The Lunch Mare

I opened my eyes, the brightness of the fluorescent lights made it hard to see at first. After a few minutes, my eyes adjusted and I saw that I was in the middle of the cafeteria. I looked down, I was tied to a chair. I squirmed for a few minutes but the rope was incredibly tight; it wouldn't let me move.

I examined my surroundings, no pony else was in the cafeteria with me. The chairs and tables were set up in their usual fashion during the week. The kitchen equipment was still running in the back.

"Awake eh?" a voice called out. I bent my head back and saw the lunch mare preparing a meal of some sort.

"Give me another minute, lunch is almost ready." I squirmed around a little more, but it was no use. The rope wouldn't give out. I then sat still, waiting for something to happen.

After a minute or two, the lunch mare came out of the kitchen with a plate covered with a napkin in her hoove.

"Did you have a nice nap?" I remained silent. She set the plate on a nearby table. "You know, I could've killed you too, but something in my head told me to spare you. So I did. On top of that, I even cooked you a delicious lunch." I stayed silent.

"So what? No thank you? Is that how I'm treated for feeding you every day? Is this how I'm repaid for sweating away in a hot dirty kitchen all day, five days a week?" she paused, "you know, I've worked this job for nine years and you bitches are all the same, you come in line, you take your food, you walk away, and never say thank you. You say 'ew, she's smelly and weird, forget that she cooks us food every day.' Well, that is over now, no more!" I didn't know what to say at that point.

The lunch mare came behind me and pushed my chair to the table with the plate. I didn't want to know what was on the plate in front of me. She unbound my arms so that I could only move them up to my elbow. Then, she set a fork on the table, next to the plate.

"I have made you a nice meal. You will eat now." She pulled off the napkin and I gagged. I had to turn my head away. Sitting in the middle of the plate, as a big sausage surrounded by cooked ears, eyeballs, and organs.

"You will eat now," she repeated.

"No. I can't do it!" I was growing sick again.

"You will eat, or I will hit!" I looked up and saw that she had her pipe raised over her head.

"I, I can't do it!" she brought the pipe right down upon my head. I could feel my blood flowing down my head. I screamed.

"Eat!" She brought it down again. I picked up the fork and cut off a part of the sausage. I put the bite in my mouth and ate it.

"Good! Finish it all!" I shook my head. She brought down her pipe on my head again. I cried out in pain, but I knew screaming was no use, there was no pony else in the building.

"Eat!" she raised her pipe over her head, getting ready to bring it down. I was blinded by my tears and I knew I would not survive one last hit. I finally took another bite, and another, and another, and another. It took all my strength to hold it down in my stomach.

When I finally took the last bite, she took the plate.

"Very good. I'm glad you enjoyed it." She put the plate in the sink, then came back, still wielding her bloody pipe. "Now that you have had your lunch, I will have mine." I looked upward as she raised her pipe in the air, one last time. I closed my eyes.