There it was... the most delicious confection to ever grace ponykind. Soarin stared at his newly obtained pie, bought fresh out of the oven from a bakery not two blocks from his apartment. They were well known for making some of the best pies to ever exist, and they had Soarin's full endorsement. This delicious blackberry and raspberry filled confection called out to Soarin, begging him to eat it. Under any normal circumstances he would gladly acquiesce. But these were no ordinary circumstances. As was stated previously, this pie was bought fresh out of the oven. Being less than two blocks between Soarin's apartment and the bakery, this amazing piece of baking perfection had yet to cool. And while there were many things Soarin wanted, the pie chief among them, a burnt mouth was far from being on the list.
He watched the pie, a drop of drool beginning to form on the right side of his mouth as he let in the breathtaking aroma of pie perfection.
"Just a few more minutes, Soarin. Then that amazing, round, completely delicious piece of culinary mastery will be yours.", thought the ravenous Wonderbolt. Despite such calming thoughts, the pressure to commence performing acts of pure, disgusting, glorious gluttony was great. As he continued to stare at the pie, little wafts of steam flowing out from slits in the box, Soarin began to sweat. Slowly but surely, the pressure grew, and as it did so, he began to sweat even more copiously. In a brief moment of clarity, Soarin realised that his wings had gone out to their fullest extent, signaling a disturbing type of arousal. Finally, the pressure reached its peak, and Soarin reached his breaking point.
"OH BUCK IT!", exclaimed the pie-loving pegasus, his mouth wide open, drool dropping from the roof of his mouth in excessive amounts.
Rushing across the room to the counter where the pie rested, Soarin let out a primal roar that could be heard for miles around. Viciously tearing the box open, he proceeded to extract the Celestia-blessed circle of deliciousness. Using the box as a plate, and skipping the use of any form of utensil or lifting, Soarin plunged his mouth directly into the pie. Searing heat scorched him as he took his first gargantuan bite of perfection. He didn't give a damn. He swallowed the massive bite, barely chewing at all, then began again. Taking vicious bite after bite, Soarin' took large chunks out of the pie with each exaggerated motion of his jaws.
Once the center of the glorious pie was gone, he began scooping around the edges with his tongue in a manner similar to Pinkie Pie styles of ingestion, gathering up the filling first. Each scoop of delicious filling brought another wave of pure euphoria and third degree burns, the former noticed more than the latter.
A sudden, painful shock came to our beloved pegasus protaganist when his tongue reached naught but filling-softened crust. Probing all around, Soarin descovered this to be true for all the pie. Sadly, he realised there was only one thing left to do. With expert dexterity, he grabbed the pan out of the box, unhinged his jaw with extreme effort, and dumped the crust into his mouth. He then re-hinged his jaw, and began chewing and swallowing the remnants of the pure deliciousness.
Panting with exhaustion from his gluttonous rampage, Soarin began to realise the horrendous tragedy of the situation. That was certainly the most incredible pie he had ever eaten, and it was all gone in less than a minute. All gone, never to be seen or tasted again. His eyes began to water, a slight whimper escaping his lips. Soarin began to curl into a ball, tears starting to flow from his eyes.
"Soarin, where are you? You're late for practice!", said Spitfire, whom, along with Fleetfoot, had come to check up on Soarin. He rarely ever answered the door, so they had gotten into the habit of letting themselves in with the spare key under the mat.
"Soarin, you there?", Spitfire called, a little worried. Soarin was rarely late for practice. In fact, the only time she could recall him being late was when he had gotten that blackberry pie...
"OH BUCK!", exclaimed the flame-haired pegasus, the metaphorical gears in her brain connecting together. Ignoring Fleetfoot, Spitfire bolted to the kitchen, various pie-related scenarios running through her head. The sight that greeted her was far from pretty. The counters were a mess, black and red filling haphazardly splattered about them. numerous pieces of crust in various sizes littered the floor, and there was a bit of filling sticking to the walls and ceiling, presumably splashed out from when Soarin initially dove his head into the pie. And of course, huddled up in the corner lay Soarin, pie coating his entire face. He babbled incoherently, his eyes pouring out rivers of tears. Spitfire looked upon this extravagant scene and then proceeded to join her hoof and face with as much force as she dared. Extricating her hoof from the forehead on which it landed, Spitfire proceeded to look up at the ceiling as if it didn't exist, as if she was seeing to the sky above.