Hiding inside the fire alarm above the door and peering through the slits in it offered a certain male draconequus a lovely view of the kitchen and it’s inhabitants. As he watched, anxiously awaiting the moment when the cooks would be released after cleaning the utensils, bowls, plates, countertops, stoves and ovens, the head chef trotted in and surveyed his staff, who were lined up against the back wall, also awaiting the moment they would be released.
The head chef trotted up to the first in the line, then slowly walked down the row, then back up. He backed up from them and merely said, “Good work today. You are dismissed!”, then started towards the apron closet to stow his apron and hat. The rest of the kitchen staff hurried to remove their items and bustle out to their quarters for the night.
The entire kitchen was clear and darkened in five minutes, the door closing and the lock sliding home. Taking his chance, Discord floated out of the alarm in the form of a smoke cloud and moved down the wall, moving as quietly as sand falling. Once regrouped (in a snazzy shirt and tie with some corny spy music playing), he pursed his lips, pressed one scaly talon to them and made a shushing motion. He lay on the floor and moved like a snake, slithering across the kitchen to the cabinets of the far side. He moved up the cabinets on the floor, sliding up the front, coiled up on the countertop, and shrank.
He stood, produced a grappling hook from inside his coat, aimed at the ceiling, and fired it. The hook sank deep into the panel. Letting the cable of the hook dangle, Discord slid a pair of suction cups onto his paw and claw, tied the cable around his waist and began to walk up the space between the cabinet doors, not even using the equipment. Getting up to the middle of the cabinet, he grasped the door handles and threw them wide, allowing him access to the sweet, sweet prize within: A box of Zebra Cakes stood before him, radiant. And closed. The draconequus’s smile reached his mismatched horns.
He waltzed over to the box, got behind it, and pushed it over. He trotted over the an end and pried them open, the adhesive on the tab taking some of the other side with it and making a tearing sound. He clicked on the light on the miner’s hat that had appeared on his head and surveyed the scene. Wrapped in cellophane, the cakes easily reflected the light from the hat and played it back towards the mixed-up creature and the snack food issued a collective gasp.
Oh, Discord, you’re back! Without you, we have been alack. The little Zebra Cakes looked out at him.
“Hello, my lovelies,” he murmured, snapping his clawed fingers so the wrappers disappeared, leaving the cakes naked and vulnerable. Discord bent his head low and kissing each of them and running his tongue over them. “I’m sorry it took me so long to get back, you know, spreading Chaos - I mean, a few pranks here and there, some over there...”
That is irrelevant. That you would take some time to return was our estimate. The little treats said, looking him up and down. Did you get dressed... for us? You should do that more often, you know,and now we want to give your mane a muss. You look good enough to eat, and indeed you are a treat.
“Hey! That’s my line!” Discord whined. “And, no. I had to evade security, my little darlings. They don’t want us to be together, I think.”
They don’t want us together, you say? Clearly, they’ve ne’er felt the touch of a cake.
The little treats exited the box and crowded around the tiny draconequus, pushing and rubbing up against him.
Come, hun. Let us take this outside the cupboard, for a bit of fun. They chanted, pushing him out of the fore-mentioned cupboard and onto the hard floor. Discord's hat, tie and jacket went flying as the writhing mass of filling, icing and discordant body parts began issuing the sounds of pleasure.
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After getting up from bed and going in search of a glass of water(and getting lost, but don't tell anypony), Cadance wandered into the T.V. room, wearing her bright pink and fluffy bathrobe and slippers. Discord had left his popcorn and Luna her Milk Duds(which was a rare enough thing in itself), but that was nothing compared to the massive television's sweet display.
"Is that Discord? And is he...? Cadance asked, peering at the screen, trying to see what was happening in the dark. Then, her ears fell flat on her skull.
"Oh. Oh my." Cadance sat down on the couch and popped a Milk Dud in her mouth, completely absorbed. She leaned back and chewed thoughtfully. "Well... I guess it's better than watching Chef Ram Sea shouting at the poor cooks all day. How does somepony burn water anyway?"
She picked up the remote and flicked the volume way up as her thoughts drifted to her dear Shining Armor, sleeping away in the bed.
The next morning...
The head chef trotted into the pantry where the aprons were kept. He put his on, tied the strings at the back with a neat knot and donned his chef's hat. Whistling a merry tune, he walked into the kitchen, expecting to find a lovely, clean workstation, in which he could make breakfast for Princess Twilight. Why not? After all, it was Monday morning. The messes happened on Sunday mornings, not Monday.
Poor chef. The smell hit him first; the smells of sweat, white creamy filling and chocolate milk assaulted his nostrils like a hammer. He immediately squinched his eyes shut as hard as he could, afraid. But he knew, that, if there was a mess, if was his duty to clean it up so the Princesses wouldn't have to go through the day hungry. Duty calls. So, he opened his eyes slowly, carefully.
The kitchen was bucking spotless. Even cleaner than the cooks had left it, if that was possible.
After all, what fun is there in making sense?
