Prisoner in Pink

by Sharp Spark

Rating: teen
Tags: Adventure, Crossover
Length: 15506

Pinkie is trapped in a strange Ponyville, a new cutie mark branding her as number six out of dozens of other Pinkie Pies. She may not know what's going on, but one way or another, she's going to find a way back home.

Pinkie Pie is having an odd day.

She can't find any of her friends. Which is worrying, because she's friends with every pony in Ponyville.

Instead she keeps running into… herself?

Where'd all these other Pinkies come from? Why do they have numbers instead of cutie marks? And why does everypony insist that things have always been this way?

(Borrows some themes and ideas from The Prisoner, but not a direct crossover and no knowledge of the show required)

Published 1970-01-01 00:00:00 UTC
Last updated 2013-06-20 04:02:19 UTC

Half Dozen of Another

The first strange thing that Pinkie Pie noticed was that her mirror was gone. Vanished, stolen, spirited away – the darned thing just wasn’t there, leaving a big empty spot in her bathroom. Instead of seeing her lovely pink visage, she was face to face with an unpainted grey square of wall, with an unsightly crack running right down the middle.

Pinkie frowned as she tapped a hoof against her chin. Had she needed a mirror for some sort of cunning plan or crazy caper? That would make sense. There were probably lots of amazing pranks that could be pulled with a well-placed mirror. But she couldn’t remember any such plan, and it’s not like she was one to forget a well-played prank. Or a disastrous one, either – on the whole, they tended to fall into one of those two categories.

Well, maybe somepony was playing a prank on her. It wasn’t a particularly funny one in that case, just inexplicable. But Rainbow Dash did get some odd ideas sometimes, or maybe Twilight had decided to try and get back at the two of them for switching her shampoo for pink mane dye last month. It would be just like that silly filly to read all sorts of books on how to carry out a flawless plan and then forget about the basic need to make it funny.

It would just be an inconvenience for now. Pinkie reached up with one hoof to feel her mane. Appropriately springy and untamed, check! She ran a brush through it a few times just to make sure it was properly poofy but not frazzled, and turned on the faucet to take a drink. Swishing the water around in her mouth, she washed out the remnants of whatever bad taste had been left behind from last night.

Last night... What exactly had she done last night? She couldn’t remember at all! That probably meant a party, although to be fair any night meant a party, if she had any say in the matter. But it wasn’t very often that she forgot about a party afterwards, except for certain adult-pony parties that got particularly out of hoof. Even then she should have been able to remember at least something before the liberal application of cider tended to make her mind blurrier.

It was like a blank spot in her memory. She could recall things that had happened reasonably far back – like sneaking into the Canterlot Library with Twilight, or their train mystery adventure on the way to the National Dessert Competition, or that horrible business with the mirror pond, but anything recent, any memories about yesterday or the day before were just... gone. Like she had a hole in her head and they had just fallen out.

It worried her more than she would have liked to admit. But Pinkie Pie knew the best approach to a problem like this: put on a big smile! She could always go talk to one of her friends and figure out what she had missed. She just wished that her mirror was there, so she could see her big reassuring grin.

It lost some of its effect when smiling at a dumb blank wall.

Pinkie trotted down the stairs to the first floor of Sugarcube Corner, humming a happy song to herself. Her bouncy gait was noticeably more restrained than usual, but she was making the effort to deliberately perk up.

After all, Pinkie was not a morning pony – which may have come as a surprise to most who knew her. There didn’t seem to be any time of the day when she wasn’t full of energy and happiness, but such an attitude took a lot of hard work – plus the timely help of two triple-frosted raspberry cupcakes first thing in the morning, a sugar-rush kickstart to the day that Mrs. Cake always had ready and waiting for her.

Some ponies swore by coffee, but blech! Too bitter. Pinkie didn’t even like tea that much, though she would indulge for the sake of Fluttershy or Rarity. If she had her way, it’d be milkshakes at every meal – strawberry, vanilla, triple fudge – there was a flavor for just about any circumstance. Right about now, a chocolate-banana twist sounded particularly tempting, more sugar to go alongside her cupcakes.

“Mrs. Cake?” she called out hopefully. “Do you mind if I...”

Her voice trailed off as she noticed the strange silence in the shop. Normally at this time of the morning, there’d already be a few customers. Some of Ponyville’s elderly residents liked getting up at the very crack of dawn to get breakfast and gab about the good ol’ days, and the Cakes opened early to accommodate them. At the very least, there should be the sounds of baking coming from the kitchen, along with delicious smells wafting around from cupcakes, muffins, and all manner of pastries.

Instead, nothing. No sounds, no smells. Pinkie could see that the sign on the door was still flipped around to display ‘CLOSED’ to those looking in. She peeked her head into the kitchen to confirm, but it was empty, everything neatly stored away and no signs of any visitors.

Curiouser and curiouser. Perhaps the Cakes had taken a vacation? Surely they would have told her, if so. Unless – oh, of course! Her memory was still being all uncooperative. Maybe they had told her and she didn’t remember. Oooh, she sure hoped she wasn’t supposed to take care of Pound and Pumpkin in that case.

A sound broke the unnatural stillness of Sugarcube Corner as somepony knocked on the front door in an irregular rhythm. Pinkie jumped at the sound, but after the initial jolt of surprise subsided, she breathed a sigh of relief. Maybe the Cakes just forgot their keys... somehow. She scrunched up her brow as she tried to wrap her head around some possibility that would have everything make sense.

The pony outside knocked again at an excited tempo. Pinkie shook her head and trotted over. She would just solve this mystery right here and now, and then everything would make sense and she could go get her cupcakes and...

As she swung the door open, she froze. In front of her was another Pinkie Pie.

She stared with wide eyes, both of them not moving so much as a muscle.

Slowly she tilted her head to the side. The other Pinkie did the same, mirroring her action.

She raised a hoof and waved it slightly. The other Pinkie’s hoof moved upwards through the air.

She stuck out her tongue. The other Pinkie’s own tongue extended in response.

“You know,” Pinkie said, “I can tell you’re copying me. You’re like a whole second behind my movements.”

The other Pinkie Pie dissolved into giggles. “Hee hee hee! I know, but it’s so fun! You should have seen your face!”

Pinkie sternly frowned at her doppelganger.

“No one else ever lets me do that anymore!” the other Pinkie exclaimed, as she managed to get her laughter under control. “Oh, you are the best!”

Pinkie opened her mouth, a thousand questions all coming at once. “What— Who—” She paused to take a breath and collect her mixed-up thoughts. “Hi! Uh. Why are you here?”

The other Pinkie gasped and stood up straight and tall, raising one hoof in a salute. “I am here on a mission of great urgency!” she said. “I am here to...” She slumped down again, tapping at her forehead with both hooves. “Oh no, I forgot again!”

Pinkie bit her lip. This did remind her of the one time with Twilight and... hm. “Are you... Are you from the future?” she asked.

The other Pinkie’s head slowly rotated as she processed the question, ending up at an odd angle before snapping back to normal. “Whaaat? I don’t think so! Wouldn’t I know if I was from the future? Unless I was actually a robot!” Then a light flicked on in her eyes and her mouth curved upwards into an impossibly wide grin. ”Wait, or, unless you’re from the past instead! Ohmygoodness Sixie, are there jungles and caveponies and dinosaurs?!”

Pinkie stared at the other pony, a slight frown creasing her face. Was this what she normally acted like? Surely not. She knew for a fact that her friends found her antics to be delightfully quirky, not... annoying. Surely. “No,” she said, “I—”

“No dinosaurs? That doesn’t sound like a very good past to me. What about pirates? Hey, hey, hey, I’ve got a good one – where did the pirate keep his buccaneers?”

“What?” Pinkie said, completely lost.

“On either side of his buckin’ head! Hee hee hee!” The other Pinkie seemed to find her own joke to be tremendously entertaining, failing to notice the lack of appreciation from her audience. “Oh, oh! Why do pirates hate saying the alphabet?”

“No,” Pinkie said firmly. “Stop. I’m not from the past. I’m just trying to figure out what you’re doing here.”

The other Pinkie pouted, puffing her cheeks out in an attempt to look cute. “I was trying to remember when you interrupted me with your obsession with pirates, silly! Oh, Number Two is going to be upset with me again, I just know it!”

“Number Two?”

“Yep! Hey, that’s it!” A grin on the other Pinkie’s melted away into a serious expression. “I’m here because Number Two requested my specific set of skills. Finding you was the easy part, a trivial matter for a pony of my caliber. But now, I must ask that you cooperate as I escort you to...”

She paused, rearing back on her hind legs and raising her hooves high for dramatic emphasis. “Breakfast!”

Pinkie’s mouth twisted uncertainly before deciding on a worried smile. “Um. Right. That sounds fantastic, but I just realized that I left my uh... My toaster running!” She winced at the transparent lie.

“Oh no! You better go catch it!” The other Pinkie’s eyes were wide with concern.

Surely, Pinkie was also a little bit brighter than this strange copy.

“Right. Be right back.” Pinkie hurriedly closed the door, immediately locking it again. She sighed deeply and slumped down to the wooden floor, thoughts spinning through her head.

What was going on? Could... could those changelings be back? What if they were trying to replace her? That was it, wasn’t it? An elaborate trick to get her out in the forest alone where she could be captured and the other pony could take her spot. They might have already gotten to the Cakes!

She needed to find her friends. Twilight would know what to do. Pinkie shuddered at the arrival of a fresh wave of paranoia. As long as Twilight wasn’t already captured and replaced...

There was no sense in dwelling on that thought. Twilight was much too clever to be tricked and with her magic, she couldn’t be easily overpowered. Yes, all Pinkie needed to do was to get to the library, find Twilight, and they’d sort this whole thing out in a jiffy.

Her smile returned, this time signifying newfound hope. She had a plan. She trotted into Sugarcube Corner’s kitchen, each movement purposeful and deliberate. The other Pinkie was watching the front entrance – which meant it would be easy as pie to slip out the back door. At the thought of pie, her stomach rumbled again, reminding her that she still hadn’t had her cupcakes. Those would have to wait.

Right as her hoof stretched out to open the back door, she heard keys jingling as somepony unlocked it from the other side. She froze. How did—

Wait. No, this was good! It was probably just Mr. Cake, and maybe she could get his help in distracting the other Pinkie. She would hate to put him in the way of danger, though, and if it really was a changeling they were—

The door swung open revealing neither Mr. or Mrs. Cake. It was another Pinkie.

The duplicate stifled a yawn before waving at Pinkie. “Oh, good to see you up. So sorry about being late! Had a hard time getting up this morning." She winked and nudged Pinkie in the side. "That party last night, am I right?” Pushing past Pinkie, she trotted into the kitchen, immediately getting to work by setting ovens to preheat.

Pinkie just stared, her mouth hanging open. She slowly walked to the doorway to the main area of the first floor and peeked out to see a hint of fuchsia mane still visible through the front door’s small window. There were two? This was much worse than she had thought.

She turned back towards the kitchen. The pony in there had her head in a low cabinet, causing pans to rattle as she searched for some utensil or another. Pinkie was more concerned with a new realization.

The Pinkie Pie copy in the kitchen had ‘54’ printed on her flank instead of a cutie mark.

Why would they copy her and then forget the cutie mark?

More importantly. Did this mean there were fifty-three other Pinkies running around?

Pinkie’s breath caught in her throat. She turned and ran up the stairs, the sound of her beating heart as loud in her ears as her hoofsteps were against the wood.

Back in her room, she rushed to the window to look out across Ponyville.

It was a nice day in Ponyville, the same as a thousand days she had seen before. Skies dotted with puffy clouds, birds singing in the trees, ponies trotting along the streets as they went about their normal morning routines.

Only every single pony she could see had an all-too-familiar pink coat and fuchsia mane.

She closed her eyes, hoping she was dreaming. This... this many Pinkie Pies brought back some dark memories. It had happened once before, but then Twilight had fixed things. Everything was back to normal now. Everything was okay. She didn't need to think about that again because they had taken care of the problem. This must just be an awful dream.

As she opened her eyes again, looking down at two Pinkie Pies engaged in a conversation right across from Sugarcube Corner, she realized that, unfortunately, she was very much awake and not dreaming.

A upside-down face swung into her view from above, filling the small window with a sunny pink smile. “Hiya!” a bright voice chirped, slightly muffled through the glass.

“Ack!” Pinkie shouted, stumbling over her own hooves as she jumped back. Her forehooves flailed out as she tumbled into a disorganized heap on the floor.

“Did you catch your toaster?” the Pinkie on the outside asked. “I just figured we should get going pretty soon, 'cause y’know, otherwise we’ll miss breakfast! Sure, we could just have brunch instead, but then you’re too full for lunch and have to wait until linner. Or is it lupper? I can never remember!”

Pinkie Pie shakily stood again.

Things were definitely not okay.

Pinkie trotted through the city, dutifully following her excitable double, whom she had determined to be marked with a number thirty-three. Thirty-Three kept up a constant stream of one-sided chatter, bouncing from one pointless observation to another. Her conversations seemed to be only tangentially related to any meaningful topic, and as they passed other ponies, she effortlessly mixed in happy greetings to those around her.

Every single one of those other ponies were duplicates of Pinkie. The real Pinkie kept her head down and stared at the ground in front of her, unwilling to meet the eyes of the other impostors, or clones, or whatever they were. First things first: she needed to figure out what was going on here.

Her mind worked furiously, but seemed trapped in pointless circles. A massive changeling invasion? They would have no reason to all copy her though. What about some big magic spell going wrong? Something big enough to turn everypony into Pinkies was a little much, even for Twilight, but maybe instead Pinkie had fallen into some other dimension? Or... she knew the most likely explanation had to have something to do with that cursed pond, but that brought up memories, memories she had no desire to entertain for even a moment, and so her brain pushed relentlessly onwards, back to where she had started. There were enough changelings that she couldn’t rule out the possibility, as little sense as it made. Right?

Thirty-Three abruptly halted, Pinkie barely stopping in time to keep from running into her. Pinkie was quite surprised to find that they had arrived under the spreading branches of the Golden Oaks Library.

She suspiciously peered at the combination of tree, library, and private residence. The red door was familiar, but instead of the familiar image of a candle, there were five small plaques, arranged in a vertical line.

always

judge

a book

by its

cover

Pinkie chewed at her bottom lip. This was where she had intended to go in the first place, but she had a sinking feeling that her friend Twilight would not be waiting inside.

“Here we are!” Thirty-Three chirped cheerfully. “You go on ahead in. Miss Twosy said that she wanted to talk to you alone, and you know how she can be. Tell her I said hi though!” Without even waiting for a response, Thirty-Three had cantered off, her tail swishing as she made a beeline for some other pony to talk to.

Pinkie considered turning around and leaving as well, but she needed answers, and this seemed like the only place to find them. She gathered up her resolve and walked forward, the door swinging open of its own accord as she neared.

She hesitated for only a moment before stepping forward into the uncharacteristic dimness of the library.

With a creak, the door swung shut behind her.

The windows were firmly closed, causing the first floor of the library to be shrouded in a deep gloom. All the windows save one – in the back of the room the rays of the sun shone through a single circular window, the light perfectly framing an oddity in the center of the room.

It was a giant black ball, at least upon first glance, smooth and shiny. It wasn’t until it slowly swiveled around that Pinkie saw its true purpose: a chair.

Sitting in that strange seat, in an unnatural upright posture, was yet another Pinkie Pie. By this point, it was hardly a surprise. Pinkie’s eyes flicked to the flank of the mare, confirming that it was in fact Number Two.

“Number Six!” Two said, “I’m so happy to see you again! It’s been far far too long.”

Pinkie shivered. Two’s voice was... wrong. Pitched slightly too low, laced with just enough self-satisfaction to jump past confidence into an oily arrogance. “That’s not my name,” Pinkie said, her own tone level and firm.

“Oh dear.” Two frowned. “I was really hoping you’d be back to your normal self by now.” Her mouth twitched as disappointment fought with a feigned sympathy, but the sparkling in her eyes made Pinkie suspect the other mare was secretly holding back great amusement.

Pinkie’s mouth opened and shut, trying to process Two’s cryptic statement. “I don’t know who you are and where you’re from, but you better bring my friends back and get out of my town this instant.” To be fair, she probably could have been better served with some degree of politeness, but she was starting to get very fed up with all the mystery and strangeness.

Two grinned in response, the smile strangely crooked. “Your friends? Your town? My, you are confused, aren’tcha? Sit down, sit down!” She gestured to the side, where a plain pillow was sitting alone in the dim light.

It wasn’t like she had much other choice in the matter. Pinkie stiffly walked over to the pillow and sat down, never taking her eyes off Two for a second. As soon as she did so, she realized her mistake, along with the entire point of the setup, the strange chair, the darkness. Sitting on the floor, she was forced to look up and squint through the light that framed Two, the situation deliberately calculated to put her further off guard and at the disadvantage.

“Oh, wherever are my manners? I did invite you for breakfast, yes?” Two clopped her hooves together, and at that sound a door opened. Another Pinkie – number Twenty-Seven – quietly pushed in a serving cart, halting it in front of Pinkie.

The smell was enough of a giveaway, and her mouth started to water involuntarily. Twenty-Seven removed the lid to show the treats: two triple-frosted raspberry cupcakes.

Pinkie’s glance swung from Twenty-Seven’s blank expression to the crooked grin that had only grown wider on Two’s face.

“Oh, and you’d need something to wash that down with. A milkshake? I love milkshakes, myself. Some ponies say that’s strange for breakfast, but between you and me, some ponies don’t know what they’re missing.”

Pinkie gritted her teeth at Two’s oh-so-evident smugness. “Coffee,” she finally said. Twenty-Seven’s mouth opened, about to express an objection, but Two raised a hoof to keep her silent. Twenty-Seven backed away, retreating into the shadows.

Two’s uneven smile didn’t seem to waver. It was sort of creepy – was she was doing that on purpose too or was her jaw was somehow not on quite right? Either way, it was just a distraction.

“I demand to know—”

“Oh, Sixie, I know, you must have a million questions, but enjoy your food first! You must be starving.” Two gestured towards the cupcakes in front of her.

Pinkie swallowed. Everything about this situation seemed calculated to throw her off, but her stomach reminded her she was indeed still very hungry. As much as she wanted to deliberately resist for the sake of being contrary, it would be more of a childish stubbornness than meaningful resistance. She would eat the cupcakes. she just wouldn’t enjoy them.

Nope, not one bit.

She took a bite from the cupcake in front of her, deliberately exuding an aura of nonchalance. As soon as the frosting hit her tongue, it melted away into ridiculously rich raspberry rapture. Then her teeth bit into the soft and fluffy cake texture underneath, perfectly cooked and still warm.

Darn!

Well, she wouldn’t show that she enjoyed them.

The entire meal had been extremely uncomfortable, Two watching in complete silence as Pinkie ate. Slowly and deliberately ate, not wanting to give any more satisfaction than necessary to the strange pony, who was clearly bent on trying to make a point. Pinkie would play along at the silly game until she got some answers. Pinkie liked games, and like her friend Rainbow Dash, she liked to win games.

Once the cupcakes were devoured and Pinkie had sipped at a particularly strong mug of black coffee – at least enough to make her own deliberate point in response – Two had risen from the chair and led the way upstairs. The second floor thankfully had more light, the windows open wide in-between the familiar heavily-laden bookshelves. It looked normal.

At least until Pinkie caught a glimpse of a dictionary shelved next to a Daring Do paperback. Her stomach twisted itself in a sudden lurch. If things had fallen to the point that non-fiction and fiction were sharing shelves, something horrible must have happened to Twilight.

Two trotted out onto one of the library’s balconies, gazing out over the town. Pinkie followed, but hung back from the edge, her still-suspicious eyes focused on Two.

Two kept her crooked smile, nodding at the activity of ponies below before turning to face Pinkie. “So. You have questions.”

Indeed, and all the showy attempts to inconvenience Pinkie had instead given her plenty of time to get her thoughts in order. “Who are you?” she asked, showing no hesitation.

“I am Number Two.”

“Thaaat’s not what I meant,” Pinkie said reproachfully.

Two smirked. “That’s what you asked.”

“Then who is Number One?”

Two stayed silent for a long moment, gazing into Pinkie’s eyes with a twinkle in her own. “You are Number Six.”

“I didn't ask—” Pinkie ground her teeth in momentary frustration. “Wait, no. What? No I'm not.”

“Really, Six?” Two laughed to herself. “You’re smart. Shouldn’t you have figured it out by now? I didn’t want to spoil the surprise!” Two’s eyes shifted, falling upon a different part of Pinkie’s anatomy.

She felt a shiver as she turned to look at her flank. She had not stopped to consider it, but at Two’s words she immediately knew what she would find. For as long as she could remember, there had been three balloons as her cutie mark, always present as a reminder of her true purpose in life. Not any more. Instead, a plain numeral six adorned her flank.

She looked forward again, her own smile gone. The game had suddenly become markedly less fun. “What did you do with my friends? Where’s Twilight, and why are you in her home?”

Two shook her head. “I don’t have a clue as to what you are talking about. I’ve always been here, silly.”

“You weren’t here yesterday,” Pinkie accused.

“Oh, really?” Two waved an arm to indicate the ponies milling about below. “Ask anypony.”

“I don’t need to ask anypony. I know you weren’t here 'cause I was here and you weren’t. Easy.”

“Sixie, dear...” Two reached out to pat Pinkie’s shoulder, but she pulled back at the movement. “You... you have been sick. We have been trying to help. Trying to let you get over these, um, delusions. They’re all made up. In your head. You need to forget about them and accept your place, like everypony else.”

“My place,” Pinkie repeated flatly.

“Yes.” Two gazed out over the panorama of the town. “We all have a role to play, and to deny your purpose is to deny your own happiness. Not to mention the happiness of all your friendly friends.”

The words came fast, even though they were ones Pinkie didn't think she'd ever say. “You're no friend of mine.”

“That hurts, Sixie!” Two’s face fell, her eyes watering. “Recall Forty-Five’s party? How super-duper fun it was? Oh, Thirty-Three said you were talking about it for weeks!”

Pinkie shuddered. “You’re lying. You’re trying to trick me.”

“We want what’s best for you,” Two said, instantly reverting to her smile.

“Horseapples,” Pinkie spat out. “You want me to forget about myself. And my friends!”

“Six, look with me,” Two said, turning to the balcony again.

Pinkie hesitated but stepped forward to look down over the city. Pink ponies were everywhere. There was one with a cart piled high with apples. Applejack’s cart. Another two giggled over some joke on a bench by the side of the path. Bon Bon and Lyra’s bench. Across the way, she could see a pony trotting out of a gaudy round building. Rarity’s boutique. Every pony she saw just brought up more memories of her missing friends.

Two obviously saw something different. “See everypony living in harmony? See how everypony is safe and busy and happy? There’s not a single face in that crowd that—”

Suddenly Two’s expression shifted to a frown. “Stop,” she called out in a surprisingly loud command, the sound reverberating through the square. In an instant, every pony came to a complete halt, freezing in place.

Except one. A pink pony with a downcast expression kept walking, taking several more steps before noticing the stillness around her. She looked up towards the library, and even from a distance, Pinkie could see her preoccupied frown shift to an expression of horror.

Two leaned down over the balcony “Code yellow, everypony!” she called out, her loud voice cheerful and brisk. The scared pony bolted, but as she did, two of the other ponies unfroze and set off in pursuit, quickly catching up and tackling their target.

The misfit pony flailed her legs and screamed as the two hauled her off. Even after they disappeared into an alleyway, Pinkie could hear the sounds of those screams, like knives twisting in her heart.

Two nodded to herself. “Back to normal! Let’s see some smiles!” At that command, all the ponies sprung back into action, their conversations and the normal noise of the town continuing as if no interruption had ever happened.

Pinkie couldn’t hear the screams at all anymore.

“Of course, sometimes things get out of whack. Don’t worry though! We take very good care of those who don’t fit in.” Two turned to smile crookedly at Pinkie once more.

“You...” Pinkie took a deep breath as she felt her blood boil. “I... I refuse to live in a Ponyville like this.”

Two’s eyebrow raised.

Pinkie’s voice grew stronger, gaining volume and fury. “I will not be bullied, or manipulated, or degraded. I don’t care who you are.”

The other eyebrow rose to meet its twin, Two’s smile faltering for a moment. "Really now, Six, there's no need to be melodramatic."

“Don't you dare call me that." One hoof slammed down against the ground. "I am not a number. My name is Pinkamena Diane Pie and I’m not interested in playing your games.”

Pinkie turned and marched into the library. She didn't look back as she stomping down the stairs. She didn't hesitate as she pushed her way through the darkness of the first floor, and stepped out into the street below. She trotted forward into the square in front of the library and only then turned, looking up with defiant eyes for one last stare at Two.

Two stood on the balcony meeting her gaze, waiting until she turned, head high, and trotted away. Two kept watching until that pink tail vanished around a corner of a building.

“That could have gone better,” a voice said from back in the library.

“I thought it went terrifically!” Two said cheerfully, before turning to trot back inside, where another pink mare was waiting.

“Remind me. Why exactly did we let you start?”

Two flashed her cocky lopsided grin. “Because I’m the very best.”

“It would have been easy to have her believing your story. That is, had you not been so antagonistic. And if you skipped the unnecessary show of... whatever that was.” The pony’s voice was level, not accusing but curious.

Two rolled her eyes. “C’mon, you know that’s not good enough. I gave her a much-needed push. The harder she fights now, the more fun it’ll be when she does fall. Otherwise it’d be boooring.”

The other pony didn’t respond, but the small smile creeping across her face was answer enough.

Pinkie hurried through the town, ducking through alleys and side streets as she made her way to her goal: the Ponyville Train Station. A glance at the sun’s position in the sky revealed that she should still be able to catch the midday train to Canterlot.

No matter what had happened to Ponyville, Princess Celestia would be able to fix things. Pinkie just had to get over to Canterlot and find the Princess and this whole crazy nightmare would get worked out in a snap.

It didn’t take her long to get there, but she was a little surprised to find that the station was deserted. Normally, the midday train was one of the busiest, full of businessponies just arriving from Canterlot as well as more casual Ponyville denizens headed out for a leisurely day trip. Not a single pony waited on the platform. Granted, they would all probably have been stupid copies, but no ponies at all was strange.

Pinkie’s eyes flicked over to the chalkboard where arrivals and departures were normally marked. The gridded lines only held a single message.

a pony out of place

is a train off its tracks:

worthless

Undeterred, Pinkie trotted up to the ticket counter. She looked down to see a pink face pressed up against the inside of the glass, both eyes closed but mouth wide open and slightly drooling. Presumably that was the ticket taker, clumsily sprawled out over the counter and in no way doing her job.

Pinkie cleared her throat loudly, but the only sound in response was more soft snores.

She waited for a moment, then shrugged.

With one hoof she smartly rapped against the glass, causing the pony inside to jerk into wakefulness. Wakefulness, in this case, being synonymous with the floor.

Pinkie stifled a snicker, as the ticket taker blearily picked herself up and sat down. “Hello and welcome," the other pony said, still sounding sleepy. "Um. Are you lost?"

Pinkie put on her friendliest smile. “Nope! I was looking for the train station, and then I found it, right where it was the last time I checked. But maybe you could help me, Miss...”

The pony allowed Pinkie to trail off into silence before realizing that she was meant to fill in a blank. “Forty-Eight.”

“Miss Forty-Eight. When’s the next train to Canterlot?”

Forty-Eight’s eyes darted from side to side, as she suddenly seemed more awake. “To... uh, where?”

Pinkie frowned. “Canterlot. Pretty city up in the mountains? Lotsa towers? You can see it from here?”

“Oh.” Forty-Eight waggled a hoof to the right. “You mean the trains that go Thisaway.”

Pinkie raised her hoof as well, her eyes following in that direction. “Yes, because Canterlot is thataway.”

“No, no, no, we have a different train that goes Thataway!” Forty-Eight pointed in the opposite direction, sounding cheerful at successfully navigating the conversation.

“To Dodge Junction?” Pinkie asked.

Forty-Eight’s hoof fell. “Sure?”

“How do you not know—” Pinkie sighed. “It doesn’t matter, back to my question. When does the train to Canterlot arrive?”

Forty-Eight blinked, then raised a wavering hoof, pointing it in various directions as she mentally processed the problem. After sufficient deliberation, she nodded to herself, having reached a satisfactory conclusion. “You juuust missed it. Sorry!”

“What?” Pinkie scrunched up her forehead. Sure, there were no ponies at the station, but wouldn’t some newly arriving ponies still be sorting out their luggage? She suspiciously peered at the ticket taker, then trotted over to the edge of the platform, leaning over to look down the tracks. They went straight for quite a long distance before disappearing over the crest of a hill. They were completely free of train and train-related objects.

Pinkie trotted back to the ticket window, where Forty-Eight was fidgeting. “When will the next train to Canterlot arrive?”

“Oh. You know. Later.” Forty-Eight smiled, one eye twitching slightly. “Thank you for visiting the Ponyville—”

“Wait, wait, wait,” Pinkie said. “How much later?”

Forty-Eight winced. “Maybe you should try tomorrow.”

“Well, why don’t I buy a ticket for it now?” Pinkie said, eyes narrowed. Those tickets had the times clearly printed on them. She wouldn’t be able to wriggle out of this one.

Forty-Eight looked over her shoulder at a desk piled high with papers. Her ears drooped pitifully. “But... there’s all this paperwork to fill out and it’s alllll the way over on the other side of the room, and I think I need to find a hole punch or something to punch them, and I haven’t even had my lunch break yet and—”

Pinkie raised a hoof, having heard enough. “You know what? I think you’re lying. I wouldn’t be surprised if there wasn’t even a train coming at all!”

Forty-Eight’s eyes grew large. “Shhh!” Her eyes darted back and forth again. “How did you know?! Look, you can't tell anypony, 'kay? This is the best job I’ve ever had and if anypony finds out there’s no train they’ll make me go back to doing real work again.”

“Fine,” Pinkie said, shaking her head. “But in return, you have to tell me the truth. How long have you been here, and when did the last train come through?”

Forty-Eight made a big deal of thinking hard, tapping her forehead. Ultimately, she just shrugged. “I’ve been here for a really long time and never seen one.” At Pinkie’s skeptical expression, she waved her arms vigorously. “No, really, I’m not just making that up! Cross my heart and hope to fly, stick a cupcake in my eye.” She began an elaborate series of pantomimed actions.

Pinkie waved one hoof dismissively. “Right, got it. Um. Well, let me know if one happens to show up.” She paused for a moment, about to say something else, but from the looks of it, Forty-Eight was one more tough question away from an anxiety attack. It wasn’t like Pinkie had any idea what to do next, either. Frowning deeply, she glumly turned to head back into town.

Forty-Eight watched as Pinkie left, feeling a little bit sorry for the dejected pony. Even if she did have slightly crazy ideas about trains showing up. Everypony knew that was silly – where would you even go? But more than sorry, she mostly felt tired, and within a few minutes her head slowly dipped down to rest on the table again.

Pinkie trudged through Ponyville, not really paying attention to where she was going, other than to instinctively shy away from the too-familiar high-pitched voices of other Pinkies chattering away.

It was stupid to expect things to be that easy. If Two or One or whoever had put this much effort into replacing everypony, they’d also make sure you couldn’t just take the train to Canterlot. That much should have been obvious. She was still one step behind – if she was lucky. As far as she knew, she could be a whole apple field behind.

Speaking of apple fields, she realized she was face to face with several. Her avoidance of other Pinkies had naturally guided her straight through the city and out to the countryside, and the road in front of her stretched towards Sweet Apple Acres, and from there to the Everfree.

An idea flashed in her head. The Everfree Forest! Everypony knew that things out there were wild and untamed, from the trees to the animals to the weather. Maybe if it was some sort of big magic spell focused on Ponyville that caused all the Pinkie clones, it wouldn’t have penetrated the Everfree. If that was indeed the case... well, it’s not like a bunch of scary timberwolves and manticores would care, but there was one pony out there who might be able to help. Or more correctly, one zebra.

Her spirits rising, Pinkie picked up speed as she trotted down the path, kicking up a cloud of dust behind her. As long as she had a plan, she could keep herself focused and moving, eager to get things back to normal.

Rolling hills dotted with apple trees rose up on either side of her. Off in the distance at the peak of one orchard hill, she could just make out a pony bucking a tree, causing a rain of apples. It made her smile until she looked a little closer at the pony’s color and hairstyle, but even that disappointment served as one further push of encouragement.

She would find Zecora and who knows? Maybe she would have some sort of Pinkie Purging Potion? Er, or even better, a Phony Pinkie Purging Potion. Wait – a Phony-Pinkie Purging Potion, not a Phony Pinkie-Purging Potion. Hyphens were important sometimes. Even if she didn’t have such a remarkably specific concoction, she could probably help get in touch with the Princess, which would be just as good.

Pinkie kept thinking these things to herself as the trees around her got thicker and less apple-y. It helped distract her from the mounting sense of dread sitting at the pit of her stomach.

She had been in the Everfree Forest often enough, and Zecora lived straight down the main trail. So why was she so scared this time? It didn’t help that the path kept getting harder and harder to make out, with a thin mist floating at ground level obscuring the way. The trees loomed above her, with their jagged branches and warped knobby trunks. She could hear strange noises from unidentifiable animals drifting through the woods, including occasional garbled roars from something really big – and hopefully still very far away.

Anypony would be scared of that, right? Sure, she wasn’t just anypony – this shouldn’t faze her, as her Pinkie Sense would probably warn her if she was going to run into any real danger, but—

Pinkie realized that the constant noises of the animals had turned into silence. She stopped, and as the sound of her footsteps died away, everything was wrapped in complete and total silence.

She stood absolutely still, thoughts racing as to what could scare off all the wildlife.

At first, she thought the high-pitched noise was just a ringing in her ears. It kept growing louder, though, and it was joined by a crackling static, like papers being ripped and crumpled.

She wanted to run, but she didn’t know where. What direction was it coming from? She jerked her head, trying to look in every direction at once. Then she saw the bright green approaching through the trees from deeper in the forest, the unsettling sounds amplifying even further as it grew near.

She should have ran, but she couldn’t move a single muscle. She stared at the green thing approaching, unable to catch more than glimpses through the trees. Other than the strange noises, there were no sounds – no heavy hoofsteps, no crashing noises from something large pushing through the undergrowth of the forest.

Then it arrived in front of her, before she even realized it had drawn close.

She stared at the creature.

“Gummy?” she whispered, her voice almost entirely drowned out by the now deafening cacophony of ringing and static.

It was her pet. And as much as Pinkie loved every little detail and quirk of her pet alligator, she suddenly realized that Gummy could be scary as well. Particularly when he was so... big.

He towered over Pinkie, as tall as three ponies standing on top of each other. He didn’t seem to be any more animated than usual, content to stand in silence, eyes not even focused on Pinkie. She watched as one giant eye languidly closed and opened, followed by the other a second later.

Perhaps most unsettling of all was that Pinkie simply had no idea what he was thinking. Normally, she had a connection. She could just tell, and boy, did that silly alligator have some crazy ideas sometimes! But the Gummy in front of her now was a blank slate, an alien entity that she couldn’t read at all.

She swallowed, considering her options. One particularly promising one would be to turn back and just give up with this crazy Everfree thing. That’s certainly what her gut was telling her to do. She knew though that doing so would just be giving up, admitting defeat, letting that nasty Number Two win. Her brain and her heart told her that she had to get to Zecora.

Pinkie felt sorry for her gut, but a vote was a vote, and it was a clear two to one in favor of stubbornly pushing onwards.

She took one exceedingly slow step forward, keeping an eye on Gummy. He didn’t move, but he didn’t back up either, and she wouldn’t be able to go much further forward with his bulk blocking the way.

Okay then, one to the side, slowly.

As soon as her foot touched the ground, Gummy moved surprisingly quickly and quietly to the side, staying directly in front of Pinkie.

She took a deep breath. This was probably a very bad idea. But she had made her decision.

She tensed her muscles.

And then Pinkie sprung into action, flinging herself left instead of right, dashing forward between two trees to weave around Gummy and get past so she could—

She felt an impossibly huge mouth close on her from behind. At least he didn’t have teeth. The thought flickered in her head right before feeling every muscle in her body spasm in an explosion of unnatural pain. Everything faded to white.

Pinkie groaned as she woke up. The blanket in her bed had been kicked off onto the floor during the night. Every part of her body felt sore, like she had just finished a whole Running of the Leaves five times over. The immediate pain ripped her mind off the unsettling dream she had the night before, bringing her back to reality in an instant, but she had the feeling that was probably a good thing. Something about... clones? She didn’t even want to dwell on it.

Pinkie tumbled out of bed, wincing as her legs complained profusely at the indignity of needing to support her weight. Her mouth was so dry that she couldn’t feel her tongue. Water. She had to get some water.

She trotted to the bathroom, her bones creaking with each step. Guh. With experience borne from many rough post-party mornings, she reached to switch on the faucet and out poured cool sweet water. She tilted her head and took a long drink, until it felt like her stomach would pop.

Sighing contentedly, Pinkie looked up, noticing something for the first time.

Her mirror was gone. Vanished, stolen, spirited away – the darned thing just wasn’t there, leaving a big empty spot in her bathroom. Instead of seeing her lovely pink visage, she was face to face with an unpainted grey square of wall, with an unsightly crack running right down the middle.

She reached out with one hoof to touch the blank wall as the memories came spilling back.

She was still here, stuck in this weird Pinkie-populated Ponyville, with no friends, and no plan to escape.

She was a prisoner.

A Flight to Remember

One of Pinkie’s favorite places to stop for a rest had always been the Ponyville Park. Not that she often had the time and inclination to sit still for very long, but on those occasions the park was a great place to be because it was always so full of life. Ponies playing, or getting some exercise, or just taking a quiet stroll with a friend – no matter what the reason, there was no better place in Ponyville to sit and watch happy ponies pass by.

She had come to the park and settled on her bench because she thought it would lift her spirits, but in all honesty it had accomplished the opposite. Sure, there were just as many ponies as before, but they were all just copies. Three Pinkies chatting on a picnic blanket under an oak tree. Another Pinkie flying a kite, the string clamped firmly in her teeth. A final pair practicing hoofsprings and silly gymnastic exercises on the soft grass.

Each sight of another Pinkie with some new number on her flank made the real Pinkie cringe. It just wasn’t right. She loved her friends so much, and she never hesitated in going out of her way to help them with their problems. These were not her friends. Her friends were all special ponies, unique and mysterious in their own ways. That’s what made being around them so fun!

These ponies were just imitations – imitations of a pony that Pinkie had secretly always worried wasn’t very interesting to begin with. A pony that had always tried to be friends with everypony because she couldn’t stand the idea of just being friends with herself.

To add insult to injury, they weren’t even very good imitations. At first Pinkie just thought she had been imagining things, but once she had started looking more carefully at the other ponies, she had confirmed it: they were all flawed.

Sometimes it was something minor, like a lighter shade of mane or a notch in one ear. Sometimes it was much more noticeable – while on her way over to the cafe, she passed by a pony with the build and features of a stallion, despite still sharing her same colors. She could swear she had even seen a pony earlier on that was white instead of pink, but the surprisingly colorless pony had ducked into an alley, trying to stay out of sight.

Now that she had noticed, she found her eyes instinctively drawn to the oddities. The kite-flying pony’s teeth were set in a noticeable overbite. One of the ponies trying to do a hoofstand was dappled with a slightly lighter pink, while the other was several inches too short in height. It was almost a game in itself, like a huge spot-the-difference.

Still, none of them were her friends. What she wouldn’t give to see Roseluck or Daisy or Sea Swirl! Just the sight of one normal pony, was that too much to ask? Not even one of her bestest, most awesomest friends. It hurt to even think about them.

A nasty thought floated up into her head. Why couldn’t it have been somepony else stuck here? Pinkie grimaced. That wasn’t really fair, but... they would be so much better equipped to deal with this sort of problem.

Twilight was so super duper brilliant that she could work out some sort of magic spell in an hour, tops. She’d probably just stick around for a while longer to study all these weird Pinkies in the name of science. Rainbow Dash would have zoomed to Canterlot and found Princess Celestia before you could say ‘Wonderbolts’. Applejack wasn’t quite as fast but once she made up her mind about something, she was unstoppable. Strong, tough, and stubborn.

Even Rarity and Fluttershy had their own ways of handling problems, as Pinkie knew all too well. Rarity would throw a complete fit at having to deal with so many silly ponies that were all... How did she put it, again? Fundamentally incapable of appreciating haute couture? Just because Pinkie got a tiiiny bit of chocolate pudding on her Gala dress. Anyways, the point was that Rarity could conjure up such a whirlwind of drama that these weird ponies would ask her permission to put things back to normal.

And Fluttershy. Her genuine niceness and adorablosity added up to a killer combination of cute, and in the rare cases where those failed... Well, out of all her friends, Fluttershy was the scariest when pushed into a corner. Plus, y’know, she had wings.

Pinkie was just a silly earth pony good at throwing parties and cheering up friends. Her friends were gone, and it’s not like there’d be any point to a party now. She sighed.

If only she had a tenth of the abilities of her amazing friends. If only she could do magic or kick through walls or fly...

Her wistful gaze landed on something purple drifting in over the treetops.

Huh.

There was an idea. Who said you needed wings to be able to fly?

Pinkie watched the hot-air balloon come to a landing from a conveniently placed bush, enduring scratchy leaves in exchange for the privacy the hiding spot afforded. She was not particularly surprised to see that one of the two passengers was Number Two, though it did cause her to wonder about the purpose of a balloon trip in the first place.

Two didn’t seem interested in hanging around. She trotted off briskly, the annoying uneven smirk still present on her face. That left the other pony to make sure the balloon was safely moored.

Unfortunately, that pony, a number Forty-One, didn’t seem as inclined to leave. After tying down the balloon with some secure-looking knots, she marched a full circle around it. Each step was a deliberate, crisp movement, legs drawn up high and then kicked out vigorously in an approximation of a military gait.

The overall effect of martial competence was lost when she kicked a little too hard, throwing her off balance enough to cause her to fall right onto her nose. Pinkie stifled a giggle, as Forty-One swung her head from side to side worriedly to see if anyone had witnessed her mistake.

Thankfully, the bush provided good enough cover to evade detection, and Forty-One slunk back to the front of the balloon, nothing wounded except her pride. She stood at attention, directly blocking entry to the hot-air balloon’s basket.

Pinkie frowned, silently willing the guard to leave. Unfortunately, it appeared as if the balloon was kept guarded, which was disappointing but not surprising. This might be a little tricky. Pinkie tapped the side of her head with a hoof, trying to kick her brain into high gear.

“We’re going to need a really good plan,” Pinkie’s voice said.

Pinkie nodded. A really good one, particularly since she didn’t want to lose the element of surprise. It might be possible to talk her way into a balloon ride, but if she failed, they might start guarding it even more.

“What have we got to work with?” Pinkie’s voice asked.

Pinkie rubbed her chin. Not a whole lot – and not just in terms of supplies. Most importantly, she didn’t have any information: who the guard was, whether she was nice or mean, how susceptible she was to bribery via baked goods. The important stuff. It sure was a lot easier to deal with ponies when you were friends with them.

“We’ll just have to improvise,” Pinkie’s voice said. “That’s okay. I’m good at improvising.”

Pinkie paused. She was? I mean, sure, she was, but this situation was a little more serious than usual, and considerably more confusing. This pony Forty-One may even have been told that Pinkie was trying to escape, and might try to seize her on sight. It would do to be a little more cautious—

“By the way, what are we doing?” Pinkie’s voice said.

Pinkie realized something. Normally her voice was inside her head. Not coming from right next to her left ear. She slowly tilted her head to the side to see another pink pony sitting in the bush next to her.

Pinkie flailed back in shock, falling off balance and landing on her side, as the bush rustled loudly. She froze, as she caught sight of Forty-One suspiciously peering in their direction. A long moment passed, seeming like an eternity as Pinkie remained completely still. Finally Forty-One shook her head and turned to stare straight forward again.

Looking up, she saw the pony in the bush with her convulsing with laughter, one hoof firmly jammed into her mouth to keep silent. The pony shook and shook as Pinkie glared at her disapprovingly. Finally she regained her composure and removed her hoof. “Snrk. You should have seen your face!” She noticed Pinkie’s stern frown and shrugged airily. “Lighten up! Can’t you take a joke?”

“It wasn’t that funny,” Pinkie grumbled. “Now, what do you want?”

“I want to help,” the other pony said. “Twenty-Nine at your service! But seriously. What kind of prank are we pulling?”

“It’s not a prank.” Pinkie sat back and crossed her forelegs. “I need to use that balloon.”

“So... you need the balloon for a prank? C’mon, why else are you being so sneaky about it?”

Pinkie shook her head. “It’s not a prank. I’m trying to—” Pinkie stopped suddenly, gazing at Twenty-Nine. She was definitely just another copy, alright. The electric blue highlights in her mane made her imperfection obvious, despite looking sorta snazzy. But looking into Twenty-Nine’s eyes, Pinkie could see nothing but genuine excitement. “I’m trying to escape,” she said, her voice dropping to be almost inaudible.

Twenty-Nine’s eyes widened and her face went blank. Then an eyebrow raised in confusion. Her mouth opened and closed, caught between different impulses. And then finally, her eyes lit up with stars.

“You too?” she whispered.

Pinkie crouched behind a trash can, having snuck her way a little closer to the hot-air balloon’s location. She glanced back and waved a hoof at Twenty-Nine, their signal for the plan. Pinkie’s tail swished back and forth and she forced herself to take a deep breath. So much of this plan depended on Twenty-Nine, and for such an important mission it included an uncomfortable amount of "just winging it", as the other mare cheerfully put it. Pinkie would just have to rely on Twenty-Nine’s greater experience here.

Twenty-Nine trotted up the path, winking at Pinkie as she passed by the trash can. She made her way right up to the base of the balloon, and Pinkie risked a peek around her hiding place. Forty-One was staring right at the smiling Twenty-Nine, as well as sweating profusely.

“Wh-what are you doing here?” Forty-One said, taking a step back before bumping her flank into the balloon’s basket.

“Oh, I was juuuust looking for you!” Twenty-Nine chirped. She took another step forward to conclusively corner Forty-One.

“I’m on duty here!” Forty-One said. “I don’t have time for your pranks! I only just got the tree sap washed out of my tail from last time.”

Twenty-Nine pouted. “What if I just wanted to borrow the balloon for a while?”

“No way!” Forty-One exclaimed, shaking her head vigorously. “Number Two left me in charge here and I’ve got to be responsible.”

Twenty-Nine shrugged. “That’s okay. I really just wanted to tell you about this little idea I had. It involves a bee's nest, a well-positioned bucket of pollen, and a stuck-up bossy pony who lives in a library tree.”

“You mean...” Forty-One stared. “No way. You wouldn’t.”

Twenty-Nine batted her eyelashes. “I miiiight have already did.”

“Number Two? Are you crazy? I’ve got to go tell her!” Forty-One took a step forward, then froze, one hoof still in the air. “Waaait,” she said. “If I left, I’d be abandoning the balloon. And that might be what you wanted all along, huh? Well, I’m not going to fall for your tricks.”

Twenty-Nine put one hoof to her chest. “Tricks? Me?” She blinked innocently. “I just wanted to brag a little bit. What’s the point of pulling off the best prank ever if nopony knows about it? Well. I’m sure a lot of ponies are going to know about it in another fifteen minutes once Twoozy—”

“I...” Forty-One shuffled from hoof to hoof nervously. “You...”

Twenty-Nine flicked her tail. That was the signal. Pinkie nonchalantly rose from her hiding place and started to walk by, humming a happy song. As she drew near to the other two ponies, she slowed down, curiously glancing in their direction.

That was enough. Forty-One brightened up immediately, finally having been tossed a lifeline. “Oh, excuse me Ma’am,” she said. “I need your help!”

Pinkie turned and smiled, straining to keep her expression one of pleasant curiosity rather than satisfaction. “Sure!”

“I need you to run and find Number Two as fast as you can. She’s in terrible danger!”

Pinkie’s smile twitched as her mind raced. “Oh, but... I sprained my leg recently." She flexed one hind leg as she gave an exaggerated wince. "I’m only now getting it back into good enough shape to trot. If I were to gallop, I’d hurt it all over again!” Twenty-Nine nodded almost imperceptibly, approving the quick lie.

“But... I can’t. She might—”

“Hey, nice balloon!” Pinkie said quickly. “I bet it would be neat to fly, but it is too bad that I can’t stand heights.”

Forty-One’s eyes flashed and widened, and Pinkie could just about see the thoughts percolating in her head. One more push. “Oh well,” Pinkie said. “If you need me, I’ll be walking around the park. With all my work finished early today, I don’t have anything else to do.”

That was enough. Assisted by a large dose of desperation, the implied responsibility and free time were enough to outweigh lingering paranoid suspicion. “No, wait!” Forty-One said. “C-can you watch the balloon for me for a bit?”

Pinkie smiled cheerfully. “Of course, anything for a friend!” Twenty-Nine made a big show of grumbling darkly at the development, as if disappointed at having her plans foiled.

Forty-One took one last level stare at her, looking for any sign of deception, but the perceived urgency cut her efforts short. “Just wait here. Don’t touch anything.” She raised one hoof accusingly at Twenty-Nine. “And do not let this pony on the balloon.”

"I can assure you, that pony will absolutely not get on this balloon," Pinkie solemnly intoned, marching up to take position in front of the balloon. Forty-One didn't notice the corners of Pinkie's mouth twitching ever so slightly. Wasting no time, the guardspony turned to dash off in search of Number Two, not even looking back.

Pinkie waited until Forty-One was definitely out of sight before sighing with relief. “I can’t believe that worked!”

Twenty-Nine’s devious smirk grew alarmingly large. “She always falls for it. There’s nothing better than pranking somepony who’s a stick-in-the-mud like Forty-One. Some ponies take things way too seriously!”

Pinkie tilted her head. “Right...”

“But anyways!” Twenty-Nine turned to face Pinkie, her expression solemn. “You have to escape, and get help. I know you can do it. I believe in you!”

“You’re sure you won’t come with me?” Pinkie frowned with worry. “We could fit two in here, and I don’t know if you’ll be safe when they find out you helped me.”

Twenty-Nine waved a hoof dismissively. “My place is here. Bringing down the system from the inside, sister! I’ve lasted this long, I can survive.” She paused, and raised one hoof slowly, her eyes growing large and misty. “Just... just promise that you’ll come back for me.” Her voice was soft and fraught with emotion.

Pinkie swallowed, and firmly raised her hoof to meet Twenty-Nine’s. “I promise,” Pinkie said. “I will never forget this.”

A tremulous smile danced across Twenty-Nine’s face. “Then go. And hurry! You don’t have much time.”

Pinkie reluctantly turned to hop into the basket. She fiddled with the burner, turning it up slightly to cause the balloon to rise up, pulling the moorings taut. Looking out of the basket she saw Twenty-Nine busily untying all the ropes.

As the last rope loosened, the balloon surged up, the ground pulling further and further away.

“Never give up!” Twenty-Nine’s voice floated up with one last encouragement.

Pinkie blinked back tears and set her sights forward. She didn’t understand how or why, but she wasn’t alone, and the force of a friend’s confidence in her buoyed her spirits as she faced towards Canterlot.

Onward!

It did not take long before reality caught up with Pinkie’s excited expectations. The balloon rose, as balloons do. That vertical part, she had down, no problem. It just didn’t seem to want to go anywhere horizontally. The spires of Canterlot glittering in the distance taunted her by remaining resolutely out of reach.

This would be so much smoother with the help of a pegasus. How did Twilight make flying this thing look so easy?

Oh, wait. Magic, probably.

Without any magic or wings to rely on, Pinkie would have to use her brain. It was just a matter of finding the appropriate jetstream, if she remembered correctly. She’d keep going up until she hit a patch of wind that would send her in the right direction.

Pinkie was concentrating on this task when she happened to look back and catch sight of the clouds brewing over Everfree Forest. They were a dark, angry color, bordering on pitch black, and they swirled with energy as flashes of lightning occasionally lit up from within.

Picking up the pace, she turned up the burner, causing the balloon’s basket to jerk as it rose faster. Pinkie took a deep breath to calm herself down. This was actually good, right? If the storms were going towards her, she could ride the wave of wind right in front all the way to Canterlot. It wouldn’t necessarily be a comfortable trip, but it would get her there.

No winds came. As she stared at the thunderclouds, she could see them visibly growing closer, and the deep rumble of thunder grew ominously louder. Frantically she turned the burner down, then back up, the balloon alternately dropping and rising as she tried to find some altitude where she could get moving.

She stopped to peer over the side of the basket, a decision she immediately regretted. The ground was a long long way down, but from the sight of the park below, she hadn’t moved at all. She was dead in the air.

As if to prove her wrong, the basket tilted with a sudden strong gust, and she barely managed to avoid tumbling out. Pinkie pulled herself back in, clutching one of the ropes in a panicked grip. As soon as she had regained her balance, she realized the clouds that moments ago had been lurking in the depths of the Everfree were already upon the balloon.

They were no longer brooding. They were raging. She only had a moment before the closest inky mass surged forward to envelop her. The howling winds immediately threw the balloon, causing the basket to careen dangerously to the side. All traces of light were gone, the sun completely unable to pierce the thick nimbus.

The accompanying rain struck Pinkie like a physical blow, shockingly cold and forceful. In seconds, it had seeped through her coat to chill her to the very bone. Pinkie gritted her teeth and redoubled her grip as she tried to brace herself in the basket. Survival was more important than comfort. She could do this, just as long as—

With a blinding flash, a bolt of lightning cut through the sheets of rain to arc right past the balloon on its way to the ground. As it vanished, the thunder roared deafeningly, like cloudside seats to a sonic rainboom. An otherworldly stench rose unbidden, the strange acrid smell of burnt ozone.

Pinkie's eyes shot up, dreading damage to the balloon itself. It was an exercise in futility – from within the cloud she could barely see her hoof in front of her face.

She had to do something. But any pretense of agency had vanished into the tempestuous maelstrom of fate. The storm flung the balloon about wildly, bouncing it from one whirl of gale-force winds to the next. It was all Pinkie could do to hold on and keep from being thrown from the basket. She was completely at the mercy of the storm, the fiercest she had ever seen.

More lightning flashed around the balloon. Each accompanying explosion of sound physically rattled Pinkie with the reverberation. The torrents of rain never let up, swirled around from bursts of wind to strike from one direction, then another. Just as she prepared to shield her eyes or catch her breath, the wind would whip another barrage of frigid water from where she was least expecting.

Her grip on the balloon began to ever-so-slowly slip, rope in one hoof and side of the basket in the other both having grown dangerously slick.

Just when Pinkie thought she was at her breaking point, suddenly it all fell away. The balloon had been thrown into a pocket of still air, but on all sides she could see the roiling black clouds, ready to swallow her up once again.

She had this one opportunity. She could try to take the balloon down, and try to land somewhere while she had a chance to do so safely.

Or she could go up, straight back into the storm in the hope that she could push through and come out above the clouds. It would be a much more dangerous route, but one that had the chance of getting her through to Canterlot. If the storm didn’t kill her.

Pinkie didn’t hesitate. She reached for the burner and turned it up all the way, redoubling her grip as she prepared for another rough ride. The balloon jerked upwards.

Then the burner coughed and sputtered before going out entirely.

She was out of fuel.

Pinkie screamed as the balloon began to drop like a rock, the stormclouds swirling on all sides but not yet overtaking her. She frantically checked the connections between the burner and the fuel tank, kicking it lightly as she flicked the burner off and on.

It finally caught again, flaring to life to slow the descent to a manageable level, but the balloon was still inevitably dropping. Pinkie leaned over the side, eyes wide to see what was below her. There were trees – it would be more accurate to call it a crash site than a landing place, but it’d be softer than bare rock.

She braced herself for impact, as the ground rushed up.

The basket crashed into the upper branches of the tree, tilting precariously sideways as the balloon pressed down from above. With another shriek, Pinkie tumbled from the basket through a series of leafy branches that served to slow her fall.

With one final thump that jarred her bones and knocked the wind out of her, Pinkie landed on the ground below the tree.

Groaning with the sharp pain of the impact, she writhed in the dirt. After getting over the initial shock of her sudden landing, she wiggled her hooves and tail. At least they all seemed to be there.

She gritted her teeth and shakily stood up, wincing with the feeling of bruises already setting in. As her vision stopped spinning, she saw two ponies waiting for her.

“Really, Six?” Number Two said reproachfully. “You’re s’posed to put things back when you’re done using them, that way other ponies can get a turn too!” She gestured to the dock where the balloon was usually kept. With a sinking feeling Pinkie realized that she had managed to travel a grand total of fifty feet to land in a tree still within sight of where the balloon had been tied. The park was just as it had been only a brief time earlier, and a glance up into the sky showed only a few wisps of clouds quickly retreating.

The other pony was grinning madly at Pinkie. “I can’t believe you actually did that!” Number Twenty-Nine said. “And that you thought you could actually go anywhere! You are one crazy pony, you know that?”

“But... you...” Pinkie’s jaw fell open. “You said you were trying to escape too!”

Twenty-Nine dissolved into a fit of giggles. “Th–snrk–the look on your face right now! I can’t believe you actually believed all that.” She stood straight up, eyes open wide and mouth pursed. “Promise that you’ll come back for me,” she whispered, before her solemn expression broke into a huge grin. Twenty-Nine dramatically raised one hoof to her forehead and fell backwards, rolling around on the ground while laughing madly.

Pinkie froze, color draining from her face.

“Enough, you’re making her feel bad,” Two said, though she didn't bother to hide her own smirk. “Six, I was looking for you. I know it's been tough, and you're still adjusting, so...” Her eyes twinkled as she presented an invitation to Pinkie.

Pinkie stared down at the piece of paper.

You are INVITED!!

To the CHEER UP SIXIE mega-super-bash!

Tonight!! Sweet Apple Acres!

There will be music and snacks and fun!

By order!!!

She looked back up at the crooked smile of Number Two.

“I know it’s last minute, but I do hope you can make it.”

Pinkie poked at her salad glumly. It was a perfectly good salad, and that’s what really annoyed her. It should be some sort of eeeevil salad, one that screamed when you ate it. Or that piece of lettuce should be covering blinking eyeballs instead of cherry tomatoes. Or it should have thousand island dressing on it. Y’know, something to confirm that it came from crazy malevolent ponies that had stolen away her friends and trapped her in this town.

Instead, it was just a normal salad. Nothing special, but not bad either.

Pinkie sighed and poked at a piece of lettuce with her nose again, not feeling hungry.

“Is it not good? Do you want something else?”

Pinkie looked up to see the waitress watching with a concerned frown. “No, no, I’m just... saving room for dessert?”

A wide smile appeared on the waitress’s face. “That I can understand! You know what? Let me see if we have any more chocolate-strawberry surprisecake in the back. I won’t ruin the surprise, but it maaay have something to do with chocolate and strawberries. Hee!”

It was a nice gesture. If these ponies were trying to force her to give up on her friends, they were going about it in a very strange way. Maybe that was the point though – wearing her down through kindness? Or just causing her to drop her guard.

Either way, it would take more than sweets to get to Pinkie Pie.

Although... cake did sound a little bit tantalizing.

There was an idea: she would just eat all their delicious confections while standing firm, so that way they would fail to persuade her and have less cake for themselves. Truly a decisive strike in the battle against evil. Yes, that would work.

The waitress must have noticed Pinkie’s devious smile, because she trotted away towards the kitchen, humming to herself. As she turned to go, Pinkie immediately noticed the specific strangeness about her. The waitress’s tail was half the length it should be, the poofy fuchsia hair forming a short bob rather than a normal gloriously tangled cascade. She stared idly as the curly hair twitched back and forth as the waitress walked.

“Sixie! That’s rude, you know?”

"Eep!" Pinkie jumped in place as she turned back to see Thirty-Three across the table, munching happily on the remnants of a daisy sandwich. This popping-up-out-of-nowhere trick was a lot less fun for the victim. “H-how long have you been here?” Pinkie asked.

Thirty-Three shrugged. “I just saw you and figured you looked like you needed a friend! So, here I am! Also, are you going to eat all that?”

Pinkie pushed the bowl of salad forward and Thirty-Three immediately started inhaling it. A friend, huh? Yeah, that’s exactly what she needed. Pinkie sighed. Again her mind drifted in that direction. If only her friends were here...

“But your friends are here,” Thirty-Three chirped. “I’m here, aren’t I?”

Pinkie realized she must have vocalized her previous thought. “That’s not what I mean,” she said, slightly annoyed. “I mean my real friends.”

As soon as the words left her mouth, she realized her mistake. Thirty-Three immediately deployed a killer pair of puppy-dog eyes, on the verge of releasing a torrent of tears. A creeping guilt welled up in Pinkie’s chest, despite reservations that her head still held about the other pony. “No, I mean—” She bit her lip. “Sure, you can be my friend too, but it’s not the same. I mean Twilight Sparkle and Applejack and Rainbow Dash and Fluttershy and Rarity.”

Thirty-Three cocked her head to the side in bafflement. “Who?”

“My friends. From before I ended up here.”

The smile on Thirty-Three’s face was decidedly uncertain. “Sure, I mean, sometimes when my other friends are all busy I may throw a party with Sir Lintsalot and Madame le Flour, but trust me, playing with real ponies is much more—”

“They are not imaginary!” Pinkie exclaimed loudly. A sudden hush fell over the cafe tables as the other patrons turned to look at Pinkie and Thirty-Three. Blushing, her head sunk down to rest on the table. “They’re not.”

Thirty-Three reached across to sympathetically pat Pinkie’s shoulder. “Sure thing, Sixie. Look, maybe you just need a really good party? I’m sure you could make tons of friends if you were a little less mopey and a little more hopey?”

“I don’t want new friends,” Pinkie grumbled. “I want my old ones.”

Thirty-Three scrunched up her forehead, trying to think of something reassuring. She was clearly a little uncomfortable at having to deal with an unhappy pony. “Well. What would your old friends want you to do, then? Wouldn’t they say that you should stop worrying so much? Maybe just try to make some new friends?”

Pinkie responded with a single short laugh. Yeah, right! She could imagine Applejack’s reaction to all these lying ponies. It would be considerably less charitable than she normally tended to be – Applejack had no patience for crooks, cheats, and liars. Nope, she would want Pinkie to...

Well, Applejack would want her to never give up, to keep on trying, and kick the flank of anypony who got in her way. Not sit around.

That realization hurt a little. None of her friends were the type of ponies just to give up. Not even Fluttershy – when push came to shove, Flutters had already proven she’d stare down a dragon, so how were mere ponies s'posed to stop her? They would all do anything to save Pinkie if she was in danger. In fact – who’s to say that they weren’t doing so right now, wherever they were?

In that case, Pinkie had no excuse. All this sitting around moping wasn’t doing anypony any good. So what if she had failed so far? She would just try again, this time more prepared. Sure, she wasn’t strong like Applejack or smart like Twilight, but she had her own talents, right?

She could still do this. She could break out, Pinkie-style.

She tapped her chin as a plan began to take form in her mind. “Hey, Thirty-Three. Say you needed to throw a party on a moment’s notice. How would you handle getting everything together?”

“Hmmm?” Thirty-Three’s eyes lit up with curiosity. “We-e-ell, I do have a few emergency party stashes hidden around town.”

Pinkie nodded. “Of course. You wouldn’t mind if I borrowed some things, then?” Thirty-Three hesitated, looking apprehensive. “One good friend helping out another?” Pinkie quickly added.

Thirty-Three smiled. “Well, in that case, sure! But you have to keep it absolutely secret, OK?”

Pinkie waved one hoof across her chest and placed it over her eye. “Right, right.”

Thinking back on it now, she had hardly tried at all before giving up. Pinkie Pie was a pony with so many tricks up her sleeve that she had once asked Rarity to make her a dress with extra backup sleeves. That had actually not turned out so well, but as the ensuing conversation about the nature of metaphors had shown, it was still fundamentally accurate.

The party supplies would be the bulk of what she needed. She would just need to get her saddlebags, and then pay a visit to the Cutie Mark Crusaders’ Clubhouse over at Sweet Apple Acres. Even if she knew she wouldn’t find the terrible trio, she was hopeful that they might have left a certain something behind.

“And Thirty-Three, do me one more favor?” A grin spread across Pinkie’s face. “Let Two know that I may be late to her little party.”

Pinkie stood at the top of the hill at the edge of town. In the distance, she could see the spires of Canterlot gleaming in the sunlight. Close enough to see, but still so far away.

She pulled the goggles down over her face. Not quite as nice as her nightvision goggles, but she just needed something to keep the wind out of her eyes, and these would do nicely. A pat of her overloaded saddlebags confirmed their contents were securely tucked away, but ready to be retrieved at a moment’s notice. She cinched the helmet tighter against her head, wishing she had a bit larger one, but it would suffice.

There was one last thing to check: the enormous cannon next to her. Thirty-Three has said it was the Party Cannon Mark IV, and that somepony named Seventy-Two had put it together. Pinkie was legitimately impressed – even if Seventy-Two was just one more fakey faker, the Mark IV was way more advanced than her old one. Pinkie wouldn’t have minded discussing the finer points of recreational artillery with her, except she didn’t want to waste any more time, and the more ponies that caught wind of her plan, the greater the chance somepony would try and stop it.

Most importantly for Pinkie’s purposes, the cannon was much larger than her old one. Today, the payload wasn’t going to be confetti and streamers. It would be one very dedicated escapee.

She reached back with one hoof to grip firmly on the object slung across her shoulders and trotted over to the cannon. Even as big as it was, it made for a tight squeeze with her saddlebags and everything. Good. That would make the blast even more forceful.

Pinkie was very familiar with the laws of physics. Familiar enough to know that some of them were really more of... recommended guidelines. It took a bit of finesse to push the limits, as well as a firm grasp of cosmic nature of humor, but one thing she had found was that in order to really do crazy things, it helped to have sufficient momentum. Usually this was meant figuratively.

In this case, it would be literal.

With a deafening blast, the Party Cannon Mark IV fired, launching Pinkie out and into the sky at ludicrous speeds. One minute she was tensed and ready in the cannon, then before she could even process the explosion behind her, she had left the cannon as a speck far behind her.

She would absolutely have to get some pointers from this Seventy-Two before Princess Celestia zapped all the fake ponies back to wherever they belonged.

She tore through the air like a rocket, punching holes right through the middle of low-hanging clouds – one advantage to being an earth pony for once. The feeling of speed as she cut through the sky was such a rush that it wasn’t until she began to lose altitude that she remembered the second part of her plan.

She forced herself to look down. She would land right on the downslope of a hill – perfect! She fought against the wind to pull the object off her shoulder and swing it down to her back hooves..

As super-riffic as the cannon had been, it was a long way to Canterlot still, and she needed some way to keep up her speed. Something to take advantage of the momentum she had gained. Something like Scootaloo’s scooter.

She braced herself as she dropped rapidly out of the sky, gripping onto the handlebars of the scooter with all her strength. The landing was rough, a jolt that rattled every bone in her body, but the scooter made up for any lost speed by immediately picking up even more from careening down the steep slope.

Now this was a ride. The wind whipped so fiercely against Pinkie that she expected her hair to be entirely straight by the time she got to Canterlot. If she wasn’t worried about falling over, she would have loved to look back. She was fairly certain she was leaving a trail of fire from how fast those wheels were turning.

She hit the bottom of the hill at a velocity that would make Rainbow Dash proud and immediately started heading up the next, the scooter not hindered at all by the soft grass. Thank goodness there weren’t rocks or stumps! Though she began to slow a little by heading back uphill, it just made the experience closer to a rollercoaster. With ease she crested the top of the hill, catching a foot or two of air in the process.

Only to see something waiting for her up ahead. At the bottom of the hill the ground leveled off for a long stretch, and waiting there was Gummy. He wasn’t moving, just standing still and waiting for her to come to him. As if he would be enough to stop her, just like last time.

This wasn’t the Everfree. This time Pinkie was prepared.

She crouched down as she headed down the hill, trying to be more compact and aerodynamic for every last bit of speed that would afford. One hoof released the scooter’s handle, reaching back to her saddlebags. Pinkie gritted her teeth, trying to concentrate on maintaining her course even as she prepared for contact.

A pegasus in the sky above would have had a particularly interesting sight. A giant green alligator standing still on a grassy plain. A pink blur rocketing towards him. The classic unstoppable force versus the immovable object, or so it would seem.

Then, right as it seemed they would collide... An explosion.

Confetti of every possible color flew everywhere, directly in front of Gummy. It was a rainbow cloud of tiny colorful scraps, completely obscuring the area in a storm of prismatic detritus.

A pink pony flew out, moving to the right.

Gummy was there immediately, only to see the the pink pony shape skid across the grass. Taking one more glance, he struck, biting down on the shape only to have it burst, showering candy everywhere. The head of the pinata landed face-up on the ground, a crude approximation of Pinkie’s face with eyes crossed and tongue stuck out.

Pinkie had already made a beeline for the left, rocketing out of the cloud of confetti at the same speed she had entered it. She grinned to herself in victory, but as she tilted her head to check behind her, she saw that Gummy had already managed to catch back up, keeping pace alongside the scooter.

When did he get so fast? His legs weren’t even moving nearly as quickly as they would have to be to keep up with her! Sure, he took a lot bigger steps due to his size, but jeez!

It was okay. The party wasn’t over quite yet.

She reached back into the other side of her saddlebags, coming up with a plain briefcase.

Cracking the briefcase open was enough to shoot out the balloons packed inside. Not like they had any offensive value, but Gummy always did like balloons, so it might have bought her a minute.

She didn’t risk slowing down to check. Next up were the party poppers, a mass in each hoof and the strings between her teeth. With a cascade of cracking noises, streamers shot out, right at the alligator’s legs. She had specified extra-strength streamers, the kind for heavy-duty parties, but from the tearing sounds, Gummy ripped right through without stopping.

Pinkie grimaced. The rest of the things in the suitcase she just threw out willy-nilly. Noisemakers, party hats, and an origami centerpiece of a prancing equine rained down upon Gummy all to no avail. Pinkie threw the briefcase after the rest.

Gummy was still blocking her. She only needed to faze him for an instant to get around him, but he was currently standing right between her and Canterlot, making all of her speed wasted.

Well then. If that was how things were going to be, she would have to resort to her last, most powerful weapon.

Pastry.

Her hoof dived back into her saddlebags, coming up with a cupcake that arced through the air to splatter against Gummy’s side. Then another— and another. The baked goods rained down like the wrath of a vengeful god. A god of calories or broken diets, perhaps.

Pinke broke into the next layer of ammunition. Crescent ninja-rolls, slightly overcooked to be hard as rock and perfectly shaped for aerodynamic efficiency. They cut through the air like a hot knife through butter. Which would actually be pretty good on a crescent roll. But despite the loud thuds, Gummy didn’t seem scratched by the attacks. Time to think bigger.

An apple pie caught Gummy right in the head, splattering apple filling across his eye. A languid blink was his only response, clearing up the mess with no sign of discomfort. But he began to open his mouth and snap the pastries right out of the air, wasting the next blueberry and peach pies.

All part of Pinkie’s plan. She dug further into the saddlebag, instinctively hesitating at the next thing she touched. “Gummy,” she called out, “if you’re the real deal, I apologize in advance for this one.”

She came up with a Baked Bad – a doozy of one, three times the size of a normal muffin but greenish-brown in color and with a wriggling earthworm sticking out from the top. It took a certain amount of skill to make something this bad. She hesitated only for a moment before heaving it right at Gummy’s head.

Instinctively he snapped at it, swallowing it whole. His expression didn’t change for an instant, and he didn’t slow down, but a long low gurgle erupted from his stomach.

That was her sign to press the advantage. She readied a set of heart-stopper habañero cupcakes, taking care with the combustible comestibles. They had so much extra chili powder and hot sauce packed in that they burned a little to the touch. Woe betide any pony that got them in their eyes or mouth.

They flew straight and true, Gummy having no choice but to open his mouth or take them right on the snout. They joined the Baked Bad in his stomach, causing the gurgling to increase in volume and intensity.

Pinkie went back to the saddlebag but her hoof scraped the bottom. There was one thing left. A single slice of chocolate-strawberry surprisecake. A tear formed in her eye. This was going to be her celebratory slice, for reaching Canterlot.

Oh, the sacrifices that had to be made...

Whispering a quiet apology to the noble dessert, she sent it on its way, hoping beyond hope that it would be enough to finish the job.

Gummy’s bite for the slice was noticeably much more lethargic than before.

The rumbling coming from his stomach grew ominously, and his already-green face began to look even deeper of a shade, even as he maintained a level pace with the scooter.

Pinkie readied herself. She might only get a moment, so she would have to be ready.

Just as the unsettling sounds of Gummy’s stomach hit a fever pitch, they dropped away. He opened his mouth.

And belched, the immense blast of foul air coming from his mouth sending Pinkie and her scooter careening off track.

It was then she noticed just how far she had gone. Gummy had been keeping up with her every step of the way, blocking her progress and naturally guiding her path in a curve around the city and away from Canterlot. She was almost a full third of the rotation around town, and the empty plains and hills were quickly filling with apple trees.

She wobbled, trying to regain her balance and straighten the scooter, while still avoiding any crashes. Easier said than done, particularly as the trees began to thicken. She weaved around one, then between two others, slaloming back and forth wildly.

She ducked and a low-hanging branch barely missed her, coming close enough to brush her mane. This was manageable though, she just had to keep avoiding the trees, and pay attention for any—

The piled rocks came up too suddenly, so low on the ground that she didn’t notice until it was too late. Her scooter slammed into the pile and she found herself once again flying through the air.

See, this is why wearing a helmet was important.

She saw lights and color through the trees, as she hurtled past branches, tumbling head over heels. A tree wouldn’t be a bad place to land, but it seemed fate had other plans. She saw a glimpse of an opening between two apple trees as she sailed through, throwing her hooves up protectively as she braced herself for impact.

She landed with a tremendous splash, but not in enough liquid to meaningfully cushion the blow. The pain was immediate and intense, but as she lay in a slimy puddle, she groaned more in anger than true hurt.

She wiggled her limbs each in turn. Nothing broken. Just badly bruised, along with her pride.

A moment of silence passed as Pinkie clenched her teeth, eyes and mouth both tightly shut in impotent frustration. Then she heard a pony slowly start stamping her hooves. After a moment, several other broke into wild applause.

“Oh, Six, right on time! You do have a knack for a flashy entrance!”

Pinkie winced and opened her eyes, head still spinning. In front of her, Number Two stood with her insufferable lopsided smile.

Pinkie was sitting in a huge punch bowl that had been mostly emptied by her abrupt arrival. All around her were familiar pink faces, staring with impressed expressions. A huge banner hung between two apple trees, proudly proclaiming the party’s purpose. Cheer Up, Number Six!

Pinkie groaned.

In her life she had been to many parties. Some of them amazing. Others less so. But a party isn’t about who’s there or what kind of food they have or what activities are planned. It’s about your attitude and willingness to enjoy it.

For the first time ever, Pinkie Pie was at a party and she hated it.