY, EVERYPONY!” A sharp feedback tone sounded, effectively grabbing everypony's attention and quelling all discussion in the room. "Welcome one, welcome all! Welcome to the Sugarcube Corner main event! It’s the First Annual Apple versus Pie TASTE OFF!”
A raucous cheer soared up from the crowd of customers as they hollered and clopped their hooves on the tables and floor of the dining area. Stunned by the thundering noise, Applejack looked around in shock with a dawning realization that she had never seen Sugarcube Corner this crowded before.
“Consarnit, Pinkie!”
This was too much. Baking a couple of apple pies with Pinkie was one thing, even if it was for something as silly as a pissin’ match to see who had the better pie. But the multiple crates of apples? The crowd of ponies? How about no?
Rearing up on her hind hooves, Applejack drew out a length of rope and quickly tied a lariat before twirling it overhead and sending the noose Pinkie's way. As if she were expecting such an event, Pinkie just raised arms and allowed the noose to come to rest just beneath her forelegs before she grabbed a hold of it. Having landed her prey, Applejack gave the lariat a firm tug, pulling the pink earth pony back through the window, and leaving the microphone to fall with a sharp pop.
Cupping her hooves up to her face mid-trajectory, Pinkie called back towards the dining room as she flew. “Back in a jiffy, okie dokie lokie?” Somehow, mid-flight, Pinkie tucked in her hooves and performed a backflip, landing bridal style across Applejack’s forelegs.
Stumbling backwards in surprise, Applejack adjusted to keep her balance while she glared down at the poofy pink weight she was suddenly holding.
“Yeeesss?” Pinkie fluttered her eyelashes at the surprised farm pony.
Mindful of being watched, Applejack lowered her voice into a harsh whisper. “Pinkie! I didn’t come here expectin’ ta bake pies for a small army of hungry ponies! I’ve got other business to do, so you jus’ tell all them folk to git, and… I dunno, send ‘em away with consolation prizes or whatever!”
Pinkies eyes sprang wide open before she shook her head vigorously, her ears faintly flapping with the motion. “We couldn’t do that, AJ! Mayor Mare has now sanctioned this event as an Official Ponyville Function!”
“…Official Ponyville…she… you can't be serious.” Applejack growled. “And did I sign any sort of contract indicating that I agreed to cook for an Official Ponyville Function?” Inwardly, Applejack was relieved. Having been through the paperwork at City Hall with Mayor Mare’s staff many times before, she knew what it took to file for a sales permit to cook and serve ponies in events such as the End-of-Harvest Festival, and she hadn’t signed a thing for this. This was her out!
Pinkie gave a hurt look before rolling her eyes with a huff, sitting up in Applejack’s arms so she could meet her eye to eye. Her voice was low and insistent, and had lost some of its playful tone. “Applejack! Since when am I only about the food?” She tapped Applejacks barrel to emphasize each point. “I Pinkie Swear, this is waaaay bigger than a simple tasting contest… trust me!” She leaned back again with a smile, booping Applejack on the nose and fluttering her eyes again.
That eye flutter… She’s doing all of this on purpose and making a show! But why?
Applejack pressed her lips together as she thought about all of the work that was still waiting for her at the farm. Truth be told, she was still irritated at Big Mac and his fool noggin for busting up the one functioning cart wagon. That thing had been their main way of transporting produce to market since Applebloom and her two best friends had demolished the other one seven years ago. She guessed that there wasn’t any real harm in letting her brother do his penance. Might as well humor Pinkie and give her this fool bake-off.
“Fine.” Applejack smiled back at Pinkie ruefully. “I’ll trust ya for now, Pinkie… right about as far as I can throw ya.” With that, the farm pony planted a rear hoof and hurled Pinkie back through the window. Without skipping a beat, the mare nimbly tucked her hooves in, completing a forward flip with a half twist before sticking the landing. Applejack could have sworn the mare actually winked at her mid-flight, while she was upside down during the flip.
In an instant, the microphone was back in her hoof, and Pinkie was smiling on the counter again. “And now, everypony…”
Pinkie paused for a few seconds, until the lights of Sugarcube Corner went down all of a sudden, followed by all of the blinds snapping shut with a click, throwing the room into darkness. Pinkie whirled around and pointed to Applejack, the farm pony's surprised face lit up suddenly by a brilliant spotlight that had switched on at that very moment, illuminating her in a sharp glare. Applejack's Stetson threw a comically oversized shadow on the kitchen wall behind her. Operating the spotlight, if one were to look carefully, was a grinning Pound Cake. Standing next to him was his sister Pumpkin, who was also grinning as her horn went dark again, having completed her task.
“Iiiiiiiiiits… TIME!” Pinkie drew out her intro before shouting the last word, raising another cheer from the crowd before going on.
“Presenting, in the orange corner, hailing from the Apple clan, weighing in at a solid 445 apples - widely known around these parts as the hardest working pony in Equestria! She has been clocked at bucking a solid 88 apple trees per hour! Her winnings include thirty-eight 1st place ribbons from rodeos around Equestria! She is the always friendly, always hospitable, greatest Element of Honesty to ever live… The apple bucking, rodeo-busting, down-to-earth pony, Applejack!”
Sugarcube Corner’s walls began to shake as a more powerful roar of cheers and shouts erupted, along with a thunderous rumble of clopping hooves. Applejack chuckled weakly in response, rubbing the back of her neck.
A random voice shouted out, “We love you, Applejack!”
The spotlight then swung around to Pinkie, who continued her introductions without missing a beat. “And! In the Pink Corner, tipping the scales at 435 apples, hailing from East of the San Palomino Desert, she's the pinkest of the Pie clan! Capable of whipping out 237 cupcakes decorated with over 18 colors of frosting in under 27 minutes. Also capable of consuming the whole lot in under three! Always keeping a smile on your face and a sugar bomb in your belly, the challenger: for this battle of tastes! This deathmatch of desserts!”
In a fluid motion, Pinkie dove beneath the level of the counter to where only Applejack could see her. With a feeling as if she was catching a glimpse of the magician behind the curtain, Applejack watched as Pinkie nabbed a mass of yellow hanging from behind the cash register and whipped it over her head, donning some sort of flowing cape and a brilliant yellow stretchy hood with a zipper closure in the back. Almost too fast to track, she tucked her hooves into four yellow rubber boots and sprang back onto the counter, the whole exchange taking place in a matter of seconds. Back in the spotlight, Pinkie thrusted a booted hoof in the air.
“Luchando en una Batalla de los Gustos!”
Applejack shook her head in astonishment as she watched Pinkie work in her element. Years of successful party planning and implementation had allowed this mare to polish her skills into a finely honed craft. Pinkie had whipped the crowd in a frenzy, and Applejack couldn’t help but wonder if her own reticence to participate unknowingly drew more suspense into the fray.
And with that, the party mare had brought the room to a climax. Pinkie began pumping her hoof into the air as she continued to spur on the crowd. “Not Duff Goldpony! Not my buddy Valastro! It’s yours truly, the Baker of ALL. FOUR. WALLS. Pinkamena Diane Pieeee!”
The walls of Sugarcube Corner fairly shook with the energy of the gathered ponies. In the midst of the chaos, the front door of Sugarcube Corner vaulted opened allowing additional ponies to enter, looking around in astonishment before finding friends and sitting in some of the last remaining seats at the tables.
After a moment, the lights flicked back on, and Pinkie hopped back down to the floor, still holding her microphone.“Now, everypony take a look at your invitations. On each you will find a hidden message! Just bring your hoof to the upper right corner of the invitation, and double click the little symbol you see there!"
The room gradually grew quieter and quieter as more and more eyes looked up at her in confusion. What did she mean 'double click?' Finally, Pinkie rolled her eyes and then clopped her hooves together a couple of times, giving her next instruction in a flat voice. “—Just bang your hoof on the corner of the card twice.”
The room filled with noise and exclamations as the ponies banged their hooves down on their cards. Gasps and murmurs of surprise were heard as bursts of magic sparks shot up here and there from the enchanted invitations, each card suddenly displaying new information.
“As you can see, participation to vote and qualification for prizes is conditional on bringing at least one additional friend! Besides, Friendship Day is just around the corner, so what better way to celebrate! The prizes will be hidden as ten specially marked bits, hidden somewhere within the pies we are to consume, all redeemable down at Town Hall."
The chatter in the room began to grow more excited as the ponies began to imagine what kinds of prizes would be involved in a contest sponsored by Sugarcube Corner and the Element of Laughter. Applejack only scratched her head. This was getting more and more curious.
“And to the winning team, there's a four hundred bit cash prize, sponsored by the businesses you now see listed on the backs of your invitations! Alright, everypony! Pie tasting begins in exactly sixty minutes, so hurry back fast and bring a friend! See ya soon!”
Pinkie waved happily as all present made a mad dash for the door. The ponies excitedly chattered about who they would bring, and who might have the better pies. Over the din, Cloud Kicker and Thunderlane were seen exchanging bits and bets as they spoke about running odds over the whole scenario.
Within a minute, all had filed out, leaving nothing but upturned chairs and stools, which the Cakes immediately set to standing upright again. The quiet was eerie by comparison to the recent deafening noise, and Pinkie turned around to regard Applejack, smiling as she pulled her wrestling mask off with an audible pop.
Applejack climbed out of the kitchen window as well, momentarily forgetting the door that was right next to it, and sat back on her haunches, studying her friend with pursed lips. “Pinkie… I weren’t too keen on baking for this many ponies, and then after more walked in, I counted forty-seven!”
“I know! Isn’t it great?”
Applejack facehoofed. “Great? That’s forty-seven ponies, and then you go tellin’ them all to bring more! So, we’re gonna have to deal with…” She looked up and tried to complete the calculation, but was too flustered to focus. “Well, we’re gonna have to deal with at least twice times forty seven! What the hay’s the matter with you?”
Re-fastening her apron and perching the chef’s toque back on her head, Pinkie gave Applejack a wink. “Well, technically it is still about forty-seven ponies, just… forty-seven for each of us.”
Well, Applejack didn’t need any fancy mathematics to know that wasn’t right. “And how do you figure that?”
“Well, you and I are supposed to bring a pony too, but in our case, we have to bring in a sous chef. A fellow baker! A Second in Command, Captain!” Pinkie’s gestures became wilder as she got more excited. “One that’s sure to be a ringer! A master confectioner! A baker supreme!”
Applejack stroked her chin. “A baker supreme, eh?”
“And with your baker supreme…” Pinkie held up her hooves, before opening up her arms as if dividing something. “You can just divide that number... by two. You know anypony that could fill that roll AJ?” Pinkie folded her forelegs with a smirk, leaning back against the counter. ‘Cause you are sort of in this thing now, and time’s a wastin…”
Applejack studied her friend for a moment. Her B.S. meter was chiming loudly, but Pinkie never did anything maliciously. Besides, she had performed her very own Pinkie Swear that this was more than a simple baking match. She exhaled loudly. “You’re serious about all this, aren’t ya?”
“Yuh Huh!”
“And as you said, this here is more than jus’ a tasting contest?”
Pinkie tapped her nose with a grin. “Yep yep yeppers!”
Applejack finally smiled, but this smile was one of grim determination. “Well then. You’re on, Ms. Pie. And I know jus’ the pony. And when we come back you’re gonna feel the full force of the tradition and the honor of the Apple Clan…” She leaned forward as her grin became dangerous, lowering her voice into a challenging whisper “And this force is gonna come right down on that poofy little head of yours.”
Applejack stepped back, and spat on her hoof, presenting it to Pinkie with a self-assured grin. The pink party pony gleefully spat on her own and returned the gesture, clopping her hoof to Applejack’s to seal the pact. The deal done, Applejack gave a firm nod and trotted out the door.
To be continued...
I never thought editing could be a fun activity, but editing this chapter was a blast. I hope you guys enjoyed it at least half as much as I enjoyed writing it and editing it. 9/6/18 I did some re-editing... just a little TLC. No substance changes, just flows better.
This ridiculous yarn has three more chapters before it comes to its own stand-alone conclusion, but as I mentioned, these are simultaneous events with the first few chapters of The Amulet of Shades.
More to come! 
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8914751
Heh, thanks... Hey, BTW, based on our earlier conversations, I thought you read this already! lol...
8915047
I had added it to my read later list during our conversation, but had just gotten around to reading it when I made the comment.
I apologize for any misunderstandings.
8915656
.
You are fine. Misunderstandings? I was excited just to get a comment
More hilarity incoming, but I am putting my finishing edits on chapter three of Amulet of Shades right now.
8916238
All right then
Go go power changelers!
*dewnnn dew new neeeeewww newwwww*
Go go power changelers!
*dewnnn dew new newwwwwww new*
uhh...
Google, a little help?
HA! That pun. I noticed it there.
Oh ok then!
*clicks twice*
AH CRAP
I CLOSED IT OUT
8976287
Told ya I spoke Spanglish!
8976260
