“Fourteen down. A four letter word with a d and a z in it that shapes wood,” muttered Cup Cake to herself. “What in the heck could that be?” She mouthed a few possibilities and shook her head to each option. This was a tough one.
She leaned back in her chair and stretched, a small yawn escaped her lips as she looked up at the clock above the bed across from her. It was after midnight and her husband, Carrot Cake, wouldn’t be home for at least four more hours. She sighed to herself and decided it was time to brew some coffee if she intended to see him at all that morning.
Cup Cake poured the coffee grounds into its maker and then added water. She sighed as she watched the process play out, a small frown plastered to her face. She gazed around the kitchenette at the small array of cooking utensils that collected dust. Each time she looked at them her heart broke a little.
Life hadn’t gone as she’d planned after graduating from culinary school. For the first four years she’d bounced between a number of restaurants in Manehattan and Canterlot. Each time she’d been hired as the dessert chef she was soon let go due to, “… a change in customer demand,” or the ever inexpensive dessert in a box that they could plop on a plate and call freshly made. Each restaurant managed to offer her a week’s severance and some sort of small knickknack as a peace offering for her time there.
The last restaurant she’d worked at was a place called Lumber Yard. When she was sacked she received half a week’s pay and a small hatchet to remember her time there. It was at that moment the frown slowly began to creep across her face.
With little money and no real contacts Cup and Carrot Cake headed back home to Ponyville with their tails between their legs. They rented a small studio apartment that overlooked the square and began working odd jobs. Carrot Cake was currently employed at the train station handling the nightly janitorial duties while Cup Cake had managed to land a weekend job as a cashier at Barnyard Bargains.
As the coffee percolated Cup Cake looked out of the window toward large gingerbread house across the way. It was bakery known as Sugarcube Corner. It was a delightful looking building with its faux frosting roof and a tower of cupcakes smack dab in the middle of it. Yet, as cute as the exterior was the food was, in a word, lacking. Often the baked goods were over cooked. One brownie she’d purchased lacked sugar.
Cup Cake had inquired if they were hiring and cited her extensive work as a dessert chef. The mare who owned it, Sugar Cube herself, laughed her off and told her that the food was, “Perfectly fine for the palates of Ponyville.” Cup Cake hadn’t been back since.
She sighed as she looked at Sugarcube Corner. Her heart told her that with the right chef and a little TLC it could be one of the most successful bakeries in Equestria. “If only…” lamented Cup Cake as she poured her coffee. She then plated some scones that she’d made earlier that day and sat back down at the table to work on the crossword puzzle. “Okay fifteen across two letters. A to ___ list…”
The moment the word list left her mouth there was a knock at the door. Cup Cake bolted upright as her eyes darted toward it. She held her breath and sat stock still hoping the late night visitor would find another pony to bother at such an hour.
In response to her silence the visitor knocked again. Slowly Cup Cake rose from her chair and walked to the door as quietly as possible doing what she could to cushion each hoof fall. There was no reason for anypony to bang on her door, especially after midnight. The very idea of what could happen sent a chill up her spine. Yet, in spite of every instinct telling her to stay quiet she answered the knocks in a small voice, “Who- who’s there?”
“Please if you could just open your door it’s an emergency,” said a very polite yet urgent voice on the other side of the door, “A matter of life and death.”
“Just a minute,” said Cup Cake as she opened the door.
In front of her stood a griffon who had a small pleasant smile across his large beak. His feathers were neatly arranged and a dark brown while his lion like back half was a light cream color. If it weren’t for the fact that he was covered from neck to claw in blood he would have been the picture of pleasantness. “I am sorry to intrude madam,” he said with a slight nod of his head, “But I have had the misfortune of running across an axe wielding maniac and was hoping I could …”
“Say no more,” responded Cup Cake quickly, “Please come in!”
The griffon bowed politely and entered, “Thank you ever so much madam it is quite kind of you.”
“I’ll call for an ambulance and the police. You’re not hurt too badly are you?”
“That would probably be wise,” said the griffon looking over at her plate, “Are those fresh baked scones?”
“Well, I made them this morning.”
“May I?”
“Help yourself,” said Cup Cake as she walked over to the phone.
The griffon bit into one of the scones as Cup Cake began to dial. He smiled and raised the half eaten scone up in approval. Cup Cake returned the polite smile as she listened for the emergency line to pick up and turned away from him.
Without warning the griffon’s claw shot past her face and pushed down on the hook switch ending the call. Startled, Cup Cake backed away from the phone and stammered, “Why-why did you…”
“I just wanted to say that that was without question the best scones I have ever had in my entire life,” replied the griffon.
“Thank you?”
“Well that and,” said the griffon as a sheepish look spread across his face, “I kind of wanted to apologize to you for something. You see I kind of got you to let me in based upon a lie.”
Cup Cake blinked as she watched her guest hang up the phone, “Well, what do you mean?”
“See, I wasn’t the victim of some axe wielding maniac. I am or… maybe now more accurately was an axe wielding maniac and I kind of need your help with something.”
Cup Cake stared at the blood soaked griffon, her mind unable to quite process what he’d just said. She backed away a little her eyes locked on his kind and bloody visage. “I’m sorry wha…”
“It’s really quite embarrassing,” began the griffon, “You see I was across the way at that bakery there chopping up the … the… um….”
“Cubes?”
“Yes,” exclaimed the griffon excitedly as he clapped his claws together, “The Cubes! That awful baker and … well did you know her husband was a male nurse?”
“No,” replied Cup Cake cautiously, “I only ever met Sugar.”
“He is … well… was. Not a lot of male nurses you know. It’s kind of weird really. Well, I guess there are fewer of them now right,” the griffon chuckled.
“Different strokes for….” As she spoke Cup Cake felt the world begin to rock to and fro. She put a forehoof to her forehead and felt herself begin to fall. Yet, instead of hitting the floor she felt something catch her.
“This all must be a terrible shock to you,” said the griffon as he carried her over to the small bed. He laid her down on her side and crouched next to her a look of concern crossed his face, “Just breathe deep. You’ll be fine. Just a panic attack is all. It happens to the best of us.”
But… you just…”
“Wanted to ask you a favor.”
“Why?”
The griffon sighed, “Like I said before it’s embarrassing.”
Cup Cake couldn’t tell if the griffon was blushing or if while he’d carried her to the bed he’d accidentally smeared blood on his face. In the dim light his eyes glowed like copper coins. They were the eyes of a predator and when combined with the blood soaked feathers no matter what he said she decided she’d be pleasant. She lay as still as she could and asked him to explain what he needed.
“Well, I’d just buried the blade of my axe into that thick head of Sugar Cube when of all things it got stuck. So I began to jiggle it and it just wouldn’t come free.”
“That sounds … difficult.”
“Oh it was,” replied the griffon, “So, after slinging her body about with the axe blade wedged in her eventually she slid off but, as she did the blade popped off of the handle and flew out of the window.”
“Oh.”
“Oh indeed. So I started searching through the bushes and all around the outside of that bakery and for the life of me I couldn’t find the bugger. So, I looked up and saw your light on and I was wondering something….”
“What?”
“If it wouldn’t be too inconvenient for you… if you own one… could I borrow your axe?”
Cup Cake blinked and her face scrunched up in confusion at the request. After a moment she finally replied, “I don’t own an axe per say. I own a bunch of large knives.”
The griffon in turn scrunched up his face in disgust and shook his head quickly. “Ooh no. That wouldn’t do. The axe is kind of my thing. A signature if you will of what thirty … no… thirty three murders.”
“That’s a lot,” said Cup Cake sitting up slowly.
“You’re telling me,” nodded the griffon as he helped her out of bed, “You know there are days that I just don’t feel like eviscerating another living thing.”
“Well, maybe that means you should quit.”
“Meh,” replied the griffon dismissively, “What would I do? Be a mail carrier or a store clerk? I’d just get frustrated and explode and the whole process would start all over again but only in big clumps of violence.”
“Oh,” replied Cup Cake as she sat back down in the chair and looked at her puzzle.
“Fourteen is adze by the way.”
“I see,” replied Cup Cake evenly.
“You know sometimes you just are what you are. Take you for example.”
“Me,” blinked Cup Cake, “What about me?”
“Well it’s obvious that you’re a talented baker. Those are the best scones I’ve ever had and believe me when you’re on the move like I am you try a lot of pastry.”
Cup Cake blushed in spite of herself, “Well thank you.”
“You must do all sorts business down in the square.”
Cup Cake looked down and sighed. “No, I’ve been fired from every restaurant I ever worked at. It seems everyone is moving away from desserts and the like. Even Sugar Cube didn’t want me I…,” her voice trailed off as she looked back up at the griffon. His face had darkened significantly. What was once amiable quietly raged with a fury that caused her heart to leap into her throat.
“Those jerks,” growled the griffon, “Okay look. You’re a darn talented baker. I can tell from the care you put into something as simple as a scone. Don’t let anyone tell you different.”
“I … won’t?”
“Darn right you won’t,” seethed the griffon as he glared across the street, “That no account, no talent, rude flank so and so! How dare she not give you the opportunity to show the world what you can do! I’m glad I put the axe to her!” He paused and cast a sidelong glance toward Cup Cake as the smile crept over his face again, “Are you sure you don’t have one?”
Cup Cake bit her lower lip in consideration, “Well I have a hatchet under the sink if that will do.”
The griffon hummed a bit in consideration, “Well, could you show it to me?”
Cup Cake hopped off of her chair and retrieved the shiny hatchet. The griffon took it and held it out in front of himself eyeing the blade. “Well it is sharp. A little small though. You don’t happen to have a big scary axe at all?”
“I’m sorry but… no.”
“Well this will take a bit longer but beggars can’t be choosers,” replied the griffon with a shrug as he stood up.
“That’s what they say.”
“You know,” replied the griffon as he gestured toward the window with the hatchet, “When the dust settles you should buy that place. You’d make a metaphorical killing after my literal one.”
Cup Cake cocked her head at the idea. “My own bakery,” she whispered to herself. The idea hadn’t occurred to her. Slowly a smile began to creep across her face. Yet, as she thought of the finances the fledgling smile faded. “Too bad I’m broke,” she sighed, “Things … never mind.”
“Don’t give up hope on it now. Look you just worry about saving up what you can for a possible loan.”
“It won’t be enough. My husband and I…”
“Trust me,” said the griffon with a wink, “No one wants to live or work in a place where murders occurred. They almost look at it like a curse.”
“But…”
“What’s your name?”
“Why do you need to know my name?”
“Because I need to know who I’m making a promise to,” replied the griffon earnestly.
“Cup Cake.”
“Well Mrs. Cake allow me to promise you that after I’m done with those bodies and some clever decorating nobody in town is going to want that place. They’ll be downright terrified and rumors will spread. The bank will be begging ponies to buy it and when that happens, “ said the griffon looking over at the scones then back to Cup Cake, “You will be able to get it for next to nothing and maybe a plate of those to whet their appetites to the possibilities.”
“But how would I …”
“The rumors,” said the griffon cutting her off, “Make a big to do about making the property good again. Invite your princess over to bless it and maybe offer her … I don’t know … a cake or something in return. Heck burn some parsley, sage, rosemary and thyme while you’re at it. They’ll come.”
Cup Cake tilted her head in consideration, “That could work.”
“Anyway, I must be off,” said the griffon, “I need to finish my work and be out of here before anybody gets too curious.”
“I understand.”
The griffon opened the front door and paused, “Oh before I go… please don’t call the authorities. I’d hate to have to come back here on unpleasant terms.” He then smiled and shut the door behind him.
Cupcake watched as the shadowy figure of the griffon made his way across the street and back into the dark recesses of the bakery across the street. She knew he was utterly insane. What he’d do in there was anypony’s guess. However, as off his nut as that griffon was he had managed to give her something she hadn’t had since she’d arrived in Ponyville. Hope.
