"...and so I says to the guy, 'what, do ya got salt up ya seams?'"
The items all around you burst into laughter. The baking powder, the flour, the other sugar bags, everyone and everything around couldn't contain their chortles.
Yet you didn't laugh. Marty always had a spot in your heart. A spot where all your hatred was contained. Everyone else liked the bottle of vanilla extract, yet you couldn't stand him. His glassy sheen just broadcasted to the world the message 'I'm a douche who is full of himself.'
But, for you, it was just another day on the shelves. It's how it went, being a bag of sugar. You sit around, listening to the generic music being played over the store's intercom system, waiting for a pony to come by, scoop you up, and bake you into a delicious cake. Or cupcakes, or brownies, or whatever held their fancy.
It's intriguing. You never know just what your fate will be outside the walls of this supermarket. You may become a wedding cake. You may be used in punch. For the unlucky, you might end up being left in the cabinet until you expire, only to be tossed out, unused. Some may consider that a better fate than ending up in the stomach of somepony.
Whatever the outside world held, you welcomed it. Many of the other ingredients around you were afraid. Afraid of being taken off the shelves, and dragged away by some maniacal cook, only to be consumed later. You didn't care. Anything was better than sitting on this damned shelf for the rest of your existence.
The laughter had died down by this point. Marty was looking pretty smug. He was giving you a funny look. "Whatsa matter, fella? Bad day?" He asks in that uppity voice of his.
"Eh, just another day." You reply sullenly.
"Oh come on, maybe ya'll will get lucky, eh?" He replies, slightly beckoning the other ingredients to join in.
"I'd hope so. I'm just..." You look off towards the edge of the aisle. "...I'm just sick of being here. Same crap, different day, y'know? Ponies come by, give me a glance, then take someone else."
"Are you insinuating that we don't deserve to be taken?" A box of baking soda speaks up.
"What? No, it just seems like I'm always avoided." You reply.
"Sounds ta me like you think yer better 'n us!" A carton of sea salt on the other side of the aisle exclaims. A few other items begin to agree with him, whispering among themselves.
"No, no, I'm not! I'm just a little frustrated, is all." You say, attempting to defend yourself.
"That don't sound like what ya meant!" Marty speaks up, adding fuel to the fire. "I have half a mind to...oh crap! Incoming!"
You immediately snap back into position. Every item on the aisle knew what that phrase meant.
A pony was coming.
As if on cue, a purple pegasus turns into the aisle, a shopping basket hanging from her forelimb. She examines both sides of the aisle. Her eyes squint slightly to get a better examination of the items around her.
"Hmm..." She quietly hums to herself. She takes a quick glance at a small piece of paper hanging from the handles of the basket.
You assume it's her shopping list. Sadly, you can't read it. Not from this far. You only hope that 'sugar' is written on it. Any chance to get out of this store is fine by you.
She carefully passes her eyes over every item around. If you could sweat, you probably would be right now. Your nerves are on end, and you pray that she takes you away from here. You stood a little taller, and held your proverbial breath.
You never understood why you needed to keep your sentient existence a secret from ponies. It was just something you and every other item like you did. Some strange, innate nature that you held. Perhaps it was so they don't feel bad about baking you into muffins.
The pegasus was now standing right in front of you. She was passing her eyes over everything in your vicinity. You see her look right at you. You cross the fingers you don't have, just hoping that she takes you.
She lifts her forelimb up. Yes! She's going for you! This is it! You're finally going to get out of here!
Suddenly...she lifts it a little higher. She was going for the sugar on the shelf above you. Of course, that 'fake' sugar. The kind that is supposed to be healthier for you when it's really not.
She takes down a bag, and examines it. You can tell she's looking for an expiration date. After a moment, she takes a satisfied look on her face, and plops the bag into her basket. She promptly turns, and leaves the aisle.
Everyone, you included, remains silent for a minute, waiting for the pegasus to trot out of earshot. Everyone is on edge. After a few tense moments, everyone seems to breath a sigh of relief.
"Welp, there goes Seth." Marty says. "How long has he been hanging around here?"
"About two weeks, methinks." A bag of flour speaks up. You noticed that flour bags always had that weird, medieval thing going on.
"Well, best of luck to 'im. Hope he gets what he always wanted." A bag of cinnamon from the other side of the aisle says.
"Didn't he want to be baked into a mousse, or something?" Marty asks.
"Five bucks says he's used for coffee." A pepper box says.
"Oh, shh, shh! Another pony's coming!" Marty calls out.
Oh, goody. Maybe they'll actually take me. You think to yourself. Yeah, right.
"Oh no, it's that crazy pink mare." Marty whispers.
After a few seconds, a bright, poofy-maned mare comes bouncing around the corners. She holds a shopping basket in her teeth, and is humming a simple tune. She sets the basket down and begins talking.
"Hiya, all you ingredients!" She says. You almost respond out of habit. "Auntie Pinkie Pie is in need a of a few things for a super duper, yummy, delicious cake! Gotta make a great, great, GREAT one for all those party-goers!"
She bounds forward and scans all the items. "Let's see," she says. "I need lots and LOTS of frosting!" She immediately begins scooping up carton after carton of frosting mix. At least they'll all be together.
"Now I need..." She pulls a small piece of paper from her mane. "Cocoa! Ooo, yummy! A super, awesome, chocolatey-goodness cake!" She bounds towards the opposite side and scoops up several bags of cocoa mix. Just how big is this cake? You wonder.
"That should be good! Now..." She pulls the list out again, and examines it. "I've got the frosting, cocoa, salt, eggs, I've got flour at home, so all I need is...sugar!"
You perk up slightly. Fixing your posture ever so discreetly, you try to look as presentable and professional as you can. If this mare doesn't take you, you might just go crazy.
She comes up to your aisle. She stops bouncing and examines each and every bag, hell bent on picking the one perfect for her needs. Her gaze suddenly becomes much less cheery, and much more threatening. She stares each and every one of the sugar bags down, scrutinizing every little detail.
You grow nervous. Most customers simply grab a bag and are on their way. This mare wasn't doing that. She was actually taking her time to examine each bag. She even began to poke some of the bags around you, as if she were testing them.
At last, she comes to you. You can feel her gaze piercing right through you. You feel a trembling deep within you. She was actually considering using you? How many times has that happened in your entire life here?
Just when you think you are about to break, she stops. She closes her eyes, and backs up a bit.
"Alrighty!" She exclaims. "I've made up my mind!" She trots forward, and immediately grabs one of those 'fake' sugar bags.
You can practically hear your spirits shatter. She had fallen for the allure of those phony bags of sugar, too? This mare seemed like she knew what she was doing, examining all the sugar. But, no, she succumbed to that false sugar.
"This sugar is good...but not what I'm looking for!"
You couldn't believe what you had just heard. She wasn't falling for it? You look back up and see her placing the bag back on the shelf.
"Now THIS is the stuff I need!"
She reached for you. This time, you were certain of it. She was actually wrapping her hoof around you!
"This oughta be good!" She sets you down in her basket along with everything else she had picked out. "That's everything! Bye, all you others! Maybe Pinkie Pie will need some of you some day!"
You take a look at all the other ingredients she was leaving behind. You could practically feel their emotions. Some were proud. Some were happy. Some were jealous.
You didn't care. You were finally getting out of here. Looking up at your new, pink savior, you give her a mental 'thank you.'
She begins to bounce out of the aisle, with you in tow. You had never been happier in your existence.
~*~*~
Your new home is rather...colorful.
After a short stroll (or rather, bouncing journey) through the town, you had arrived at your new home. Sugar Cube Corner, as Pinkie Pie had called it. It was a very...pink place. The entire building was decorated to look like some sort of pastry.
You weren't complaining. Anywhere other than that damned shelf was fine by you. It's been so long since you've seen any scene other than the shelves and items across the aisle. You probably would have jumped off and split your seams if you had to stay there another day.
But at least you were finally free. You waited patiently as Pinkie unpacked all of her newly bought groceries, waiting for your ride out of the bag.
"And there's the cocoa, the salt, and lastly..." She reaches into the bag and picks you up. "Sugar! Alrighty, that's everything!" She says, as she sets you down onto the counter with everything else.
Looking around, you get a better feel for the area. The kitchen was just as colorful as the rest of the building. It had the basics, an oven, microwave, refrigerator, dishwasher, the works. It smelled incredibly sweet in the room, as if someone had just very recently made a batch of cupcakes. Maybe the building really was a pastry, and the smell just came to it naturally.
"Okey dokey lokey! All the ingredients are ready!" Pinkie exclaims. "And tomorrow, we'll get started on making that cake! Pinkie's super tired right now, and she needs her sleep. Don't go anywhere, now!" And with that, she bounds out of the kitchen, and shuts off the lights.
You hadn't even realized just how late it is. Looking towards the clock on the other end of the kitchen, it was fast approaching 11:00 PM. Not having a true sleep cycle, you tend to not notice when night is approaching. That, and it was only very recently that you saw the outside world to know what time it was.
It was a little difficult to see in this dark. Looking around, you don't see any of the other items you arrived with moving. They seem to be asleep. Perhaps they had fallen asleep long before you arrived.
With the only comrades you knew all asleep, you figured you might as well try and get some rest too.
~*~*~
You think you hear something.
"..."
You stir slightly in your slumber.
"Ps..."
You groggily begin to return to consciousness.
"Psst!"
You shake yourself awake. Looking around, you notice the clock now reads 3:23 AM.
Wondering who in the world would want your attention at this hour, you look around some more. From the other end of the room, you notice something moving. It looked like nothing more than a blob in this darkness. You hobble over to the edge of the counter to get a better look.
Reaching the edge, you are able to make out the shape. In essence, your assumption was correct. It was a blob. A blob in the form of a flour bag, waving to you.
"Psst! Over here!" The bag says. The voice sounds feminine.
"Do you know what time it is?" You sharply ask back.
"I am sorry, but I just vanted to meet you."
"But at this hour?" You ask.
"Vell, I just...oh, please come here! Zis is no vay to converse!"
Looking down, you see that several drawers were pulled out to form a makeshift staircase. You hop down onto each one until you hit the floor of the kitchen. Hoping that nopony came in (why, you're not sure.), you make your way over to the pantry where the flour bag was beckoning you.
When you reach the pantry, you are finally able to get a better look at her. She is...more attractive then you would have expected. She's plump, but not overstuffed. Whoever manufactured her got her dimensions just right. Her seams were not worn in the slightest, and she looked to be in good condition.
"I am sorry to vake you at zis hour..." She says, sounding legitimately guilty.
"Oh, it's fine. I've had worse." You reassure her, recalling a certain scenario involving a janitor at the supermarket you once lived in.
"If you say so...Oh, silly me!" She reaches a corner out to you, beckoning a shake. "I am Madame LeFlour."
You press your corner against hers. "The pleasure is mine, Madame." She giggles slightly.
"You are ze new bag of sugar Miss Pinkamina just brought home, correct?"
"Yes, she said something about using me for a cake tomorrow."
"Oh..." She suddenly looks more sullen. "You are going to be used for zat, too..."
"Yes...what's wrong?" You ask, concerned.
"Well...I am to be used for ze cake, too. As ze flour, of course. But..." She looks off towards the other end of the room. "I am...afraid..."
"Afraid? Afraid of what?" You inquire.
"I mean...I just don't know vhat vill happen..."
"Well..." You try to find the right words to say. "I suppose that's just part of the experience."
"Vhat do you mean?"
"Well...I suppose it's our destiny to end up being used for that sort of thing. We were all created to fulfill a purpose, and for you and I, it's to be used for baking. We can't avoid it, and we can't change it. We just have to accept it."
"I...I zink I see vhat you mean..."
"I don't mean to be a downer, but it's just how it goes. And hey," you say, nudging her slightly. "At least I get the honor of being used in a cake along with you."
"Ohoho, stop it!" She says, unable to contain her giggles. "But...zere vas one zing I vanted to do before that time came."
"And what would that be, Madame?" You ask.
"I...I wanted just one, last dance, before the day comes vhere I must be used." She starts to look a little more bashful. "But...it is not a dance I could perform alone...and I vas vondering, if, maybe..."
Catching her drift, you finish for her. "I would be honored, my dear."
With a little more glee in her 'features,' she waddles over to the other side of the kitchen. You follow suit, and hobble along right behind her. She reaches a few drawers, and begins to pull them out. Making her own makeshift staircase, she climbs onto the counter. You remain on the ground and wait.
After a few moments, you begin to hear music. The track wasn't familiar to you. The only music you knew were all those hip, new songs the kids these days listen to. It's the only thing they played over the intercom at the store.
You watch as your partner made her way back down the drawers to you. Once she was on level ground she turns to you.
"I hope zis music is satisfactory..." She says.
"It's perfect. Much better change of pace from what I normally hear." You reply. "Though I'm surprised that that pink pony has this sort of music. Doesn't seem like her style."
"Oh, she is not ze only one who lives here. Zere are two others, a married couple, and zey have much more...refined, tastes zen most ponies today."
"Well, that explains it." You offer a corner to her. "Shall we?"
"Yes, let's."
The two of you lock the corners of your bodies, and begin to move. It's a little awkward at first, with the song clearly being meant for dancers with actual legs. But the two of you are able to find your rhythm.
The slow melody keeps it's pace throughout the entirety of the song, which was fine by you. It's not every day you get the chance to dance. In fact, you've never danced in your existence.
But it almost came naturally to you. You shuffled your lower corners in unison with hers. You took a step back, she took a step forward, and vice versa. The two of you somehow managed to keep pace with each other with incredible ease, much to your surprise.
Looking at your partner, you can tell she is just as enthralled as you are. Through the window above the sink, the moonlight was striking her, making her glow. Her beauty truly was unparalleled. You had never thought that an ingredient could be this stunning, but Madame LeFlour proved you wrong. She was perfect. Her seams were in perfect condition, and her curves were quite voluptuous. She really was quite beautiful.
It was considered wrong by some for differing ingredients to mingle with one another in romance. You were falling for her, and you knew it. At the same time, you knew others would frown upon it.
Yet there was something about her that was just so alluring. Perhaps it was her voice. Perhaps it was her gorgeous build. Perhaps it was her gentle personality. Whatever it was, it was pulling you deeper, and you wanted more.
"You're quite good at zis." Madame says in a rather sultry voice.
"As are you. But I'm sure you are miles more experienced than I am." You reply teasingly.
"Ohoh, stop it! You're embarrassing me!" She says, waving one of her corners in a flirty fashion.
"You should take pride in your skills!"
"Yes...well, for the short moment I have left..."
"Please, don't speak like that." You stop moving and take both of her corners into your own. "I want to make this, your last night and mine, special."
"Vhat are you saying?"
"Madame, even though we've just met, I feel like..." You search for the words to say. "I feel like I've known you all my life."
"A-Are you...?"
"Yes, Madame. I am."
"But, ze others, zey vill not accept it! Sugar and flours like us can not fall in love vith one anozer!" She spoke with a mixture of fear, desire, and regret in her voice.
"I know. But you know what?" You pull her close to you. "Let them think what they want."
With that, you press yourself against her, feeling her warmth. She provides no resistance, and thrusts her corners around, hugging you close. She tightens her grip, and let's out a small sigh in ecstasy.
Off in the distance, you hear a noise. It sounds as though in some far away land, a creature is smashing its head against a board of plastic buttons.
You ignore the noise and focus on the moment you are in. You slowly loosen your grip on LeFlour and look towards her. Though she has no eyes, you would bet all the money in the world that they would be as beautiful as she was.
"Zis is the only night we will have together before ve are used in ze cake..." She says, a slight hint of despair in her voice.
"Yes, it is...So you know what?"
"Vhat is it?" She asks.
You pull her close again, and right as you do, another track clicks on the radio she had activated earlier.
"Let's make it last."
