Test Run Three Hundred Ninety-Nine
Mister Cake smiled nervously towards his wife, his shoulders tensing as Pinkie Pie tossed her newest confection into the oven and slammed the door shut with a loud crash.
“Don’t worry, Mister and Missus Cake! I’ve worked out all of the problems with the frosting this time. Wanna see?”
Pinkie leaped through the air and landed in front of the counter, where she picked up a large scroll and unfurled it for the others to see. Mister Cake squinted his eyes to see the tiny print that was written in between the doodles of suns and smiley faces.
“Test run number three hundred ninety-eight,” he read aloud, “subject blasted hole through roof. Conclusion - use fewer jumping beans.” He glanced quizzically back at Pinkie, whose smile remained frozen in its manic upward curve. “Pinkie, are you sure this’ll work? And are you sure you should be using our kitchen as a testing lab?”
“Trust me, it’ll be fine,” she replied, “the Surprise-Party-Cake has got to be one of my finest inventions. The trick is to make sure the frosting doesn’t explode until you cut into it. I’m sure test run number three hundred ninety-nine will be-”
Before she could finish her sentence, an explosion rocked the building, sending the oven door flying through the room and crashing through the opposite wall, exposing them to the Ponyville Mane Street. The bakers stood silently for a moment until, one by one, they finally reached up and wiped away the frosting from their faces. The Cakes looked out of the newly formed hole in their wall and then glared back at Pinkie, who was too focused on tasting the confection that now coated her hoof to notice.
“Hmm. I guess a cup of sarsaparilla gave it a little too much sass.” She grinned sheepishly. “I’ll just go get the broom.”
Mister Cake looked around the kitchen - white frosting covered all of the pots and pans that hung over the prep table, which now only had three legs due to one of them being blown off by the force of the oven door’s blast. Another piece of wall dangled from the rafter before detaching and crashing to the floor, where it broke into even smaller pieces. He closed his eyes, shook his head, and sighed.
“I’ll go get the tools,” he said as he trotted through the kitchen.
“We’re still out of wood from when Pinkie made that stage for Rainbow Dash’s birthiversary, remember?” his wife reminded him. “You go, I’ll start cleaning this up.” She gave him a peck on the cheek. “And take the twins?”
“Sure thing, honey bun.” He opened the kitchen door and called up the stairs. “Pound! Pumpkin!”
A sudden spark formed at the bottom of the stairs, and a brown blur zoomed down the banister. A moment later, Pumpkin materialized from her telekinetic spell at the same time that Pound landed. They pressed their muzzles together and glared angrily at one another.
“I won!” Pumpkin shouted.
“No way! I won!”
“No, me!”
“Me!”
Mister Cake massaged his temples. Why did I let Twilight and Rainbow Dash teach those tricks to my foals, he asked himself as he reached forward and placed his hoof in between the squabbling siblings. It was already hard enough to deal with teenagers, but now that they were connected to mares like that, he was sure that it was starting to get to their heads.
“Kids, this is not a good day. We need to go out and get some supplies for the kitchen.”
“Oh no,” Pumpkin said as she peered past her father and into the disaster zone, “test run three ninety-nine failed.”
“We’re going to the hardware store?” Pound asked as he pumped his hoof in the air, “Sweet! I gotta get some stuff for my science fair project.”
“Not today, Pound. We have a lot of supplies to get.”
“We sure go through a lot of building material, dad,” Pumpkin added.
Mister Cake peered through the kitchen door and watched in horror as Pinkie licked the frosting off of the cabinet doors. Fortunately, his wife stopped her and pointed angrily at the spray bottle next to the kitchen sink. As she started to clean with diligence, Mister Cake smiled. Sure, Pinkie was a bit off, but he knew that what she lacked in control she more than made up for in determination.
“It’s fine,” he said, “she’s helped us a lot in the past. If it weren’t for her, your mom and I would never have had time to ourselves.”
“Eww, dad, don’t tell us about alone time with mom!” Pumpkin covered her ears.
“Yeah, come on, Pops, let’s go help you bring back the supplies. I’m sure it’d be hard to do on your own.” Pound grinned cheekily and struck a pose while he flexed his bicep. “Besides, it’s Saturday, so a lot of the fillies from school will be out for me to impress with my mad strength."
Somepony’s got to talk to Rainbow Dash about her cockiness influencing the youth, Mister Cake thought as he trotted towards the door with his children in tow.
*****
“All right, Mister Cake, that’s all the stuff.” Lugnut nodded to the cart filled to the brim with building supplies. “That’ll be a hundred fifty bits.”
“A hundred fifty?” he sighed and reached into his saddlebag, thinking of how many weeks of pay he would have to dock Pinkie to make up for it, “all right.”
Mister Cake glanced at the cart’s wheels and saw that they dug into the ground from the weight. He began to stretch his hind legs in preparation for the trip home, but stopped when he overheard the sound of mares giggling across the street. When he looked over, he saw Roseluck and Daisy standing at the Apple Family cart as Big Macintosh unceremoniously unloaded the apple baskets and set them on the ground. Apparently, he had just arrived from Sweet Apple Acres with a delivery and had carried the full cart across town without breaking a sweat, and immediately deduced the reason for the mares’ outburst. Mister Cake watched as he lifted each basket and set them on the stand as though they were nothing.
“Dad, don’t stretch like that,” Pumpkin said as she placed a final plank of wood on the cart, causing the wheels to creak under the weight.
“Don’t you worry,” he replied, flashing a small smile, “your old stallion’s got this.”
“No, it’s just embarrassing.” she replied as she covered her eyes with her hoof.
Mister Cake frowned as he fastened himself into the harness. Come on, he encouraged himself, you got this. He dug his hooves into the ground and started to pull, realizing at that moment just how heavy the cart really was. He closed his eyes and grunted, and then finally, he felt the wheel start to move. His hooves dug deeper into the soil and he felt the dust settle into his fur. Satisfied, he opened his eyes again, only to realize that he had only succeeded in burying himself deeper into the dirt road. He saw out of the corner of his eye his son looking on with disinterest, but then his eyes suddenly widened as he glanced down the street.
“Hey Pops, stop,” he whispered excitedly, “Rainbow Dash is coming. Get out and let me pull it. I can get us home in ten seconds, I promise.”
“No, I got this, son,” he replied through gritted teeth as he rolled his eyes and strained to move the cart once more.
After another few moments of struggling, he felt a large hoof fall on his shoulder, and he looked up to see Big Macintosh standing over him.
“Ya need help, Mister Cake?”
“No,” he huffed, “I… got… this.” He paused after each word. “You… get back… to… your stall.”
“Nope.”
Without waiting for a response, the crimson stallion slowly started to unhitch him. He saw Roseluck and Daisy watching the scene from across the street, and then he turned to his daughter, whose attention was now turned to him, as well. He felt his fur turn red as he turned back to the cart once more, sighing once again as he realized that it hadn’t budged. Big Macintosh strapped himself into the harness and, with one tug, started to pull the cart through the street towards Sugar Cube Corner.
“You know, I could totally help with that, Big Mac.”
Pound placed his hooves on the back of the cart just as Rainbow Dash came into view. Mister Cake watched the scene unfold as his son flashed an uneven smile towards Rainbow Dash while at the same time pretending not to notice she was there. He noticed that Pumpkin, on the other hoof, was now becoming rather entranced by the farmer, and so he cleared his throat loud enough for his daughter to hear. She snapped out of her trance and looked up to her father, who simply raised an eyebrow at her. Upon realizing what he was silently implying, Pumpkin blushed and turned away. Mister Cake looked back at Big Macintosh, who continued to stroll through town as though he were attached to a cart of pillows instead of wood and nails.
“Thank you, Big Mac,” he said as he lowered his head slightly and followed behind.
*****
Big Macintosh unfastened himself from the harness and turned to Mister Cake, who opened the door. Pound and Pumpkin charged through, leaving the two stallions alone.
“Thanks again,” he said, “I’m sure we can whip you up something to thank you.”
“Nope, just helpin’ out,” he replied as he turned and trotted back towards his stand.
“Kids!” Mister Cake yelled through the open door, “We need to unload the cart!”
The groans echoed through Sugar Cube Corner, and Pound and Pumpkin reappeared and began to pull the supplies off of the cart. Mister Cake made his way around the perimeter of the building until he saw the hole in the kitchen. In the time it took for him to return, the mares had finished cleaning up the room, leaving only the construction left to do. Rather than enter through the door, he simply walked through the hole and looked around. His wife opened the kitchen door and directed to the kids where to leave the supplies. As the planks of wood and beams started to pile up, she glanced at him and smiled.
“Hey,” she said as she wiped the sweat from her brow, “we got this all done, but I think the explosion may have damaged one of the beams. Can you go to the shed and get the thing?”
“What thing?” he asked.
“You know,” she continued as she gestured with her hooves, “the thing you use to find the things in the wall - that thing.”
“Oh, yeah… that thing.”
Mister Cake turned and left through the hole and made his way to the shed in the back. Inside, the piles of tools lined the walls and a small toolbox sat in the corner. He opened it and began to rummage through the items.
“Hammer... screwdriver… ha, here we are,” he muttered to himself as he pulled out the stud finder.
As he held the device in his hoof, his thoughts went back to what had happened at the hardware store. He thought of his son trying to impress Rainbow Dash, and how the mares and even his own daughter stared at Big Macintosh.
He turned his neck and glanced back at his flanks. He didn’t feel as though he was out of shape, but he began to wonder if his age had finally caught up to him. As he thought back to his younger days, he recalled how his time spent on the Ponyville High School swim team had made him quite the specimen, if he remembered correctly. Maybe I should get back to exercising more often, he thought to himself as he looked at his midsection.
He turned on the device and watched as a small red light began to glow and a tiny beep rang through the shed. As he stared at it, a smile formed on his muzzle and a chuckle escaped from his lips. He trotted happily back to the kitchen and entered just as his wife was measuring the hole and Pound and Pumpkin were leaning the planks of wood against the wall. Pinkie was busy tending to the front of the store while baking goods in her welcome wagon that she had brought out from her room.
“Hey sweetie.” She let go of the tape measure and it retracted with a snap, “Sorry I couldn’t remember the name of the-”
“Beep.”
All of the ponies in the room stopped what they were doing when they heard him say it. Mister Cake repeated himself and held the stud finder in the air. He brought it closer to himself and made a beeping sound once more.
“Beep… beep.”
His smile grew larger as he put the stud finder to his chest.
“Beep beep beep be-e-e-e-e-e-ep.”
The next sound was that of Pinkie Pie laughing and rolling on the floor. His children, meanwhile, simply banged their heads against the table.
“Dad, for the love of Celestia, please stop!”
“O.M.L., Dad,” Pumpkin moaned, “I can’t even. Mom!” she screamed.
He didn’t pay attention to any of the other ponies in the room, however, choosing instead to simply focus on his wife’s reaction. She remained frozen for just a moment, and his own smile started to falter a little bit.
“Honey, please,” she said as she massaged her head, “Now is not the time. We really need to get this done before the dinner rush, okay? You can act silly later on.”
The smile finally left Mister Cake ‘s face as he slowly set the stud finder on the table and lifted up one of the planks. “Sure thing,” he said quietly as they got to work.
“Mister Cake,” Pinkie giggled, “you are such a riot!”
*****
“All done, Mister Cake. How’s it look, Miss Cake?”
“It looks great, Lugnut,” they replied, “and thanks for coming out after you closed.”
“What’re friends for?”
A few hours passed and, working together, the Cake family managed to fix the kitchen just as the bell over the front door rang, signalling the first customers of the dinner rush. Pinkie had even managed to get Lugnut out to replace the oven door. As the repairpony gathered his tools to leave, she appeared out of nowhere and gave him a large chocolate cake.
“Thanks, you big Lug.” Lugnut smiled as he read the words on the cake, nodded his head, and left.
“Okay, everypony,” Mrs. Cake said, “at your stations.”
As the dinner rush went on, Mrs. Cake slowly started to notice that her husband was staying in the kitchen more often than usual. Every time she went back to give an order, he would smile softly and nod, and then get back to his cooking. At one point in the evening, Pinkie’s friends had come in, and as she told them the story of her husband’s joke with the stud finder, she couldn’t help but notice the blush on his cheeks as he retreated quickly back into the kitchen.
As the last customer left and they flipped the sign to ‘Closed’, Mrs. Cake heard the sound of the kitchen doors swing open and a set of hooves ascend the stairs. By the time she turned around, she already saw her husband at the top, ready to turn the corner.
“Sweetie?” she asked, “what are you doing?”
“I just have a little headache, honey bun.”
He disappeared down the hall, leaving her with Pinkie, Pound, and Pumpkin. She quickly turned to them, but they continued to clean and count the register. She glanced back and forth for a moment.
“Kids,” she asked, “did something happen at the hardware store today?”
“Oh, it was so embarrassing, mom,” Pound replied, “there I was, about to pull all of the stuff home, when Mister Macintosh out of nowhere takes the cart from me right when Rainbow Dash-”
“I mean with your father,” she interrupted him and turned to her daughter, “Pumpkin, what happened?”
“Well, dad tried to move the cart this morning, but it was too heavy, so maybe he just hurt himself or something. And Pound was not trying to help.” She glared at her brother. “At least, not until Miss Dash showed up. But Big Mac was already in the harness and he, like, totally owned the cart, mom.”
“Well,” Mrs. Cake said as she held a hoof to her chin, “he didn’t seem hurt. He was fine until after we fixed the wall.”
“Well, maybe Pops just got tired,” Pound said as he sneaked a cookie out from the display case, “that happens when you get old, right? I mean, when Mister Macintosh offered to help, dad was all red and stuff. I bet he was just helping so he could impress the mares.”
“Yeah, because you never act like that.” Pumpkin turned to her mother. “Mom, why are colts so stupid?”
“Maybe Mister Cake was upset that you guys didn’t like his joke,” Pinkie suggested as she pushed open the kitchen doors, holding the stud finder in her grasp, “I thought it was hilarious.”
Mrs. Cake took the device from Pinkie and held it in her hoof. She glanced at the three ponies in front of her, the story slowly mapping itself out in her mind. She kept her face passive, but as she played out what Pound, then Pumpkin, then Pinkie said, she felt her chest tighten.
“Pinkie, will you take the kids out, please? Why not take them to a new movie or something?”
“Sure thing, Miss Cake.” Pinkie’s left foreleg twitched, then her right ear flapped twice. “Is everything okay?”
“Yes, don’t you waste your Pinkie Sense on something like this. I just need to be alone with their father.” She pointed to Pound and Pumpkin, who both covered their faces.
“Mom, eww, no.”
“What is it with you two, today?” Pound galloped to the door. “First one to the theatre picks the movie!”
“You’re on!”
Pumpkin disappeared in a burst of light and Pound flapped his wings and took off. Pinkie hopped slowly out the door. “I can’t wait to see their faces when I already have the tickets.”
The door slammed shut, and Mrs. Cake looked up once more at the hallway where her husband had retreated into a few minutes ago. She frowned, went into the kitchen, and turned the oven on.
*****
Mister Cake sighed as he examined himself in the mirror, turning back and forth as he observed his flanks. He took a deep breath, pushed his chest out, and tried to take a dominant stance. He sucked in his barrel and gave his reflection a cheeky smile as he raised an eyebrow seductively.
“Of course I can pull the cart,” he said to himself as he tried to make his voice go deeper. My voice is bad, too, he thought.
After a few moments of this, he finally exhaled, and his barrel became rounder once more and his chest pushed back in. He glanced once more at his reflection, but for some reason, he found it difficult to look at himself, and so he tilted the mirror down until the angle reflected away from him and to the door.
Mister Cake gasped when he saw his wife standing in the open doorway, holding a small tray on her back. She closed the door behind her and placed the tray on the bedside table before trotting over to her husband. Once there, she leaned in and gave him a kiss. As she pulled away, he felt a smile return to his muzzle.
“Thank you for everything today, sweetie,” she said.
“You’re welcome, honey bun.”
He saw her place her hoof on the mirror and push it until it reflected on the two of them together. They stared at one another’s reflection for a moment before she spoke.
“You may need to have a talk with your son about his fascination with Miss Dash,” she said as she pushed her cheeks in to make her face appear thinner.
“Only if you talk with your daughter about Mister Macintosh,” he replied.
“Could you imagine how horrified they would be if we talked to them together about it?” she asked as her lips quivered into a smile.
“I’m sure Pumpkin ‘wouldn’t be able to even’,” he said, holding his hooves in the air to quote what he imagined his daughter saying.
“They’re just young, sweetie. They get confused really easily at that age.”
She leaned in and kissed him on the cheek again. Mister Cake opened his mouth to speak, but at that moment, all he could think about was how she looked - the way her half-lidded gaze burned into his eyes, the way her hoof felt as it caressed his chest - he felt himself burning on the inside.
“I’m glad not to be like that anymore,” she continued, “when I was young, I swear I just focused on looks. Then I learned that there’s so much more to love than that - I learned I needed somepony I knew would be a great father. A stallion who is kind and gentle.” she nuzzled his chest once more. “Who is loyal and honest.” She leaned up and gave him another peck on the cheek. “I told that to my mom once, and you know what she said?”
“What?” he asked.
“She said, ‘Cup Cake, you don’t want a stallion, you just want the Elements of Harmony’.” she pulled him towards the bedside table, where he saw a small muffin on top of the tray. “But you know what, sweetie? I’m glad I didn’t listen to her, because I got to prove her wrong when I met you.”
Mister Cake held his wife in his hooves and pressed himself into her embrace. Her warmth emanated from her chest, and he felt himself sink into his wife’s thick fur. He inhaled and smelled frosting and a hint of vanilla.
“I love you, honey bun.”
“I love you, too,” she said as she kissed him once more, “my stud muffin.”
