The Crunch of Wrath

by Takino

Rating: everyone
Tags: Slice of Life, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Comedy, Rarity
Length: 1004

Rarity stares at a crouton for a while

Rarity, waiting for a date to show, stares at a crouton that wasn't supposed to be in her salad.

Published 2014-01-03 20:10:05 UTC
Last updated 2014-01-03 20:10:05 UTC

Chapter 1

Rarity sighed.

He was late.

She wasn't surprised.

She always got lots of social attention in Canterlot, or Manehattan, where her fashionable ways and air of class brought her distinction and recognition from the elite of Equestria's society, but this was Ponyville.

In Ponyville she was just another small town mare, living in a lonely world.

Rarity frowned at the salad sitting on the table before her. Plain, ordinary salad for a plain, ordinary day. Leafy greens. Leaves of other colors that she couldn't quite identify, bits of celery, bits of apples, a few small flowers, and ... ! Something that wasn't supposed to be there. This diner, for being in such a small town, prided itself on fastidiousness and attention to detail. They rarely made mistakes. Rarity leaned forward a bit for a closer look.

She levitated out a crouton, floating the morsel up off of the piled lettuce, dressing, and bits of vegetable matter, up to eye level. She stared at it, spinning it slowly in the air in front of her.

It was a cube. No, not quite a cube. Slightly rectangular on one side. Rectangular on all sides, really. More of a rectangular prism than a cube. Still, it was very square.

The crouton was made of some kind of bread. A very light, airy bread, but one that doesn't crumble apart when cut into tiny cubes. The bread had very clearly been toasted.

Most of the crouton, especially along the flat sides, was a very light, golden color, like a lion's coat, or like toasted bread. There was some small variation from one side to the next, but not very much. The edges, however, and especially the corners, were a much darker shade of brown, almost looking burned, or looking almost burned.

Interestingly, one entire side of the tiny piece of toast was that darker shade. It had either been facing up towards the heating element when the bread had been toasted, or perhaps it had been against the hot metal of the baking pan. Either way, that one side was clearly more well done than the others.

One end of the crunchy bit of wheaty yeasty goodness appeared to be a piece of the crust, the outer layer of the loaf of bread that the crouton had been cut from. The crust side was noticeably bigger than the other sides of the toast cube. Clearly, the bread had shrunk as the moisture was toasted out of it, and the tougher section of crust had resisted shrinkage.

There were two, no three, specks of black pepper clinging tenaciously to the sides of the crouton, looking ready to be brushed off at a moment's notice. The black spice nestled gently against the bread, bringing its gift of flavor to the otherwise bland salad accessory.

The light glinted sharply off of a single large grain of salt. A rough grain, heavy and coarse, a chef's salt, not the refined and genteel table salt of the shakers seated in the center of the table. Without this white mineral, food would barely be food at all.

The surface of the crouton was coarse, rough, and crunchy, filled from one edge to the other on all sides with dozens upon dozens of tiny holes. Tiny air pockets formed when the bread rose. Surprisingly, although the rough and uneven surface, littered with tiny pockets, was designed for it, no dressing appeared to cling to the crouton.

The crouton must not have been tossed with the rest of the salad. Its very presence on the plate was a mystery.

A crumb fell from its perch on the toasted bread. It fell, spinning through the air liked a downed fighter airplane, to land on the patterned tablecloth. It bounced slightly before coming to a still rest.

"Madame?" A voice interrupted.

Haute Cuisine.

The finest restaurateur in Ponyville.

Perhaps in all of Equestria, but he was neither seeking that much fame, nor that much headache.

Besides, he liked knowing his customers.

"Is there a problem with mademoiselle's salad?" He asked, his heart concerned not with his reputation, but truly with her satisfaction.

Rarity quickly moved the out of place crouton into her mouth, hiding it from the gentlecolt's sight.

The rough, crunchy, toasted surface scraped against her tongue. Her sense filled with the flavor of caramelized bread, with a very faint hint of salt and pepper contributing to the harmony of the flavor. There was something else too, dim, faint, and yet somehow present. The very light flavor of olive, just barely even there. A very light touch of olive oil, tossed in with the other flavors to add just that right amount of depth.

She bit down on the bit of toast slightly, and was rewarded with a small explosion of flavor and texture as the crouton shattered, reducing to flavorful toasted crumbs in a single instant. The crumbs felt like a very coarse sand for just a moment, spreading their flavor with wild abandon.

Rarity swallowed quickly and turned to the stallion looking at her anxiously.

"Oh, no, not at all, darling." She forced a friendly smile, not wanting to worry the already worried stallion. "I was just expecting a bit of company to have arrived by now, is all. Please do let me know if anyone comes in looking for me, won't you?"

Haute Cuisine smiled, relieved that there was no problem with his restaurant's service. "Of course, madame. And if there is anything else that we may do for you, please let us know."

"Of course." Said Rarity with a smile. "Thank you."

He turned and headed off, checking on other tables and seeing to his guest's needs.

He really does love this restaurant, Rarity thought, as she turned back to her table and looked down at the increasingly unappetizing-looking salad.

Rarity sighed.

He was late.

She wasn't surprised.

Perhaps, she considered, perhaps she would go down to the rail station and buy a ticket for the midnight train.

Destination: Anywhere.