PROMPT: DIFFICULT RICE

Everypony needed a hobby. At least, that's what ponies told Twilight Sparkle over and over and over again when she was a student. She hadn't bothered to give the matter much thought, herself, until she found herself stuck in a giant crystal castle with a grand load of nothing to do but sit around, read, or wait for that big ol' map to make her cutie mark glow.

For the first few months, reading was her surefire way to stave off boredom. Then came talking to Spike about his comics. Then came Starlight Glimmer and the wide variety of catastrophic misadventures that trailed behind that mare and Trixie Lulamoon's tails like flies clung to horseapples. Eventually, however,Twilight Sparkle ran out of things to keep her mind occupied and faced the choice of finding a hobby or going stark raving mad.

After an excruciatingly long period of slumping in her comfiest chair and pondering the matter, Twlight's mind drifted to fond memories of visiting Sugarcube Corner and the local hayburger joint. Her ears perked up and she beamed. It was something she had watched but never studied. It was something she could share with her friends. It was safe. It was supposedly fun. And it didn't look that hard to do.

Yes, she thought as she got up and moseyed on down the hall, cooking sounded like the perfect hobby for her.

She reached the kitchen and tied an apron around her barrel and perched a lopsided chef's cap on her head. Her horn glowed and a tome the size of "Ponies and Peace" floated off the dusty shelf in the kitchen and landed on the counter before her.

To her delight, the book actually excited her as much as that beautiful novel. So many recipes, so many ideas, and so much creativity! Celestia, maybe she could even do a bakeoff against Spike or Starlight with some of these things. But where to start?

Well, the beginning seemed like a good place. The author had given a simple enough recipe right after the book's introduction, and Twilight had all the ingredients she'd need save for...

"What in the hay is Jumping Flash Rice?"

---

"Why in Equestria are you trying to get Jumpin' Flash Rice?" Pinkie Pie asked as she stirred a bowl of gooey dough.

"Well, the recipe called for it," Twilight said. She leaned against the countertop. "The author was very specific about it. It has to be that specific kind of rice or the whole thing just goes kablooey. His words, not mine."

Pinkie gave her a look. In all the years she'd spent as a student and then as the Princess of Friendship, Twilight had come to recognize that particular gaze as one that was the equivalent of asking you if you'd thrown your brain on the sidewalk.

"That's not exactly an easy thing to get, you know," Pinkie said, and set the bowl down. She stuck the spoon in her pet baby alligator's mouth for safekeeping. "I mean, it's...well, it's really, really unstable."

"Unstable?"

"Oh, yeah. It's like an earthquake in Ghastly Gorge levels of unstable. There's a reason whoever wrote your book said the whole dish would go kablooey if you didn't use the right kind of rice for it."

Twilight rolled her eyes. "Pinkie, please. Just tell me where I can find this stuff. I looked all over the market and it isn't there."

Pinkie's eyes narrowed and she leaned forward. It was as if the entire world had shrunk down to just Twilight and the pink pony leaning so close she could smell the cupcakes Pinkie ate for lunch. "Are you absotively, posolutely, a hundred percent sure you want to do this?"

"Um," Twilight stammered, "Yes?"

Pinkie leaned back and smiled and Twilight could've sworn she heard the world start breathing again. "Well, alrighty, then! Come on, I know a guy!"

---

"Why are we at a hardware store?"

Pinkie stopped and Twilight ran right into her friend's poofy tail.

"Well, duh," Pinkie said, "Jumpin' Flash Rice is only sold at hardware stores, Twilight. Everypony knows that."

Twilight dusted herself off and grumbled to herself that no, not everypony knew that. "Alright, but why are we at this hardware store? Pinkie, this place ought to be condemned."

Her assessment wasn't that far off. The place was made of tarpaper walls that had partially melted during the heat wave, had windows slanted like a sleep-deprived foal drew them onto the building, and the roof needed to be retiled at least two decades ago. That Pinkie Pie didn't see anything wrong with this establishment was one of many, many quirks of Pinkie that Twilight had just learned to roll with in their years of friendship. Pinkie shook her head and shoved the door open.

A bell hanging over the door sang as it was kicked aside. Sawdust coated the floor. Shelves that looked like they'd collapse if you so much as breathed on them wobbled carved out a maze through the place, with pathways so narrow Twilight was sure only one pony could fit through them at a time. And on the shelves? Well, Twilight wasn't sure what, exactly, they all were, but they had big labels on them with pictures of fire and other disasters on them.

It took Twilight one glance to conclude the place was a firetrap and that going inside was a terrible, no, horrendous idea. If entering was required, one would have to be careful. She wondered if a little protective spell would be a good idea or not.

Pinkie Pie bounced into the shop and hopped around and through the maze of household chemicals and for a minute Twilight was certain she had just suffered a heart attack.

Pinkie looked over her shoulder at the purple alicorn and rolled her eyes. "Are ya comin', or what?"

Satisfied that she was still in the world of the living, Twilight sighed and trotted inside.

Once she reached the counter, she found Pinkie amiably chatting away at the cashier. She walked up to the counter with what she hoped was a friendly smile on her muzzle. "Excuse me, sir? I'm looking for Jumping Flash Rice and --"

Pinkie jammed her hoof into Twilight's mouth, while the cashier's face went a shade of white Twilight didn't know a blue pony could turn. Pinkie giggled and waved her other hoof through the air. "Oh, don't mind my friend, Busby. She's just kidding, that's all."

Twilight yanked Pinkie's hoof out of her mouth and said, "Look, if this is a practical joke, Pinkie, it stopped being funny. I just want to make a simple dish and have some fun doing it, and the book says I need --"

"Uh, right away, Princess Twilight, sure thing," the blue cashier pony stammered. He rushed into the back room.

Pinkie sounded scandalized. "Gosh, Twilight, there's a thing called finesse when you're trying to get a hold of this stuff, y'know? You gotta work your way up to asking about it or ponies get scared."

The clerk reappeared in a hazmat suit and his horn glowed beneath the plastic visor. Ahead of him, a box with bright orange labels splashed across the sides floated in the soft light of unicorn magic. His voice, muffled by the suit, echoed through the place. "Just take it, I'll be happy it's out of my shop."

Twilight gave him a flat look. Pinkie must've put him up to this, there was no other explanation. Her horn glowed and she took the box out of the clerk's telekinetic hold, feeling it slide under her own magical control. She floated a few bits out and let them fall to the counter. "I insist."

Pinkie was gone when she turned around. Celestia, that mare was being weird today. Ah, well, Twilight was sure she'd find her friend outside. She squeezed herself through the maze of shelves, did her best to ignore the panicked noises the clerk made any time the box bumped against something or came close to bumping against something, and trotted back outside.

Pinkie was, indeed, waiting for her. She had, in the short time since Twilight had picked up the box, donned some sort of armor that covered every inch of her body.

"This isn't funny anymore, Pinkie," Twilight sighed as she started making her way back to the castle.

"I'm not trying to be funny," Pinkie said as she ambled along beside Twilight. "And whatever you do, please please pleeeeeaaaaaaase do not drop that box."

By the time they reached the castle, Twilight was wondering if Pinkie really was being serious. But surely rice couldn't be that dangerous, especially if it was the first recipe in the cookbook. Right? Right, she thought.

"Pinkie," she said as she opened the castle's door and floated the box inside, "what's so special about this rice?"

"I told you, it's unstable foodstuffs. Really, you're supposed to have a license to handle it."

"What?"

"Eh, no biggie, nobody really pays attention to that law. But this stuff is super, super tricky to use."

"Oh, come on. It can't be that bad if it's in the first recipe of the book." Twilight couldn't see Pinkie's face, but she was sure the pink pony was looking at her with something akin to pity.

"That's what everypony says," Pinkie said. She waved goodbye to Twilight, and skittered away.

Twilight shrugged and carried on inside.

She went past the library.

She trotted past the map room.

The ambled into the kitchen.

"Ah, finally," she mumbled, going over to the still-open cookbook. "Now, let's see, step one...get a bowl. Oh. Right. Probably should've done that before leaving." With a sheepish look and her ears folded back, Twilight pushed the cabinet doors open with a hoof. She let go of the box of rice, her magic switching over to the bowl to pick it up.

The box of Jumping Flash Rice, no longer supported by the glowing magic of telekinesis, dropped down onto her kitchen cabinet with a thud.

Twilight jumped, looked over at the box.

She laughed to herself. "Sheesh. I was really starting to think --"

A brilliant white light flooded the kitchen and a crack more powerful than any thunder she'd heard crashed into her ears and the crystalline wall blew apart as the rice went kablooey.

Twilight found herself outside the castle, flopping up and up and up. As she cartwheeled into the sky, her coat singed and blackened by the explosion, Twilight Sparkle decided that cooking sucked.