Delicious Obesession
I should’ve been ashamed of myself. Me, a Wonderbolt, dashing and strong and very attractive, if I do say so myself, with swagger for days floundering. I don’t know what happened. I just sat there, unable to muster up the confidence to act upon my feelings. So I sat, flooded with thoughts. I just needed a sign, a signal. Was I clear for takeoff or was I grounded? I had so many questions like “Where did you come from?” or “What are you doing here?” “Are you seeing anypony?” Or probably most important of all “What flavor are you?”
Huh? Well duh! Of course I’m talking about a pie here, what did you think I was talking about? What’s the big deal? The big deal is that I have a pie in my presence and that I don’t know what to do with it. Eat it? Sigh, I wish it was that easy. Obviously you’re not following the gravity of the situation. So I’ll explain.
It was your typical Wednesday…boring. Or at least all my Wednesdays are. Nothing fun ever happens, nothing exciting, and on top of that…well actually that’s about it. So after finishing practice for the day, tired by both the exercise and the lack of anything awesome, I decided to just head home for the day. No need to draw out the day anymore than I need to. Thursdays are better for me anyways; Thursdays are two-for-one at “Pegi’s Pies”! But that’s slightly beside the point.
Approaching my front door in the usual manner, that is face deep in my latest edition of “Pie Weekly” and dribbling the rest of the mail behind me, something caught my eye. Well, actually I smelled it first. A pie. My mood had improved by at least 20%! There was a pie on my doormat! Obviously somepony loved me enough to drop off a pie! Or did they? There was no note, no card, just the pie. If it was a friend or family member I’m sure they would’ve stated as such (they love to suck up).
Either way it didn’t keep the pie looking any less delicious. But pleasing odors aside, we still had an issue.
Now well it was a beautiful pie at that, with a golden hued crust and a delightful aroma, it was undefined. Although I live under the impression that all pies are great and awesome, anonymous pies on the other hoof are slightly less awesome. Under that crust there could be anything! I could be a trap! Or a prank! Or maybe it’s just an anonymous gift from a fan filly.
Well I wasn’t going to solve this mystery from my front steps, so in my house I brought the mysterious baked delight. Unsure of its intentions, one of those being “was it going to blow up on me?” I thought twice before just setting it down. I spotted a decent location: my breakfast table. Largely unused, it just came with the kitchen, sat inconspicuously in the corner of the room. Its main purpose in this household was for decoration, that and hoarding a few days or so worth of mail.
But today it would serve a purpose that held more importance than this table has ever seen before, or ever will.
I carefully placed the pie square in the middle of said table. The scene resembled that of a police interrogation. Celestia’s sun had already sunk below the horizon and the only light visible was a simple chandelier above the table. It cast an eerie glow throughout the kitchen, seemingly focusing its attention and light solely on the pie. I drew up a chair and began my interrogation.
I eyed the pie with that of a seasoned art critic, trying to spy any flaw that would reveal its true character. After what seemed like hours I gave up my visual examination. I needed to dig deeper. Mustering what courage I could, I carefully touched the crust with the tip of my hoof. It slightly gave way under the pressure leaving a small indentation, but still revealing nothing.
At least I was sure of one thing; the crust was indeed pie crust and not some rolled out plastic explosive that was colored to resemble that of a perfectly baked pie. Feeling slightly reassured that it wasn’t going to explode anymore, but still not ruling that possibility out completely, the next question was “is it safe?”
After all, it could be poisoned for all I knew. No matter how tempting it was to simply try a bite, I managed to keep composure. I stood up to retrieve a knife, but still kept a steely gaze on the pie.
Returning with knife in hoof, I was slightly disappointed to find that the pie was exactly where I left it. Well you never know. It could be filled with spiders for all I know and could’ve scurried away under my couch. Eww just the thought! Well just because it didn’t run away didn’t lessen my suspicion of inviting a spider pie into my house. I prepared my incision with the care that would rival Equestria’s finest surgeons. With droplets of sweet beading on my forehead I carefully sliced the flaky crust…nothing.
Nothing happened. No noxious gasses, no explosions, and thankfully no spiders. Still unable to fully view the internal composition of the pie I decided to remove a slice. And there it sat; a perfect slice of Razzleberry pie. Or so it seemed. It just had to be Razzleberry. Couldn’t simply be apple or cherry could it? Can hardly tell what’s what with mixed berries, you could easily conceal anything in the awesomeness that is Razzleberry. Typically a concoction of raspberries, blackberries, and blueberries, there was no telling what was in there.
Now I was thoroughly lost. Although the possibility of being poisoned still remained on the table, it was seeming less likely that this was a trap and more likely a gift. Well now I looked like an idiot, I just wasted hours defusing a pie that was never armed…or something like that. You know what I mean.
This whole time it was some holiday that required that presence of pie. Then again all holidays would benefit from the addition to pie. I quickly ran to check my oversized fridge calendar to observe what national or obscure holiday that I had forgotten about. Nope…my birthday was still two months away…National Pie Day was last week (and what a great week that was) and Gratefulness Day was even further away than my birthday! The only holiday within reason was Tree Huggers Day, which was 2 days away. Not saying that pie wouldn’t automatically make that day cool; just seemed like an unlikely holiday to gift mystery pies to famous ponies.
I was running out of ideas. This was going to be my last ditch attempt to solve this mystery. I had no choice…there was only one thing left to do. I would have to *gulp* eat it. You would expect that I would use the same care and precision in actually eating the pie as I did in cutting the slice. But it was now well after midnight, my mental levels were less than zero. I had no time for games anymore and honestly death by pie would be my way to go. I would hold no regrets if my undoing was a pie. Plus my curiosity was finally getting the better of me; I just hope that curiosity only kills cats and not ponies. I haphazardly poured a glass of milk, grabbed a fork, and…
“And what?” Spitfire for once was actually seeming interested in this story she was so adamant about not wanting to hear to begin with.
“And then, I ate it!” Soarin’ stated in a chipper tone that suggested that this was an everyday occurrence.
“You ate it? Not knowing where it came from or who brought it or even if it was safe or not. You just ate it? Tell me, are you actually stupid or is this a new hobby of yours?” Spitfire was obviously not too happy about this, but Soarin’ couldn’t see what the big deal was.
“Well what would’ve you liked me to do? Throw it away? Heathen! Plus it obviously didn’t kill me; in fact it was quite awesome! Too bad I still don’t know who brought it”.
“Arrg Can we get back to practice now? You’ve managed to waste both of our time long enough”.
And with that the two resumed their physical activities…unaware of the lurking figure hiding in the bleachers. “Oh my gosh oh my gosh oh my gosh oh my gosh!!! Soarin’ liked my pie!! Note to self, remember to thank Applejack for the baking lessons”
