Title:           Kentucky Fried Chicken
Author:          -IceMan-
Pastebin link:   http://pastebin.com/TEfDuihE
First Edit:      Friday 9th of August 2013 12:38:06 AM CDT
Last Edit:       Last edit on: Sunday 25th of October 2015 01:08:31 AM CDT

Kentucky Fried Chicken
By IceMan

>Day 11 herbs and spices in Equestria.
>You are Colonel Anonymous, a master chef of Southern cuisine, especially for your famous fried chicken.
>Unfortunately, the ponies around here wont let you use any of their succulent, fat poultry for any form of food.
>Damn vegan hippies.
>They always ruin blessed nations with their animal rights and non-GMOs and their anti-DDT laws.
>But, having spoken of your master dish for over a year now, Pinkie Pie was dying to try it out, despite her normal reluctance for consuming meat.
>Now, all you have to do is acquire a chicken.
>You march up to Fluttershys in your overalls and plaid button-up shirt, hoping the quiet yellow pegasus just happens to be out.
>You sneak behind the chicken coop, but, by the ungraciousness of the Almighty, Fluttershy is there, tending to her flock with a bag of bread crumbs.
>Youre almost certain she can just sense you coming, and shed probably notice if one of her hens go missing.
>So, you trudge back to town, hoping to come up with a solution that doesnt involve tofu.
>You fucking hate tofu.
>Food of the Devil himself it is.
>You dont want to give Pinkie Pie such a disgusting blasphemy against good eats in place of the real deal of soft, juicy chicken.
>As you walk home, mulling over your predicament in your slow-moving mind, you accidentally kick a small orange pegasus.
>Hey, watch where youre going buddy! Scootaloo shouts from her position sprawled on the dry dirt road.
Sorry, missy. Didnt see ya there.
>She glares at you for a bit, but then softens.
>Its okay, Anon. Just... be a little more careful, thats all.
Yeah, I know. Im sorry.
>You slowly scan over body of the petite creature.
>She has just enough meat on her... no, no, NO!
>You are not killing harmless sentient creatures just for...
>But what if she tastes... even better... fried in vegetable oil.
>Youve never had horse meat before, but if there is one scientific rule you follow other than the Ten Commandments, it is that everything is better fried.
>Everything.
>Anon, why are you licking your lips? Scootaloo asks.
Im not. Dont know what youre talking about.
>Gears begin to clear off the cobwebs.
Say, in apology for kickin ya, why doncha come back to my house and Ill make ya some fresh cornbread?
>Your cornbread is the second best dish you can make, and everyone in town has tasted its deliciousness at the Summer Sun Festival and other holidays.
>Youd do that for me, Anon? Scootaloo asks.
Its nothin. Anythin to make up for kickin ya.
>Scootaloo grins.
Come by my house in bout an hour, and Ill have it ready for ya.
>You pull out all the ingredients and a big metal mixing bowl, and begin pouring corn flour, sugar, eggs, milk, and butter into it.
>Meanwhile you boil an ear of corn in a pot and cut off all the kernels, placing them in the bowl.
>You pour the batter in the pan and place the pan in the oven to bake.
>In no time at all, you have the corn bread that won the county fair for 8 years straight.
>Supposedly it was brought down from your great great-granpappy who served in the Civil War, or at least thats what granma said.
>Whatever its history, it was the best.
>You set it out to cool on the window sill, letting the delicious corny odor waft out over the town.
>I... I can have the whole pan? Scootaloo asks once she arrives.
>You merely nod and cut her a slice.
>Horse meat could work as an excellent chicken substitute, but this one is going to need a little more meat on her bones, so to speak.
>Scrawny as a starving cow, this one is.
>Granma wouldnt stand for it; shed be nagging this one all the time.
>And so begins your master plan.
>Its not the Manhattan Project, but you think its pretty good.
>You start frequently bumping into Scootaloo, or just being friendly and asking her over for lunch.
>Her parents, if she even has any, dont seem to mind.
>And, little by little, she grows ready for slaughter.
>The day finally arrives.
>After accidentally tripping the now-obese pegasus for the fifteenth time that month, you ask Scootaloo over for some cornbread that night.
>You also sharpened your meat cleaver last night.
>This might be... munch munch... the best batch of cornbread you ever made, Anon! Scootaloo exclaims between bites.
I sure darn hope it is, you reply, wiping off the blade of your knife.
>Just one quick slice, and it will all be over.
>You tie an apron around your stomach and raise the blade over Scootaloos neck.
>Like a guillotine, you slice the young pegasuss head clean off.
>She doesnt even have time to scream.
>A fountain of crimson blood spews onto the kitchen table.
>Youll have to mop that up later.
>And dispose of the table cloth, now stained bright red.
>You grab a shovel from your closet and begin digging a hole in the blackest corner of your backyard to dump the waste body parts in.
>The inky darkness hides your dirty deeds from any unwanted observers.
>Cant have anyone finding out you murdered an innocent filly, no-siree.
>You then get to work cleaning the corpse like your dad, an avid hunter, bless his soul, taught you.
>You cut open the ribcage and scoop out the internal organs, then throw them in the hole.
>After that, you carefully cut the pegasuss skin off and throw it in the hole.
>Finally, you start cutting off good bits of bloody meat, placing them on a wooden cutting board for now.
>Even in her obese form, little Scootaloo didnt have that much meat on her.
>You could have gone for a bigger pony, but they might not have been as easy to fool.
>Not that you ever considered yourself particularly clever anyways.
>Your string of straight Cs in school attests to that.
>Youre still wondering how you got this plan to work.
>With the corpse picked clean of any edible meat, you dispose of the bones and the table cloth and cover the hole with dirt.
>You place all the meat in the freezer for tomorrow.
>Pinkie is coming over for dinner, and you told her to bring friends for the first batch of your world-famous fried chicken made in Equestria.
>The next day, you make two mixtures: one of buttermilk, eggs, cornstarch, pepper, and salt; and the other of flour and your secret blend of herbs and spices.
>The blend has been a family secret passed down from father to son for generations, never spoken of outside the family kitchen, and kept in a locked box in the master bedroom of your family mansion back on Earth.
>Fortunately, you have it memorized.
>You chop up the horse meat into smaller parts, then begin dipping it first in the wet mixture, then in the dry mixture.
>It all goes in a skillet of hot vegetable oil to fry.
>Once the meat is golden brown, you set it on a plate covered with a paper towel to cool.
>You pick up one of the flaky pieces and take a bite.
>It tastes exactly like the fried chicken you made back on Earth, right down to the texture.
>Not a minute after, you hear a knock at the door, and receive your guests.
>Twilight Sparkle, Rarity, Applejack, Rainbow Dash, and Pinkie Pie (Fluttershy was defiant about eating any of her animal friends) sit around the table as you reveal the steaming chicken with a flourish.
>That looks delicious, Anonymous, Pinkie Pie says.
Dig in, everyone. Theres plenty more.
>Hey, has anyone seen Scootaloo today? Anonymous, I know youve been hanging out with her. Have you seen her? Rainbow Dash asks.
Nope. Havent seen her lately.
>Today was a finger-lickin good day.
