Into the Flier

by Lockstep

Rating: everyone
Tags: Slice of Life, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Main 6, Spike, Rainbow Dash, Comedy, Cutie Mark Crusaders, Pinkie Pie
Length: 7880

Rainbow Dash attends a cooking class taught by her friends so she no longer has to live on take-out.

Rainbow Dash is starving!

When Pinkie Pie finds out her feathered friend has been eating nothing but take-out every day, she arranges a cooking class with all of their friends to teach Rainbow the importance of making food for herself.

A story meant to resemble an episode of the series.

Published 2012-08-04 05:24:04 UTC
Last updated 2012-08-13 23:44:29 UTC

Out of the Frying Pan

Rainbow Dash perched atop the spire of Ponyville Town Hall, her many-colored mane whipping dramatically in the wind about her face. She lifted a foreleg, to which a watch was firmly fastened, and yanked the strap tight with her teeth. After giving the leg a good shake, she nodded stoically.

Her stomach growled.

“Awww!” the pegasus moaned. Looking backward, she spread her wings so she could better see her stomach. Her ribs showed ominously beneath her coat.

Rattling her head and snapping a pair of goggles over her eyes, she assured herself that this was normal. “Gotta focus! Focus!” She slapped either cheek rather harder than she intended, rubbed them tenderly, and ballooned them with a number of quick, deep breaths. Poising herself as if on a high dive, she rapped her watch against the spire.

And she was off!

Zooming left and right, up, down and around, Rainbow Dash burst cloud after cloud into thin air following the optimal route she had planned from her vantage. The clouds dissolved at her touch—sheared through by a wingtip, burst as she rebounded to change direction. In no time at all, the fading remnants of rainbow loops and strands were all that adorned the dawning autumn sky over Ponyville. She slapped her watch the moment her hooves touched the grass.

“Done!” she croaked. Sweat dripped from her forehead in buckets, and her breath came fast and labored; but her smile was triumphant. That must have been one of her fastest times yet—she could feel it! She turned her foreleg upward to check her time: the little red second hand quivered mockingly in place.

11 seconds.

11 seconds.

“Awwww!” Rainbow moaned more pitifully than before, and her stomach growled louder than ever.

The bell to Sugarcube Corner’s front door tinkled cheerfully as Rainbow Dash entered the shop, her head sagging with exhaustion. In a flash Pinkie Pie materialized at the counter to welcome her.

“Well hiya, stranger!” she greeted Rainbow buoyantly. “The usual, I presume?”

“Thanks, Pinkie,” the pegasus sighed. Shuffling behind the counter a moment, Pinkie drew out a warm, fluffy muffin, which Rainbow immediately snapped out of her hooves and swallowed whole. Pinkie whipped her empty hoof back in surprise.

“Whoa! Are you…feeling alright, Rainbow Dash?”

“Yeah, super,” said Rainbow, her composure swiftly recovering after having eaten. “Why d’you ask?”

“Oh, no reason. It’s just that nopony’s taken such a liking to the muffin paper before.”

“There was paper?” Rainbow Dash’s stomach grumbled with resentment.

“Are you sure that’s all you want?” Pinkie asked. “You look famished. You’re nothing but feathers and bones!”

“Eh, you’re imagining things,” Rainbow dismissed her and tossed a few bits on the counter. Pinkie’s eyes narrowed; she sunk behind the counter and suddenly tossed a second muffin in a high arc. By reflex Rainbow jumped like a fish and gobbled it out of midair.

“Imagining things, am I?” Pinkie raised an eyebrow.

Rainbow Dash peeled the muffin’s damp paper from her tongue and threw it away. “I’m kinda on a tight budget,” she admitted. “If I spend too much now I won’t be able to afford the lunch special at Chez Poné.”

“You’re going out for lunch, too?” Pinkie inquired. “What’s the occasion?”

“No occasion. I get lunch there every day.”

“Really? But isn’t that expensive?”

“It’s the best I could find for the money I have,” Rainbow explained. “And it’s no more expensive than the dinner buffet at the Ponyville Feedbag every night.”

Pinkie Pie was shocked. “You mean you eat out for every meal? Every day?”

“Yeah,” said Rainbow Dash defensively. “What’s wrong with that?”

“Why don’t you just prepare something at home?” Pinkie suggested. “You’ll be able to eat a lot more without spending so much.”

Rainbow gave her a confused, almost pitying look. “Why would I make food at home if I can just get fed at a restaurant? I’m too busy to waste my time cooking. Thanks for the concern, but my routine suits me just fine.”

Her stomach rumbled once again. She blinked.

“Don’t you know how to cook, Dash?”

“I’ve…tried it a few times,” Rainbow Dash tried to play the question off casually. “It wasn’t really my style.”

Leaping nimbly over the counter, Pinkie Pie landed inches from Rainbow’s face, making the pegasus recoil a little. “Style, shmile!” Pinkie flashed a wide smile, her eyes twinkling. “All you need is a little practice. And like I always say, talking is just practice for chewing!”

“That doesn't—hey!”

All at once Pinkie snatched Rainbow’s windswept tail in her teeth and yanked, causing the pegasus’s wings to buzz against her will. Rainbow’s stomach grumbled and roared to life like an old-fashioned airplane engine. Straddling her shoulders, Pinkie Pie spurred Rainbow into a steep ascent—and with wild loop-the-loops threatening to slam them into the ceiling, they hurtled through the double doors behind the counter.

“Wahoo! Don’t worry, Dashy—today’s breakfast is on the house!”

“—Because you’re making it!”

Standing in front of a stove in the bakery’s kitchen, Rainbow Dash was clad in a flour-dabbed apron with her flashy mane stuffed into a hairnet. Pinkie Pie strode to a table behind her and sat, a gaudy yellow-and-blue bib dangling over her chest and a smug grin on her lips.

“You can use whatever ingredients you want!” Pinkie trilled. “So show me what you got!”

Sweat glazed Rainbow’s brow as she took in the dizzying array of cooking implements around her. She tapped a wood spoon curiously against the counter; nibbled on a furry block of cheese; spun a whisk around and dropped it. She turned to face Pinkie Pie, her eyes begging for advice.

The pink pony had her bib strung over her ears for a full-face blindfold. “You’re doing great!”

A little encouraged, Rainbow grabbed a small pot and filled it to the brim with bottled water from the refrigerator. Splashing on her way back to the stove, she set it carefully on a rack inside the oven and fiddled with the knobs until the window glowed a fiery orange. Her face lit up with pleasure; maybe this cooking stuff wasn’t so hard after all!

The following hour was a barrage of activity: knives flashed expertly over cutting boards; pans sizzled and snapped at their assorted contents; careful fluid measurements were poured under Rainbow Dash’s industrious eye as Pinkie waited patiently, blindly, on her seat at the table. At last, the sink overflowing with dirty dishes and the air sharp with smoke, Rainbow placed the fruits of her labor on the table for Pinkie’s inspection. Her forehooves jittered against each other as the bib fell from her friend’s eyes.

Pinkie rubbed her eyes and stared. Before her was a large mixing bowl containing two shoddily boiled eggs, and an open can of Colta-Cola.

Her gaze shifted to Rainbow Dash and back to the meal, face void of emotion. But as quick as a beat she cracked a winning smile and gave her compliments to the would-be chef.

“What did I tell you? You’re a natural, Rainbow Dash! All you really needed was a push through the kitchen doors.”

Content, Rainbow abandoned her apron and hairnet on the floor.

“You could use some direction, though,” Pinkie Pie continued, framing the high-piled sink with her hooves and squinting artistically. “Get a recipe or two under your saddle and you’ll really be cookin’, kid.”

Surveying her work with oblivious pride, Rainbow Dash said “Why not? This was kinda fun—maybe I should take a class some time.”

“A cooking class!” Pinkie squealed. “That’s it! We should gather everypony up so we can teach you all of our favorite recipes, and by the time we’re finished we’ll have a ginormous feast prepared!”

“That’s an awesome idea, Pinkie,” Rainbow Dash agreed, and side-by-side the two friends trotted through the kitchen’s rear doors and into the clear Ponyville sunlight.

At that moment, looking distractedly over his shoulder, Mr. Cake pushed through the inside doors, saying “Alright, sweetie, I’ll be getting the kitchen ready for éclairs this afternoo—”

He stopped dead when his gaze met the room, wide-eyed and speechless at the disaster area that had once been his kitchen.

The sprawling tree that was the Ponyville Public Library and Twilight Sparkle’s abode stood dependably at the center of the town’s northern hub. Spike announced Pinkie Pie and Rainbow Dash to Twilight, who was eating breakfast at a small table stacked unreasonably high with books.

“Good morning, girls,” Twilight said, clapping shut three books at once. “What brings you here?”

Bouncing up beside her, Pinkie beamed. “A cooking class! You and me and all our friends are going to teach Rainbow Dash a few recipes so she doesn’t have to eat out all the time. Think you can come?”

Just as Twilight opened her mouth to speak, Spike cut her off with a fit of uproarious laughter. Twilight scowled, and the others looked at him with interest. “A cooking class would be perfect,” Spike cackled, “but you want Twilight to teach? She breaks down in tears when she has to decide which side of her toast to spread butter on!”

“It’s an important decision!” Twilight snapped. She turned back to her friends with a close-eyed smile. “You should’ve mentioned sooner that you were having trouble feeding yourself, Rainbow Dash. I’ll have you know you’re talking to the pony who passed her Advanced Cooking Theory class with a hundred and twelve percent—an A-plus-plus! On top of that I’ve read at least a hundred cook books, from Paleopony horse d’oeuvres to Post-postmodernist post-meal puddings.”

“Oh, yeah, that’s impressive alright,” Spike drawled. “But remember that time I went to Canterlot for a couple of days to get my scales buffed? When I came back I found you living on nothing but boiled eggs and soda, and the kitchen was a pigsty.”

Blushing, Twilight flattened her ears apologetically. “Maybe you’re right about that, Spike.” She glanced over at Pinkie. “Would you mind if I attended your class as a student instead? Spike can take my place as one of the teachers—he’s a whiz in the kitchen when he isn’t trying to feed you gemstones.”

Spike extended a gloating claw. “It’s all in the opposable thumbs, baby.”

“It’s a deal!” Pinkie said, and Rainbow Dash nodded in appreciation. “See you guys tonight!”

“A cooking class? How wonderful!” Rarity declared. “Oh Rainbow Dash, I’ll have you cooking like a gourmet in no time at all.”

"Er…thanks,” Rainbow demurred, “but I don’t think the occasion calls for making me a whole new outfit.”

Her rainbow mane was pulled up in a sleek bun stuck through with a pair of silver decorative forks, and Rarity was making fussy adjustments to a flowing white gown Rainbow was modeling, which was speckled with lavender images of cutlery.

“You?” surprise flavored Rarity’s voice. “No, no, no—this gown is for me, darling. One cannot properly demonstrate the subtle art of food preparation without the appropriate garments to display one’s status as an instructor. And you’re my size, so it’s convenient.”

Pinkie Pie lay prone on the fabric-strewn floor batting a ball of sky-blue yarn between her hooves, to the disapproval of the cat, Opalescence. The pony sat up on her haunches and shook the ball violently in her teeth, then spat it aside. “Thanks a lot for agreeing to come, Rarity, but we’ve got to vamoose pronto if we wanna get everything ready in time for tonight.”

“Yeah! That’s right,” Rainbow Dash attached to the excuse with relief and darted out of the dress and jewelry, which fell in a heap on the gaudy podium. “No time to lose, you know?” She trotted past Pinkie to the door, eyeing Rarity with a forced laugh, and flung it open.

“Heheh—oof! What the—?”

Hovering in the doorway was a heavy wall of smoke that repelled the pegasus to the floor. Like a steady tide it oozed into the room to smother their knees, and Rarity screeched, magically scooping the gown aloft and out of harm’s way.

“We fixed it, it’s okay!” Sweetie Belle’s muffled voice came through the veil of smoke. The foal scurried into the room on the tips of her hooves with her face raised, singed and coughing, just barely keeping her mouth in the fresh air. Similarly mottled and burned, Scootaloo followed her in, struggling to keep her inexperienced hooves atop the thick, flowing mass.

“Yeah,” Scootaloo said, “We already called the fire department and—Rainbow Dash! Hi!” The distraction dropped her beneath the cloud with a puff, and she leapt up again to regain her balance. “What’re you doing here?”

Rainbow flapped her wings to light upon the smoke and examined the bottoms of her hooves with concern. “How’d you guys get smoke to do this?”

“Sweetie Belle!” Rarity swept her sister out of the rising flood and draped her over her back. “How many times have I told you never to use the kitchen without supervision?”

“But I had supervision!” Sweetie Belle whined. “Scootaloo was there supervising me the whole time!”

Rarity ground her teeth with ill-suppressed rage. “Your little friends do not count!”

“What, you want me to ask an enemy look out for my safety?”

“If you don’t want me to be your enemy,” Rarity spat, “you two fillies are going to learn how to conduct yourselves in a kitchen. I don’t know how much longer I’ll be able to convince the elite ponies in Canterlot that smoke damage is the new black!”

“That’s a great idea!” Pinkie Pie waved away a miniature castle she had been building with the smoke. “You guys can join our cooking class tonight along with Rainbow Dash and Twilight Sparkle.”

“If Rainbow Dash is going, then I am so there,” Scootaloo mooned.

“It’s settled then,” Rarity snipped with finality. “Now if all of you will excuse me, I need to air out my house and apologize to the fire ponies—again.”

“Yup.”

“Good luck with that.”

“Bye, sis.”

Rarity let out a dainty cough as the room was vacated. A high-pitched drone filled the air, the belated cry of her recently installed smoke alarm.

The sun had crossed its zenith by the time Pinkie Pie and Rainbow Dash arrived at the front gate of Sweet Apple Acres. There was no need for them to search for Applejack; they followed the unmistakable din of construction toward the main barn, in which the farm’s various hoofed livestock were housed.

On entering they spotted Apple Bloom at work on one of the cow’s pens, a hammer held dexterously in her teeth. She waved at them in greeting and, looking up, gave a sharp whistle; Applejack came sliding down a ladder from the rafters, where she had been patching a hole in the barn’s ceiling.

“Hey, Applejack,” Rainbow Dash said.

“Howdy, Rainbow; Pinkie,” the farm mare nodded. “What can I do ya for?”

“We’re hosting a cooking class for Rainbow Dash and a few others tonight at Sugarcube Corner,” Pinkie Pie explained, “so we’re wondering if you’d like to come by and teach a few simple recipes. And once class is over, we’ll have a huge feast ready to eat! You game?”

Applejack chuckled. “You don’t know how to cook, Rainbow Dash? Well, don’t you fret—I’ll teach ya a thing or two that’ll fatten y’all up nicely. Count me in!”

“That’s great!” Pinkie hopped for emphasis. “Oh, and Sweetie Belle and Scootaloo are going to be there, so you’re invited to come, too, Apple Bloom.”

The hammer fell from Apple Bloom’s mouth with a dull thud. Its place was taken by a glowing, toothy grin directed at Applejack. Her older sister returned the smile halfheartedly. “Well, uh, you might wanna tag along, Apple Bloom, but wouldn’t you rather stay here an’ fix things up a little more? You’re very good with them there tools.”

The hint was lost on the little filly. “Don’t be silly, Applejack. Why would I wanna stay and do chores when I could be gettin’ my cutie mark for cookin’?”

“What I meant,” Applejack stressed, “was you seem to have some talent for workin’ with tools, y’hear? Maybe even a special kind of talent?”

“Oh please let me go, Applejack! This class could be my one and only last opportunity to finally get my cutie mark at long last! How could I possibly ignore somethin’ as important as that?”

“You’d be surprised,” mumbled Applejack. “Alright, you can come with me, but don’t get too wrapped up in this ‘cutie mark’ business. Even if it don’t pan out as your special talent, cookin’ is a life skill, so pay close attention and don’t get over exci—”

But the rest was unnecessary; Apple Bloom had disappeared. Shaking her head, Applejack mounted the ladder once more and gave her friends a knowing smile. “I’ve been meanin’ to start her on feedin’ herself anyway. Thank y’all the invite!”

Search lights pierced the evening sky above Sugarcube Corner, the sun having just crossed the horizon. A red carpet trailed into the street out of the kitchen doors, flanked by velvet rope barriers that held a roaring, camera-wielding crowd of ponies at bay. Pinkie Pie’s voice boomed over the crowd’s cheers as a pearly and luxurious colt-drawn carriage rattled up beside the carpet.

“Welcome, everypony, to the first ever Sugarcube Corner Cooking Class…uh, Extravaganza!”

Spike jumped down from the carriage to make his appearance. “First to arrive tonight is our breakfast chef, Spike “the Mighty” dragon, escorted by Ponyville’s lovely local librarian (and one of tonight’s students), Twilight Sparkle!”

The crowd roared, and Spike raised his hands in acknowledgment. He was clad in a standard white chef’s outfit with a hat that nearly doubled his height. Twilight waved merrily at his side, and they both entered the kitchen through the light-spangled double doors.

“Next on the scene is Applejack, co-owner of Sweet Apple Acres, who will be teaching lunch!” Applejack and Apple Bloom dismounted from an empty wood cart pulled by their brother, Big Macintosh. Neither wore anything special, the foal sporting her large pink bow, and the mare in her usual brown cowpony hat. “She’s here with her little sister Apple Bloom, who will also be learning in tonight’s class. Isn’t she cute?” The crowd applauded its agreement, and the two sisters waved and smiled their humble way down the carpet.

“Up next is—oooh, what’s that?” The light jangle of bells bid the crowd to silence; all eyes turned skyward as a magnificent pegasus-drawn carriage floated to earth like the cascading petal of a violet. Its shimmering door swung open with regal slowness, and out onto the carpet stepped Rarity, clad in her extravagant flowing gown with her mane done up in silver forks. The silence broke, and the cameras flashed in ecstasy.

“It’s the dinner chef, Rarity of Carousel Boutique!” Pinkie cried, “Just look at that entrance—what pulchritude, what equanimity!” But not a quarter of her the way along the carpet, Scootaloo and Sweetie Belle leapt from inside the carriage and scrambled past Rarity, jostling her mane and ornaments askew. To much applause and laughter from the audience, Rarity’s face contorted with fury and she chased the mischievous foals inside.

“And speaking of equine-mini-ninnies,” Pinkie punned, “there’s Sweetie Belle and Scootaloo for ya, folks.”

Laughter? No? Well, then.

“And now to introduce the much-anticipated dessert chef: Sugarcube Corner’s very own resident baker-apprentice-ess—Pinkie Pie!”

Pinkie herself appeared at the far end of the carpet; nopony had seen how she got there. Nonetheless, the cameras went wild, and Pinkie began her dignified march toward the doors. She wore what would have been a tall chef’s hat, but the top had been cut off allowing her fluffy mane to spill out—the effect very much resembled a stick of cotton candy balanced on her head. She neither carried a microphone nor moved her lips, but the intercom with Pinkie’s voice continued on.

“Give the crowd a wave, Pinkie!” the voice appealed, and Pinkie Pie flailed her forelegs over her head on either side, basking in the attention. “That’s the spirit!”

Near the end of the carpet Pinkie tripped over herself, falling face-first in front of the doors. “Woops! Better pick yourself up, silly filly,” her voice said. Pinkie pranced inside, gigging and snorting at herself.

The search lights dimmed, and the crowd fell mute. A peal of thunder rolled in from a distant storm. Not knowing what to expect, nopony took notice of the low, black cloud that drifted silently into position under the cover of darkness.

“Only one pony has yet to arrive,” Pinkie’s voice was a dramatic undertone. “The pegasus whose empty belly sparked an idea…that became legend.” Lightning flared in the low cloud’s depths, and the crowd turned its attention to the sky once more. “The feathery filly whose fund-famishing fast food fixation has finally forced her to fabricate thrifty foodstuffs for herself.”

The cloud crackled with electricity; all manes stood on end, until—

DASH!

A fork of lightning stabbed the red carpet!

And where it had struck, standing tall with her chest outthrust, was Rainbow Dash.

“Rainbow Dash!” Pinkie’s shout was echoed by the crowd repeatedly as the pegasus strutted toward the bakery, flexing her forelegs and wings at anything that looked as if it might record her awesomeness for future reference. During one such display she gritted her teeth with such ferocity that her jaw twinged, recalling the pain she had inflicted by slapping it earlier that day. Chastened, she settled for a quick back hoofspring to the entrance and pushed herself inside.

The kitchen itself was no different than it had been that morning, if a little cleaner than they had left it. As the door swung shut, all indications of what had occurred outside were forgotten.

“Thanks for coming tonight, guys,” Rainbow said mildly with a clap of her hooves. “Let’s get started on that grub, huh?”

Tartarus's Kitchen

Two long counters ran parallel in the center of the kitchen, each equipped with three ovens, a sink and a cabinet of utensils. Behind one counter and facing the other sat the teachers—save for Spike, who stood on top of it—deep in conversation concerning the night’s schedule.

“Ya reckon we’ve got enough butter to go around?”

“Oh, certainly—we wouldn’t want them overdoing it. I have my figure to think of!”

“Oatmeal? Are you crazy? We’ve gotta start them off with something easier!”

“You really think so? Alright, then I’ll go with this instead…”

At the opposite counter sat the students, the foals fidgeting on their high seats, divided evenly into three teams. On the right sat Rainbow Dash next to an ecstatic Scootaloo; Twilight Sparkle was paired with Sweetie Belle in the center; and on the left was Apple Bloom, who was bursting with anticipation beside the sheepish-looking Fluttershy.

“Fluttershy?” Twilight leaned forward to catch her friend’s eye. “When did you get here?”

“Oh! Um…” the timid pegasus seemed surprised to be paid any mind. “I sneaked—um, I mean, I used the legitimate entrance through Pinkie’s bedroom window while all of you were coming in through the doors. Hello, Twilight.”

“But I thought you were great at cooking!” Rainbow Dash joined. “What’re you doing over here with the students?”

“She’s got a point, Fluttershy” said Twilight. “You’re an expert nutritionist by anypony’s standards.”

“Well, even so, I’m sure there’s always something new for me to learn,” Fluttershy dithered. “And—and the teams would have been uneven if I hadn’t joined little Apple Bloom, and I think if I just stay passive I can…”

Twilight and Rainbow rolled their eyes at each other.

“…and being a teacher is just such an enormous responsibility, and if I accidentally taught you something wrong it might ruin your diets forever, and—”

“Ahemhem!” Spike’s towering hat trembled as he cleared his throat. The kitchen’s lights dimmed, and the students assumed a respectful silence for beginning of their first lesson.

The baby dragon surveyed the kitchen wordlessly. His emerald eyes passed from the refrigerators to the glassware, across the spice racks, vegetables, and sinks, until his gaze finally landed on a basket of assorted gemstones at his side. From this he plucked a hefty yellow gem, which he brought to his teeth and took a swift, discerning bite. The glassy crunch reverberated throughout the room. He allowed a satisfied smirk to spread over his lips as he turned toward the students, all of whom bore looks of utter confusion.

He snapped the rest of the gem up with his whiplike tongue, gobbled it greedily and finished with a belch. “BRAAAP! Ahh, delicious. Who needs cooking, right?” Nopony answered. “Oh yeah, you guys do. Applejack—the secret ingredient, please.”

The farm pony ducked under the counter and came up with a cloth-covered basket balanced on her head. She tipped it onto the countertop next to Spike.

“Let’s get started, everypony!” He clapped his claws. “In tonight’s class we’ll be going from—”

“WAIT!” Twilight scrambled around her hooves. “Wait just a second, Spike!” From below she quickly drew out an inkwell, quill, and a bulky roll of parchment, all of which dominated the space in front of her and Sweetie Belle. She dipped her quill and held it poised. “Okay, please continue.”

“Twilight, you can’t have all that stuff out. You need room to cook.”

“Rule one: Clear…cooking…space…of…debris.” Twilight looked up from her notes expectantly.

Her assistant grumbled. “Whatever. As I was saying, we’ll be teaching the class in order, beginning with breakfast, then going on to lunch, dinner, and dessert. You’ll be starting with the absolute basics. The secret ingredient is…” he snatched the cloth off of the basket and let it tumble to the floor. “Breakfast cereal!

“ALLEZ CUISINE!”

The baby dragon’s dramatic sweep of the claw was answered with nothing but stares. He crossed his arms and frowned. “It means ‘get cooking,’ sheesh.”

The foals scurried to the basket of cereal boxes, and Fluttershy stepped over to the refrigerators to find milk as her friends followed suit. Spike watched them patiently. The students seemed to be handling themselves just fine; he’d leave them on their own for a little while.

After a minute (of complete neglect) he hopped off the counter and stepped over to check on the teams’ progress. He first came to Fluttershy and Apple Bloom.

“How’re you guys do—whoa!” the baby dragon slipped backward in a puddle of milk around the ponies’ seats. Fluttershy caught him just before he hit the floor; the harried pegasus was dripping wet and holding a soaked-through towel in her teeth.

“Thanks, Fluttershy,” Spike stood back on his own feet. “What…happened here?”

“Oh, nothing to worry about—Apple Bloom just had a little accident, that’s all.”

The foal was nearly hidden behind an enormous mixing bowl; it was apparent that she had wanted to use the entire box of cereal and a gallon of milk in one sitting, and was not too concerned with the excess. She considered a spoonful with a dubious look and called to her sister across the room.

“Hey, Applejack! This here cereal don’t taste like apples!”

“What’s that got t’ do with me?”

Spike whipped his fallen hat dry in the air. “I’ll just, uh, leave you guys to it. Good work.” Next up was Twilight Sparkle and Sweetie Belle.

Spike knew he was in for something when he saw Twilight with her microscope out. His mentor was fixated over a slide while Sweetie Belle pouted beside her. Whatever was in their cereal bowl glowed a dazzling shade of green.

“I’m afraid to ask, but how are you two doing with your first recipe?”

Twilight Sparkle’s head flicked upward, her eyes alight. “Spike, this is amazing! Prepare a missive to the Canterlot Institute of Biology: if I’m not mistaken, Sweetie Belle here has just produced the first recorded instance of artificial abiogenesis!”

“Abba-what now?”

Her teammate held no such regard for the glowing concoction. “How am I supposed to eat my cereal if it suddenly comes alive?” Sweetie Belle wailed. “I’m so hungry!”

Scribbling furiously with her quill, Twilight scooped a sample of their creation into a test tube and corked it tight, giggling all the while. Spike gave the defeated Sweetie Belle a sympathetic pat on the shoulder and moved on.

The only team left to check on was Rainbow Dash and Scootaloo. In defiance of Spike’s drastically lowered expectations, the third workstation didn’t seem to be having any problems. In fact, they were easily the most successful of the three, already waiting for instruction while munching on two small bowls of cereal.

“Hey there, ‘teach,” said Rainbow Dash. “Got any pointers for us?”

“Looks fine to me,” Spike replied. “Nice portion control. Keep it up, you two!”

Scootaloo gave Rainbow Dash a high-hoof. “Told you I could rock the socks off a cereal box!"

“Good thing you had me here to lift the milk bottle, squirt.”

The pegasi smiled at each other as the baby dragon returned to his perch among the instructors. “At least somepony is making progress.”

The sun’s light was well and truly gone from the sky an hour later. The counters were cleared of the various breakfast items they had made in that time—including eggs, oatmeal, toast, and omelets—select portions of which were placed on a dining table to be shared later on.

The farm pony took her place behind the counter and the next lesson began.

“Howdy, everypony!” Applejack tipped her hat to the students and sent her sister a wink. “I’m here to show y’all how the Apple family does home cookin’.”

She pulled out a loaf of bread and began cutting it into thick slices. “Now, I don’t know about y’all, but after a long mornin’ of buckin’ apples I can mosey into the kitchen an’ go fer darn near anythin’. ‘Sakes, iffin y’all stop by for a visit I can show ya the spot on the kitchen table I caught Big Mac nibblin’ the day Granny Smith was in charge o’ lunch. ‘Least, it used to be a kitchen table; we’ve been usin’ it as a cuttin’ board ever since.”

Where was that canned laughter coming from?

“I always say when a pony can go for anythin’, then anythin’ goes.” Applejack fanned the slices of bread over the countertop and motioned to the refrigerators. “An’ just about anythin’ can go inside a sammich.”

She let the students choose their ingredients from the refrigerators, approving of most choices and rejecting only a few (“Ice cubes are fer drinks, not fer lunch, Sweetie Belle”). The ponies began awkwardly assembling their sandwiches at the teachers’ counter.

“Y’all are doin’ fine,” she assured them, “there’s more’n enough for everypony. Don’t forget about leftovers—keep an open mind when ya open up the fridge, y’hear? Now let’s see how we’re gettin’ along.”

Applejack approached the first station. At first its occupants seemed to have disappeared; but then Applejack looked up.

The foal was balanced precariously atop a towering sandwich that was growing taller by the second. Below her, Fluttershy flitted fearfully about to keep the monstrosity from toppling.

“Apple Bloom!” the pegasus’s voice trembled with panic. “Could you please—NO!—I mean, if you’d like to slow down just a—OH DEAR!—don’t you think you have enough for one—EEK!”

“Yee haw!” Apple Bloom hollered to her sister below. “How’m I doin’, big sis?”

Applejack shouted back with a telescope to her eye. “Atta filly! Go big or go home, that’s how the Apple clan does it!”

“Applejack!” Fluttershy had her back pressed against the wildly tilting sandwich. “Please help me!”

“That little’n is growin’ up so fast!” Applejack muttered, wiping away a joyful tear. On to the next group.

Twilight Sparkle and Sweetie Belle had yet to finish putting their first sandwich together. In fact, they had yet to begin. The older mare held a ruler vertically on the table beside their first slice of bread, and she was coaching a nervous Sweetie Belle through the delicate placement of daisy blossoms on its surface.

“Can’t we just put it in the middle or something?” Sweetie Belle pleaded.

“What?” Twilight was incredulous, “No, Sweetie, that variant would be suboptimal!” She held out a detailed technical sketch of the flowers in various layered arrangements. “See? We have to adhere to the ‘impossible stairway’ concept for optimal PPB.”

“PPB?”

Twilight groaned, “Petals Per Bite, of course!”

Applejack ambled up from behind, looking concerned. “Y’all know we only have a few minutes left before we gotta move on, right?”

“It’s better to get it right than to get it…done!” Twilight painstakingly slipped the last of four daisy blossoms onto the bread. Panting with exhilaration, she said, “See that, Sweetie Belle? If you just consider—”

“AAARRGH!” the foal sprung furiously onto the countertop. “I can’t take it anymore! I need something to eat right now!”

“Sweetie, you foal! This sandwich is volatile! W-what are you going to do with that watercress?”

“I’m gonna do what I shoulda done a long time ago.”

“Sweetie Belle, NOOOO!”

The resulting explosion and billows of smoke went unnoticed at the third station, where Applejack had just arrived.

“How’re y’all doin’ over here?” she asked Rainbow Dash, who with Scootaloo was arranging their final slice of bread. The pegasi dug into their sandwiches with relish.

“Dish ish awechum, Applejack!” Rainbow lisped around her food and swallowed. “Who knew making sandwiches would be so easy?”

“Every trade has its secrets, I guess,” Scootaloo mused. “More molasses, Rainbow Dash?”

“You know it!”

“Y’all are takin’ to the kitchen like crickets to a carnival,” Applejack nodded approvingly. “Keep up the good work!”

The lessons on lunch continued for a little less than an hour before Rarity took charge. Having repaired her immaculately-assembled mane and gown, she shooed Applejack out of the instructor’s position with a snort of disapproval.

“Hmph! Now then, everypony—I will be instructing you in the art of high cuisine, so I ask that you forget everything you have learned up until now. There will be no place in my class for the clumsy techniques you have been shown heretofore.”

“Who’re you callin’ ‘heretofore’?!” Applejack groused.

“My sincerest apologies, Applejack” said Rarity without a hint of sincerity. “To the point, you students will prepare but a single dish for our dinner tonight, as I prefer quality over…” she gave the dining table a dirty glance, “ …quantity. It is a personal favorite of mine, a twenty-six-cheese thrice-baked dandelion petal soufflé. I have distributed the recipes; chop chop!”

The students began their panicked bustle. “Don’t you think that recipe’s a little over their heads?” Pinkie Pie frowned.

“What ever do you mean, darling?” Rarity rejoined with innocent eyes. “It’s all in plain writing, and the head chef of La Cheval in Canterlot pulls it off flawlessly every time.”

“Ya can’t expect ‘em t’ cook on par with a snooty restaurant, Rarity,” chastised Applejack.

“I expect that you underestimate my ability to direct my students. We’ll see who has any appetite for your ‘sammiches’ by the time my class has ended.”

Apple Bloom watched in awe (form a prescribed distance) as Fluttershy tossed and whisked ingredients like a professional, even using her dexterous wings to crack eggs into a bowl. Beside them, Twilight flicked through a mountain of reference books while scribbling notes in the margins of the recipe, leaving Sweetie Belle to struggle with a lumpy mixture that appeared to be eating her spoon. Last of all, Scootaloo and Rainbow Dash worked in synchrony, comically incapable as individuals, but managing to make progress through frequent correction of each other’s mistakes.

All the while, Rarity remained pristine as ever, ignoring the students in favor of a standing mirror.

Time passed; three ovens beeped. Now came the time for Rarity to pass judgment.

“Fluttershy, darling!” Rarity approached expectantly. “I must admit, I do have high expectations for your work. How is the soufflé coming along?”

The pegasus coyly avoided her eyes. She was looking confident, if overworked.

“It was, um, my first time making it, but I think it turned out…well.”

From Fluttershy, this kind of appraisal amounted to boasting from the rooftops.

“You ain’t kiddin’, it was delicious!”

The two mares looked down at Apple Bloom. The foal’s face was smeared yellow with cheese.

“Oh,” her ears fell and her eyes widened with guilt. “Y’all didn’t want any, did ya?”

Rarity scribbled a note on a clipboard held by her magic. “Pity; I was looking forward to it. A zero out of ten, then.”

As Rarity walked huffily away, Apple Bloom turned her glistening eyes on her older teammate. “I’m really sorry, Fluttershy.”

“It’s alright, Apple Bloom,” Fluttershy gave her a hug and dabbed her mouth with a washcloth. “As long as you enjoyed it, that’s all the approval I need.”

The faces of the second team were inscrutable to Rarity as she trotted over to their station. Their soufflé sat innocently on the counter in front of them. Twilight Sparkle spoke before Rarity could get a word in.

“We had a bit of an accident,” Sweetie Belle’s voice came out of her mouth.

Likewise, Twilight’s voice was heard from the foal. “Don’t eat it; just move along, please.”

“Do return to your own body before we leave, Sweetie,” Rarity addressed the pony who looked like Twilight. “You will never fit into your bed like that, and the guest bedroom is still a little smoky. Two out of ten.”

Rarity hadn’t expected much more from the pegasus team, but she was pleasantly surprised to be presented with something she could taste. They pushed a bowl full of their creation toward her.

“Hmmm,” she considered a spoonful of the soufflé a hairsbreadth from her eyes, and then popped it in her mouth. She chewed it thoroughly, swished, and gargled it before swallowing.

“It’s…passable,” she admitted, making a mark on her sheet. “A respectable three out of ten.”

“A three?” Rainbow Dash shouted. “What gives? The stuff looks fine to me!”

“Yeah, we did everything the recipe said!” added Scootaloo.

“However,” Rarity turned up her nose, “your presentation is sorely lacking, and presentation is an essential part of the fine dining experience. I’m afraid a three is the best you could hope for under the circumstances. Eh…good effort, though.”

As Rarity departed, a resentful Scootaloo scooped up a spoonful of the soufflé. The taste made her gag; she struggled for a second to keep it down. “Guh, I think that three might have been generous,” she mumbled to Rainbow Dash.

Now was the moment everypony had been waiting for.

Not a mouth didn’t gush with saliva as the dessert chef took the stage. This was the highlight of the evening—no, of the assembled ponies’ very lives. The sun was down, of course, but if it had been up it would have totally been smiling all over the place showering candy and chocolate milk on everypony in Equestria! Actually, Princess Celestia decided to raise the sun and that’s what happened. Pinkie no what the heck get back in the story you dont belong here. And Pinkie Pie had a candy cane, too!

Yes, it was that time: Pinkie’s cotton-candy mane nearly brushed the ceiling as she stood with her forehooves on the countertop. She bellowed angrily at the students.

“IT’S TIME FOR DESSERT! LET’S HAVE TONS OF FUN, OKAY?”

Everyone quickly shoved their hooves (or claws) over their ears. “Wanna warn us next time, Pinkie?” Spike said irritably.

“Yes, what ever are you shouting for?” Rarity inquired.

“It’s alright, guys,” Pinkie assured them, “Chefs are supposed to be all screamy sometimes. Trust me, ponies pay to watch this stuff.”

She turned back to her uneasy students. “Alrighty! So, the very first rule of dessert-making is sugar!”

Twilight scribbled a note.

“Why aren’t you all taking notes?” Pinkie scolded. “This is serious stuff here! Rule one: sugar!”

The other students shuffled around nervously for paper and quill, and Twilight sent a smug look to either side.

The teacher continued when everypony was ready. “The second rule of dessert is there are no more rules! Now put all that stuff away so we can get started.”

While most of the students were annoyed, Twilight was heartbroken.

“We’re gonna start dessert off with a BAM!” Pinkie shouted. “BAMnana splits!”

Twilight Sparkle’s mane was a little disheveled, and she spoke to Sweetie Belle with a crazed look in her eye. “Alright, Sweetie, this is our last chance. If we can put everything we’ve got into this last event, I’m positive we can pull off a come-from-behind victory!”

“B-but Twilight,” Sweetie Belle whimpered, “I thought this was a cooking class, not a competition.”

“Class is a competition, Sweetie! Don’t tell me they haven’t taught you that in class? Just follow my lead.” She started mumbling to herself, shuffling her forehooves together. “Ohoho no, the class hasn’t been invented yet that Twilight Sparkle couldn’t win.”

Pinkie left the students to their devices for a few minutes before checking up on them.

Apple Bloom guzzled a bottle of chocolate syrup while Fluttershy was placing sprinkles, one by one, on her conservatively-decorated dessert.

“HOW’S IT GOING?”

Fluttershy jumped, showering her split with a perfect layer of sprinkles.

“Ooooh, sprinkles, huh?” Pinkie observed. “Here, Fluttershy, let an expert show you how to KICK IT UP A NOTCH!”

Pinkie Pie unscrewed the cap on the shaker and buried Fluttershy’s dessert in a mountain of sprinkles. “BAM!” she slammed the empty shaker back on the counter. “No need to thank me.”

Fluttershy dejectedly plucked a sprinkle off the top of the mound and returned it to the shaker.

Meanwhile, Apple Bloom was a twitching, sugar-loaded time bomb. She hadn’t even touched the ice cream—instead, she was surrounded by a number of empty topping containers. Pinkie waved a hoof before the young filly’s eyes and got no reaction. As if prepared for this, the pink pony immediately scribbled a mustache and monocle on the foal’s face with chocolate syrup, and then attempted to revive her.

“Helloooo? Apple Blooooom?”

Her name brought Apple Bloom to her senses like a switch. Unfortunately, that switch also activated the pony equivalent of a jet engine. In an instant Apple Bloom became a filly tornado; Pinkie stepped back when the vortex threatened to pull her mane in, and she actually needed to shout to be heard in the gale.

“HAVING FUN, APPLE BLOOM?”

In reply the foal careered toward her teammate, who shielded her eyes in fear. But when the storm had passed, Fluttershy found only that her banana split had been saved from its sprinkly grave and returned to its perfect coating. She smiled.

For the first time, Twilight and Sweetie Belle were working together. Their station had the air of an operating table about it.

“Okay, easy does it,” Twilight muttered. “I think it’s time for the whipped cream.”

“Whipped cream,” Sweetie pushed over the can.

Twilight sprayed the topping meticulously along the border between ice cream and banana. Her partner dabbed her sweating brow with a dish towel.

“Success,” Twilight whispered. “Now all that’s left is the cherry on top.”

“Cherry on top,” Sweetie Belle dangled a cherry over the split.

“THAT LOOKS DELICIOOOOOUS!”

Pinkie Pie’s tongue lashed out and scooped the entire banana split into her mouth, flicking upward to catch the cherry. She swallowed without chewing; Sweetie Belle still held the cherry stem in her teeth.

“YOU DID A GREAT JOOOOOOB!” The pink pony sounded enraged despite her words. “THAT BANANA SPLIT WAS ESPECIALLY YUMMYYYY! YOU TWO HAVE IMPROVED SOOOO MUUUUCH!”

“Uh, thanks?” muttered Sweetie Belle bewilderedly.

“NO!” Pinkie leaned forward with a furious face, and the teammates recoiled. “THANK YOU! BAM!”

They watched her stomp away to the third station, still clutching each other in fright.

“Maybe you really can’t win some things,” Twilight mumbled.

Finally, Pinkie sneaked up behind Rainbow Dash and Scootaloo, tongue outstretched to rob them of their desserts. She narrowed her eyes to her mark her quarry—but her tongue deflected not a moment too soon. What she saw made her leap back in horror.

“RAISINS!”

Rainbow Dash turned slowly around in mock surprise. “What’s wrong, Pinkie?” she goaded. “Weren’t you about to steal my banana split?”

“Bu-bu-bu-bu-but it’s dessert!” Pinkie stared at the coating of dried blasphemy. “You can’t put raisins on ice cream!”

“Oh, really?” Scootaloo pushed forward her own split, grinning viciously. “Then maybe you should give mine a taste instead.”

Pinkie leapt away once more, this time with a gasp.

“THAT’S A LOT OF NUTS!”

“What?” Scootaloo feigned concern, “You don’t like peanuts either?”

Betrayal was in every line of Pinkie’s expression. “But peanuts aren’t even sweet!” She rounded on Rainbow Dash. “After all we’ve been through, how could you treat a poor, innocent banana split that way? Humph, you think you know a pony, then you find out she sprinkles raisins on her ice cream instead of sprinkling sprinkles.”

The pink pony retreated with a “BAM!”

Twilight stepped over from her station looking impressed. “That was clever thinking, Rainbow Dash. Who’d have thought Pinkie Pie would be weak against nutritious toppings?”

“I sure didn’t,” Rainbow replied. “I just felt a little guilty having all that ice cream, so I thought adding raisins might help.”

Fluttershy approached from her station as well. “That’s a good attitude to have. When you make your own food, you have much more control over how healthy it is.”

“Not to mention its appeal to your personal tastes,” Rarity added.

“You can control how much you make n’ eat, ta boot,” Applejack said. Apple Bloom, who was draped over her back, gave a pitiful moan. “Some ponies can, at least.”

“Thanks a lot for this, guys,” Rainbow Dash smiled at everyone surrounding her. “I dunno what I’d do without you all.”

Pinkie Pie piped in. “Well, without you all I’d have this big ol’ honkin’ feast all to myself! Let’s dig in already!”

“Finally!” Sweetie Belle scampered to the dining table, and Scootaloo chased after her. Apple Bloom lagged behind with a bulging stomach.

“You guys can get started,” Rainbow Dash motioned her friends toward the table. “I have a letter to write first. Spike?”

The baby dragon had been coveting a heaping plate of gems. His claw fell at the summons. “Aww, fine, just make it quick.”

Dear Princess Celestia,

My friends taught me a really important lesson today—literally! When they found out I was eating nothing but fast food, they put together an amazing cooking class to help me take better care of myself. Not only did they teach me a bunch of great new recipes, but I learned that being independent doesn’t mean you shouldn’t tell your friends about your problems. Who knows, they just might have a solution that’ll turn it all around! Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a home-cooked meal to chow down on!

Stay awesome,

Rainbow Dash

“What a wonderful lesson,” Princess Celestia smiled upon completing the letter. She dipped her quill to begin her reply, but just then she heard the ring of a doorbell.

“Oh, goody! That must be the pizza.”

She cantered giddily out of her chambers and into the hallway. “Lunaaa! The pizza’s here!”

“O, MOST JOYOUS OF SEMI-HOURS!”

“Please, sister—uh, allow me to answer the door this time.”