Brumble, Grumble.
Anon's stomach brumbles and grumbles.
Anon's stomach hunger.
Oh, so hunger and needs nourishment. No mortal could resist such a primal desire, as alleviating this agony brings such pleasures that border between bland reality and bright fantasy.
Only one of Granny Smith's famous warm, golden, buttery, flakey pies would do the trick—oh yes, one of the most succulent sweet pies. Sweet, sweet pies.
Oh, how sweet that pie would taste on his tongue. Their mind was set on getting a slice of apple, caramel, honey, and cinnamon Pie-radise—yes, even if it cost them an arm, a leg, and a few lives in the process.
They vowed to HAVE THAT SLICE.
Moving stealthily through the orchards while evading the natural afternoon sunlight to prevent a shadow from casting and attracting the guardian of their target, Anon maneuvered between the trees with all the grace of a gentle galloping deer and the agility of a nimble hopping hare.
Although the skies were clear and the sun shone brightly as the afternoon arrived, the silhouettes from the apple orchards helped conceal Anon's already obscure figure. Anon picked up a sweet, alluring scent wafting through the air, directing them.
As they approached his target's location, their breathing became slightly erratic, and it was quite audible that even a fly on the wall could hear them from a mile away.
Stealth was never klutzy Anon's repertoire.
"Anon, what in tarnation are ya doing?" A sudden voice said, causing Anon to leap in the air and land on the ground, bottom first.
"CHEESES CRUSTS, ARE YOU TRYIN' TO GIVE ME A HEART ATTACK!?" Anon yelped as they grasped their chest, forcing it to stop rapidly beating their heart. Turning around, they saw the pie maker herself. This was nothing but a minor bump in the road for their plans for pie.
"Sorry about that, Anon, but you were acting like you were up to something, rolling between the trees and humming some sort of tune like you were on one of those spy missions or whatnot." Granny Smith said, eyeing the poor guy who was still clutching his chest.
"Apology accepted." Anon stood up easily, towering over the elderly mare. "Has anyone ever said that you are stealthy yourself?" That received a smirk from the elderly mare's maker of pie. "Did you happen to make any pie while you were here?"
"Ahh, dat's why yer sneakin' 'round. Sly feller, ain'tcha." The pie maker, Granny Smith, eyed up Anon really well. "Ya still gotta wait til it's cooled off like everypony else, Sugarcube."
"And how long will that take?" Anon asked, hoping the answer would be by the time they reached the door. Unfortunately for our pie-loving hero, the news he was about to get would rock him to his very stomach. "In about half an hour or so."
"NOOOOO." Anon mentally screamed, but an idea struck him: What if they tried sweet talking? The elderly mare actually said, "Well, that's a shame. I was hoping to try your wonderful cooking."
The pie maker, clearly seeing through Anon's master plan, cuts him off, "Don't even Think about buckaroo; you gotta wait like everypony else."
Anon felt like they had been Duped, Bamboozled, hay, and maybe even Smeckledorfed, which isn't even a word, but many would agree.
Clearly, this old mare had experienced a trick or two in her old age, but new tricks were always being discovered, and she anticipated all of them like some sort of fortune teller. Anon just had to concoct one trick that even a certain eccentric pink party Earth pony or pure chaotic deity Draconequus could not match its unexpected factors.
"I see. I guess I've been sniffed out this time, but I will return."
A small smirk appeared on Granny Smith's wrinkly face.
"Ya sure ya want this challenge, ya Youngone? Ah been playin' this game a whole heck a lot longer than ya." The elderly farmer said with much enthusiasm as if she were reliving a nostalgic moment from her younger days.
Anon thuds their chest with pride and says, "For fresh pie, no challenge, obstacle or opponent is too significant and detrimental. FOR PIE!" With those words said, Anon booked it for the pie. They needed to reach it before the old had called in reinforcements; otherwise, they would be up a creek without a paddle, or at least a paddle with holes in it.
"BIG MAC," and here came the big red whopper of a problem that Anon was worried about five seconds ago. It is now galloping very quickly approaching—way too quickly for Anon's liking.
Thud, Thud, Thud, "BIG MAC, THIS DOESN'T CONCERN YOU!" Anon shouted as they doubled their speed towards the house. They could see the pie in the window, which was only a few feet away from them. "GO BUCK A TREE OR SOMETHING! YOU CAN USE THOSE BUCKED APPLES TO BAKE INTO A NEW PIE!" He shouted at the big stallion , "Almost the-GAAAH" .
All of Anon's hopes and dreams were crushed under a big red horse. No, Anon didn't care. The hulking lumox was actually a pony. More specifically, a stallion. The dude pony was thicker and heavier than some actual horses Anon had seen back through photographs on Earth.
"Ya might be quicker than me, ya whipper snapper, but ya ain't even on the same leagues as my grandson. Hehehehe." Granny Smith cackled mischievously while the poor pieless Anon had their ribs crushed by a stallion made of three hundred pounds of solid, hardworking farmer muscles on their back.
Luckily, the stallion was merciful enough not to squeeze the life of Anon's feeble body with his thick, apple-bucking hind legs. A Blessing for the pie-snatching Anon and a Taunt for those who desire to experience that display that young ones are not permitted to know and only a small sort of mature eccentrics would enjoy.
"Piiiiie!"Anon wheezed out as they wiggled as much as he could, clawing at the dirt, straining with all their might and desperation to reach the pie. Just mere feet away.
Granny Smith and Big Mac looked at each other with knowing expressions and carefully allowed Anon to inch closer to the pie lest he hurt himself... again. Over the next few minutes, as the pies cooled, the poor human inched closer, seemingly unaware of the time passing, until Granny Smith gave Big Mac the signal to let him up.
Out of breath, worn out, and tired from dragging themselves through the dirt, Anon got up to look Big Mac in the eye as they grabbed the pie off the window ledge and wandered off to have his victory in the form of pie.
