Chapter 3: Mrs. Cake’s Birthday Celebration

“Fresh air!” I shouted to nopony in particular. “Free at last!”

Suddenly I was hit by a shot of confetti and streamers. Yes, literally, a shot. A certain pink pony was standing over the infamous party cannon, smiling.

“Yay!” she said. “You’re finally free! That was your ‘free at last’ party cannon celebration!”

“Um, thanks?” I replied, feeling somewhat confused. “Who are you?”

“I’m Pinkie Pie!” she answered with her cheery voice. She grabbed my hoof and shakes vigorously. “What’s your name?”

Pinkie was shaking my hoof so violently that I couldn’t even talk straight, instead my answer came out in a shaky sort of stammer. “D-e-e-e-e-n-n-n-i-i-i-i-m-m-m.”

“Huh, that’s a weird name. Pretty long too. Can I just call you Denim?”

I rolled my eyes and smiled at the same time. Pinkie Pie. “Yes, yes you can.”

“Okey dokey loki! What are you doing today?”

“I… uh…” I didn’t really have any plans, except to look around, find my apartment, and a job.

Before I could even finish my thoughts, Pinkie grabbed me by the foreleg. “I know! Come with me!” Without warning, she dragged me at top-speed, galloping down Main Street until we arrived at a house that kind of looks like a cake. Pinkie shoved me inside, and followed right behind.

“Welcome to Sugar Cube Corner!” she exclaimed.

“Hi!” said a pony behind the counter. “What can I get for ya?”

“Hi Mrs. Cake! This here is Denim; Denim, Mrs. Cake. I just brought him along to show him the bakery. May we sample a few pieces today?”

“Of course you can!” replied Mrs. Cake with her smooth voice. “But, no more than one piece combined.” Mrs. Cake glowered briefly at Pinkie Pie, who in turn scratched the back of her head sheepishly.

Once Mrs. Cake had gone to attend to some other customers, I asked “Why not more than one piece?”

Pinkie laughed short and nervously. “Because one time when I said I’d take a few samples, I ended up eating about the equivalent of two cakes. Lots of unhappy customers that day.”

I laughed at the pony’s story. “I can relate,” I replied with a chuckle. “So, what do we sample first?”

“Weeeelllll…” said Pinkie. “I suggest we try something with chocolate first.” Suddenly, she gasped in surprise. “I know! The Double Hot Fudge Chocolate Dream Cake!”

“Whatever it is, it sounds good. Can’t ever have too much chocolate, right?”

“Right,” affirmed Pinkie. She took me down a wide corridor, and opened a door on the left hand side. The room gave way to the largest cake I had ever seen.

It was stacked several feet tall, all decorated with chocolate syrup and pink icing, topped off with a large helping of whip cream and a few dozen strawberries.

“There it is,” said Pinkie in awe. “The D-H-F-C-D-C.”

A plate nearby held a smaller version of the cake, labeled with a small sign that says “SAMPLE”. Pinkie drew a knife from nowhere and sliced off two small chunks of the sample, and hoofed one over to me. The cake felt sticky in my hoof, so I shoved the piece in my mouth before anything gets too badly stained.

An explosion of creamy flavor hit my tongue.

Hmm… The inner baker in me had awoken. Perfectly moist, and not too airy, but not too heavy either. The chocolate is right on the line between milk chocolate and dark chocolate, satisfying the desires of all kinds of chocolate lovers. Also, wait… Do I taste… lemon? The pink icing! Of course! It’s a sweet kind of lemon flavor, not incredibly tangy, but not so sweet that it masks the flavor all together.

I swallowed. “That was the best cake I’ve EVER tasted,” I stated.

Pinkie beamed with pride. “Thank you! I made it for Mrs. Cake’s birthday, which is today, but I wanted to keep this a secret from her, and pretty much everypony else so that they wouldn’t come and take huge bites out of it when I wasn’t looking. You’re the first pony to try it.”

“Wow, uh, thanks, Pinkie,” I replied, flattered that she’d let somepony she had never met before try the cake ahead of her best friends and mentors.

“You’re welcome! Now, we should surprise her really good!”

“Wait, when? Now?”

“Yeah! What other important things do you have to do? I mean, when I took you over here it looked like to me that you had nothing to do, so I made up my mind and decided that the newest inhabitant of Ponyville should try my cake first, kind of as a test of friendship.”

Alarm bells went off in my head at the words ‘test of friendship’, but rather than hurt Pinkie’s feelings, I ignored it and decide to save that thought for later.

“Well, what are we waiting for?” I answered mischievously.

“Nothing at all!” Pinkie exclaimed. “Let’s get started!”

——————————————————————————————————————————

Fortunately for us, Mrs. and Mr. Cake had some catering schedules to attend to, so they’d be out for a few hours.

“Alright Pinkie,” Mr. Cake had said when they were leaving. “You’re holding down the fort for now. We’re counting on you!”

“Don’t worry Mr. and Mrs. Cake!” Pinkie replied. “I got this under control!”

“Oh, and don’t forget, today is Tuesday! Which means…” added Mrs. Cake.

“Yes, yes, I know,” interrupted Pinkie. “Discount of 10% on all things chocolate. Don’t worry about a thing! I got Denim here to help me!”

I cringed inside involuntarily. I hate lying to ponies, and I got the feeling that Pinkie likes me more than just your average friend. But I managed to keep a straight face and force a smile, although my gut was twisting every which way.

Once they were out of sight, we began making preparations for their return and a big birthday celebration.

I went into the kitchen and something in my mind clicked — a memory? It had to be. Instinctively I grabbed a large and a medium mixing bowl and set them on the island. Then I got out: flour, salt, baking soda, cream of tartar, cocoa powder, eggs, vanilla extract (who knew? ponies have vanilla extract!), butter, sugar, and cinnamon. I whipped the dry and wet ingredients separately, then when I was satisfied that they were fully mixed, I stirred them together.

Once I had mixed the dry and wet ingredients together successfully, I rolled small chunks of the dough in a cinnamon and sugar mixture, then placed them on a baking pan and shoved them in the oven at 350 degrees Fahrenheit for 12 minutes.

They came out just like I expected them to: golden brown, slightly soft and flat. Somehow I knew to let them cool for about 5 minutes before dishing them up on a plate.

I had a pan of cookies on my hoof, when I noticed that Pinkie was standing in the doorway watching me with a slight smile.

“Uhh… Don’t get angry with me,” I said.

Pinkie laughed. “Get angry with you? You’re baking! What is there to be mad at?”

I shrugged indifferently. “I just made these cookies without anypony telling me how to, and yet I knew exactly how to bake them.”

“Yea? What’s so weird about that?”

“I don’t have any memory of who I was before I was in that hospital bed,” I replied. “Don’t you find it kind of weird that a pony who has no memory of his past life can suddenly recall a recipe for snickerdoodles?”

“Snickerdoodles?”

“Yea, that’s what I remember these being called, although I,” I paused, wondering how to phrase the next word. “Changed them. Added a tablespoon of cocoa powder. Only I could know that. But how do I know I could only know that? Augh… my brain hurts.”

Pinkie stood there with an expression I can’t read — her normal, smiling expression. She broke the silence.

“Well, whatever they are, I’m sure they’ll be wonderful to serve up at the party!”

Two hours later, we had nearly everything set up, the multi-colored streamers were hung everywhere along the ceiling, balloons were tied down to tables and chairs, and Pinkie stood ready with the party cannon, ready to shower the un-suspecting baker with confetti. All of the invited guests were already inside. A rather large crowd of them, whom I got to meet once they all came in. They were:

Applejack, who was the first one into the bakery and was the first pony to be greeted by a shot of confetti, which Pinkie quickly apologized for. She is an orange-coated earth pony with a blond mane and apple-green eyes.

“Howdy there, Denim!” she said, shaking my hoof with more strength than Pinkie Pie’s. “Good to meet ya face to face! Rainbow Dash and Twilight told me about ya.”

I smile and return the greeting.

Next was the alicorn princess, Twilight Sparkle. Purple-coated with a navy-blue mane and a reddish pink streak down the middle of it.

“Glad to see you on your feet, Denim,” she commented. “And thank you for keeping my books in peak condition.”

Following her were three more mares in this order: Fluttershy, a sweet-voiced butter-coated, candy-pink-maned pegasus. It took me a bit to understand her name, as she mumbled it three times before I heard it properly. Rarity, a high-class, white-coated, purple-maned unicorn, followed finally by the tomboy of the group: Rainbow Dash, the sky-blue coated, rainbow-maned pegasus.

“Oh, um, hi Denim. Very nice to meet you.”

“So! This is the pegasus that was found by you [Twilight] and Rainbow Dash. Charmed.”

“Haha, you ain’t so bad of a pony after all! The books were perfect! Except for page 83 in the 5th one; that got a bit torn, but that’s fine.”

The last comment stung a bit. That section of the book was the tensest part of Daring Do I had read thus far. I was gripping the book so hard, the page ripped a little on the top corner.

The remaining guests were friends of the first few ponies, starting with a group of three fillies named Scootaloo, Apple Bloom, and Sweetie Belle, who identified themselves as the “Cutie Mark Crusaders”.

“Wait? You’re a blank-flank too?!” exclaimed Scootaloo.

“Yea… I guess so,” I replied, unsure.

“Cool! Did you get made fun of a lot for it?”

“Um… I don’t remember anything of my foalhood really.”

“Oh. That’s okay,” answered Scootaloo, a little disappointed.

Following them were the remaining Apple family members, a zebra named Zecora, and the two town musicians: Vinyl Scratch and Octavia.

After all the greetings, we all got to our respective places and waited in silence.

——————————————————————————————————————————

The moment came, probably only five minutes after we all hid to ambush Mrs. Cake, but it felt like hours. Pinkie Pie, surprisingly, stayed at full attention at the party cannon, ready to let loose a barrage of streamers at a moment’s notice. I don’t think she even blinked once since we started waiting.

The door slowly opened, and a turquoise hoof stepped into the room — BANG! PHWEEET! Pinkie bombarded Mrs. Cake with a healthy dose of party, confetti and all.

“What the hay?” exclaimed Mrs. Cake.

“HAPPY BIRTHDAY!” we all shouted. Mrs. Cake screamed in surprise and then laughed.

“Why, aren’t you all so sweet! I thought Pinkie here might’ve forgotten my birthday!” said Mrs. Cake.

“Forget your birthday? Pinkie? Pfft. Not possible,” stated Rainbow Dash. Everyone chuckled at this fact.

“Alright everypony! The moment you’ve all been waiting for!” announced Pinkie. “My newest and best creation: The Double Hot Fudge Chocolate Dream Cake! Or, for short the D-H-F-C-D-C!”

We all turned and saw the brown wonder wheeled slowly into the room. Everypony’s mouths were hanging open, from pure awe, or because the most heavenly smell filled the air: chocolate.

Pinkie stood in front of everypony and began conducting with her hooves, slowly everypony caught on and began singing “Happy Birthday”. It was unrehearsed, and not everypony there was a singer, so it sounded terrible (Scootaloo and I being the worst examples). But it was “Happy Birthday” after all, and everypony there meant it.

We were partway through singing “For She’s a Jolly Good Pony” when Rainbow Dash cut us short.

“Alright, alright! Enough singing everypony! Can we please eat the cake? It’s killing me just sitting here watching it.”

“Ooh! Ooh!” called out Pinkie. “Don’t forget these wonderful COOKIES Denim made! He calls them snickerdoodles!”

Everyone seemed excited over this new installment, except for Twilight, she stared at me. Not your average “I’m passing through and accidentally caught your eye” kind of stare, or a “What the hay? Cookies?”, more like “You are in huge trouble with me later” kind of stare. The scary type.

I shuddered trying to think why making cookies was such a bad idea.

——————————————————————————————————————————

The next 10 minutes were absolutely silent, save for the sounds of ponies chewing their helpings of cake.

I had put mine in a bowl and dowsed it in milk. I hadn’t put any thought to it right away, but while I was chewing I was thinking how did I know I liked to put my cake in a bowl with milk?

Twilight was watching me like a hawk with narrowed eyes. I tried to ignore her, but I could feel her eyes boring into my head.

I gave up and took my bowl of cake over to where Twilight was sitting.

“So, what’s the problem?” I asked, trying to sound as casual as possible.

Twilight said nothing, and levitated another chunk of cake towards her mouth. She was chewing and still staring me down, as if trying to see into my soul. Heck, she probably was. After swallowing her piece of cake, she said:

“I want to know how you knew to make those cookies, Mr. No-Recollections-Of-My-Past-Life.”

“You’re about as clueless as I am,” I replied, and regretting it as Twilight’s gaze grew colder and narrower.

She said nothing, but wiped her mouth politely with a napkin, set it down, thanked Pinkie for the party, and left.

My first instinct was to follow her and ask her what the problem is, but the pessimistic side of my brain shut that down in a jiffy. “No need to get her more mad than she already is,” was the argument of the day.

Over the course of the party, I received plenty of comments on my cookies as well:

“Nicely done, however, they are a bit flat.”

“I love how you made them chewy on the inside!”

“Hmm…” This was the opinion I had been waiting for: Mrs. Cake’s. “Chewy, but not undercooked, and the chocolate and vanilla play off each other just right to make it enjoyable all around. Well done! Can you do these for me again next year?”

I considered the thought for a minute. “Sure,” I replied, shaking on the deal. “But, no promises. Can I give you the recipe?”

“That would be wonderful! I should bake these for everypony to try!”

I gave her the recipe, which she put on the countertop so that she could use it later.

——————————————————————————————————————————

Countless hours passed by, and the party petered out. I was the last one to leave.

“Hey Denim!” called Pinkie. I turned.

“Yea?”

“I’m curious, how’d you know how to make those cookies?”

“I don’t know. It just sort of… came to me,” I pause for a second. “Pinkie?”

“Yes?”

“Why did you give me a test of friendship earlier?”

Pinkie cringed at the question. “I hoped you wouldn’t notice that,” she muttered. “It was because Twilight wanted to see if you were a changeling or not. I was gutsy enough to test that out, because you didn’t sound like too bad of a pony.”

“Well, how would you know if I was a changeling?” I queried.

“If I expressed positive feelings and you returned them with positive feedback. The cake was a positive thing, in my case, and I wanted to see how you’d react to me giving you the first piece. You reacted perfectly, as in, you reacted as a changeling wouldn’t. What I’m trying to say is, you expressed gratitude, something changelings never express nor feel.”

“Then why was Twilight so hard on my case after that?”

“I dunno, she’s Twilight. OCD, and she’s gotten a bit paranoid ever since there’s been changeling sightings in the area. You should just ask her.”

I nodded, pulling the thoughts all together. There were pieces of the puzzle that were still missing, but the more I searched for them, the more the puzzle came together.

“Alright Pinkie, thanks for the party and the cake. See you around Ponyville!” I said.

Provided that Twilight doesn’t kill me first.

Author's Note

I've done it. Chapter 3. Woot.