Scootaloo and The Chicken Mystery
Scootaloo and The Chicken Mystery
It was yet another gorgeous day in Equestria, unassuming as per the usual, with not so much as a single cloud to darken the day of the cutie mark crusaders. Such a wonderful day naturally warranted that the CMC deserved a treat to simply make the day absolutely perfect, and that is where our story begins, at Sugarcube Corner, Ponyville. The CMC stood at the front of the counter, gazing upon the treats which seemed almost more savory than they used to be, perhaps it was the wonderful day or the imagination of a youthful mind, but one thing was for sure that they definitely needed to try some of them.
Mrs. Cake, the proprietor, observed the cute youngsters and smiled. “It’s a great day, isn’t it children? In fact, I believe that such a great day deserves something even better.” And she removed several cupcakes, one for each of the CMC, and set them on the counter. “Here children, free samples!” which naturally elicited an exclamation of joy from the trio of cutie markless ponies.
The three quickly took one each and ate them, unable to resist as their suspicions were true that the baked goods *were* in fact better than usual! The sweet aroma similar to baked goods and flowers, the texture of smooth like pudding but solid as bread, the very body of the cupcakes nearly melted in their mouths and the frosting was beyond what any arrangement of words could do justice. And while it was true that the pastries were always delicious at Sugarcube Corner, the fact remained that they were different somehow and obviously improved.
This strange change compelled the orange coated and purple maned pegasus filly, Scootaloo, to ask the question present on the trio’s minds: “Wow Mrs. Cake, these are really good! How do you get them to be so tasty?”
“Well children, I’m glad you asked. Since you three are such loyal customers and I know you can keep a secret, come close and I’ll tell you what’s been making my treats so good lately.” And the three did lean in with wide eyes and perked ears, ready to hear the secret to the great Mrs. Cake’s pastries. And the secret was easily understood by at least one party in this conversation with one single word. “Eggs.” Unfortunately, this led to the initial confusion of the three fillies, a confusion which produced a suitably responsive “Huh?” from the trio. “You see, children,”
Mrs. Cake began to elaborate “I have a new source of eggs than the usual humdrum I get from the market every few days, right from Sweet Apple Acres. I’m surprised you didn’t know, Applebloom.”
Applebloom, the blonde coated blank flank whose pure scarlet hair was adorned with a near matching pink bow, chimed in with “Well Granny Smith and Big Mac won’t let me help out with most of the farm work because they say I’m too little, and they won’t even give me a chance!”
“Anyhoo, it seems that they’ve been using a new way of getting eggs that makes them great for all sorts of recipes! And best of all is that only a few ponies, me included, even know about them. I’m sure Applejack could tell you more, children.”
And without hesitation the three inquisitive Cutie Mark Crusaders ventured to Applejack’s farm, arriving and interrupting her brief afternoon break as she was taking a break by the well by asking about what made the eggs so special. “Sorry, ‘fraid I can’t spill the beans on the secret. And Applebloom, you of all should know that we’ll tell ya’ when the time’s right. But all ya’ll need to know is that it’s a secret and that if it ain’t botherin’ ya’ll then t’aint no need to ask ‘bout it.” But the filly trio persisted; giving it their best shot to appeal to the fully grown mare’s sense of cuteness, and yet were rebuffed time and time again.
Distraught but not defeated, the trio were about to leave when they spotted across the short distance at the chicken coop area, an enormous rooster with feathers that seemed to be as dark as the shadow underneath it, giving a sense of imposing to the near pony-sized bird, even at the range the CMC were at. As though sensing itself being spied upon, it swiftly turned it’s head toward the three, its steps as it shifted its body to face their direction causing dust and dirt to fly off in several directions, and they made the wise decision not to trifle with such a beast even if it were restricted to the area of the chicken coops and as such they fled the farm.
As they reconvened at the Cutie Mark Crusader Clubhouse, it was very clear that they would have noticed such a strange looking Rooster before.
Being the one with the most experience on the farm, Applebloom provided the other two with what information she did know about this strange new creature. “Now I ain’t never seen a chicken like that before, and I live on that farm!”
Sweetie Belle, the filly whose coat was as white as her horn, continued the thought with “Then that must mean that that big chicken’s the one causing the eggs to be so great and tasty!”
Scootaloo, who was possibly the only one immediately puzzled by this perplexing situation, presented a question that had not currently occupied the other fillies’ minds. “Yeah, uh. . . Just where *do* eggs come from anyways?” And was met with equally confused stares as they all looked at each other for some sort of answer.
Shrugging it off, Applebloom began to speak again “Well I say we kill two birds, uh. . . Let me rephrase that; Solve two problems at once. I say one of us sneaks into the farm at night into the chicken coop and checks in on just what goes on in the chicken coop.”
Sweetie Belle nodded and expanded “That’s right, but chickens are supposed to be noisy right? So whoever does it is going to get caught and that pony must be able to hide, and I say that the pony will need a disguise where they can pass for a chicken.” And both Applebloom and Sweetie Belle looked at Scootaloo with that thought in their mind.
Needless to say, Scootaloo was not amused. “Nuh uh, no way! That is totally not funny!”
Applebloom tried to quell whatever worries Scootaloo would have as well as make it seem reasonable for her to volunteer “Don’t worry, if anything goes wrong I’ll be up in my house and Sweetie Belle will wait just outside the farm. ‘Sides, my family would be able to spot me and chickens don’t have horns, so you’re the only one who can do this.”
But Scootaloo was persistent “No, never, a thousand times no, you will never make me dress like a chicken, that is not funny, no way, never gonna happen!”
Regardless of her objections, it was not long after the sun fell and most everypony was asleep that she found herself inside the Sweet Apple Acres chicken coop area. The disguise wasn’t much, a simple layer of white paint from the farm, a fake beak of yellow paper from school, and some red felt over the head and under the chin taken from Rarity’s boutique, although in a show of good gesture they decided among themselves to replace the missing items as soon as they could. To an untrained eye, Scootaloo did appear very much as a particularly large hen, and besides her size she wouldn’t be considered out of place among the other farm animals. Under the cloak of night, the young pony creeped up to the chicken coop and entered, treading carefully so as not to alert the sleeping hens. The farm itself was already unpleasant to smell, as one would expect, but for obvious reasons the chicken coop smelled even worse, and these same obvious reasons gave Scootaloo even better reason to walk slowly lest she slip and fall in muck.
With the moonlight peering in through the entrance being the only source of light in the small building, she could clearly make out several images of what many would expect to see in a chicken coop, squat birds with their heads bowed as they lay in their nests, only a few of them left open for potential new arrivals. It is in one of these empty nests that Scootaloo sat in, waiting patiently for the explanation to how the eggs became so superb. Although, being energetic with youth, she looked around for any potential sign of what she would have been expecting, perhaps a odd alien device which may give the chickens super egg-laying abilities or a magical potion nearby where the chickens are fed an elixir to help increase the general yumminess of the eggs, but neither of these fantastic possibilities were nearby, much to the orange pegasus’ dismay. Then again, the few empty boxes could mean something, especially since she didn’t see any eggs anywhere, although from the gossip among the playground it was common knowledge that eggs were pooped out by chickens, and she for one was certainly not going to investigate into this possibility.
A horrifying thought occurred, causing the filly’s body to tremble. What if they were using the chickens in the recipes?! Mrs. Cake said they used eggs but who knows, maybe the Apple family could chop up and crush the chickens into egg shapes to be used. As she continued this thought accompanied by horrible images through her mind, she knew that she had to calm down as the chickens began to squawk lightly, so she began to think of how silly the possibility could be. Maybe chickens are like hay, that doesn’t seem too unreasonable, and that they burned if you cooked them for too long and they would taste disgusting if used to make a pastry. She began to calm down with this thought, guessing that the chickens not present simply were sick or maybe off laying eggs, since it would be quite unsanitary to have eggs lay in the same place where the chickens slept.
The chickens’ squawking began to quiet. She then pondered on the very sounds the hens were making. When one thinks of a chicken, hen, or a rooster, they usually think of “bawk bawk” and “cock-a-doodle-doo” but these chickens were making sounds more along the lines of “brrr, bwoo and pawk.” Maybe they were sick or something, or maybe these strange noises were because they were the special egg chickens, but they all looked the same still.
Drowsiness seeped in, the scratchy twigs and hay in the nest contrasted with the general softness and firmness it held, making it oddly comfy and at the very least good enough to sleep in. But she was on a mission, and that she absolutely needed to be awake in case something happened that would lead to her discovering the secret of the eggs. “Who needs sleep?” She thought to herself, yawning quietly, and lowering her head. “I’ll just rest my head and eyes for five minutes and be good to go for the rest of the night.”
She awoke some time later to a commotion, for some reason all the hens were excited and now they were making loud bawk bawk noises like how chickens did. She looked around, and saw a figure nearly blocking out all the light in the walkway into the coop, the shadow of whatever was standing extending to the very end of the building. Though now darker than anything, she could easily sense all the chickens around her backing up and she could barely see the ones across from her backing away to the edge of their boxes. She took their example and propped herself against the rear of her hole and waited as the figure stomped in, the entire coop shaking with every audible step, and she could have sworn the wood underneath whatever was entering was cracking. Then, some very loud breathing, but more inhaling breathes than exhales, like as though something was sniffing. The creature continued foreword until it was outside Scootaloo’s feeble cube of space, and it seemed as though all light ceased into a void through which no light existed. Then, a strange shifting in the darkness and she could see light glint off of what seemed almost like a blade, and behind this sinister tool was two dots that gleamed in the black. What events transpired that night must not be made fully aware nor may they be allowed to be completely understood, for to permit such horrors to be revealed would cause such undue discomfort that they may very well cause such nightmarish terrors as to prevent the blissful nature of sleep and life.
Scootaloo awoke the next day in a hospital bed, her eyes opening slowly and with greater effort than usual, a minor sensation of blunt pain surrounding her bruised body. She was alive. In pain, discomfort, and nearly blinded, but alive. Her eyes adjusted to the now unfamiliar light of the world, the gorgeous beam filling the room through the window, and surrounding her was a doctor pony, a nurse, her two fellow CMC’s, and a familiar face whom she was proud to call her sister. “Hey everyone, what’s going on?” Were the first words she used to address her friends around her. Everyone’s attention was paid in full to the young pegasus, worried smiles from friends and acquaintances alike, as Scootaloo looked around, perplexed as to the source of discomfort from everypony around her. “What? What’s wrong?” She observed her forelegs and saw that they were covered in scratches and bruises, and slightly winced as to the source of her ever present pain.
Applebloom was the first to answer her questions, though beginning with the most recent one presented. “Well . . . You see, that big chicken at the farm sorta . . . Beat you up. All the commotion woke up my big sis who checked inside and saw Mr. Cluckers attacking you and so she pulled him off. After that she rushed you to the nearest hospital and so here we are.” The people around the bed nodded, as the story told seemed to adequately sum up the events that occurred.
Applejack continued on with “While I’m mighty sorry about all that happening, you’ve still gotta admit that it was pretty rude of you to sneak onto the farm in the middle of the night.”
Scootaloo nodded “I know, I think I learned that lesson, and I also learned that sometimes it’s better to just let things be, and sometimes people have very good reasons for keeping things secret.”
And with this revelation, the ponies nodded in agreement. The doctor pony left the room and gestured for Applejack and Rainbow Dash to follow, to which they obliged. Now out of earshot, the doctor pony focused his attention on Rainbow Dash and the former joy now visibly drained from his face. “Given that you seem to be her legal guardian, I believe it’s appropriate to discuss with you the situation.” Dash nodded and the doctor continued. “Now, what you saw was quite evident, that Scootaloo was covered in bruises and cuts, as you could clearly see, from the chicken’s assault. However there is something dire to compound these issues. You see, and I don’t know exactly how to put this, but it appears she has sustained significant vaginal trauma as well. And given the recentness of the wounds and that they only have begun to heal, it is quite clear that the attack is recent, I’d say since last night. Now, Applejack, you said that you interrupted the attack at which point Scootaloo lost consciousness, is this correct?”
“Eyup, although I may have . . . Fudged the facts a bit.” She replied, with a clear discomfort in her face.
“Ahem, ‘fudged the facts?’ And what facts exactly did you ‘fudge?’”
“Well y’see, she was being attacked, though the rooster was doing something that just waren’t right. Something down right disgusting. It was, well, you know how a dog might start to ride yer leg if it ain’t got a mate?”
“Oh my, so you mean that the chicken . . . Committed an act of carnal knowledge with the filly?”
“As hard as it is to admit, yes, that’s what was happening and why I rushed her here since I ain’t ever had this happen before. I didn’t know Mr. Cluckers would do this!”
“How was it even possible? I mean, don’t chickens lack the features to initiate such acts?”
“Actually roosters got’m, and as for our rooster who did this it was one of his major features. See, a salesman who our family has known for quite a while offered us a deal on a good breedin’ rooster who could get our hens to make more eggs and make them a whole hay’uva lot better than usual. And so we bought it and it worked well, and because it was so big an’ mean it even managed to scare off the odd fox that would sneak its sorry self in the coops. I made sure to keep Applebloom away because she’s still a bit young before she could see it, ‘specially since it’s got its feature dangling about.”
The doctor was in a state of shock, his mouth hung open and Applejack looked down at the floor, staring, the shame of having let such a terrible event finally overwhelming her.
Rainbow Dash broke the silence after a bit “So do we tell her?”
“I wouldn’t recommend it, at least not right away. Maybe after she has healed up and is emotionally mature, then perhaps it would be appropriate to tell her exactly what happened. But until then we should try and protect her. There’s no real sense in exposing her to what occurred, at least not yet, not until she’s ready to know.
They all nodded in agreement and were led back to the room where the CMC were discussing amongst themselves matters of trivial importance, eating some of the delicious pastries courtesy of the Sugarcube Corner. The daylight shining from the window filled the room with a present radiant beauty. The day was far from perfect, but to the CMC it remained a wonderful day.
The end has been reached, your examination, patience, and resolve is appreciated.
Author's Note
May the powers at be forgive me. However, I shall not apologize for the very content, yet I shall apologize if there be any flaws in my punctuation. Criticism is appreciated and endorsed. I implore you, have a wonderful day.
