Out of the Frying Pan
Rainbow Dash perched atop the spire of Ponyville Town Hall, her many-colored mane whipping dramatically in the wind about her face. She lifted a foreleg, to which a watch was firmly fastened, and yanked the strap tight with her teeth. After giving the leg a good shake, she nodded stoically.
Her stomach growled.
“Awww!” the pegasus moaned. Looking backward, she spread her wings so she could better see her stomach. Her ribs showed ominously beneath her coat.
Rattling her head and snapping a pair of goggles over her eyes, she assured herself that this was normal. “Gotta focus! Focus!” She slapped either cheek rather harder than she intended, rubbed them tenderly, and ballooned them with a number of quick, deep breaths. Poising herself as if on a high dive, she rapped her watch against the spire.
And she was off!
Zooming left and right, up, down and around, Rainbow Dash burst cloud after cloud into thin air following the optimal route she had planned from her vantage. The clouds dissolved at her touch—sheared through by a wingtip, burst as she rebounded to change direction. In no time at all, the fading remnants of rainbow loops and strands were all that adorned the dawning autumn sky over Ponyville. She slapped her watch the moment her hooves touched the grass.
“Done!” she croaked. Sweat dripped from her forehead in buckets, and her breath came fast and labored; but her smile was triumphant. That must have been one of her fastest times yet—she could feel it! She turned her foreleg upward to check her time: the little red second hand quivered mockingly in place.
11 seconds.
11 seconds.
“Awwww!” Rainbow moaned more pitifully than before, and her stomach growled louder than ever.
The bell to Sugarcube Corner’s front door tinkled cheerfully as Rainbow Dash entered the shop, her head sagging with exhaustion. In a flash Pinkie Pie materialized at the counter to welcome her.
“Well hiya, stranger!” she greeted Rainbow buoyantly. “The usual, I presume?”
“Thanks, Pinkie,” the pegasus sighed. Shuffling behind the counter a moment, Pinkie drew out a warm, fluffy muffin, which Rainbow immediately snapped out of her hooves and swallowed whole. Pinkie whipped her empty hoof back in surprise.
“Whoa! Are you…feeling alright, Rainbow Dash?”
“Yeah, super,” said Rainbow, her composure swiftly recovering after having eaten. “Why d’you ask?”
“Oh, no reason. It’s just that nopony’s taken such a liking to the muffin paper before.”
“There was paper?” Rainbow Dash’s stomach grumbled with resentment.
“Are you sure that’s all you want?” Pinkie asked. “You look famished. You’re nothing but feathers and bones!”
“Eh, you’re imagining things,” Rainbow dismissed her and tossed a few bits on the counter. Pinkie’s eyes narrowed; she sunk behind the counter and suddenly tossed a second muffin in a high arc. By reflex Rainbow jumped like a fish and gobbled it out of midair.
“Imagining things, am I?” Pinkie raised an eyebrow.
Rainbow Dash peeled the muffin’s damp paper from her tongue and threw it away. “I’m kinda on a tight budget,” she admitted. “If I spend too much now I won’t be able to afford the lunch special at Chez Poné.”
“You’re going out for lunch, too?” Pinkie inquired. “What’s the occasion?”
“No occasion. I get lunch there every day.”
“Really? But isn’t that expensive?”
“It’s the best I could find for the money I have,” Rainbow explained. “And it’s no more expensive than the dinner buffet at the Ponyville Feedbag every night.”
Pinkie Pie was shocked. “You mean you eat out for every meal? Every day?”
“Yeah,” said Rainbow Dash defensively. “What’s wrong with that?”
“Why don’t you just prepare something at home?” Pinkie suggested. “You’ll be able to eat a lot more without spending so much.”
Rainbow gave her a confused, almost pitying look. “Why would I make food at home if I can just get fed at a restaurant? I’m too busy to waste my time cooking. Thanks for the concern, but my routine suits me just fine.”
Her stomach rumbled once again. She blinked.
“Don’t you know how to cook, Dash?”
“I’ve…tried it a few times,” Rainbow Dash tried to play the question off casually. “It wasn’t really my style.”
Leaping nimbly over the counter, Pinkie Pie landed inches from Rainbow’s face, making the pegasus recoil a little. “Style, shmile!” Pinkie flashed a wide smile, her eyes twinkling. “All you need is a little practice. And like I always say, talking is just practice for chewing!”
“That doesn't—hey!”
All at once Pinkie snatched Rainbow’s windswept tail in her teeth and yanked, causing the pegasus’s wings to buzz against her will. Rainbow’s stomach grumbled and roared to life like an old-fashioned airplane engine. Straddling her shoulders, Pinkie Pie spurred Rainbow into a steep ascent—and with wild loop-the-loops threatening to slam them into the ceiling, they hurtled through the double doors behind the counter.
“Wahoo! Don’t worry, Dashy—today’s breakfast is on the house!”
“—Because you’re making it!”
Standing in front of a stove in the bakery’s kitchen, Rainbow Dash was clad in a flour-dabbed apron with her flashy mane stuffed into a hairnet. Pinkie Pie strode to a table behind her and sat, a gaudy yellow-and-blue bib dangling over her chest and a smug grin on her lips.
“You can use whatever ingredients you want!” Pinkie trilled. “So show me what you got!”
Sweat glazed Rainbow’s brow as she took in the dizzying array of cooking implements around her. She tapped a wood spoon curiously against the counter; nibbled on a furry block of cheese; spun a whisk around and dropped it. She turned to face Pinkie Pie, her eyes begging for advice.
The pink pony had her bib strung over her ears for a full-face blindfold. “You’re doing great!”
A little encouraged, Rainbow grabbed a small pot and filled it to the brim with bottled water from the refrigerator. Splashing on her way back to the stove, she set it carefully on a rack inside the oven and fiddled with the knobs until the window glowed a fiery orange. Her face lit up with pleasure; maybe this cooking stuff wasn’t so hard after all!
The following hour was a barrage of activity: knives flashed expertly over cutting boards; pans sizzled and snapped at their assorted contents; careful fluid measurements were poured under Rainbow Dash’s industrious eye as Pinkie waited patiently, blindly, on her seat at the table. At last, the sink overflowing with dirty dishes and the air sharp with smoke, Rainbow placed the fruits of her labor on the table for Pinkie’s inspection. Her forehooves jittered against each other as the bib fell from her friend’s eyes.
Pinkie rubbed her eyes and stared. Before her was a large mixing bowl containing two shoddily boiled eggs, and an open can of Colta-Cola.
Her gaze shifted to Rainbow Dash and back to the meal, face void of emotion. But as quick as a beat she cracked a winning smile and gave her compliments to the would-be chef.
“What did I tell you? You’re a natural, Rainbow Dash! All you really needed was a push through the kitchen doors.”
Content, Rainbow abandoned her apron and hairnet on the floor.
“You could use some direction, though,” Pinkie Pie continued, framing the high-piled sink with her hooves and squinting artistically. “Get a recipe or two under your saddle and you’ll really be cookin’, kid.”
Surveying her work with oblivious pride, Rainbow Dash said “Why not? This was kinda fun—maybe I should take a class some time.”
“A cooking class!” Pinkie squealed. “That’s it! We should gather everypony up so we can teach you all of our favorite recipes, and by the time we’re finished we’ll have a ginormous feast prepared!”
“That’s an awesome idea, Pinkie,” Rainbow Dash agreed, and side-by-side the two friends trotted through the kitchen’s rear doors and into the clear Ponyville sunlight.
At that moment, looking distractedly over his shoulder, Mr. Cake pushed through the inside doors, saying “Alright, sweetie, I’ll be getting the kitchen ready for éclairs this afternoo—”
He stopped dead when his gaze met the room, wide-eyed and speechless at the disaster area that had once been his kitchen.
The sprawling tree that was the Ponyville Public Library and Twilight Sparkle’s abode stood dependably at the center of the town’s northern hub. Spike announced Pinkie Pie and Rainbow Dash to Twilight, who was eating breakfast at a small table stacked unreasonably high with books.
“Good morning, girls,” Twilight said, clapping shut three books at once. “What brings you here?”
Bouncing up beside her, Pinkie beamed. “A cooking class! You and me and all our friends are going to teach Rainbow Dash a few recipes so she doesn’t have to eat out all the time. Think you can come?”
Just as Twilight opened her mouth to speak, Spike cut her off with a fit of uproarious laughter. Twilight scowled, and the others looked at him with interest. “A cooking class would be perfect,” Spike cackled, “but you want Twilight to teach? She breaks down in tears when she has to decide which side of her toast to spread butter on!”
“It’s an important decision!” Twilight snapped. She turned back to her friends with a close-eyed smile. “You should’ve mentioned sooner that you were having trouble feeding yourself, Rainbow Dash. I’ll have you know you’re talking to the pony who passed her Advanced Cooking Theory class with a hundred and twelve percent—an A-plus-plus! On top of that I’ve read at least a hundred cook books, from Paleopony horse d’oeuvres to Post-postmodernist post-meal puddings.”
“Oh, yeah, that’s impressive alright,” Spike drawled. “But remember that time I went to Canterlot for a couple of days to get my scales buffed? When I came back I found you living on nothing but boiled eggs and soda, and the kitchen was a pigsty.”
Blushing, Twilight flattened her ears apologetically. “Maybe you’re right about that, Spike.” She glanced over at Pinkie. “Would you mind if I attended your class as a student instead? Spike can take my place as one of the teachers—he’s a whiz in the kitchen when he isn’t trying to feed you gemstones.”
Spike extended a gloating claw. “It’s all in the opposable thumbs, baby.”
“It’s a deal!” Pinkie said, and Rainbow Dash nodded in appreciation. “See you guys tonight!”
“A cooking class? How wonderful!” Rarity declared. “Oh Rainbow Dash, I’ll have you cooking like a gourmet in no time at all.”
"Er…thanks,” Rainbow demurred, “but I don’t think the occasion calls for making me a whole new outfit.”
Her rainbow mane was pulled up in a sleek bun stuck through with a pair of silver decorative forks, and Rarity was making fussy adjustments to a flowing white gown Rainbow was modeling, which was speckled with lavender images of cutlery.
“You?” surprise flavored Rarity’s voice. “No, no, no—this gown is for me, darling. One cannot properly demonstrate the subtle art of food preparation without the appropriate garments to display one’s status as an instructor. And you’re my size, so it’s convenient.”
Pinkie Pie lay prone on the fabric-strewn floor batting a ball of sky-blue yarn between her hooves, to the disapproval of the cat, Opalescence. The pony sat up on her haunches and shook the ball violently in her teeth, then spat it aside. “Thanks a lot for agreeing to come, Rarity, but we’ve got to vamoose pronto if we wanna get everything ready in time for tonight.”
“Yeah! That’s right,” Rainbow Dash attached to the excuse with relief and darted out of the dress and jewelry, which fell in a heap on the gaudy podium. “No time to lose, you know?” She trotted past Pinkie to the door, eyeing Rarity with a forced laugh, and flung it open.
“Heheh—oof! What the—?”
Hovering in the doorway was a heavy wall of smoke that repelled the pegasus to the floor. Like a steady tide it oozed into the room to smother their knees, and Rarity screeched, magically scooping the gown aloft and out of harm’s way.
“We fixed it, it’s okay!” Sweetie Belle’s muffled voice came through the veil of smoke. The foal scurried into the room on the tips of her hooves with her face raised, singed and coughing, just barely keeping her mouth in the fresh air. Similarly mottled and burned, Scootaloo followed her in, struggling to keep her inexperienced hooves atop the thick, flowing mass.
“Yeah,” Scootaloo said, “We already called the fire department and—Rainbow Dash! Hi!” The distraction dropped her beneath the cloud with a puff, and she leapt up again to regain her balance. “What’re you doing here?”
Rainbow flapped her wings to light upon the smoke and examined the bottoms of her hooves with concern. “How’d you guys get smoke to do this?”
“Sweetie Belle!” Rarity swept her sister out of the rising flood and draped her over her back. “How many times have I told you never to use the kitchen without supervision?”
“But I had supervision!” Sweetie Belle whined. “Scootaloo was there supervising me the whole time!”
Rarity ground her teeth with ill-suppressed rage. “Your little friends do not count!”
“What, you want me to ask an enemy look out for my safety?”
“If you don’t want me to be your enemy,” Rarity spat, “you two fillies are going to learn how to conduct yourselves in a kitchen. I don’t know how much longer I’ll be able to convince the elite ponies in Canterlot that smoke damage is the new black!”
“That’s a great idea!” Pinkie Pie waved away a miniature castle she had been building with the smoke. “You guys can join our cooking class tonight along with Rainbow Dash and Twilight Sparkle.”
“If Rainbow Dash is going, then I am so there,” Scootaloo mooned.
“It’s settled then,” Rarity snipped with finality. “Now if all of you will excuse me, I need to air out my house and apologize to the fire ponies—again.”
“Yup.”
“Good luck with that.”
“Bye, sis.”
Rarity let out a dainty cough as the room was vacated. A high-pitched drone filled the air, the belated cry of her recently installed smoke alarm.
The sun had crossed its zenith by the time Pinkie Pie and Rainbow Dash arrived at the front gate of Sweet Apple Acres. There was no need for them to search for Applejack; they followed the unmistakable din of construction toward the main barn, in which the farm’s various hoofed livestock were housed.
On entering they spotted Apple Bloom at work on one of the cow’s pens, a hammer held dexterously in her teeth. She waved at them in greeting and, looking up, gave a sharp whistle; Applejack came sliding down a ladder from the rafters, where she had been patching a hole in the barn’s ceiling.
“Hey, Applejack,” Rainbow Dash said.
“Howdy, Rainbow; Pinkie,” the farm mare nodded. “What can I do ya for?”
“We’re hosting a cooking class for Rainbow Dash and a few others tonight at Sugarcube Corner,” Pinkie Pie explained, “so we’re wondering if you’d like to come by and teach a few simple recipes. And once class is over, we’ll have a huge feast ready to eat! You game?”
Applejack chuckled. “You don’t know how to cook, Rainbow Dash? Well, don’t you fret—I’ll teach ya a thing or two that’ll fatten y’all up nicely. Count me in!”
“That’s great!” Pinkie hopped for emphasis. “Oh, and Sweetie Belle and Scootaloo are going to be there, so you’re invited to come, too, Apple Bloom.”
The hammer fell from Apple Bloom’s mouth with a dull thud. Its place was taken by a glowing, toothy grin directed at Applejack. Her older sister returned the smile halfheartedly. “Well, uh, you might wanna tag along, Apple Bloom, but wouldn’t you rather stay here an’ fix things up a little more? You’re very good with them there tools.”
The hint was lost on the little filly. “Don’t be silly, Applejack. Why would I wanna stay and do chores when I could be gettin’ my cutie mark for cookin’?”
“What I meant,” Applejack stressed, “was you seem to have some talent for workin’ with tools, y’hear? Maybe even a special kind of talent?”
“Oh please let me go, Applejack! This class could be my one and only last opportunity to finally get my cutie mark at long last! How could I possibly ignore somethin’ as important as that?”
“You’d be surprised,” mumbled Applejack. “Alright, you can come with me, but don’t get too wrapped up in this ‘cutie mark’ business. Even if it don’t pan out as your special talent, cookin’ is a life skill, so pay close attention and don’t get over exci—”
But the rest was unnecessary; Apple Bloom had disappeared. Shaking her head, Applejack mounted the ladder once more and gave her friends a knowing smile. “I’ve been meanin’ to start her on feedin’ herself anyway. Thank y’all the invite!”
Search lights pierced the evening sky above Sugarcube Corner, the sun having just crossed the horizon. A red carpet trailed into the street out of the kitchen doors, flanked by velvet rope barriers that held a roaring, camera-wielding crowd of ponies at bay. Pinkie Pie’s voice boomed over the crowd’s cheers as a pearly and luxurious colt-drawn carriage rattled up beside the carpet.
“Welcome, everypony, to the first ever Sugarcube Corner Cooking Class…uh, Extravaganza!”
Spike jumped down from the carriage to make his appearance. “First to arrive tonight is our breakfast chef, Spike “the Mighty” dragon, escorted by Ponyville’s lovely local librarian (and one of tonight’s students), Twilight Sparkle!”
The crowd roared, and Spike raised his hands in acknowledgment. He was clad in a standard white chef’s outfit with a hat that nearly doubled his height. Twilight waved merrily at his side, and they both entered the kitchen through the light-spangled double doors.
“Next on the scene is Applejack, co-owner of Sweet Apple Acres, who will be teaching lunch!” Applejack and Apple Bloom dismounted from an empty wood cart pulled by their brother, Big Macintosh. Neither wore anything special, the foal sporting her large pink bow, and the mare in her usual brown cowpony hat. “She’s here with her little sister Apple Bloom, who will also be learning in tonight’s class. Isn’t she cute?” The crowd applauded its agreement, and the two sisters waved and smiled their humble way down the carpet.
“Up next is—oooh, what’s that?” The light jangle of bells bid the crowd to silence; all eyes turned skyward as a magnificent pegasus-drawn carriage floated to earth like the cascading petal of a violet. Its shimmering door swung open with regal slowness, and out onto the carpet stepped Rarity, clad in her extravagant flowing gown with her mane done up in silver forks. The silence broke, and the cameras flashed in ecstasy.
“It’s the dinner chef, Rarity of Carousel Boutique!” Pinkie cried, “Just look at that entrance—what pulchritude, what equanimity!” But not a quarter of her the way along the carpet, Scootaloo and Sweetie Belle leapt from inside the carriage and scrambled past Rarity, jostling her mane and ornaments askew. To much applause and laughter from the audience, Rarity’s face contorted with fury and she chased the mischievous foals inside.
“And speaking of equine-mini-ninnies,” Pinkie punned, “there’s Sweetie Belle and Scootaloo for ya, folks.”
Laughter? No? Well, then.
“And now to introduce the much-anticipated dessert chef: Sugarcube Corner’s very own resident baker-apprentice-ess—Pinkie Pie!”
Pinkie herself appeared at the far end of the carpet; nopony had seen how she got there. Nonetheless, the cameras went wild, and Pinkie began her dignified march toward the doors. She wore what would have been a tall chef’s hat, but the top had been cut off allowing her fluffy mane to spill out—the effect very much resembled a stick of cotton candy balanced on her head. She neither carried a microphone nor moved her lips, but the intercom with Pinkie’s voice continued on.
“Give the crowd a wave, Pinkie!” the voice appealed, and Pinkie Pie flailed her forelegs over her head on either side, basking in the attention. “That’s the spirit!”
Near the end of the carpet Pinkie tripped over herself, falling face-first in front of the doors. “Woops! Better pick yourself up, silly filly,” her voice said. Pinkie pranced inside, gigging and snorting at herself.
The search lights dimmed, and the crowd fell mute. A peal of thunder rolled in from a distant storm. Not knowing what to expect, nopony took notice of the low, black cloud that drifted silently into position under the cover of darkness.
“Only one pony has yet to arrive,” Pinkie’s voice was a dramatic undertone. “The pegasus whose empty belly sparked an idea…that became legend.” Lightning flared in the low cloud’s depths, and the crowd turned its attention to the sky once more. “The feathery filly whose fund-famishing fast food fixation has finally forced her to fabricate thrifty foodstuffs for herself.”
The cloud crackled with electricity; all manes stood on end, until—
DASH!
A fork of lightning stabbed the red carpet!
And where it had struck, standing tall with her chest outthrust, was Rainbow Dash.
“Rainbow Dash!” Pinkie’s shout was echoed by the crowd repeatedly as the pegasus strutted toward the bakery, flexing her forelegs and wings at anything that looked as if it might record her awesomeness for future reference. During one such display she gritted her teeth with such ferocity that her jaw twinged, recalling the pain she had inflicted by slapping it earlier that day. Chastened, she settled for a quick back hoofspring to the entrance and pushed herself inside.
The kitchen itself was no different than it had been that morning, if a little cleaner than they had left it. As the door swung shut, all indications of what had occurred outside were forgotten.
“Thanks for coming tonight, guys,” Rainbow said mildly with a clap of her hooves. “Let’s get started on that grub, huh?”
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A one-shot only has one chapter... so this isn't a one-shot.
I still like it though.
What 1 said, but a good story so far. I tried to figure out why there would be a camera crew there, but then, well... It's
. Not much more to say.
And in the meantime, Fluttershy feeds the animals by her cottage, totally unaware that all her friends have gotten together and never even thought to invite her...
1027718
More like Fluttershy is the best chef of the bunch and will rescue them all from certain disaster.
THIS I PREDICT.
1027748
Given how fancy that salad she made Angel in "Putting Her Hoof Down" was, that's not unlikely. My personal head canon has her as a good cook...
1027395
Oops! Guess I thought "one-shot" meant something different. I thought it to mean "stand-alone short story," but I was wrong. Thanks!
1027748
1027770
Yup, I've got her pegged as a pro, too. I wonder if she'll make an appearance?
1027888 Perhaps at the end when everyone else has given Rainbow Dash their two bits and she still can't really cook good it will be Fluttershy who agress to give her private lessons.
"under your saddle." I'm gonna have to remember that one. In fact, I should use it once in every fanfic I write hereafter just to make sure I don't forget it.
This is better than I thought it would be, and to think I almost didn't read it due to having so many others on my reading list! The humor is fairly clever and the comic timing is terrific, especially during the red carpet walk. Spike is pretty awesome in this fanfic, too. Usually people just use him as a minor supporting character or write him as a tactless jerk.
1027718 No big deal; that's usually what happens to Spike. Spread the neglect little!