Braeburn and his business partner Quinlinn learn that owning a multi-million bit corporation isn't as easy as it looks.
Braeburn, a simple farmpony, and Quinlinn, a normal pony with an average past, become millionaires after creating what historians will call "the greatest snackfood of all time", a crazy and daring combo of Nutella and taco salad!
Follow the dynamic duo as they make loads of bits, fight corporate giants, and look good doing it in this odd tale that will bring absolutely no tears to your eyes!
Disclaimer: I do not own any of the Nutella corporation, aside from the container of it in my cabinet. Taco Salad is not a trademark of Taco Bell. The reader is solely responsible for any mental anguish due to fanon smashing, headcanon busting, or lack of actual Quinburn shipping.
"Get ready to have your socks blown off!" The mare at the front of the conference room said, turning on her projector.
---{MCN}---
A jazzy tune fades in with the scene: a young colt walking along the sidewalk, enjoying a crunchy taco salad.
YOUNG COLT [euphoric]: Mmm, taco salad.
Cue a young filly walking along the sidewalk in the opposite direction, relishing a container of Nutella.
YOUNG FILLY [euphoric]: Mmm, Nutella.
The two little ponies, lost in their own euphoric moments, fail to notice one another as they round the corner in front of the candy shoppe.
They collide, and the results seem tragic for the moment. The filly loses hold of her container of Nutella, and it flips and lands in the colt’s taco salad. The inertia of the collision sends pieces of taco salad flying, shards of chips and shreds of lettuce covering the filly’s face, sticking to the delectable hazelnut spread that had been collecting around her lips.
YOUNG COLT [annoyed]: Hey! You got Nutella in my taco salad!
YOUNG FILLY [annoyed]: Aw, you got taco salad in my Nutella!
Curiously, the two try the mix; the colt taking a bite from his plate of Nutella-frosted taco salad, and the filly licking the taco-salad seasoned Nutella from her lips.
BOTH [euphoric]: Mmm! That’s delicious!
Cue an old stallion, emerging from the corner candy shoppe in a totally un-creepy way. He wordlessly hands the two a piece of candy which happens to be the same combination as the two had just created, crushing their dreams of making millions off of the idea. Nevertheless, they enjoy the snack together as friends, as the owner of the candy shoppe retreats back into his store as stealthily as he had appeared.
NARRATOR: “Two great tastes that taste great together! Real taco salad, delicious Nutella! Mexicoltan Crunch Nuggets: A confusing name for an equally confusing product.”
---{MCN}---
“So whaddaya think?” the pink mare asked, turning off the projector.
“That was… that was freakin’ awesome,” the dark gray, brown maned pegasus stallion concluded, mouth agape.
“Boy howdy, you've really outdone yourself this time, Miss Pinkie!” The yellow-coated, light brown-maned earth pony agreed. “Ah sure am glad Cousin Applejack got me in touch with ya!”
“Don’t mention it, Brae! I'm just happy to be supporting such a dee-licious candy!”
“Uh, it’s not a candy,” the pegasus interjected.
“Dang it, Quinlinn,” the earth pony groaned, “not this again…”
“What? It’s not! It’s got nuts and vegetables in it! Candy is in the top of the food pyramid! This stuff is lower in the pyramid, therefore it is healthier.”
Pinkie Pie let out a loud gasp. “He’s right! Oh, this gives me so many new marketing ideas! I can see the billboards now: ‘Mexicoltan Crunch Nuggets: If it’s Not Candy, Then it Must Be Healthy!’” She started bouncing frantically, as if she had been waiting patiently to use the restroom for some time. “I gotta go! The ideas are running and I can’t make them stop!” She looked out the door as if something had just run away from her. “Hey! Get back here!” And with that, she was gone.
“Ya do realize that no matter what, ponies’re gonna think of this as candy,” Braeburn said, ignoring the mare’s sudden departure.
“No,” argued Quinlinn, “because we’re businessponies. And businessponies change how ponies view the world!”
“Hehe, that’s what Ah like about you, Quin,” Braeburn said, a smile replacing the frown on his muzzle, “you got the heart of a businesspony. Just like my Pa.”
"I still can't quite figure out what I like about you."
---{MCN}---
In the three years since that fateful day that Braeburn and Quinlinn bumped into each other, the business they created had exploded. It started in Braeburns old house in Dodge Junction, where the two of them started selling the little homemade snacks out of a lemonade stand in the front yard.
They were making a ton of bits. Ponies would come by and give the odd combo a taste out of pure curiosity, and proceed to buy a dozen more to eat later (or stuff their faces with on the way home).
One day, a travelling businesspony by the name of Moneybags happened by, tried it out, and made them a HUGE offer.
Office space in a Manehattan high rise and a 300,000 bit investment in exchange for 50% of the company.
However, Braeburn, who had learned a great deal of bartering skills from his father, managed to sell him 45% of the company for 250,000. Moneybags agreed on the condition that he be allowed to personally choose their advisors.
After that, it was a breeze. They moved into the 30th floor of the Manehattan Trade Center, got a full staff of employees (including several advisors, as they both knew too well that they could never manage an official business on their own.), fancy offices, and really expensive businesswear to boot.
And that's when the real fun began...
---{MCN}---
"Quin?" Braeburn said. The pegasus was leaning back in the comfortable conference room chair, resting. "Quinlinn!" He poked the pegasus' shoulder.
"Not now," he whispered. "Flashback."
"What are ya-"
Quinlinn, his eyes still closed, stuck his hoof in Braeburn's mouth and moved it around as if he was massaging his teeth. "Shhhhh..." he said.
Braeburn smacked his hoof away, "Dangit, Quin! Stop puttin' yer hoof in my mouth!"
"Bosses!" one of the low-tier employees called, running into the room. "We've got a big-"
"Stop!" Quin said, holding a saliva-coated hoof in the air. "You just barged in and ruined a beautiful flashback!" He sat up and glared at the young pony. "I don't know who you think you are, but you're going to go back outside, knock on the door, and wait to be invited in. Now."
"But sir!"
"NOW."
The pony sighed in defeat and retreated back out the door, closing it behind himself. Three knocks shortly followed.
"Who is it?" Quin called.
"Pencil Pusher..."
"What an unfortunate name," he whispered to Braeburn, who chuckled in response. "Uh, yes! Come in!"
The door opened up and Pencil Pusher entered. "Sir's, we have a big problem."
"What is it?" Braeburn questioned, the use of the word 'we' worrying him.
"There are protesters outside the building, they're picketing against the decision to move production to Saddle Arabia!"
"Oh dangit!" Braeburn cursed in shock. "Ah forgot, we have dinner with our Arabian affiliates at eight!"
"Oh no! What time is it now?"
"7:30!"
"Augh! Where are we eating?"
"That fancy Thai place on 3rd."
"NO!" Quinlinn jumped up onto the conference table, smashing a glass of water as he struck a pose reserved only for action movies and the most dire of situations. "We MUST get there on time! For da Thai!!!"
He jumped from the table and galloped out of the room, knocking down the employee on the way. Braeburn followed, apologizing to the stallion as he passed.
Quinlinn rushed through the building's revolving door, managing to smack an exhausted Braeburn several times in the face with it before the yellow pony caught it and rushed through himself. The pegasus looked around frantically, searching for their ride.
"Braeburn!" he panicked. "The limo! It's not here! Where is it!?"
"No, no, no! It's 7:38! It should be here, where is it!?"
"Screw it! Time for backhugs!"
Quinlinn got behind Braeburn and jumped on his back, wrapping his forelegs around the earth pony's barrel.
"QuinlinnwaitWHAT'REYA'LLDOING!!?!?" Braeburn screamed as Quin took off, a surge of adrenaline fueling his new found strength.
They flew high over the carriages below, as the seemingly now small ponies below gazed upon the well-dressed corporate bosses gliding overhead.
"Stop screaming, Braeburn! I'm flying!" He glided around street corners, flapping his wings occasionally to maintain elevation, taking them along a well-rehearsed path which he took once a week to get to his favorite restaurant. Usually he was taken there by limo, but he made sure to remember the path just in case he ever had to go there on his own.
In a short ten minutes they finally landed in front of the restaurant. Quinlinn was careful to place the terrified earth pony on his hooves, even though he fell over immediately. The crowd traveling along the sidewalk parted around them, some ponies stopping to stare, some ignoring them, and some giving them death glares.
"Woah, twenty minutes to spare." He looked back at Braeburn. "Dude, get up. You're getting your super expensive suit dirty with poor pony hoofprints." He pulled his partner to his hooves and dusted him off. "Alright, let's go in. Being early will make us look good."
They trotted into the restaurant, with an air of class that all the ponies in the dining room could smell. It was a good smell, assuming you were rich as well. If you were one of the middle class ponies, you might gag at just a whif of it.
This was a very high-class Thai restaurant. The sound of the piano and ponies' conversation provided a soothing background; a detailed mural decorated the far wall; fancy chandeliers hung from the high ceiling, providing light for the tables in the center of the room, smaller ones hung above each of the booths, all dimmed slightly to enhance the elegant atmosphere and provide a bit of a romantic ambiance for those who wished it. And, who could forget, the intense aroma of spices used in the mouth-watering dishes.
They made their way to the table, completely bypassing the maître d', only to find their guests already seated there. "Brownnosers," Quin muttered to Braeburn as they approached the table.
"Hey, you were the one who said we should be here early!"
"Be quiet, Brae."
The two Saddle Arabians sitting there certainly didn't look like Equestrians. They were bigger, around Princess Luna's size, one was brown with a blonde mane, and the other was pink with a blonde mane. They were dressed rather fancily, but it wasn't any contest against Braeburn and Quin.
"Hello!" Braeburn called to them as they grew close. "You must be..."
They gave their names, but Quinlinn could not understand what they were saying through their accents.
"Good ta meet ya both! Ah'm Braeburn Apple, and this here is my buisiness partner, Quinlinn."
"Hi," Quinlinn greeted, waving a hoof.
"Very good to meet you, Mister Apple, Mister Linn," the pink mare said.
"Uh, no, it's Quinlinn."
"Oh, my apologies, Mister Quinlinn," she smiled.
"No 'mister'. Quinlinn's my first name."
"Okay, might I ask your surname?"
"Ugh, I don't have one!"
"No family name?"
"Jeez..." Quin looked around for something to use. His eyes landed on Braeburn's head. "It's Cowpony Hat."
"Quinlinn... Cowpony Hat?"
"That's Mister Cowpony Hat to you," he shot back.
"OKAY!" Braeburn spoke up, pulling Quinlinn into his seat. "Control yourself," he whispered harshly in Quin's ear, reminding Quin of his mother.
"Thank you both for coming," the pink mare said. She seemed to have less of a thick accent than the brown stallion, making it much easier on Quin. Fortunately, Braeburn had a knack for understanding different accents, after dealing with clients from all over as an apple farmer. He was able to understand both of them.
Braeburn and Quinlinn picked up their menus, Quin only looking to avoid having to converse awkwardly with them, he already knew what he wanted. Braeburn took up a conversation with the two associates for a few minutes until the waitress arrived.
"Ladies first," Braeburn offered.
"Thank you. I will take the Pineapple Fried Rice please," the pink mare said.
"Pad Thai," Quin said.
"Ah'll have some Miso Soup, please," Braeburn requested.
Of course Quin couldn't understand what the other stallion said, but the waitress seemed to understand him enough. They all agreed on a nice wine to go with the dinner, and the waitress left.
Braeburn began talking with them about business stuff. Quinlinn would freely admit that he wasn't exactly the financial brain of the operation. Hell, he bought a longsword from a pony on the side of the street for 500 bits just the other day. He was much more content to just sit back and daydream while Brae did all the math and stuff. So that's how it went while they waited for their dinner. Braeburn talked about contracts and bits and the like, while Quinlinn daydreamed about cold beer, hot lights, and his sweet romantic teenage nights. Boy did he miss those days.
But the haze of his daydreaming was shattered when he heard an unpleasant suggestion by the pink mare.
"In exchange, we just want to take over your Saddle Arabian operations." Quinlinn instantly snapped out of his dream, and glared at the mare, who didn't seem to notice. "You'll still get a cut of the profits, but we'll buy out fifty-one percent of the territory there."
"WOAH!" Quin piped up. "What're you talking about!?"
The brown stallion began to talk, but Quin raised a hoof to stop him. "No! I don't understand you're fancy exotic voice! I need her to say it!"
"We want to help you by taking over your business in Saddle Arabia."
"And how would that benefit us, exactly?"
"You're a small-time company trying to branch out across an ocean! There's no way you could manage that from one office building, especially with so little a workforce!"
"Quin, drop it," Braeburn said.
"Maybe we just won't branch out! Maybe Saddle Arabians don't deserve Mexicoltan Crunch Nuggets!"
"What are you trying to say?"
"Quin, knock it off!" The fight was getting heated, but they hadn't gotten loud enough to draw stares yet.
"Don't you dare drag the race card into this, you know damn well that's not what this is about!"
"Then what is it about?"
"It's about you thinking you know what's good for us! You don't know the first thing about our product!"
"You're product is simple! A five-year-old could put it together!"
"Alright, then tell me, what's the first ingredient on the label, and therefore the most important?"
"Nutella!" she said.
"NO! It's LOVE!" He reached into his breast pocket and pulled out a candy bar. The wrapper was red, white, and green, and was adorned with the name "Mexicoltan Crunch Nuggets". Quinlinn slammed it down on the table and pointed to the ingredient list on the bottom. "See? It says 'Love'! We put LOVE in our product, every single bite brings you a pleasure that no pony could ever put into words. It's an ingredient that, yeah, is a bit cliche, but it's true all the same! I spend six hours a day in the factory, making sure every one of our workers is at their happiest, so they can transfer that happiness into everything they make!"
"Love and happiness," the mare said, seemingly calm now. "Well, if that's all it takes-"
"NO!" a mare yelled across the room. The four business ponies turned in time to see a white mare with a fancy purple mane go off on her date. Even the waiter, who was just about to put their drinks down, stopped and stared. "That kind of proposition on the first date!? You dirty, good for nothing... UGH!" She stormed away from the table toward the exit. Quinlinn took the opportunity of the distraction to slip something in two of the drinks very hastily.
With the disturbance gone, the chatter in the restaurant slowly picked up again and the waiter served the drinks to the four of them. With the stress of the conversation that just went down, and Quinlinn shaking like a leaf in a combination of anger and anxiety, everyone took a sip of their drink. A few moments of silence passed between them, before the pink mare spoke up.
"Wazzuvith thizdrink?" she slurred. She began swaying back and forth.
Damn, that stuff works fast, Quin thought.
The stallion looked at her and said something, still incomprehensible, but he sounded normal at that.
"Wait, what? Why aren't you sleepy?" Quin asked, concerned.
He said something in reply, with a confused face.
"Uh... drink more wine."
"No!" the stallion managed to say.
Quinlinn reached over and picked up his glass, pushing it in his face. "Drink!"
"No! No drink!"
"Drink it and sleep!"
"No!"
"Kwinilinn?" Braeburn said.
"Not right now, Brae!"
"Naw Kwinilinn, whazgoinon? Ah feelz funnles..."
Quin looked at Braeburn. "Oh, crap."
Braeburn was swaying back and forth in a drunken manner, drool running down his face. He almost fell out of his seat, until Quin caught him. The brown stallion grabbed his partner and tried shaking her out of her daze, speaking to her in their native tongue.
"C'mon, Brae! Time to get out of here!" He got the drugged earth pony to his hooves and slowly made his way to the door, the Saddle Arabian stallion yelling something at them as they left.
"Sorry. Excuse me. Sorry, my friend is a bit smashed. Ooh, that looks tasty, can I have a bite?" They finally made it to the door and moved down the sidewalk. Quin hailed a taxi and they departed, the sound of sirens wailing somewhere a few blocks away as they went.
