The Day Pinkie Pie Lost Her Face
The Day Pinkie Pie Lost Her Face
Clock hand trembled and lurched forward, toward twelve. BING! Finally, seven in the morning was reached, and now clock could start reaching the eight. Bundle of blankets, pillows and linens on the bed squirmed, rolled about and fell to the floor with the thud, disintegrating in process. Out of fluffy debris, one Pinkie Pie rose proudly, her hooves brushing the mane backward as she ambled out of her bed. Stretching here and there, she hopped around the room a few times, but something gave her pause. Then it dawned on her, and she stepped closer to the mirror to look at herself. It was very obvious now. She lost her face.
Well, nothing could be done about it - she`ll have to go look for it. Now, where could it be? Pinkie combed her brain for memories of yesterday. OK, so she was preparing for party at the Sugarcube Corner. Fair enough. Pink mare bounded out of the room, intent on searching the bakery. Muffled clatter of the pans and pots told her that mrs. Cake was already whipping something in the kitchen. Hopefully, breakfast. But... she needed a face to eat breakfast! Onward!
Pinkie bounded into the kitchen, scanning around curiously. Mrs. Cake was indeed there, but she couldnt locate her face anywhere. Mrs. Cake, however.. Well, she gasped and held the hoof to her chest. "Oh, sweet Celestia, Pinkie! Dont scare me so." - she breathed out, shivering, - "Now, where did you lose your face, young missy?" Pinkie shrugged. The obvious answer was "Not here!", and she nuzzled older mare quickly, galloping out of the kitchen right after. Mrs. Cake shouted after her - "Hurry back as soon as you find it, you hear? We`re having pancakes today!"
Oboyoboyoboyoboy! PANCAKES! With sugar topping and delicate strawberry jam inside, just meeeeeeeelting in her mouth. De-licious! She sped up, bouncing in a tight circle as she wrecked her memory for more memories of yesterday. Ah, so party began at Fluttershy`s place. To the pegasus cottage!
Hop, skip and jump and slip through this fold and dodge this crack and vault over this bump and whoops... already there. Pinkie Pie cautiously peeked out of the chimney. Apparently, there was carnage to be had yesterday, if a pile of carrot tails and circumferentially-substantial bunny were of any indication. Angel cracked one eye open, curious as to what the distraction could be. His face changed into a look of abject horror and he vanished without a trace, the only hint to his whereabouts the loud slam of little door to his cabin.
A moan was heard from behind the couch. A delicate, fashionable, dramatic moan. A single marshmallow hoof emerged after, groping around blindly until it found the back of sofa. Fluff of lilac followed, Rarity`s mane tussled and messy as she sat up, looking around blearily. Suddenly, her eyes stopped on one Pinkie Pie. "EEEEEEEE!" - wow, Rarity had such a voice. A voice fit to shatter the wine glasses. Just as abruptly as she shrieked, she clamped up, her hooves pressing against her face, as another moan and another hoof emerged. This one was yellow, with a hint of pink to it. Holding on to couch for support, and leaning to Rarity for the same, Fluttershy sat up, looking around with trepidation.
"Oh my... How dreadful. Lost your face, Pinkie Pie?" - she offered sadly, shielding her eyes from the morning sun. Pinkie nodded ecstatically, gesturing around as she hopped back and forth. She could tell though, her face wasnt there. Fluttershy offered softly - "Maybe its in the library? We went there next before... um...Speaking of before, what happened after?" She turned around to look on her bedmate - "Rarity? Um...what happened...?" Fashionista fainted with another dramatic moan, her mane draping over Fluttershys shoulder as she fell into pegasus embrace. "Oh my... Go on, Pinkie. I`ll sort this out." - squeaked yellow mare, blushing heavily.
And WOOOSH! Such a convenient backdraft Fluttershys fireplace has. She peeked out of Twilights fireplace, shaking the errant bit of soot off the hoof. Spike was sorting the books. Good oldependable Spike. Hed know where her face is, he certainly would. Little dragon turned around, and shrieked, disappearing between the shelves. A few cautious seconds later, his face appeared. "Oh, jeez, Pinkie Pie. Mind the wee bit ticker here, wouldja?" - he grumbled, holding his clawed hand over the chest, - "Thought its about to jump out and make a run on its own."
Pinkie poked around inquisitively, but she could already tell her face wasnt somewhere on those shelves. Spike dusted himself off, watching pink pony prance around, nosing everywhere. Ever the helpful, he proffered - "Maybe you ought to look upstairs. Thats where the most of party went on. Well, there, or Sweet Apple Acres. I think you all went for Applejacks cider stash at some point." Taking his advice, Pinkie bounded upstairs, taking a look into Twilights room first. No face around here either. Well, no Pinkie Pie face. She located one Rainbow Dash face, plastered all over the slumbering pegasus, splayed across the floor as if she were glued to it like a framed butterfly.
Soft cough made Pinkie look up. Silly Twilight, hanging there all glued to the ceiling. Or magicked. Or stapled. Or gravity-inversed. Anyhow, there was Twilight, laying on the ceiling right opposite to Dash on the floor. She whispered hoarsely from her unbelievable resting place - "Hush. Your face is at the Applejacks, Pinkie. Dont wake up Rainbow Dash." Pink mare looked up, down, considered the descent vector, accounted for the airflow lift, and nudged one of the pillows against pegasus, propping her head a little. Winked at Twilight and walked out of the window.
Hop, skip, jump, hop, skip, jump, hop, skip, jump, hop, skip, jump, hop, skip, jump, hop, skip, jump, hop, skip, jump, .... WAAAAIT, since when the road became so boring? Pinkie cartwheeled across the road just to break the monotony... And found herself in the middle of last party`s crater. Long farm table was still littered with the bottles and mugs, Applejack slumped at one corner. Loud snoring confirmed the presence of Big Macintosh under the table, and probably someone else. She could make the faint notes of graceful dissonance threaded through the simple rhythm of snoring, a subtle note of incoming derp.
And... there it was, on the dew-glistening bottle of delicious hard cider... Her face! With a victory cheer, Pinkie downed the bottle, emptying the cool liquid within in a blink of an eye. Her ears twitched as she slammed bottle back on the table, nose twitching cheek rubbing eyeblinking feeling of having her face on. And then, her mane deflated as she remembered why she had to look for her face. She had a mother of all hangovers.
