There was so much Pinkie was unprepared for.

Pinkie hurled on herself when she removed the towel and exposed herself to the gore within. The smell of the puke and chicken brains did not mix well, and Pinkie felt her stomach squirm. She couldn’t stand it, nor could she prepare food with dirty hooves. She took her kill with her and washed it off in the stream from earlier. The stream would be great not only to wash the meat, but also any blood that spilled on her fur.

Plucking took up too much time. Pinkie skipped this step to make the most of the limited time she had.

The next step was worse than anything she could have ever imagined. Pinkie had to take her knife and gut the chicken by cutting open the underside near its “vent,” then pulling out all of the organs. She ran into more problems.

The first was her knife. She had brought a baker’s knife. Unlike a butcher’s knife, her knife had a square end. Without the pointy end of a butcher’s knife, it was much harder for her penetrate the chicken’s flesh. She had to push and shove until the flesh gave way and the knife sank through and jutted out the other side. The knife was also ridged for handing bread, not smooth to handle flesh, and made cutting laborious. She hacked and pushed until she had a big enough opening to pull out the guts.

But that’s when the second problem hit her--the smell.

Putrid gas from ruptured organs rushed out of the body and smacked Pinkie in the nose. She turn her face towards the stream and vomited. She would never get used to the smell.

She continued hacking away, breaking bones, and peeling skin. Each squish and hack and slash seeped into her ear and dripped down into her stomach. Every few seconds, she would stop to dry heave and occasionally puke.

She continued this gruesome preparation for the next hour, skipping steps as she worked until she was just hacking meat from the bones, peeling off the skin and feathers, and tossing the chunks of meat into baggies and into the cooler. As soon as she had enough to fill a pie tin, she cleaned off her knife, chucked the bloody towel into the stream, and left the body to rot.

After getting what she came for, she rushed home. She didn’t have any time to lose.

---

She had less than an hour before Mr. Cake woke up at five. She scrambled up some premade pie dough, threw the pie together while the oven preheated, and then shoved it in the oven once it was done and set the timer.

She did it. She would have the pie done before Mr. Cake came down the stairs. All she would have to do would be take it out, keep it in the cooler to keep it warm, and give it to Prince Glut when he came. Then everything would be back to normal.

She wiped the sweat off her forehead and collapsed to one side. She started to drift off while taking long, relaxed breaths.

It’s over. You’ve done it, girl.

Then it hit her again. The smell.

While nowhere near as gut-wrenching, the smell of cooking meat still offended her nose. And what if Mr. or Mrs. Cake smelled it? They would get suspicious! What would she say? How could she hide this pie? If they kept asking her about it, she’d crumble and tell them. She knew she would. She had to do something and fast!

Then she remembered--grapefruit pies! Their smell would overpower that of the chicken’s. After pushing herself up, she put together two grapefruit pies, sprinkled them with extra cinnamon for the extra smell, and shoved them into the oven with the chicken pie.

“Woo-hoo,” she whispered and lifted her shaky forelegs up above her head before falling onto her back. She shut her eyes and fell asleep.

---

“Pinkie? Pinkie? What are you doing here?”

Pinkie moaned and squeezed her eyes shut. She felt as if she had galloped through the Running of the Leaves, not once but five times. She rubbed the sleepiness out of her eyes. It took for a few seconds for her vision to come into focus.

Above her stood Mr. Cake, still in his spotted pajamas. The light was on, but it was still dark outside. The underside of the clouds on the horizon were burned magenta. She looked back at Mr. Cake.

“Morning, Mr. Cake,” she said with a yawn.

“Yes, good morning, Pinkie.” Mr. Cake extended a hoof for Pinkie to latch onto. He pulled her up, and she wobbled in place. “What are you doing in the kitchen this early in the morning? Have you been cooking all night?”

Pinkie scrunched her face. “Huh? What do you mean?”

“Well--” Mr. Cake pointed to the counters of the kitchen “--everything’s an absolute mess. What have you been up to?”

She looked at where he pointed and gasped. The kitchen was an absolute mess. Flour was sprinkled everywhere, sticky globs of dough were splattered all over the counters and even on the ceiling, dirty utensils were cluttered in the sink, and her cooler was tipped over in a puddle of melted ice.

Oh goodness! How had she even made such a mess? Everything last night was a blur. There was something about books, Zecora, then she went to the Everfree Forest to…

Oh no, that wasn’t a dream.

Mr. Cake walked over to the oven and pulled on the handle. “And what is that smell? What are you cooking in here?”

Oh no!

Pinkie gasped, rushed to the oven, shoved herself between him and the oven. “Nothing! I- um- uhhh.”

Mr. Cake flinched and slowly put down his hoof. He leaned down to Pinkie’s level and looked her in the eyes. “Pinkie, are you alright? You don’t seem like yourself.”

Pressure built within Pinkie as Mr. Cake’s interrogation continued to bore into her. She had to say something. Anything. Just get him away from the oven for a few seconds.

“I-- um-- Did Mrs. Cake tell you about the gryphons yesterday?”

Mr. Cake pulled his face back a bit. “Yes, she mentioned that there was some commotion, but we didn’t get to ask you about what happened.”

The gears in Pinkie’s head went into overdrive. “Well, he didn’t like the grapefruit pie I baked him, so he asked for another pie, and I said yes! So I spent all night trying to make the perfect pie!”

Pinkie stopped and thought about what she said. Well, that is technically what I did.

Mr. Cake turned away from Pinkie and examined the mess again. “And then you made this mess?”

Pinkie scratched her cheek and chuckled. “Heh, yeah. Last night was… crazy.”

When he turned back to Pinkie, he had a relieved smile on his face. “Well, I’m glad you’re really trying your best to please the visitors, but don’t drive yourself crazy. It’s not anything worth getting so bent out of shape.”

Pinkie swallowed and looked away. The egg timer behind her dinged. “Hehe, yeah, sure. So… why don’t you get a cup of coffee while I clean up this mess?”

At the suggestion, Mr. Cake sighed and went to get the coffee grounds out of the cabinet on the opposite side of the kitchen. “Alright, Pinkie. Just be sure to wash up and take a nap afterwards. We’re going to need you bright-eyed and bushy-tailed for today.”

As soon as Mr. Cake turned his back, Pinkie grabbed the cooler, dumped out the excess water, grabbed a pan holder, opened the oven, and dropped the meat pie into the cooler, as well as two plates and some silverware. She slammed the lid on it and ran upstairs. “Will do, Mr. Cake! Just need to put this in my room!”

“Pinkie Pie, sometimes you let your emotions drive you crazy,” mumbled Mr. Cake as he pulled the tin of coffee out of the cabinet. He sniffed the air and shuddered. “Ech. I still think grapefruit pies is a bad idea.”

---

Much to Pinkie’s surprise, the Cakes bought her spur-of-the-moment tale. Even she was beginning to believe it herself. Good thing they never did question how, after a whole night of baking, Pinkie only had three pies to show for it.

The more she tried to remember last night, the more it seemed like a bad dream. She gave the countertops, the oven, and the ceiling a quick scrub down before jumping in the bath with Gummy and finally curling up in bed. The bath washed away the pain in her muscles, and the rest she so needed untangled the mental knots clogging up her brain. After an hour-and-a-half nap, she jumped out of bed just in time to catch the morning rush.

She felt fantastic. As if nothing was wrong in the world and all of her problems had been solved. Her fears of losing the Cakes and costing them their livelihood and home were a thing of the past. It didn’t take much for her to smile and give every customer their much-deserved enthusiastic service. The time flew by as Pinkie worked her heart out. She didn’t even bother to look at the clock to see what time it was. She wanted this to go on forever. A smile on everypony’s faces and a yummy in every tummy.

Then the door opened, and two gryphons sauntered in. That was when time froze.

Prince Glut, calm as ever, stopped just inside of the door, completely enveloped in his brute’s shadow, Grisly. He turned his head from left to right, silently judging every pony and pastry, until he saw Pinkie. He locked eyes with Pinkie and strutted toward her. His beak broke in two with a jagged smile.

“Good morning, baker,” he said.

She wouldn’t let him bring her down. She had done what he asked, and he couldn’t break his promise. Keeping the smile on her face, she greeted the pair. “Why, good morning to you, Prince Glut. Good morning, Grisly.”

Grisly stayed silent. The couple at a nearby table leaned away from the gryphons and tried not to look at them. Pinkie couldn’t blame them.

Glut raised a talon and inspected his claws.“I’m here to pick up my pie.”

“Righty-O. I’ve got it all ready for you!” She leaned in and whispered, “Meet me in the back.”

---

Pinkie Pie excused herself to run up to her room and retrieve the pie. She took the cooler through the kitchen and presented it to the gryphons. When she opened the cooler, the pent-up scent of the warm contents wafted out and into their faces. While the scent made Pinkie gag, the Prince and Grisly licked their beaks.

Pinkie reached in, grabbed a knife, and cut the pie, giving a plate with a slice to each of them. “Here you are! One meat pie, just like you wanted.”

Glut whiffed the slice and smiled. He extended an open claw and held it there. It took a moment for Pinkie to realize what he was asking for and put a fork in his claw. Grisly made no such request and took a big bite out of his slice.

Using his fork, Glut cut off a sliver of the pie, stuck it with his fork, and held it up to his face. He inspected it and looked at it from every angle before smelling it again. When he saw or smelled nothing wrong with it, he shoved the chunk of white meat in his mouth and chewed.

Pinkie had to look away. She had seen where the meat came from, and even if she didn’t, knowing full well what the gryphons were ingesting--the muscle tissue of a once living thing--was more than she could stomach.

Even so, she only kept her glances away short to not be rude. Grisly devoured his slice and was reaching in for seconds. The Prince, however, hadn’t even finished his first bite. He chewed slowly and rolled it around into every corner of his mouth. Finally, he let out an audible swallow and stared back at Pinkie. He wasn’t smiling.

“What meat did you use?”

Pinkie felt a shiver down her spine. “What? I used meat, just like you asked.”

“I don’t repeat myself.”

“What meat did you use?” grumbled Grisly. Bits of meat fell from his beak and onto his chest.

Pinkie jumped back. “Chicken! I used chicken! It was all I could get!”

The Prince lowered his face and glared at Pinkie with a snarl. “Chicken…” He hurled the plate at the wall, and it shattered into pieces. “Chicken is the food of commoners! For gryphons who don’t have the gold to pay for a real meal. You dare insult me by giving me commoner food!?”

Pinkie shrunk back into herself. Her mane sank to the ground. “But you said you wanted a meat pie, right? Didn’t it taste--”

“How it tastes is not what’s important!” Glut smacked the cooler aside and stomped up to Pinkie. “Go get me a grapefruit,” he growled.

Pinkie couldn’t stop shivering. “I’m sorry, what did--”

“I DON’T REPEAT MYSELF!”

That last holler didn’t help her. She looked around, everywhere she could to not look Glut in the eyes, until her eyes caught a glimpse of Grisly. He was slurping the last of the pie out of the tin when he saw Pinkie looking at him. He crushed the tin in his claw, dropped it, then snatched up Pinkie by the scruff of her neck with his monstrous claws. He pulled her up to his face. His foul breath blew through Pinkie’s fur and soaked into her skin. “The prince said, ‘Go get me a grapefruit.’”

Grisly dropped Pinkie and she bounced off the ground. She scrambled back up onto her feet and ran into the kitchen. Mr. and Mrs. Cake were still out front; was it possible they hadn’t heard what was going on? She prayed that there was an escape, a friend, something to pull her away. But she couldn’t leave. She was absolutely terrified of what would happen if she didn’t fulfill his request. The sooner she made him happy, the sooner he’d leave her alone. She grabbed a grapefruit from the refrigerator and ran back outside to the prince.

She held out the grapefruit. “Here you go!”

Glut snorted. “It’s ‘Here you are, YOUR HIGHNESS.’”

Pinkie squeaked in fright. “Hereyouare,YourHighness,” she blurted out.

“Better.” Glut plucked the grapefruit from Pinkie’s hooves and held it up to inspect it. “If memory serves me correctly…” He scratched his chin and hummed. “This grapefruit is, what, about the size of a pony chick’s head?”

Pony chick? Pony chick? …! He means ‘foal!”

“No!” screamed Pinkie. “Not the twins!”

Glut opened his eyes wide and smiled. “Oh, so there are two of them.”

Pinkie shoved her hooves in her mouth. Oh no. Oh no, oh no, oh no!

“You see, baker--” Glut raised his other claw and ran a single talon over the grapefruit. “--we had a promise.”

Pinkie pulled her hooves out of her mouth. “Yes, and I--”

“I DON’T LIKE TO BE DISTURBED!” Glut flared his wings and shoved Pinkie. She fell back on her rump and sank to her belly.

“Now, as I was saying. We had a promise that you would give me a good pie, not a mediocre one. So, you still haven’t kept your end of the promise. But I guess that’s my fault.” He held the grapefruit above his shoulder. Grisly took it. “This time, I’ll be more specific. Maybe you won’t screw up.”

Pinkie could do nothing more but nod. Her eyes burned and filled with tears.

Glut continued, “There’s been a meat I’ve always wanted to try. I’ve heard it’s one of the sweetest, most delectable treats in the world. So scrumptious that it’ll make your toes curl. I want you to get me this meat and make it into a pie. You understand?”

Pinkie nodded; her chin hit the dirt.

Glut stood over Pinkie and pushed his face close to hers. “I don’t hear you.”

“Yes, I understand,” said Pinkie.

“You didn’t answer correctly.”

Pinkie couldn’t stop shaking. “Yes, I understand, Your Highness.”

“Do you promise?”

“Yes, I promise, Your Highness!”

“Good,” he said as he took a step back. “ I am a prince who gets what he wants. Any being that angers me--be it gryphon, pony, or otherwise--gets punished. What I want you, baker, to do, is make me a pie, and I want the main ingredient to be pony meat.”

Pinkie froze. Her insides turned to ice as the words echoed in her ears. She looked up at Glut and opened her mouth to speak, but Glut interrupted her.

“Uh-uh-uh! You can’t say no, now. We made a deal, remember? You promised. Hoping you would fly, stabbing your eyes, and all that other nonsense.” He stepped aside to give Pinkie a clear view of Grisly. “You will keep your promise, or…”

Grisly crushed the grapefruit in his claw and dropped the remains on Pinkie’s head.

She lost control of her bladder. “You wouldn’t,” she whimpered.

“Oh, I would and I could,” he said with a sneer. “I get what I want, one way or another. And if you were to try to tell anyone, who would believe you? You are a lowly baker, and I am an honorable prince. Don’t forget your place, and don’t forget your promise. You have until eight tomorrow morning.” He turned around and walked away. “Do not disappoint me. I don’t like to be disappointed. Grisly, let’s go.”

Grisly followed the prince around the corner of the shop.

Pinkie cried. She cried softly, and then she cried loudly. She got up from the puddle she had left in the dirt and ran through the kitchen. Through the lobby and up the stairs to her room. She slammed the door and jumped into bed, bawling into a pillow.

She ignored all the ponies who called out to her.