A (Hamburger) Helping Hoof

by fuck mcdickbutt

Rating: everyone
Tags: Random, Twilight Sparkle, Applejack, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Comedy
Length: 1373

Twilight shows Applejack the ancient art of cooking Hamburger Helper. She gets really serious about it.

Twilight shows Applejack the ancient art of cooking Hamburger Helper.

She gets really serious about it.

(This was my first attempt at writing a flash-shot comedy with prose. I kind of suck at pretty description stuff, so I wanted to improve upon it. I personally think it turned out pretty well for my first non-inebriated comedy.)

P.S.: DO NOT TAKE THIS SERIOUSLY UNDER ANY (I REPEAT: ANY) CIRCUMSTANCES.

Published 2014-02-25 22:00:07 UTC
Last updated 2014-02-25 22:00:07 UTC

The Song

"It always makes me feel a little elated."

Twilight Sparkle spoke as she let the frozen chunks of cow meat fall out of the plastic bag and to the metal surface of the pan. Each individual piece bounced, neatly shattering the thin layer of ice that coated them and throwing a snow-like powder into the air for a few inches above the pan. She inhaled, letting the sweet morsels of frozen meat-water invade her senses and cleanse her spirit. She didn't know how it worked- those attuned usually felt this way, though.

"By doing this, we are robbing ourselves. Robbing ourselves of the state of the matter, the frozen state, of the Helper. By cooking it, DESTROYING it, we are simply helping it metamorphisize into a brand new state of soft, hot food that we can taste, eat. There is no greater power in this world than to shape it to our liking as I am doing now."

The purple Alicorn smiled an omniscient smile and lifted the cast-iron pan. Using her magic to levitate it over to the stovetop, she set it down and put a match to the gas, sparking a solid blue flame underneath as the chunks of meat waited patiently for their time in the spotlight.

Her practiced eye caught the flame, judging its color. The blaze was an ether-worldly shade of azure, almost looking like a sentient being as it licked and flickered up the sides of the pan. The sound of the meat sizzling lightly in the receptacle melded beautifully with the crackle and hiss of the licking fire, together weaving a melody- no, a song. A song of storms, of clouds, of fire, of life. A song of life itself.

The song burst out of its introduction and into a roaring verse, growing in intensity and volume as Twilight Sparkle gingerly moved the pan back and forth. The meat slid forwards and backwards over the slick, oiled surface of the pan, adding a beautiful chorus of strings and cellos to the harmony. The gas that kept the flame burning sputtered once, the harp faltering. She paid it no mind, it did little to affect the song.

"The masters of the Helper like me have an ability; we don't see it as you do. We hear it- we hear it as a song, a melody that others cannot perceive. Everything in this world has that kind of magical resonance- even you, Applejack. However, the Helper operates on a higher level than the rest of this world we live in. The crescendo, the harmony, climbs above the flowers and sun and is STILL only noticed by those attuned to it."

Applejack had been absorbed in her own thoughts until now. She stared forward as her friend cooked, mesmerized in the act.

"What about the Elements of Harmony? We're all attuned ta' them, in the same way ya' just explained. Shouldn't we be able to hear their song?"

Twilight perked her ear, adjusting it to hear both the melody and the outside noise that was her fellow Element's voice.

"Actually, you do. Like I said, everything has a song. If you managed to block out everything else, you could theoretically have total control over the world around you. The same way I have total control over the Helper." She slowed down her shaking of the pan, aiming to match the rhythm of the percussion. "But I won't use it. In order to cook it, one must meld with it, body and soul. Let the meat take control of you; your actions, thoughts, morality. Otherwise, you're just another idiot who decided to make himself lunch. Wresting it to your will is bad; every bag of Helper has a form that is predetermined to take when cooked. Some are destined to be medium well, others bloody. I can't change it- fate does."

Applejack nodded in recognition. She had heard some rich ponies discussing this very magical theory back in Manehattan, after she had gone there as a child. She had not understood much, but she got the basic theory.

The Alicorn closed her eyes, melding harmoniously with her art once again. The song began lowering, the percussion fading and the strings falling into a softer and more tame rhythm. The entire orchestra followed suit.

Like a blacksmith forging a fine blade, she deftly cast out her magic and turned the knob down to the "two" setting. The flame turned a yellowish shade of orange, the color of Tartarus rather than the sky. The Helper began to enter a state of low simmer, the hiss and sizzle dying down to a low ambient note.

"I FEEL the Helper, Applejack. I wasn't kidding when I said it was alive. It wants, it needs, and it feels. The resonance tells me all that I need to know. I need no instructions." As she spoke, she used her magic to toss the meat into the air, airing it out as it fell in different formations onto the scalding metal. The meat needed to cook evenly- the song told her so.

Applejack was taken aback, surprised at her friend's fervor and zeal while performing the art. She had very rarely seen Twilight this emotional.

Twilight, still tossing, opened the cabinet underneath the stove and pulled out a bottle filled with viscous yellow fluid. Olive oil. She hear the song reach a higher vibrations, the strings at the verge of faltering from exertion as she sprinkled the oil. She wanted- no, NEEDED to push it to the very edge of the limit. The vibrations strained, the percussion reaching a roaring crescendo as the harmony grew in intensity once again.

She winced as the strings very nearly failed, the note faltering but once before they regained their tempo. The Helper had survived the final forging, the very last step in hammering out a blade.

She breathed a sigh of relief as the instruments fell back into a fading rhythm. She was done.

Applejack looked on in amazement at the Helper while Twilight removed it from the stove- it was a crisp golden brown, the moisture locked into the meat as well as any bottle would hold it. The top of the meat was PERFECTLY even- save for the expected bumps and lesions in the meat, it was perfectly flat and level even after the tossing. Twilight deftly took a wooden spoon and shoveled it out onto two different plates, setting each down on the opposite ends of the counter.

A pregnant silence filled the room, the song of life gone as the Helper cooled on the plates. A sort of sadness, a lacking pause, seemed to siphon the previous mood of fervor from both participants.

Twilight wiped her brow, and looked to Applejack.

"We have one more bag, one more song to be sung." Twilight said cautiously. "Applejack, do you want to attempt master the fragile art of the Hamburger Helper?"

Applejack was surprised. Why her? She had witnessed Twilight, her way and form with the meat. There was no way that she could match that kind of skill, someone who was as one with the Helper as she was. But there was no way she would back down, either.

Applejack tearily accepted the offer, afraid of failure. She had felt the song, the sentience of the Helper, and she would rather let it rot in a fridge than shame herself with failure.

But then, she realized something.

"What are you doing?" Twilight curiously inquired as Applejack moved for the bag. Applejack strode with purpose, for she knew what was to come. It was dangerous, for sure, but there was no way in hell she would sleep at night if she didn't try it. She needed to do this.

She opened the bag, put it in a bowl, and microwaved it for five minutes.

And it was soggy.

-Cade YYZ

Author's Note

I said a hip hop the hippie the hippie
to the hip hip hop, a you dont stop
the rock it to the bang bang boogie
say up jumped the boogie
to the rhythm of the boogie, the beat

Another thing I wrote in half an hour. Enjoy or be punished.