Stone Cold Pt. 1

>”Just put those anywhere, dear.”
Sure thing, Mrs. Cake.
>You hoist the heavy sacks of flour off your shoulders and onto the floor in the back room.
>After you return upright and wipe your brow, you await your next order.
>The whole bakery smells of yeast and sugar; it’s enough to make the few moments you have to rest even sweeter.
>”Oh, Anon…could you help Mr. Cake stir this batter while he preps these cookie sheets?”
>You nod at your boss.
>The older pony has such a polite way with ordering you so that you’re always busy doing something, always having your hands full.
>You arch your back to again regain your former shape.
No problem, I’ll be right there.
>You take your time getting to the other end of the shop. Usually you aren’t this busy, but the bakery business fluctuates it seems.
>You make your way to the front and start greasing the pans with Mr. Cake while he finishes mixing the dough.
>These ponies put a lot of effort into their craft without the aid of hands. Maybe that’s why they work you so hard…
>”Ah, thanks for the help, Anon. I’m almost ready to put these in the oven.”
>Mmm… white chocolate macadamia nut, your favorite.
>You pick up a wooden spoon and aid Mr. Cake in splatting the cookie dough onto the sheets.
>It’s nearly the end of the day, which is good because you’re really starting to become exhausted. You’ve really had to kick yourself into overdrive today.
>As you start sliding the trays into the oven, you wonder to yourself:
>Where is Pinkie today? She’s usually pretty ecstatic to help you bake for the week’s cookie cravers.
>You shrug it off in your mind as you slip off your oddly-shaped pony oven mitts.
>Sugar Cube Corner soon fills with the delicious scent of leavening bread and icing once more.
>Mrs. Cake approaches you with a concerned look as you prepare another tray for the oven.
>You look up from the plopped dough.
Hi, Mrs. Cake…is something wrong?
>”Oh, Anon, I can’t seem to find our cookbook anywhere! The red one with the gold lettering, have you seen it?”
>While it seems odd that the owners of a bakery would need a cookbook after so long, they have been filling a few orders that are a little more extravagant than their usual pink frosted cupcakes and yellow pound cakes today.
>You ponder, but you can’t help your boss.
Sorry Mrs. Cake, I don’t think I’ve seen it anywhere.
>She sighs in frustration.
>”Oh…I really do need that book to finish this platter I’m working on.”
>She puts her hoof to her chin and thinks for a while.
>”I’m sure Pinkie has a copy in her room upstairs. Go look, will you Anon?”
>It somehow doesn’t surprise you that Pinkie would hoard a cookbook in her room.
>But for what purpose?
>You blush a little and gulp before responding to your boss.
A-are you sure it’s okay?
>Mrs. Cake brushes your concern aside.
>”Of course, Anon… it will only take a minute.”
>You reply hesitantly.
Eh, s-sure. I’ll be right back.
>To be honest, you aren’t surprised the Cakes have let Pinkie live in the attic of Sugar Cube Corner, given the amount of time she spends there.
>Except for today…for some reason today she’s mysteriously absent from her home.
>Nevertheless, you slowly climb the stairs to her room.
>The mahogany steps creak as you climb them before ending up in front of the mare’s bedroom.
>Streamers and deflated balloons are taped to Pinkie’s bedroom door.
>There’s no doubt that this is the correct room.
>You knock on the door a few times; you don’t want to intrude, although you already feel a little uncomfortable entering her room without her knowledge.
>But you can’t turn your back on your boss…
>Nobody responds to your inquiry.
>You slowly crack the door open.
Hello…? Pinkie? Is anyone in there?
>…
>No answer still.
>You slowly creep into the pink mare’s dark quarters, slightly nervous that she could pop out at any time and throw confetti everywhere.
>However, after you fling the door open in one quick thrust you see that the room is vacant.
>A small wave of relief passes over you; you aren’t one for surprises.
>Now to look for that book…
>You open the curtains to let a little light into the dim room.
>A quick survey of the room’s contents: a bed, a dresser containing Pinkie’s party cannon, and a calendar by the door in a striking pink color.
>You continue scanning the room. It’s a complete mess; cupcake wrappers, frosting tubes, sucker sticks, and dishes litter the floor surrounding Pinkie’s trashcan.
>Pinkie’s nightstand has a tower of bowls with old ice cream crusted to the bottom of them…
>And the cookbook you came up for under them.
>Finally.
>You gently try to lift the leaning tower of bowels off the leather-bound cooking manual.
>A quick exertion and they lift like a feather, probably due to all of them being fused together from all the extra sugar she likes to put with her treats.
>You brush the cover off and start to head for the door. Luckily there aren’t any stains on the book.
Ah, that was easy.
>It’s only then as you leave the room you notice a small sticky note attached to Pinkie’s calendar.
>”October 9th - Maud comes!”
>The note is dotted with smiley’s and little balloon drawings.
>Maud.
>You ponder who that may be. That’s today’s date.
>Maud.
>What a strange name…
>You shrug. It’s probably nothing, you just want to return to work and get the day finished with.
>After handing the book back to Mrs. Cake she returns to her platter and you resume your cookie operation.
>”Thank you, Anonymous! You saved the day.”
>You grin slightly.
Hardly…you’re welcome.
>Nothing’s too difficult for you to master here at Sugarcube Corner.
>The wooden spoon is pulled from the thick dough and thrust to release it onto the cookie sheet. You really miss electric mixers…
>At least you’ll get toned forearms…girls like that.
>Splat. Splat. Splat.
>Tiny malformed mounds of flour, sugar, and chocolate dot the metal tray as you slide it into the oven and retrieve the finished cookies from the same rack.
>The bakery is a well-oiled machine today.
>You take a moment to breath and get a glass of water from the back room.
>You rinse out a milky measuring cup and fill it a little over the one-third cup line.
>Standing next to an oven all day really takes the moisture out of your system.
>You gulp your water down, still not feeling completely relaxed.
>Why is that?
>Besides being a little overworked by the smiling Cake slave drivers, the note on Pinkie’s calendar keeps coming to mind.
>Another glass of water.
>You recall Pinkie being slightly more excited about something a few days ago, but it’s really hard to tell with her. If she broke her leg, she’d be excited the whole way to the hospital thinking about what color she’d want her cast to be.
>That thought makes you laugh into the inside of the cup as you pour the remaining water down your throat.
>Still, you think she’d tell you personally that she was going to be gone…seeing how she’s not one to miss whenever there’s a big order like this.
>Someone has to lick all these bowls clean…
>Oh well, the day is almost over…better get back to your cookies so they don’t burn.
>After finishing splattering the remaining dough onto the tray, you pop the last batch of cookies into the oven.
>Mrs. Cake walks over to you.
>”Oh, Anon, these are perfect! Thank you so much for your work today.”
>You take her words as a sign that it’s quitting time and start pulling your apron over your head.
It was no problem.
>Mrs. Cake smiles nervously. She’s subtly apologizing for having a heavy workload today.
>Now’s your chance.
By the way, where is Pinkie Pie today?
>Your boss lifts her head from inspecting your cookies.
>”Oh, didn’t she tell you?”
>You honestly can’t remember.
>She can tell my your poorly hidden confusion on your face that you’re lost.
>”Oh, well Pinkie went to the train station today to welcome her older sister here. She’s staying for the weekend and she just wanted to make sure she was settling in here just fine.”
>So. Pinkie has an older sister? The thought of that sends a chill down your spine.
>Pinkie is a little…hard to ignore at times. She means well, but you’re the kind of person who enjoys his quiet time. She’s a good worker and funny at times, but you generally keep to yourself.
>That’s probably why you chose not to stay here at Sugarcube Corner at the insistence of your employers. You, unlike Pinkie Pie, can’t stand smelling sugar and bread 24/7.
>Mrs. Cake continues happily.
>”Oh, she’s a very kind mare…she’s in school studying and visits her younger sister whenever she can.”
>Mrs. Cake seems to mean well, and maybe Maud is nice, but on the other hand you don’t think you could handle another Pinkie…
She seems nice.
>You hang your apron up.
Do you want me to put these cookies away?
>”No, that’s alright, Anon, I’ve got it. You’ve done more than enough for today…go home and get some rest. We’ll see you tomorrow.”
>At least it’s over for today.
Okay, I’ll see you tomorrow then.
>Mr. Cake stands next to his wife as he thanks you for a good job today. As you leave the shop he calls out to you.
>”Hopefully Pinkie will be able to help tomorrow!”
>You’re too beat to reply, and simply nod and wave goodbye to them.
>Your home is across town. It’s a small two room shack, all you could afford on your cookie money.
>Not to say the Cake’s didn’t offer a room to you, but you like your solidarity and peace.
>As lonely as it may be at times…
>Working with Pinkie Pie is one thing, but having to sleep across the hall from her is something else.
>Again, she’s nice…but a little too much to handle at times.
>The sky becomes more orange, the sun will be setting in an hour or so.
>You decide to get some quick groceries before the markets close.
>Most of the vendors are starting to pack up their carts.
>Luckily the Apple family is still selling their wares. Good thing, you feel the need to offset all the sugar you’ve been surrounded with all day with some fruit.
>You approach the cart and fish out some bits from your pocket. There’s also a little pain in your right foot. Maybe it’s from standing all day.
>”Howdy, Anon. What’ll be?”
>You place the coins on the stall and look over Applejack’s selection of apple products. Delicious tarts, tangy juice, apple butters, and of course single fruits.
>You mull over your options.
Hmm…I’ll have a red delicious and…
>You look around.
Do you have any cider brewed?
>Applejack smiles at you and turns around to retrieve a bottle from a cabinet in the bottom part of the cart.
>Without a second thought she places the brown bottle of cider on the counter.
>”Long day I reckon?”
>Applejack certainly isn’t a stranger to a strong drink after a long day. Although the alcohol isn’t the only reason you came to her rather than a bar.
>Even though the Apple Family brews their cider stronger and they dash it with a little bit of cinnamon that you absolutely love.
>You slide over your six bits to the orange pony.
>”Thank ya kindly, Anon.”
>You pick up the small apple and begin polishing it on your shirt.
No problem, AJ.
>You stick around for a moment after noticing no one else is behind you in line.
>Applejack notices this and acts on it.
>”Somethin’ else on yer mind?”
>You sigh lowly.
Yeah, actually there is.
>She tilts her brows inwards and moves closer.
>”What is it, Anon?”
>Maybe you’ve overplayed the scenario. Applejack looks a little too concerned for your simple problem.
It’s nothing too severe. Just that…well…
>Why is this such a big deal? Just spit it out.
Well, Pinkie wasn’t at work today because she was picking up her sister. Is she li-
>Applejack’s eyes squint as she tilts her head at you.
>”Are y’all talkin’ about Maud?”
>No real surprise that she’s been acquainted with her friend’s older sibling.
Yes, actually. I was wondering if she’s…
>Crazy. Loud. Spontaneous. Obnoxious.
Like Pinkie is.
>Applejack snorts and kicks the dirt in laughter.
>”Nah, Anon. If that’s what’s yer worried about, I’d say you’ll be sleepin’ pretty peacefully tonight.”
>Applejack’s words are vague but somehow comforting.
Really? Well then…
>You put on a slightly optimistic smile as you leave the apple stall. You take the now shiny apple from your shirt and stuff it into your pocket as you trudge back towards your home.
>What were you worried about? No one could be as nearly wacky as Pinkie Pie…probably not even her siblings.
>You breathe a sigh of relief as you pop open your cider.
>The gentle cinnamon on your tongue and the tart apple juices slowly flow down your throat and in four gulps, the bottle is empty.
>The foot pain is still there. What gives?
>You see a trashcan ahead and after taking a few tingly steps, try to toss the glass into the receptacle.
>However, you miss and it lands a foot from it.
>You grumble and bend down to get it.
>”Hey, Anon! Get a second job picking up trash?”
>Her voice always shocks you.
No, Pinkie…I just missed.
>”Oh. Well it’s never too late to change careers! Just remember, being a garbage man isn’t hard, you just pick it up as you go along!”
>The glass hits the bottom of the barrel.
 Yeah, I’ll remember that.
>You turn around to find the pink pony with her hoof to her mouth trying to stifle her laughter. It wasn’t that bad of a joke but you make sure to smile on the inside.
>Pinkie relinquishes her laugh and turns it into a wide smile; an almost apologetic smile.
>”Oh, Anonny…sorry I wasn’t at work today, I wanted to make sure Maud got here on time!”
>Speaking of which, there’s no one around her.
It’s uh, okay. I got most of the work done today.
>Pinkie’s ear perk up a little.
>”Did you make cakes today, or..?”
Cookies; all day…
>She closes her eyes and bounces in one place.
>”What kind? Double super triple fud-“
Macadamia nut.
>Without missing a beat she replies.
>”Healthy food, huh? Boooring!”
>Healthy?
I guess so.
>You scan the area around you and Pinkie. Where is her sister? You feel weird…a part of you wants to meet Maud, but another part of you dreads it.
>You try and stay positive.
So…I take it she didn’t make it?
>A little too positive.
>”Who?”
>You blankly reply.
Your sister…
>”Huh? Oh! Maud? Silly...of course she did! She’s waaayy back there!”
>Pinkie bounces up on her forelegs and uses her back legs to point behind her.
>But you see nothing…just the setting sun.
>Pinkie eagerly turns around and leans forward to shout into the sunset.
>”Come on, Maud! Over here!”
>Pinkie’s shrill call echoes throughout the dimming town of Ponyville.
>Still nothing; no response, no pony…
>You slowly question Pinkie’s sanity again as you put your flat hand on your brow.
Uh, I don’t see her…
>A few gentle hoofsteps come from behind you.
>”Hello.”
>A tiny voice emanates from your side.
>You slowly look down at the gray mare clad in an even duller gray frock.
>Is it a frock or a tunic? Is there even a difference?
Uh…hello…?
>”Yes.”
>The mare blinks slowly, showing off her blue-violet eye shadow.
>”Hello.”
>Pinkie quickly jumps and trots next to the gray pony and squeezes her tightly.
>”Anononymous! I’d like you to meet my older sister, Maud!”
>Pinkie quickly produces a few hooffulls of confetti out of nowhere and throws them above her and her sister.
>Maud seems unfazed at her sister’s celebration. She slowly shakes her arrow-straight mane and lets the colored paper fall from her bangs.
>Pinkie holds her introductory pose as you and Maud lock eyes.
Uh…
>You already said hello.
How do you do…?
>Maud briefly looks to the corner of her eye and cocks her head back as if to briefly ponder the answer.
>”I do fine.”
>…
>What do you even say to that?
That’s…good.
>Is she mad or something? She’s stonewalling you.
>…
>The silence between you and Maud is like a mile high concrete slab; inescapable and impossible to ignore.
>Luckily Pinkie steps in.
>”Maud’s going to be staying with me for the weekend! Isn’t that awesome?”
>Pinkie is on fire with excitement, Maud’s stare is ice cold, and you’re stuck somewhere in the middle like lukewarm water.
>You smile to try to make the pink pony’s boundless enthusiasm seem worthwhile.
Yeah, heh…that sounds like a good time.
>Pinkie squeels.
>”Ah! Isn’t he considerate, Maud? He’s the bestest human I’ve ever met!”
>She’s met more than just you?
>Pinkie whispers into her sibling’s ear just loud enough for you to hear too.
>”And he’s siiingle!”
>Her words jar you.
>The solemn pony responds to her sister’s tease at your expense.
>”I can see that. He’s standing alone.”
>Nothing seems to get passed Maud Pie; master of deduction.
>Pinkie snorts at the comment. Surely she took it as a joke.
>”No, silly pie! I MEAN, he doesn’t have a marefriend!”
>Well she didn’t have to put it so bluntly…
>Maud seems to widen her eyes ever so slightly. If you weren’t looking directly at her, you might have missed it.
>Not that you’re dying to have one of these friendly mares as you girlfriend, but you wouldn’t mind it either.
>You feel a little defensive and embarrassed.
H-hey…I could have someone if I wanted to…
>You kneel back down and untie your shoe and remove it, all the while you can feel Maud’s icy stare pierce you.
>The pain is too much. You shake your shoe until a small pebble flies out and lands on the ground in front of her.
>Maud stares at the small rock for a few moments before lazily looking back to your shoe as you retie it.
>Pinkie interjects,
>”Anonny! Your foot spit out a pebble!”
What?
>You look over to see Maud slowly inching her face toward the little annoyance from your shoe.
>So that’s what it was.
>The gray mare is now a mere inch from the small rock on the ground.
>For once Pinkie seems bemused and quiet, you are as well.
>The two of you watch Maud as she looks at the rock, slowly blinking and examining it.
>…
>Still examining it.
>It’s seems like forever until she finally speaks to you.
>She picks up her head.
>”Do you know what this is?”
>You’re seriously confused at the question.
Uh, yeah…it’s a rock.
>There seems to be a glazed dazzle in her turquoise eyes as she takes a single step closer to you.
>”I like rocks.”
>Okay, you’re making a little progress.
Yeah, rocks are…cool.
>Well that just flew out.
>The stone pony’s mouth seems to open at your statement.
>”Yes.”
>The sparkle in her eye seems to have grown ever so slightly.
>This is turning strange.
Well…I need to be getting home.
>Maud’s eyes resume their dim look.
>”Okay, Anon! Sleep super duper well tonight and I’ll see you tomorrow!”
>You casually wave goodbye to the two sisters as you each go your separate ways.
>The whole moment was surreal. Maud sure is…totally unlike Pinkie Pie.
>You glance back over your shoulder at the departing mares.
>Just as you do, you see Maud lock eyes with you.
>Her dull, slow blink is only accompanied by two equally dull words directed to you.
>”Goodbye, Anonymous.”
>You take the apple from your pocket and start walking to your home.