Burgertime


                                            >You shiver, staring at the small, wrapped package of raw beef sitting quietly on your counter.

                                            >You've been fully expecting it to leap towards you, shrieking, at any second.

                                            >Under your shaky but vigilant gaze, it has yet to move, but...

                                            >Dead animal.

                                            >There's a dead animal in your kitchen. On your counter!

                                            >Overwhelmed with trepidation, you shut the world out and and sink your head into your soft, yellow hooves.

                                            >Was this really worth it? Would it even work?

                                            >On "overhearing" what Anon's favorite food was, you figured it would be easy enough to just whip up whatever a "cheeseburger" was and win him over.

                                            >Applejack always said the way to a stallion's heart was through his stomach.

                                            >You had tried more literal, pharmaceutical, implementations of Applejack's advice in the past, but this would be your first attempt at a burger.

                                            >Unfortunately, you were not an expert chef.

                                            >And to your extreme dismay, a cheeseburger was made of dead cows.

                                            >It was easy enough to purchase the meat from the griffons.

                                            >Preparing it would be an entirely different ordeal, given that you could barely squish a fly without crying and burying it.

                                            >But you were Fluttershy, Anon's true love!

                                            >You would do anything for him!

                                            >Steeling yourself, you open your eyes to regard the beef again.

                                            >Still no movement. Phew.

                                            >You stumble to the stove, turning on the heat and setting atop it a pan you normally use to sear your carrots.

                                            >Then, with trembling hooves, you slowly unwrap the beef package.

                                            >You let out a gasp at how -pink- it is.

                                            >The idea that the lump of meat in front of you used to be a cow, and that the cow used to have a name brings tears to your eyes.

                                            >Thinking about the cute cow's bell tinkling in the field sends you over the edge.

                                            >Bawling, but wasting no time, you hold up the corners of the paper the meat was wrapped in and tip it into the pan.

                                            >The cookbook you had borrowed from Twilight made no mention of the sounds to be expected.

                                            >So when the first sizzle echoed through your tiny kitchen, you nearly leap out of your skin.

                                            >It was an awful, abnormal sound, like listening to the cow's last gurgle, sharpened and extended.

                                            >Hearing such a nasty sound, in the middle of your domicile no less, brings on a fresh bout of tears and blubbers.

                                            >Crying all the while, you attempt to forge on with your surprise gift for Anon.

                                            >Having realized you forgot to make a patty with the meat, you attempt to flatten down the rectangular meat prism into a more burger-like shape using your spatula.

                                            >Controlling the spatula is a Herculean effort on its own, your sobs and jerks coming in sporadic waves.

                                            >On pressing down onto the meat, juice seeps from the patty, and the sizzling raises to a faster tempo.

                                            >You shriek, run to the sink, and dry heave into it.

                                            >Goodness gracious, that was the most vile attack to your senses you've ever had the misfortune to witness.

                                            >You spend the next few minutes attempting to recoup yourself after such a personal affront.

                                            >While you stare down your drain hoping not to be sick, the smell of cooking meat begins to waft its way through your diminutive kitchen.

                                            >The scent seems to hang in the air, a reminder of your actions.

                                            >You feel guilty for not being repulsed by how it smells.

                                            >Having regained your faculties, you take what feels like a mile-long trek back to the stove.

                                            >Noticing that the bottom of the meat brick has begun to turn brown, you grimace, then use the spatula as a lever to flip the whole thing over.

                                            >It innocently turns over and the hiss of frying meat returns with a higher frequency.

                                            >The sound still sickens you and your eyes are still wet, but you keep watching and flipping until the whole block is brown, not daring to press down on it too hard.

                                            >Turning off your stove, you take a deep breath. You had done it.

                                            >Being careful not to touch it with your hooves, you slide the meat onto the bun you had prepared earlier.

                                            >You top it with cheese, lettuce, tomato, and onion.

                                            >Twilight's book gave plenty of different burger variants but you just went with the first one that was in there.

                                            >Maybe next time you'll just skip the meat and he wouldn't even notice.

                                            >Feeling absolutely disgusted with yourself, you slip the finished burger into a cute little bag you're sure he'll ignore and carry it gently out of your kitchen.

                                            >Angel gives you a long, hard stare as you get ready to leave your cottage.

                                            >You pretend not to notice and, shutting your door behind you, begin the walk towards Anon's house.

                                            >You've long since memorized the quickest path to his residence, so after only a few short minutes you arrive on his doorstep.

                                            >Setting the bag down on his porch, you sit on your haunches, defeated, and knock on his door.


                                            >A series of quiet knocks stirs you from your cozy nap-spot on the couch.

                                            >Better not be Fluttershy.

                                            >You had almost made it the whole day without having to see her.

                                            >She was unexpectedly absent from your breakfast this morning, an event that comes only a few times a year.

                                            >Without her usual intrusion, you had actually achieved a ton today.

                                            >You finished two (two!) whole bowls of Fundament-O's, heckled Rainbow Dash, and took a very relaxing nap.

                                            >All good things come to an end though, and with a sigh, you kick off your blanket and march to the door.

                                            >Opening the door reveals the last person you wanted to see, motionlessly sitting on your porch with a cute little delicious-smelling bag next to her.

                                            "You're late."

                                            >Fluttershy doesn't even respond. Her eyes bore holes into your torso.

                                            "Well, creep? What is it this time? Acting like a zombie?"

                                            >You zero in on the bag next to her, its familiar scent impossible to ignore.

                                            "W-what've you got in the bag there champ?"

                                            >Gingerly, you lift the aromatic bag from its spot next to her.

                                            "It couldn't be... It smells just like..."

                                            >"I made it." Fluttershy croaks, her eyes still trained straight in front of her.

                                            >A quick peek into the bag confirms what you thought: cheeseburger.

                                            "Y-you made this? Fluttershy, how.. How did you know?"

                                            >If there was one thing that sucked about this magic pony world, it was their diet. Too healthy.

                                            >You thought you had only told Rainbow Dash about your lust for cheeseburgers though.

                                            >Fluttershy is still utterly unresponsive, a closer inspection reveals she's shaking slightly.

                                            "Well uh. Come in? I can get you some cereal if you want."

                                            >Wordlessly, the shell-shocked pegasus slowly sits up from her spot and clops her way into your abode.

                                            >You eye her with equal parts worry and suspicion.

                                            >Quickly, with her back turned, you take the burger out of the bag and flip through the layers, trying to find any hidden pills or mare secretions.

                                            >None make themselves apparent, and you stuff it back into the bag and make your way to the kitchen, slamming your door closed.

                                            >Fluttershy has already taken a seat at your table, her sunken eyes still staring straight ahead.

                                            >You set your burgerbag in front of your chair and go to make her a bowl of cereal.

                                            "You good Butterbutt? You look a little out of it."

                                            >She seems to word something with her mouth but no sounds come out.

                                            "H-haha yeah okay. Hey look, a big bowl of Wheat Chaff, your favorite!"

                                            >You stick the full bowl in front of the despondent pony.

                                            >Fluttershy slowly looks down at the cereal and then turns to you.

                                            >"I-I made the burger."

                                            "That's g-great big girl. Here's a f-fun idea, why don't we both eat at the same time?"

                                            >"..."

                                            >Fluttershy's inaction is starting to get to you but.. the burger...

                                            >Your eyes dart nervously to the bag, just to make sure it hasn't vanished.

                                            >It's been years since you've had a real, honest to goodness, cheeseburger.

                                            >Drooling slightly, you ignore the immobile horse and dive for the bag.

                                            >Your stomach growls and you realize you haven't eaten since your breakfast this morning.

                                            >Having removed the cheeseburger from its bag, you can feel Fluttershy tense up from across the table, her pupils pinpricks.

                                            "H-ha, well I'm just g-going to uh."

                                            >Like a starved dog, you ravage the burger, sinking your teeth through the bun into the slightly-too-thick patty.

                                            >It's delicious! Fluttershy actually did something right for once!

                                            "Wow Fluttershy, this is great!" you exclaim through bulging cheeks.

                                            >She still hasn't even touched her cereal.

                                            "D-do you want a bite?" you extend the half eaten burger towards her.

                                            >Her eyes widen and she leaps backwards from her chair, slamming into the cabinets behind her.

                                            >"I-I need to u-use the restroom." Fluttershy eeks out in a hoarse whisper.

                                            "Uh. Okay then, it's r—"

                                            >Before even finishing your directions, she makes off at a full sprint directly towards your bathroom.

                                            >The sound of the bathroom door slamming shut echoes through your hall.

                                            >Guess she already knew where it was.

                                            >Oh well, back to burgertime.

                                            >You eagerly devour the remaining half of your sandwich, not giving a second thought to the erratic pony.

                                            >Dang, she can really cook up a burger.

                                            >Where'd she learn to do that anyways? Didn't horses hate meat or something?

                                            >Your ruminations are interrupted by the sound of the shower turning on from down the hall.