Father's Day

“DUCK FOR COVER!”

    The pastry overhead sailed through the air as the room burst into chaos. Pinkie Pie had over turned the table to evade the edible missile without skipping a beat. The twins giggled in delight as there was a loud squelch from the impact upon the flipped tabletop.

     Mrs. Cake looked at the destroyed remains of the banana cream pie in the kind of slow shock of accepting a horrible reality. “Oh, no no  no no no no no.”

    “What’s the matter cinnamon bun?” The voice of the stunned mare’s husband came drifting from the kitchen, before his snout popped through the doorway with a fearful symmetry to his wife as to the crisis at hand.

    “How long until--”

    “Two hours!”

    “What about the twins?”

    “Oh dear oh dear oh dear oh dear.”

    Mr. Cake sighed, trying to keep his own hysterics under control as he readied his best voice of reason. “Now buttercup, you know that Cadance won’t fret over one missed pie…”

    “But we’ve never missed an order before! We’re not going to start with a Princess’ order?!” Mrs. Cake gave a wince at the toy she’d tripped on. Ever since the twins were born, life had been a hurricane of orders and parenting emergencies from start to finish. Not that she would trade it for anything Celestia herself could offer under her yellow sun, of course, but she had noticed the first stringy thin grey strands in her fluffy pink and white mane begin to take root.

    A bubbly voice announced its presence from behind the pair of panicking ponies cheerfully. “I could do it!”

     “Pinkie!” The Cakes said in unison, turning to see the party pony licking the table clean of banana.

    “Ift wouldn’tf be a probflem, Mft. Cake! I couldft bake the pfie with Mr. Cake wfille you lookft afffter the twfis!” She said through a mouthful of the topping. The Cakes exchanged a worried glance, before Mrs. Cake relented with a sigh.

    “Now Pinkie, you know this is a very special order, and we have to make sure Cadance is happy with what we’ve brought her…”

    “Yeppers! Don’t you worry a thing about it Mrs. Cake!” Pinkie began to drag Mr. Cake into the bakery unceremoniously, the corn colored stallion giving his wife a weak attempt at a reassuring grin. “I’m sure it’ll all work out!” Pinkie said as she shut the double doors to the entrance behind her. The sounds of kitchen being rearranged came wafting through as Mrs. Cake struggled to keep Pumpkin from gnawing on a miniature pink scooter.

    Eggs were the first thing that went into one of a pair of great bowls that Pinkie had placed onto the table. A twitch in her right leg told her to right it slightly to the left before a faint itch in her left fetlock forewarned her of the impending disaster at hand. She pulled the stool out of the way before Mr. Cake’s incoming faceplant into the eggs could occur, making sure he watched his step. With a flex she stretched herself to flick some sugar and flour into the other bowl from the counter top.

    “Careful Mr. Cake, we wouldn’t want you to take a tumble into a pie before Wrap Up Foals Day!”

The party pony had swivelled a cutting board onto the countertop as she did so, hunting about for a dash of vanilla.

   “Thanks Pinkie. Now how about we—“

    “Already on it!” Pinkie Pie sprang to the cupboards and whipped them open, grabbing the bananas within and peeling and cutting them in one fluid motion, letting their velocity carry them to the cutting board with a perfect trajectory.

    “That’s wonderful Pinkie. Now if we just—“ He was cut off by a pink bullet zooming to the cellar. “That’s odd.” The stallion mused, before chuckling at the thought. Who’d have thought Pinkie Pie would be acting strangely. Still, it had to be said that Pinkie did not like that cellar. She had only said that they—he could still remember the vague circle gesture she made with her hooves—had bad memories of the place. “I still can’t figure out why it’s called a hacksaw though.” She had concluded.

    The whirlwind that shot up from the storage space clutching a pound of butter and a milk carton did a good impression of Rainbow Dash, coming to a complete stop and pouring the liquid into the flour and sugar bowl and stirring about with a wooden spoon until the mixture had a good consistency. Mr. Cake had lit the stove’s burner, and without skipping a beat Pinkie held it over the flame. “You should have let me get that Mr. Cake. I always say if you can’t trust a pony with a gas stove, you can’t trust them with anything! A good pony always takes the cake and bakes it too. At least I think that’s how it goes.”

    “That’s quite alright Pinkie—“

    “ Mr. Cake, I think two minutes should be good don’t you? But what about two minutes and three seconds just to get that extra brown glow. OOOH, or maybe we want it a little softer because Cadance likes them all crumbly!”

    “Pinkie—“

    “I could go get Twilight while it gets hot and—she’s in Canterlot silly filly. Maybe I can get Mrs. Cheerilee to take count. Do you think she’d mind? I could grade papers! I’ve always wanted to use that little red stamp. I’d be all like, ‘good job everpony!’ and they’d be all like ‘what’d we do?’ and I’d be like ‘you’re only the most funerrific students in all of Equestria!’”

    “Pinkie—“

    “And the best part of being a teacher would be the chalk dust! The little cloud it makes is just the best the way it tickles your nose, right Mr. Cake? Maybe I could make cupcakes that shoot chalk dust! No! I’ll make chalk dust that shoots cupcakes! Quick Mr. Cake, I have a patent to make!”

    “Pinkie!” The bearer of the element of laughter stopped her tirade to look at him. She turned her head quizzically. “Yes Mr. Cake?”

    Mr. Cake opened his mouth to question the impossible equine, but words failed him. “Could you get the vanilla ready?” He offered lamely at last.

    “Sure thing Mr. Cake! I think I’ll let it brown a bit after all! I mean it is a special day for colts and I know Shining Armor likes them crunchy better even though he doesn’t like to party like Cadance and she likes pie better.” She began beating the egg yolks furiously, her smile spreading thin as she stretched its width.

    “I think they’ll love it Pinkie.” Mr. Cake tried to return the grin with something less dilute.

    “Oh I’m sure they will with you on the job Mr. Cake! But I just know there’s a difference between ‘mmm this is tasty’ and ‘oh my gosh this is the best pastry in all of Equestria!’ And since Shining Armor’s going to be a daddy soon we totally want him to be all ‘best pastry in Equestria!’ I mean it must have been nice being a father, but what about if you’d had pie there?! I’ve always said you can’t have the bestest day of all time without pie!”

    Pinkie moved the now well beaten eggs into the mixture, dashing it with vanilla and making sure the empty egg bowl flew into the sink with a loud clatter. With a frantic stirring Pinkie continued, Mr. Cake deciding to take a stool and sit down to watch. Pinkie squinted in concentration as she made sure the resulting mixture was perfectly smooth, giving the beleaguered store owner some time to think about what exactly was going on.

Pinkie Sense . That had been what she called it. That strange ability she had to know when something was about to happen. Of course she was no prophet; she’d had her share of slip ups. But she had never once failed to save the Cakes from a disaster like this before. Why now? He tried to trace her conversation patterns, but of course between patenting chalk dust cupcakes and trying to start up a moon colony of purple and white space lobsters he could never decipher half of what the pink mare said.

    He sighed. It had been a long day already. Between the scrambles to fill orders and the plans to take the night off for Pumpkin and Pound, it would have been even without the creak on the staircase at five in the morning jolting them both awake. Of course it had been nothing, no burglar or vandals come in the early hours to cause any harm, but it had been a bad start to a long day. Deciphering Pinkie was just too much at the moment.

    “I hope Mrs. Cake isn’t having too hard a time with the twins. They can be a hassle when you aren’t prepared for them. Hey Mr. Cake, what’s it like being a father?” The party pony poured the now finished mix into a pie tray and slid it into the awaiting oven. Mr. Cake had been waiting for the monologue to continue, but swiftly realized the question’s intent was not rhetorical.

    “Oh—I—well, it’s a lot of hard work, as you know. And sometimes you wish you had thought it out a little more beforehand. But in the end it’s the most wonderful thing in the world Pinkie.” He was happy to answer the mare’s questions, but her intensity was a little unwarranted. He inwardly shrugged. Pinkie Pie was just being Pinkie Pie, he supposed.

    “And I’m sure you know that the twins are a lot of worry, but it’s only a worry because they’re so special to—to me. I guess I’d say these have been the best days of my life. Why do you want to know?” Pinkie looked what could only be described as guilty for a moment. Did Pinkie Pie even get guilty?

    The magenta mare shuffled her hooves, staring at the floor. “It was just that I was wondering what it would be like to have a little foal one day.”

    “Oh. Oh! Well Pinkie I think you’ll make a fine mother. You do such a nice job with the twins,” Pinkie beamed at the praise, “so long as you make sure to know when it’s time to play and when they need their diapers changed.”

    “It’s just that I was thinking about Father’s Day. I was wondering if I would be a good mother, and if I’m—If I’m a good—Look the pie’s almost done!” She bounced over to the stove. She slipped on a pair of mittens and gently deposited the pie on the counter. Mrs. Cake burst into the kitchen, panic in her face.

    “Sugarbear! Pound’s flying again! We need to move the cakes on the counter—“she was stopped by Pinkie Pie colliding with her.

    “Oh Mrs. Cake I’m super-duper sorry! But don’t you worry I’m on it!” Before she could dash to the waiting disaster area Mr. Cake put a hoof on her shoulder.

“I think we can handle this one Pinkie.”

“But—“

“You just watch the pie. We wouldn’t want Shining’s Father’s Day to be ruined by some burnt pie, would we?” Mr. Cake thought he was catching on at last. Pinkie wanted more responsibilities.

    Pinkie gave an exaggerated salute and rigidly shifted to her post in front of the oven. The room out front wasn’t the sea of wrecked baked goods the cakes were expecting. While scattered toys and empty bottles were, as they had found out earlier that day, a hazard, Pound was a natural at controlling his wings. The room was free of broken plates and icing splatters for the moment. Nonetheless, the Cakes quickly decided to whisk the goods within smashing reach to the cupboards as Pound Cake soared above, giggling.

    Exhaling in relief, the Cakes exchanged a glance. “We won’t have time to finish the cake for Lyra and Bon Bon at this rate—“ Mrs. Cake began.

“Or the cupcakes Applejack ordered for those three fillies she looks after—“

“Which means we’ll have to find the time to cook it before tomorrow—“

“Which means we won’t get to spend the evening with the twins after all.”

    The pair sighed and looked up at the joy filled colt soaring around their ceiling. No time to spend filling his world with their love, just another day of putting food on the table. Mr. Cake glanced at the kitchen. Pinkie was watching the stove like a hawk—or griffon—he was sure. There were still, he checked the clock, ten minutes before the pie had to come out of the oven.

  Pumpkin squealed as she flew through the air between Cup Cake’s hooves, her mane streaming behind her from the momentum. Carrot Cake helped keep Pound’s tower of blocks from toppling over as he flew to place the last block on the precipice, the pile leaning dangerously until Mr. Cake nudged a block of his own to right it. Pound bashed the blocks to a crash landing on the floor around him, laughing at the mess his hoof had caused. “Alright Mr. Cake, looks like it’s ready to cool.” Mr. Cake sighed, unready to get back to baking so soon. But business was business and business must grow.

    “Pinkie, would you be a dear and get a flour bag from the cellar. I’m going to be busy setting up the extra ovens.” The bouncy earth pony opened her mouth, before she did a verbal double take.

    “Actually Mr. Cake, it might be a little heavy for me. You think you could come help me carry it?” Mr. Cake had seen the pony carry three bags on her back at a time. But it would save time to not argue, so he smiled and confirmed,

    “Sure thing Pinkie.” The basement was lit by an eerie glow, Mr. Cake noted with apprehension. He moved for the light switch, but Pinkie Pie simply nudged for him to walk down. He reached the foot of the stairs to watch the glow…candles? The lights flicked on, and Mr. Cake found the room dressed in the trappings the party pony was famous for. A group of boxes wrapped in colorful ribbons sat on the table alongside a huge table and a slab cake with the likenesses of Pumpkin and Pound on it. Happy Father’s Day was written in icing below the edible images. “Surprise!” Pinkie Pie shouted from behind him.

    “I got you a present too!” She bounced up and down, a shining hope in her eyes. The best part of a party was when the guest of honour found out about its existence. Mr. Cake smiled wearily.

    “Looks like a whole lot of presents to me.” He opened one up to humor her, though he really didn’t have the time. The box fell back to reveal a sugary pastry, glazed over with icing in green, pink and navy blue. “Pinkie…” Mr. Cake began gently. “You know we don’t need more cakes around. I’m very touched you made one for me, but—“

    “That’s not your cake, silly!”

Mr. Cake was baffled.

    “Oh…” He laughed internally at the hint of disappointment in his voice “then whose cake is it?”

    “Lyra and Bon Bon’s, duh!” Pinkie made it sound like the most obvious idea in the world.

“Then what are all these?”

“Your present!”

“But that one’s for Lyra and Bon Bon!”

    “Yeppers! These are all for other ponies! This,” she waved her hooves in a circle around the cluster, “is for you!” The weight of what Pinkie Pie had done hit him all at once.

    “Pinkie I—you didn’t have to do this…” He began, a warm feeling rising in his chest.

    “Sure I did! Everypony should get time to spend with his son  and his daugh—daughte—“ Pinkie fumbled on the last part. Everything clicked into place for Carrot Cake, his eyes going wide and shining in realization. The baking with him, the stairs’ noise at the crack of dawn, the failure of the Pinkie sense, the wanting to know about having a family. Pinkie Pie was trying to tell him, in her Pinkie way--

“…Daughters.” He finished for her, pulling her into a hug. He glanced down at her, “how long ago did you get up to do this?”

“Since three.” She looked a little sheepish.

“Pinkie Pie! You didn’t have to do all this. You’ve always been family to us. If you wanted to spend time with us and the twins, you should’ve just—“

“It was more fun this way.” Pinkie Pie replied with a wide smile.

“Butterscotch, come down here…” Corn Cake called up to his wife.

“Oh hey Rainbow Dash! You here for a bite to eat?” The party pony questioned as she and the Cakes cleaned up a spill from Pumpkin’s milk bottle.

Rainbow scratched her head nervously.

“Nah, I was just wondering if maybe you’d seen Applejack. She sort of ran off…”

Pinkie Pie looked concerned for a moment. “Everything alright?”

“Of course. She’s just blowing off steam. Besides, the best flier in Equestria’s sure to find her anywho!” Dash puffed out her chest. “Anyway, you wanna hang out this evening? I’m going to be down in Ponyville proper for most of the day and…”

“Oh no thanks Dashie. I mean I’d really really love to any other day, but today I think I’m gonna spend time with my family.” She looked over to where Pumpkin was happily sucking on a freshly refilled bottle of milk, Cup and Corn Cake smiling up at her.

In spite of herself, Rainbow couldn’t help but give a grin at the scene. Maybe I’ve got more than one family to look out for . She thought to herself as she slipped out the door to chase after Applejack.