Wakey, wakey, miss Pinkimena!
Pinkimena Diane Pie yawned and sleepily opened her right eye, quickly closing it again as the sun's rays blinded her. Groaning, she rolled over, her pink mane sliding across her face and hanging down, concealing most of her face like a curtain. She pushed it aside with a sluggish hoof and yawned again, slowly raising her body up into a sitting position like she'd seen one other pony in town use when sitting on a park bench, her forehoofs propping herself upright. She licked her lips, tasting the stale flavor of the meal she'd eaten the previous night and then yawned once more, this time rolling herself over so that she rolled right off her bed and into a standing position on the floor, all hoofs flat.
Pinkimena first went into her bathroom and brushed her hair once more to one side; it was a tangled mess in some places, and quickly fell back in the way of one of her eyes, leaving only one to see the world in front of her. Pinkimena stopped in front of her bathroom sink and mirror first reached for the mouthwash, not sparing her reflection more than a brief glance. She knew what she looked like, after all, and it wasn't pleasant. She dumped a few capfulls of the spearmint liquid into her mouth and swished it about a few times before finally spitting it out into the sink and heading for the shower.
The hot water felt good in her short fur as it soaked down to her skin and washed the remains of the previous night's works from her body. Sometimes her work was draining even for her, but somepony had to do it.
Her shower finished, Pinkimena stepped out and reached for a towel. It was one of her own design, and was as soft as a Pegasus-down pillow. She would know that, as she'd made one of those too a few weeks ago with help from a friend.
Pinkimena smiled at the memory of that day- the feathers fell to the floor as she pulled them from Fluttershy's wings one after another, her friend occasionally squeaking if she applied a little too much pressure to her tool of choice. It had been long, tedious work, but then, all things worth having took care and work to achieve.
She tossed the towel onto the growing wet-towel pile beneath the only window near the toilet, and then exited.
I suppose I'll have to wash those towels in a few days. What with the Cakes being gone, all the daily chores fall on my shoulders now! Pinkimena thought as she exited her bathroom and made her way downstairs to the silent kitchen and slightly-dusty customer waiting area. She'd closed the Sugarcube Corner early the previous night before her private nightly activities, and was not planning on opening it just yet. There were several things that needed to be done before that could happen, the primary of which preparing and eating her breakfast.
Pinkimena walked from the waiting and dining room to the kitchen, making a beeline for the refrigerator, and and pulled out one of her meal's ingredients and set it on the counter, and then took two steps to the left and rose on her hind legs to open a cabinet and remove a small bowl from one of the shelves. This she set down next to the carton of liquid, and then she headed for the basement where the main course of her meal awaited her.
Sparing only half a second to make sure no one was watching, as it seemed that at times Derpy shared her rare ability of appearing at the most unlikely of times and places (even when doors and windows alike were locked), Pinkimena opened the door and headed down the steps. After a few moments of walking in the darkness she pulled down a cord-light chain and a single bulb filled the room with a dim glow that became dimmer as she walked further from it. I really need to replace that light bulb one of these days! Pinkimena thought with a frown as she walked over to a wheeled tool table half as tall as she was and lifted a large stainless steel scooping spoon with a sharpened (by her) edge and turned grinning to her latest victim lying on her personal work table. Grinning like a madpony, she stabbed the spoon into the remains of the previous night's victim and then lifted it and the spoon with her front legs to carry it upstairs, only to realize that there was little point in carrying it upstairs to only carry it back down again when she'd had her fill.
Frowning a little at this oversight, she returned both things to the work table and trotted back upstairs.
Now that she had all her needed ingredients and implements, Pinkimena once more took hold of the spoon and, after clearing her throat to as if preparing to sing to a non-existent audience she once more grinned crazily and stabbed the spoon into the form in front of her, savoring the sound of her tool gliding through the inner body of her breakfast to be until she obtained a full scoop of the red guts, and then raised it up and out again. She dumped the contents into her bowl and then did the same thing two more times until she was satisfied with the bowl's fullness (though she did remove one small bit and toss it back from whence it had come for later). Smiling to herself and nodding satisfactorily, she removed the cap from the liquid-holding carton and poured a generous amount of the contents onto her meal-to be. She waited a few moments for the white liquid to soak into the contents of the bowl, and then returned to her tool table for another spoon, this one crafted for the more mundane use of eating.
She examined her breakfast from a few inches away with one wide eye and a critical gaze, and then, satisfied that it had been satisfactorily rehydrated, lowered her regular spoon into it and scooped up some of the soggy food and placed it in her mouth. Pinkimena held it there for a moment, savoring the taste, and then tugged the spoon back out of her mouth from between her lips and chewed, some of the drier bits crunching in her teeth. She swallowed, waited for her first bit of food to settle, and then repeated her previous actions, but with less savoring and more eating.
The white liquid became increasingly tainted with the color red as it was stirred about by the motions of Pinkimena's spoon and the shifting of her slightly-stale meal. Pinkimena noted this and chuckled a little before lifting the bowling and pouring what little remained into her mouth directly, her throat bulging a little with each gulp, and a tiny bit of the now-red liquid leaking out of the corners of her mouth and running down her face, leaving slightly-darker lines of pink running down her face and part of her neck.
When the bowl was empty she carried it back upstairs and, like the spoon, placed them in the sink to be washed at a later time. She returned to the basement briefly to turn out the light, and then left it one last time and shut it up and tightly locked it to prevent any nosy ponies from seeing something they shouldn't.
Nopony will ever find you, my precious stash of cherry-berry cereal! You are mine to devour, and mine alone! She laughed in an over-dramatic super-villain way, and then started preheating the oven and setting out various baking utensils before trotting out of the kitchen and over to the shop's door to declare via window-sign that they were open for business. The Cakes would not be back from their family trip until sometime around noon, so with them gone, the task of feeding everypony's early-morning tummy-grumbles fell to her!
“Let's get bakin'!” the local cereal killer triumphantly trumpeted, and began furiously mixing up a batch of baked goods.
