Ah, Canterlot. City of light. City of magic. And every day, you are at the center of it, treating its most important residents to every meal they eat.
Becoming a royal chef was easy. Once the ponies realized you meant them no harm, all it took was mentioning your background in exotic cuisines to be offered a job by Princess Celestia herself.
Becoming the head royal chef, though… Well, that took ten years of hard work and proving yourself on numerous culinary battlefields. Your talent and determination won the day in the end.
Those ten years of backbreaking labor and diversity put you in charge of planning every meal the princesses—and all of their guests—partake in. Well, when they’re in the palace. What they do on their own time is no business of yours.
Even if you did have someone paid to follow them and take notes.
Hey, all’s fair in cooking and war.
Anyway, today is a somewhat special day for you and your staff. There are ambassadors present, which means they must be given the very best. Not that you tend to give anything less normally, but everything must be perfect.
After all, it isn’t often that a set of ambassadors from a warlike nation-state come to apologize for the acts of a group of miners that kidnapped one of the famous elements of harmony. The dogs come from some place called Barkelona. You heard the names of the ambassadors were Mao Zedog, Tito, and Charles Barkley.
Christ, you had to stop yourself from bursting out in laughter in front of Princess Celestia when she told you that. She and all the other little horses were well used to your eccentricities by now and you told her when you first started working for her that all her little punny names were both adorable and hilarious to you.
She just giggled and told you never to worry about laughing in her presence. You decided then and there that laughing with her is all well and fine. But you’d hold off on laughing at her. You’re not keen on fucking with someone that can make your head pop like a bloody grape, after all.
So you and your crew of master chefs and cooks are all moving with expert and practiced precision around the kitchen. All the ponies and the single griffin in your employ know what they’re doing and each does it very well.
Soon enough, the first course is done. It consists of personalized soups for each member of the small dinner party, meaning the three dogs, Celestia, and the elements of harmony that came to receive the apology.
Anyway, you really want to get a look at those dogs yourself, so you go with the servants as they carry the first few dishes out. After all, the kitchen could stand on its own for a few minutes. Or at least, it better be able to. You didn’t spend all that time training those cooks for nothing.
You stand back near the door to the kitchens so the dogs can’t see you. No need to raise a ruckus with how you look, after all. It wouldn’t be the first time your appearance almost drove visitors away once they realized you were the cook.
One of the dogs, a large brown one, is in the middle of saying something to what you think is Rainbow Dash. “—Watcha gonna do?” God, his voice is awful. You feel sorry for them, having to hear that.
One of the dogs, a small tan one, is chatting up Rarity.
“So what was your name again?” she asks, trying to conceal her disgust.
“Allow me to introduce myself. My name is Ignacio Alonso Julio Federico De Tito,” he answers in a tone that leaves no questions about his intent. Little bastard wants to get laid.
You miss her response, but it probably isn’t very pleasant.
The older looking dog that seems to have a receding hairline somehow is talking to Twilight. “So what books do you read?” she asks, doing her best to keep up a civil conversation.
“To read too many books is harmful,” he answers in a dull voice. So much for keeping it civil.
And it seems the brown one notices the food was coming. “Woof, there it is!” The yellow, quiet element jumps at the loud noise. You can never remember her name. When the servants put the food on the table, the loud one points to the sea salt shaker. “Pass that thing and watch me flex!”
You turn around and walk back into the kitchen right after he starts shaking the bottle over his poor soup bowl. You couldn’t take it. All that was just too much.
Christ, you hate ponyland sometimes.
Anyway, you really do need to get back to the kitchen. Gotta make sure the second course is coming along nicely, after all. Getting away from those bastards is a bonus.
When you get back, the second course is nearly done. It consists of T-bone steaks for the dogs and stir-fried vegetables for Princess Celestia and the other guests.
It is… a joy to be working with meat again. Even if one of those bastard dogs demanded his steak to be well-done, the heathen.
When it’s finally finished, you decide against your better judgment to follow the dishes out again, just to see how badly things have deteriorated.
Once again, that brown one was talking to that rainbow horse. “—Work that body, make sure you don’t hurt nobody!” You don’t even want to know.
The tan one is still trying his luck, the little fool. “Check it out!” He pulls out a ratty old wallet.
Rarity sighs. “Shredded leather?”
The dog jerks back. “Shredded wha… What you talkin’ about?” That’s your cue to stop listening.
Instead you turn your ear to Twilight and her talking partner. “Bitches hold up half the sky,” the dog says.
You aren’t certain what that was in response to, but Twilight was always a massive brown-noser. Telling her that in his place the princesses would be equal to everyone else doesn’t seem like it would end well.
The brown dog notices the food coming in again and actually sees you. He grins and shouts, “Hey cookie, TURN IT UP! New steak, gotta burn it up!” You have no idea what just happened, but you feel insulted. So you just turn right around and walk back into the kitchen.
When you and the kitchen crew were about to start dessert, you get a note from the dining hall, bearing Celestia’s personal seal. “Anonymous, would you kindly change tonight’s dessert plan? I believe a certain cake called ‘Death by Chocolate’ would be very fitting. Bring out three of them, if you would. – Princess Celestia”
Huh.
“Change of plans, everyone! Princess Celestia wants a cake, one called Death by Chocolate. Gustave, you know how to make that?”
“Well, yes, but—”
“No buts! The princess requested it. She gets what she asks for.”
Gustave sighs. “Very well, Chef Anonymous. Here’s what we’ll need…”
As the star dessert chef gets to work, you prowl the kitchen, making sure everyone’s on track. A few minutes into the stretch, you check the note again, to make sure you didn't make a mistake.
Strangely enough, all the ink seems to have faded from it. Odd, but not unknown. It just means she wants the dish to be a surprise for her guests.
It takes over half an hour to make the the dish ready since you hadn’t prepared anything for it, but finally the dessert is done. You go with the servants to present the three cakes to the guests. Gustave takes off from the kitchen for some reason, hiding a strange look on his face.
No time to worry about that, though. The dogs would be digging in soon! You hurry to keep up with the servants. When you get to the dining hall, you see Celestia standing to make some manner of speech.
“It’s always nice to host guests from the friendly nation of Barkelona,” she starts. None of the elements seem very enthusiastic about that, but not one speaks up. “To show our enthusiasm, the chefs arranged a very… special dessert for you three. Please, help yourselves!”
At her signal, the servants set the cake dishes down in front of the dogs, who eye the delectable cakes with desire. None of the three of them say a word as they each cut themselves a slice of the cake. As they lift the first bites to their mouths, Fluttershy lifts a hoof and goes to say something, but a golden glow forces her mouth shut. When the dogs taste the first bite of the cake, their eyes light up in wonder, almost like none of them had ever tasted chocolate before.
“Space KABOOM!” the brown one shouts. You have no idea what that means, but you assume it’s a compliment since all three of them destroy their cake.
Two seconds after they finish, all three of them fall face-forward onto their plates.
“Hmm, what a shame,” Celestia sighs, looking at them.
Everyone else’s mouths drop. What… What could have…
As you see Celestia’s horn carving out a chunk of cake for herself and giving you an extremely knowing smile, you remember something.
Something horrifying.
Dogs are allergic to chocolate.
...Whoops.
Author's Note
https://docs.google.com/document/d/1Lhe8fzy1IiCbsU37oc_koQcXpYjds7eiXNKzqZevnwI/edit
There are no words to express how sorry I am for making this. And yes, I'm aware that it would probably take more chocolate than this to deep six a dog. It's happy-go-lucky ponyland. Everything is exaggerated.
