Pushing Daisies: Pie-letteby SoulboundAlchemistChaptersPrologue: The GiftChapter One: The VictimChapter Two: The ConfessionPrologue: The GiftAt this very moment in the town of Ponyville, young Ned, nine years, twenty-seven weeks, six days and three minutes old, was chasing his dog Digby, aged three years, two weeks, six days, five hours and nine minutes, and not a minute older. As the two chased each other, Digby ran out into the nearby street and into the path of an oncoming flimflamobile. As Digby flew into the air, the, at first, playful look on the young earth pony’s face turned to one of grief and despair. He trotted to his once living friend and knelt beside his lifeless form. He stayed in that position for several moments, before reaching out to give his best and only friend, a goodbye pat. As soon as his hoof made contact with Digby, however, the deceased dog glowed with a golden light for a split second, and Digby jumped to his paws and ran off. This was the moment young Ned realized he wasn’t like the other foals. Nor was he like anyone else for that matter. Young Ned could touch dead things and bring them back to life. Meanwhile, in a nearby tree, a squirrel fell from it dead. _____________________________________________________________________________________ Ned’s mother was in the kitchen, baking and swatting any flies that got too close to her pies. One of said flies, landed a little close to Ned. His touch was a gift given to him, but not by anyone in particular. There was no box, no instructions, no manufacturer’s warranty. It just was. To test it, while his mother had her back turned to him, putting a pie in the oven, he reached over to the fly and touched it. Like Digby earlier, the fly glowed a golden light and returned to what it had been doing earlier; buzzing around the freshly baked pies. The terms of use for his gift weren’t immediately clear, nor were they of immediate concern; young Ned was in love. Her name was Chuck. At this very moment the young unicorn was aged eight years, forty-two weeks, three hours and two minutes old. The young earth pony did not think of her as being born or hatched or conceived in any way; Chuck came ready made from the Play-Dough fun factory of life. In their imaginations, young Ned and the unicorn called Chuck conquered the world. In their dinosaur costumes they would stomp on the Play-Dough people, and the cardboard cities they built together. The Play-Dough people would run in terror and sometimes kill each other to get out of the way of the two foals. _____________________________________________________________________________________ Long after their play date was over, young Ned, who was currently being cleaned up by his mother, remained under Chuck’s spell. Until a blood-vessel in his mother’s brain burst, killing her instantly. Young Ned didn’t notice this until he heard her hit the ground in front of him. Not thinking about what might happen, he trotted over to his mother and touched her. As with every other dead thing he had touched, she briefly gave off a golden glow, and then her eyes flickered open. “Must have slipped, clumsy me. Did the timer go off?” asked the now not dead mother. She went to the oven and removed the now baked pie, while Ned went to a seat at the table. Young Ned’s random gift that was came with a caveat or two. It was a gift that not only gave, it took. Just as the timer that was set goes off, Chuck’s father, who had been hosing the lawn outside his home, falls dead. Young Ned learned that he could only bring the dead back to life for one minute without consequences. Any longer and someone else had to die. As Ned made this connection, his mother glances out the window and drops the pie she is holding in shock. In the grand universal scheme of things, young Ned had traded his mother’s life, for Chuck’s father’s. _____________________________________________________________________________________ “Come on Neddy, time for bed” said Ned’s mother, several hours later. Young Ned moves away from the window he’s been staring out of since the death of Chuck’s father, and climbs into bed. There was one more thing about touching dead things that young Ned didn’t know and he learned it in the most unfortunate way. As Ned’s mother tucked him in, she made the mistake of giving him a goodnight kiss on his forehead. The instant her lips came into contact with Ned’s skin, she glowed a light blue, and fell backwards, once again dead. Ned jumped out of bed, and tried to revive his mother again, touching her multiple times before he realized the awful truth about his gift. First touch: life! Second touch: dead, again, forever. _____________________________________________________________________________________ “He maketh me to lie down in green pastures. He leadeth me…” the minister droned. After a brief mourning period, young Ned’s father would hustle him off to boarding school, never to be seen again. Chuck would be fostered by aunts Sarah and Juliet Sparkle, renowned magic experts, they shared matching personality disorders, and a love for fine chocolate. At their respective parents funerals, busy with grief, curiosity and hormones, young Ned, and the unicorn named Chuck, had their first, and only kiss. _____________________________________________________________________________________ After his mother’s death, Ned avoided social attachments, fearing what he’d do if someone else he loved died. And he became obsessed with pies. It’s nineteen years, thirty-four weeks, one day and fifty-nine minutes later, here-to-for known as now. Young Ned has become the Pie Maker, his talent for pie baking reflected in his cutie mark; three slices of various pies. He made his pies in a shop known as the Pie Hole in the heart of the Crystal Empire. The peaches never brown, the dead fruit in his hands becomes ripe with everlasting flavor as long as he only touches it once. _____________________________________________________________________________________ “Every day I come in, I pick a pie, concentrate all my love on that pie, if I love it, someone else is gonna love it, and you know what? By the end of the day, I sold more of those pies than any other pie in shop.” The energetic young voice of Olive Snook could be heard talking to PI Emerson Cod, who was getting ready to make his order. “Yeah? What pie do you love today?” responds Cod. “Rhubarb” Cod nods and replies “I’ll stick with three plum. Al la mode.” Emerson Cod was the sole keeper of the Pie Maker’s secret. And this is how he came to be the sole keeper of the Pie Maker’s secret. _____________________________________________________________________________________ A private investigator, Mr. Cod met the Pie Maker, when his Pie Hole was on the verge of financial ruin. Cod was chasing a suspect over the roofs of the buildings surrounding the Pie Hole, until eventually, the suspect made the grave mistake of trying to jump the large gap between the roof of the Pie Hole and another building. Cod’s suspect fell onto the dumpsters in the alleyway below, dying instantly, only to make contact with the Pie Maker, returning to life. A bit disorientated, the criminal made a run for it. He didn’t make it far though, since the Pie Maker, who was much faster than he looked, gave chase and returned him to the grave. Mr. Cod, after observing all this from the nearby rooftop, proposed a partnership; murders are much easier to solve when you can ask the victim who killed them. The Pie Maker reluctantly agreed. _____________________________________________________________________________________ “I asked you not to use the word zombie, its disrespectful” the Pie Maker and Cod were in their usual booth, close to the door, discussing the business of murder as usual. “Stumbling around, squawking for brains, it’s not how they do. And undead, nopony wants to be un anything. Why begin a conversation on a negative, it’s like saying I don’t disagree, just say you agree.” Cod rolled his eyes. “Are you comfortable with living dead?” “You’re either living or you’re dead” the Pie Maker retorted. “When you’re living, you’re alive, when you’re dead, that’s what you are. But when you’re dead and then you’re not, you’re alive again. Can’t we say alive again? Doesn’t that sound nice?” “Sounds like you’re narcoleptic.” “I suffer from sudden and uncontrollable attacks of deep sleep?” “What’s the other one?” “Necrofilia” “Words that sound alike get mixed up in my head” said Cod, shrugging. The great ball of energy and randomness, that was known as Olive suddenly piped up, “Me too, I used to think masturbation meant chewing your food” The two in the booth just stared at Olive, as the smile she wore, ever so slowly fell from her face. “I don’t think that anymore.” “Can you lock the door behind you?” asks the Pie Maker. Olive stood there for only a moment, before taking off her apron, hooking it on a peg by the door, and left, locking the door behind her. Cod watched with a confused look on his face, wondering why the hell did she think masturbation was chewing your food?!? Composing himself, Cod turned back to the Pie Maker asking, “So you want in on this opportunity or not? A dog is involved.” Digby, who had been sleeping on the floor the whole time lifted his head at the word dog. The Pie Maker looked at Digby. “What kind of dog?” he asks. “Is gonna be a dead dog. Dead dog named Cantaloupe. They’re putting her down since she allegedly killed her owner.” “By allegedly…?” “Cantaloupe was framed. Somepony put a part of the victim in her mouth.” “Huh” the Pie Maker said pondering the implications of this statement. “Hey,” Cod pulls out a photo of the supposed murderer. “Docile as a kitten, says the family.” The Pie Maker examined the photo carefully, noting how the dog looked practically harmless. “Despite it being a Chow, the breed most likely turned on its owner?” the Pie Maker jokes “Hey, hey!” Cod exclaims. “That’s racial profiling.” The Pie Maker chuckles at this, as he takes a closer look at the dog. “Look here, if the dogs innocent, that means its murder, and that means theres a reward,” pressed Cod, grinning at the prospect of more cash in his wallet. Chapter One: The VictimThe facts were these, one Leonard Gaswint, thirty-nine years, forty-two weeks, five days, three hours and twenty-six minutes old, was found mauled to death in his home office. His dog Cantaloupe was the sole witness and only suspect in the murder. Convinced of her innocence, the Gaswint family offered a significant reward to find the real killer. _____________________________________________________________________________________ “You the dog expert?” this question, directed towards the Pie Maker, was asked in sheer boredom by the coroner on duty. He was a dark brown earth pony with a graying mane and a tombstone for a cutie mark. “Uh-huh!” the Pie Maker forces out, in mock enthusiasm. Even though he had been aware of his gift for most of his life, it still made him very uncomfortable. “Already had a dog expert” replies the coroner, raising an eyebrow. “I’m the, uh” the Pie Maker glances over towards his partner. “Other one.” “Mmmmmhmmmm” _____________________________________________________________________________________ The Pie Maker gingerly glances under the tarp covering the body of Mr. Gaswint, noting the large chunk of flesh missing from his face. “How’s he look” Cod asks, standing a fair distance away. He sported a rather squeamish stomach, and couldn’t take the sight of the more dismembered bodies. “Fine,” replies the Pie Maker. “But my threshold’s pretty high, so you have to take what I say with a grain of salt.” Cod comes a bit closer as the Pie Maker removes the tarp from the face. He holds back a wave of sick as the tarp is removed from Gaswint’s face. “That ain’t a grain of salt. That’s one of them blocks they have in bars we like to lick.” The Pie Maker rolls his eyes, “he can’t help how he looks.” “That doesn’t make it any less traumatic.” “For who?” “Me…and I’m sure him too, but mostly me.” The two stare at the body for a few seconds in silence, until it was broken once again by Cod. “I’m gonna wait outside.” He trots out the door, quite happy to be rid of the grisly sight within the morgue. The Pie Maker, on the other hoof, pulls out his stop watch, starting it in preparation for his little chat with the deceased before touching the recent murder victim. The familiar golden light illuminates the morgue before Mr. Gastwint sits up on the gurny. “Hello” says the recent corpse. “Hi, um sorry to disturb you Mr. Gaswint, or…Leonard, d-do you prefe-“ “Leo!” “Leo,” the Pie Maker says, looking pointedly at Leo’s face and pointing a hoof at his own. “Um, your current condition…” “Do I have something right here?” Asked Leo, pointing at the exact spot on his own face the Pie Maker was gesturing towards. “No. There’s nothing left there.” “Damn dog.” “Cantaloupe?” “Oh, no! Cantaloupe’s as docile as a kitten. It was that Rottweiler! My secretary siqued her dog on me. She’s been upset since last year’s Christmas party. Haha, it was a funny sto-!” Leo’s story was cut short by a jab from the Pie Maker’s hoof, causing the familiar blue flash and leaving him in the same position he was in when the Pie Maker arrived. _____________________________________________________________________________________ “Was it the Chow?” The coroner asked as the Pie Maker came out of the main room. “The secretary. With her Rottweiler.” The Pie Maker and Cod then made their exit, wanting nothing more to do with the dead. Well, for now anyway. _____________________________________________________________________________________ Her good name clear, and her execution staved, Cantaloupe was freed. The secretary and her Rottweiler were hauled to justice. And Olive Snook sat in her apartment, with the Pie Maker’s dog Digby, watching a report of the day’s events on her holo-screen. “…an anonymous tip led to solving the murder of Canterlot entrepreneur thought to be mauled to death by the family pet. The truth, however, is far more sinister…” Olive enjoyed her time with Digby. He was a surrogate for the pony connection she wanted with the Pie Maker. Her desperate attempts to connect to someone so disconnected terrified him. But that didn’t stop her from trying. A knock sounded at the door. The unicorn got up from her spot with Digby, and answered the door to…the Pie Maker. “How was the convention?” she asked as soon as the door opened. The Pie Maker, a little uncomfortable due to the fact that he was in Olive’s apartment and that if he wasn’t careful, he could accidentally kill Digby. “Conventional. How was Digby?” “Erratic, he’s a very needy dog. Do you pet him? Maybe if you pet him once in a while he wouldn’t be so erratic.” “I pet him. I’m allergic, so I can’t actually touch him, but I pet him.” “With a stick? How do you pet him?” “A stick is involved, but its more like a handle to a…petting device.” Olive had been advancing on the Pie Maker throughout the entire conversation, to the point where the Pie Maker tripped backwards over Olive’s coffee table. “A dog needs to be touched. We all need to be touched.” “You touch him, other ponies touch him.” “He’s your dog.” The Pie Maker was beginning to get more uncomfortable than he already had been. Olive, oblivious to his discomfort, continued her advances. “Do you touch anything?” “Of course, I uh,” the Pie Maker said, looking around for some way to escape. “I-uh, I tou-touch lots of things.” “With affection? When was the last time somepony touched you with affection?” “I get touched.” Olive leaned in, hoping to sneak a kiss from the love of her life, but the Pie Maker, spotting his escape, stopped her advance. “Can you get Digby’s leash now?” Olive looked at the Pie Maker longingly for a few seconds before, reluctantly, going off in search of Digby’s leash. The Pie Maker turned his head towards Digby, asking “you don’t mind not getting touched, do you?” Digby looked up to his master, thinking that his master was very thoughtful to leave him with somepony who touched him regularly. And then came the event that changed everything. “…in other news, the body of a young mare allegedly murdered aboard a sky cruiser was recovered from the frozen north. The victim’s identity is being withheld…” The Pie Maker listened intently to the news, unaware that he had stopped breathing. He was haunted by the nameless woman who met her end above the clouds. But he didn’t know why. “Here’s your leash,” sighed the disappointed mare as she came back from retrieving the leash. _____________________________________________________________________________________ “…her name’s still being withheld, and very little is known about the victim, who had been reportedly travelling alone, when murdered aboard a passenger air ship, that was returning from an exotic cruise flying between Equestria and Hoofululu. The ship’s captain initially dismissed the death as an accident, suggesting the victim likely returned from a late nig…” The Pie Maker was back in his Pie Hole, entranced by the reports flooding in about the recent murder. KNOCK! KNOCK! KNOCK! Entranced no longer, the Pie Maker left his storage room and opened the door to Cod. After brewing some coffee for the PI and himself, Cod finally broke the silence. “Been watching the news lately?” “Doesn’t seem like much is going on in the world besides a dead mare on an airship” replies the Pie Maker. “A lot going on with that dead mare.” “That so?” “Mmhmm, fifty thousand bits worth of ‘that so’. You interested in a conversation?” “I could be persuaded” “You better be persuaded quick, cause dead mares about to go underground.” “They just pulled her out of the water.” “Aurelian. Celestians just leave’em laying around. Aurelians gotta get’em buried.” “Where are we going?” “Ponyville, ever been there?” “I grew up there. Sort of. This dead mare from Ponyville, she have a name?” “Charlotte Sparkle.” The Pie Maker gasped in recognition. “Chuck” Chapter Two: The ConfessionThe Pie Maker never returned to Ponyville after being sent away to school, but he thought of Chuck every day. At this very moment, the Pie Maker and PI Emerson Cod were on a train en route to the historic town. “You know this mare?” the PI questions. “I know of her” the Pie Maker replies, staring ahead and hoping his feelings aren’t obvious. “Know her in the Biblical sense?” “Haven’t thought of her since I was ten.” “Think of her a lot when you were ten?” “Don’t…remember anything when I was ten…” The Pie Maker remembers everything. _____________________________________________________________________________________ The facts were these. Charlotte Sparkle twenty-eight years, twenty-four weeks, three days, eleven hours and fifty-one minutes old, was found buried in a snowdrift, deep within the Frozen North, moments after her body was discarded there. Discarded by whom seemed to be a question only Charlotte Sparkle could answer. _____________________________________________________________________________________ Murder was rare in this area of Equestria; with the majority of the inhabitants being Celestian and following the Creed of Harmony with almost everypony being friends with each other, murder was a foreign concept to them. So when the murder of somepony within a tightly knit community, such as Ponyville’s, occurs, the townsponies usually bar their doors and windows waiting for the perpetrator to be caught. But, because the murdered pony in question was a descendent of Princess Twilight Sparkle (who happens to live in the nearby library), the ponies decided it would be better to attend young Chuck’s funeral, leaving the Pie Maker and Cod to trot their way through the deserted streets of Ponyville to the library The Pie Maker and Cod trotted into the Ponyville Funeral Home, ready to discover who, or what killed Chuck. At the same time, the funeral director, who coincidentally was one of the few atheist ponies in town, was off stealing heirlooms off of dead bodies. Always eager to supplement his income, he was more than eager to grant the deceased an audience, for the low price of fifty bits. As the Pie Maker and the PI entered the room that held Charlotte Sparkle’s casket, the Pie Maker grew anxious…and Cod noticed. “Um, I just wanna…I wanna…can I do this one alone on account of the, you know…historical context?” the Pie Maker asked. “Got something personal you need to say?” the PI retorted suspiciously. “No.” Cod only looked at him, knowing full well that the Pie Maker did have something personal he wanted to say. “Ok, maybe. But I’ve nothing to gain but a small amount of closure.” “Whatcha got so open that needs closing?” “I, uh, just…wanna say I’m sorry for something. One of those stupid things kids do they don’t know they’re doing.” “Yeah, well, you ask who killed her first.” “Ok.” “You’ve only got a minute.” “I know.” “Sixty seconds.” “I know.” “Alright.” And with that, Cod left the room, closing the door silently behind him. The Pie Maker, here-to-for known as Ned while alone with Chuck, trotted over to the simple casket, and lifted the lid to reveal Chuck’s face. Only Prince Charming would know how Ned felt upon looking at her. Great thought was taken as to where to touch her. The lips? Too forward. The cheek? The cheek. Ned touched her very gently on the cheek, and as soon as the golden flash faded, he found his face being slammed into the casket lid. She then jumped out of the casket and galloped to the other side of the room, picking up a chair with her magic ready to throw. “Chuck, wait!” “Who are you?” Chuck asked, confused as to how some stallion she had never met before knew her childhood nickname. “Do you remember a little foal who lived next door to you when your dad died?” “Ned?” She said, her eyes widening in surprise. “Oh my Celestia, hey, how are you?” Ned smiled, “good, you look great, um, do you know what’s happening? Like right now?” “I had the strangest dream. I was being strangled to death with a plastic sac.” “You were strangled to death with a plastic sac. It’s probably a bad thing to hear, but I wasn’t quite sure how to sugar coat it.” “Oh.” Chuck suddenly realized where she had been laying prior to her recent revival. “Oh!” “We only have a minute. Less.” “What can I do in less than a minute?” “Well, you can tell me who killed you so, you know, justice can be served.” “That’s really sweet and all, but I don’t know who killed me. I went to go get ice and I dropped my room key in the ice maker. As I was thinking ‘that was dumb’…” As she was thinking ‘that was dumb’, Chuck was strangled to death with a plastic sac. “…and then you touched my cheek,” finished Chuck. “You know, I can say things for myself, Mr. Narrator.” Ned looked around confused. “Uh, Chuck? Who are you talking to?” “Not important.” KNOCK, KNOCK, KNOCK. “Just a second!” Ned called. Chuck looked down at the floor. “Is my time up?” “I’m sorry.” “Well, thanks for calling me ‘Chuck’. You know, no one’s called me ‘Chuck’ since…since you.” “They used to,” Ned said, his voice choking with emotion. “When I lived next door to you, I had a cru- I was in…you were my first kiss.” Chuck smiled. “Yeah? You were my first kiss too.” Ned smiled at the memory. “You wanna be my last kiss? First and last? Or is that weird?” “That’s not weird. It’s magical.” Chuck’s minute of life was nearly over. The two leaned towards each other, Chuck ready to move on. Ned, however, went as far as he could without touching her, but stopped. He couldn’t will himself to go any further. And as a consequence, the thieving funeral director would go no further; across the hall, he rushed his way to the facilities, closing and locking the door behind him. No one would find him until the next day. Back in the room, Ned backed away. Chuck opened her eyes and smiled. “Hey, if you don’t want to kiss me, that’s OK, I just thought it might be…” “I do, I want to, I…” Ned steeled himself, and plunged in. “What if you didn’t have to be dead?” Chuck’s face lit up. “That would be preferable!” Ned smiled as the gears in his mind working on a plan of action. “No one can know.” “No one can know what?” Ned and Chuck whirled around to find Princess Twilight Sparkle standing in the doorway, her face filled with shock, wonder, confusion and anger all at once. “I’ll ask you again,” the princess said. “No one can know what?” The Pie Maker’s mind raced as he tried to come up with an answer, and settled with the truth. “Well, you see princess, uh, I can bring ponies back to life, and I’ve been using that gift to ask ponies who have been murdered who killed them.” The princess just stared at him, like he lost mind. But, the fact that her dead descendent was now standing before her, quite clearly alive, along with her experience with Pinkie Pie’s antics years ago, she decided to just go with it. “Alright, if that’s the case, who killed her?” “Well, that’s the thing; she didn’t see who it was that killed her.” “OK, what do you plan to do about that?” The Pie Maker thought about this for a moment, and realized he hadn’t thought that far ahead. “Well, I was gonna start by getting Chuck out of here. I…hadn’t really thought through what we’d do after that.” Twilight nodded. “I see. So you weren’t thinking about trying to catch the killer?” “Um, well, not really, no.” “I see. You should hide her in the coffin and get your friend to go before you try to get her out of here.” The Pie Maker was bewildered. He had expected the princess to make Chuck go with her back to the Library. “Um, I thought you would-“ “That I would make you kill her again, or take her back to the Library?” “Well, yes. Why would you want her going with me?” “I’ve been trying to get Charlotte to leave her home with her aunts for many years; this is a perfect opportunity for just that,” Twilight replied with a knowing smile. “You should probably hurry; your friend will be coming in the next couple minutes. Oh, and one more thing. I expect you to find the pony that did this. Also, I expect to be allowed to visit her, where will she be staying?” “The Crystal Empire. Just find the Pie Hole, and you’ll find Chuck.” Twilight nodded, and disappeared in a flash of violet light. “OK, you heard the princess, hop in,” Ned said gesturing to the now empty coffin. “OK” Chuck jumped into the coffin, and pretended to be dead once again. “Just, stay real still until I get back.” Ned closed the lid of the coffin and left the room, bumping into Cod, just as he was about to knock. “Doesn’t know. Didn’t know,” the Pie Maker said before Cod had a chance to ask. “So somepony just threw her carcass off the air ship and just, why are you sweating?” “Uh, it’s warm in there.” “Your eye is twitching.” “My eye?” “Your eye. Is twitching. When ponies aren’t being honest their eye twitches.” Right on cue, the Pie Maker’s eye twitches once again. “Right there. Like yours just did now.” “It’s nerves, it’s like acid reflux, but with my eye.” Cod wasn’t convinced, and it showed on his face. “I think I’m gonna stay for the service,” the Pie Maker said after a silence that seemed to last for an eternity, but in reality, it was only a few seconds. “Is that so?” “Just feeling nostalgic. Do you remember how to get back to the train station? It’s down the uh…I’ll catch you later boss.” Cod stood there for a moment, still suspicious that something else was going on, shrugged, and left, as the Pie Maker re-entered the room he had left Chuck’s coffin in, only to find the room empty, and the flimflammobile that the coffin had just been loaded into, on its way to the cemetery.
Prologue: The GiftAt this very moment in the town of Ponyville, young Ned, nine years, twenty-seven weeks, six days and three minutes old, was chasing his dog Digby, aged three years, two weeks, six days, five hours and nine minutes, and not a minute older. As the two chased each other, Digby ran out into the nearby street and into the path of an oncoming flimflamobile. As Digby flew into the air, the, at first, playful look on the young earth pony’s face turned to one of grief and despair. He trotted to his once living friend and knelt beside his lifeless form. He stayed in that position for several moments, before reaching out to give his best and only friend, a goodbye pat. As soon as his hoof made contact with Digby, however, the deceased dog glowed with a golden light for a split second, and Digby jumped to his paws and ran off. This was the moment young Ned realized he wasn’t like the other foals. Nor was he like anyone else for that matter. Young Ned could touch dead things and bring them back to life. Meanwhile, in a nearby tree, a squirrel fell from it dead. _____________________________________________________________________________________ Ned’s mother was in the kitchen, baking and swatting any flies that got too close to her pies. One of said flies, landed a little close to Ned. His touch was a gift given to him, but not by anyone in particular. There was no box, no instructions, no manufacturer’s warranty. It just was. To test it, while his mother had her back turned to him, putting a pie in the oven, he reached over to the fly and touched it. Like Digby earlier, the fly glowed a golden light and returned to what it had been doing earlier; buzzing around the freshly baked pies. The terms of use for his gift weren’t immediately clear, nor were they of immediate concern; young Ned was in love. Her name was Chuck. At this very moment the young unicorn was aged eight years, forty-two weeks, three hours and two minutes old. The young earth pony did not think of her as being born or hatched or conceived in any way; Chuck came ready made from the Play-Dough fun factory of life. In their imaginations, young Ned and the unicorn called Chuck conquered the world. In their dinosaur costumes they would stomp on the Play-Dough people, and the cardboard cities they built together. The Play-Dough people would run in terror and sometimes kill each other to get out of the way of the two foals. _____________________________________________________________________________________ Long after their play date was over, young Ned, who was currently being cleaned up by his mother, remained under Chuck’s spell. Until a blood-vessel in his mother’s brain burst, killing her instantly. Young Ned didn’t notice this until he heard her hit the ground in front of him. Not thinking about what might happen, he trotted over to his mother and touched her. As with every other dead thing he had touched, she briefly gave off a golden glow, and then her eyes flickered open. “Must have slipped, clumsy me. Did the timer go off?” asked the now not dead mother. She went to the oven and removed the now baked pie, while Ned went to a seat at the table. Young Ned’s random gift that was came with a caveat or two. It was a gift that not only gave, it took. Just as the timer that was set goes off, Chuck’s father, who had been hosing the lawn outside his home, falls dead. Young Ned learned that he could only bring the dead back to life for one minute without consequences. Any longer and someone else had to die. As Ned made this connection, his mother glances out the window and drops the pie she is holding in shock. In the grand universal scheme of things, young Ned had traded his mother’s life, for Chuck’s father’s. _____________________________________________________________________________________ “Come on Neddy, time for bed” said Ned’s mother, several hours later. Young Ned moves away from the window he’s been staring out of since the death of Chuck’s father, and climbs into bed. There was one more thing about touching dead things that young Ned didn’t know and he learned it in the most unfortunate way. As Ned’s mother tucked him in, she made the mistake of giving him a goodnight kiss on his forehead. The instant her lips came into contact with Ned’s skin, she glowed a light blue, and fell backwards, once again dead. Ned jumped out of bed, and tried to revive his mother again, touching her multiple times before he realized the awful truth about his gift. First touch: life! Second touch: dead, again, forever. _____________________________________________________________________________________ “He maketh me to lie down in green pastures. He leadeth me…” the minister droned. After a brief mourning period, young Ned’s father would hustle him off to boarding school, never to be seen again. Chuck would be fostered by aunts Sarah and Juliet Sparkle, renowned magic experts, they shared matching personality disorders, and a love for fine chocolate. At their respective parents funerals, busy with grief, curiosity and hormones, young Ned, and the unicorn named Chuck, had their first, and only kiss. _____________________________________________________________________________________ After his mother’s death, Ned avoided social attachments, fearing what he’d do if someone else he loved died. And he became obsessed with pies. It’s nineteen years, thirty-four weeks, one day and fifty-nine minutes later, here-to-for known as now. Young Ned has become the Pie Maker, his talent for pie baking reflected in his cutie mark; three slices of various pies. He made his pies in a shop known as the Pie Hole in the heart of the Crystal Empire. The peaches never brown, the dead fruit in his hands becomes ripe with everlasting flavor as long as he only touches it once. _____________________________________________________________________________________ “Every day I come in, I pick a pie, concentrate all my love on that pie, if I love it, someone else is gonna love it, and you know what? By the end of the day, I sold more of those pies than any other pie in shop.” The energetic young voice of Olive Snook could be heard talking to PI Emerson Cod, who was getting ready to make his order. “Yeah? What pie do you love today?” responds Cod. “Rhubarb” Cod nods and replies “I’ll stick with three plum. Al la mode.” Emerson Cod was the sole keeper of the Pie Maker’s secret. And this is how he came to be the sole keeper of the Pie Maker’s secret. _____________________________________________________________________________________ A private investigator, Mr. Cod met the Pie Maker, when his Pie Hole was on the verge of financial ruin. Cod was chasing a suspect over the roofs of the buildings surrounding the Pie Hole, until eventually, the suspect made the grave mistake of trying to jump the large gap between the roof of the Pie Hole and another building. Cod’s suspect fell onto the dumpsters in the alleyway below, dying instantly, only to make contact with the Pie Maker, returning to life. A bit disorientated, the criminal made a run for it. He didn’t make it far though, since the Pie Maker, who was much faster than he looked, gave chase and returned him to the grave. Mr. Cod, after observing all this from the nearby rooftop, proposed a partnership; murders are much easier to solve when you can ask the victim who killed them. The Pie Maker reluctantly agreed. _____________________________________________________________________________________ “I asked you not to use the word zombie, its disrespectful” the Pie Maker and Cod were in their usual booth, close to the door, discussing the business of murder as usual. “Stumbling around, squawking for brains, it’s not how they do. And undead, nopony wants to be un anything. Why begin a conversation on a negative, it’s like saying I don’t disagree, just say you agree.” Cod rolled his eyes. “Are you comfortable with living dead?” “You’re either living or you’re dead” the Pie Maker retorted. “When you’re living, you’re alive, when you’re dead, that’s what you are. But when you’re dead and then you’re not, you’re alive again. Can’t we say alive again? Doesn’t that sound nice?” “Sounds like you’re narcoleptic.” “I suffer from sudden and uncontrollable attacks of deep sleep?” “What’s the other one?” “Necrofilia” “Words that sound alike get mixed up in my head” said Cod, shrugging. The great ball of energy and randomness, that was known as Olive suddenly piped up, “Me too, I used to think masturbation meant chewing your food” The two in the booth just stared at Olive, as the smile she wore, ever so slowly fell from her face. “I don’t think that anymore.” “Can you lock the door behind you?” asks the Pie Maker. Olive stood there for only a moment, before taking off her apron, hooking it on a peg by the door, and left, locking the door behind her. Cod watched with a confused look on his face, wondering why the hell did she think masturbation was chewing your food?!? Composing himself, Cod turned back to the Pie Maker asking, “So you want in on this opportunity or not? A dog is involved.” Digby, who had been sleeping on the floor the whole time lifted his head at the word dog. The Pie Maker looked at Digby. “What kind of dog?” he asks. “Is gonna be a dead dog. Dead dog named Cantaloupe. They’re putting her down since she allegedly killed her owner.” “By allegedly…?” “Cantaloupe was framed. Somepony put a part of the victim in her mouth.” “Huh” the Pie Maker said pondering the implications of this statement. “Hey,” Cod pulls out a photo of the supposed murderer. “Docile as a kitten, says the family.” The Pie Maker examined the photo carefully, noting how the dog looked practically harmless. “Despite it being a Chow, the breed most likely turned on its owner?” the Pie Maker jokes “Hey, hey!” Cod exclaims. “That’s racial profiling.” The Pie Maker chuckles at this, as he takes a closer look at the dog. “Look here, if the dogs innocent, that means its murder, and that means theres a reward,” pressed Cod, grinning at the prospect of more cash in his wallet.
Chapter One: The VictimThe facts were these, one Leonard Gaswint, thirty-nine years, forty-two weeks, five days, three hours and twenty-six minutes old, was found mauled to death in his home office. His dog Cantaloupe was the sole witness and only suspect in the murder. Convinced of her innocence, the Gaswint family offered a significant reward to find the real killer. _____________________________________________________________________________________ “You the dog expert?” this question, directed towards the Pie Maker, was asked in sheer boredom by the coroner on duty. He was a dark brown earth pony with a graying mane and a tombstone for a cutie mark. “Uh-huh!” the Pie Maker forces out, in mock enthusiasm. Even though he had been aware of his gift for most of his life, it still made him very uncomfortable. “Already had a dog expert” replies the coroner, raising an eyebrow. “I’m the, uh” the Pie Maker glances over towards his partner. “Other one.” “Mmmmmhmmmm” _____________________________________________________________________________________ The Pie Maker gingerly glances under the tarp covering the body of Mr. Gaswint, noting the large chunk of flesh missing from his face. “How’s he look” Cod asks, standing a fair distance away. He sported a rather squeamish stomach, and couldn’t take the sight of the more dismembered bodies. “Fine,” replies the Pie Maker. “But my threshold’s pretty high, so you have to take what I say with a grain of salt.” Cod comes a bit closer as the Pie Maker removes the tarp from the face. He holds back a wave of sick as the tarp is removed from Gaswint’s face. “That ain’t a grain of salt. That’s one of them blocks they have in bars we like to lick.” The Pie Maker rolls his eyes, “he can’t help how he looks.” “That doesn’t make it any less traumatic.” “For who?” “Me…and I’m sure him too, but mostly me.” The two stare at the body for a few seconds in silence, until it was broken once again by Cod. “I’m gonna wait outside.” He trots out the door, quite happy to be rid of the grisly sight within the morgue. The Pie Maker, on the other hoof, pulls out his stop watch, starting it in preparation for his little chat with the deceased before touching the recent murder victim. The familiar golden light illuminates the morgue before Mr. Gastwint sits up on the gurny. “Hello” says the recent corpse. “Hi, um sorry to disturb you Mr. Gaswint, or…Leonard, d-do you prefe-“ “Leo!” “Leo,” the Pie Maker says, looking pointedly at Leo’s face and pointing a hoof at his own. “Um, your current condition…” “Do I have something right here?” Asked Leo, pointing at the exact spot on his own face the Pie Maker was gesturing towards. “No. There’s nothing left there.” “Damn dog.” “Cantaloupe?” “Oh, no! Cantaloupe’s as docile as a kitten. It was that Rottweiler! My secretary siqued her dog on me. She’s been upset since last year’s Christmas party. Haha, it was a funny sto-!” Leo’s story was cut short by a jab from the Pie Maker’s hoof, causing the familiar blue flash and leaving him in the same position he was in when the Pie Maker arrived. _____________________________________________________________________________________ “Was it the Chow?” The coroner asked as the Pie Maker came out of the main room. “The secretary. With her Rottweiler.” The Pie Maker and Cod then made their exit, wanting nothing more to do with the dead. Well, for now anyway. _____________________________________________________________________________________ Her good name clear, and her execution staved, Cantaloupe was freed. The secretary and her Rottweiler were hauled to justice. And Olive Snook sat in her apartment, with the Pie Maker’s dog Digby, watching a report of the day’s events on her holo-screen. “…an anonymous tip led to solving the murder of Canterlot entrepreneur thought to be mauled to death by the family pet. The truth, however, is far more sinister…” Olive enjoyed her time with Digby. He was a surrogate for the pony connection she wanted with the Pie Maker. Her desperate attempts to connect to someone so disconnected terrified him. But that didn’t stop her from trying. A knock sounded at the door. The unicorn got up from her spot with Digby, and answered the door to…the Pie Maker. “How was the convention?” she asked as soon as the door opened. The Pie Maker, a little uncomfortable due to the fact that he was in Olive’s apartment and that if he wasn’t careful, he could accidentally kill Digby. “Conventional. How was Digby?” “Erratic, he’s a very needy dog. Do you pet him? Maybe if you pet him once in a while he wouldn’t be so erratic.” “I pet him. I’m allergic, so I can’t actually touch him, but I pet him.” “With a stick? How do you pet him?” “A stick is involved, but its more like a handle to a…petting device.” Olive had been advancing on the Pie Maker throughout the entire conversation, to the point where the Pie Maker tripped backwards over Olive’s coffee table. “A dog needs to be touched. We all need to be touched.” “You touch him, other ponies touch him.” “He’s your dog.” The Pie Maker was beginning to get more uncomfortable than he already had been. Olive, oblivious to his discomfort, continued her advances. “Do you touch anything?” “Of course, I uh,” the Pie Maker said, looking around for some way to escape. “I-uh, I tou-touch lots of things.” “With affection? When was the last time somepony touched you with affection?” “I get touched.” Olive leaned in, hoping to sneak a kiss from the love of her life, but the Pie Maker, spotting his escape, stopped her advance. “Can you get Digby’s leash now?” Olive looked at the Pie Maker longingly for a few seconds before, reluctantly, going off in search of Digby’s leash. The Pie Maker turned his head towards Digby, asking “you don’t mind not getting touched, do you?” Digby looked up to his master, thinking that his master was very thoughtful to leave him with somepony who touched him regularly. And then came the event that changed everything. “…in other news, the body of a young mare allegedly murdered aboard a sky cruiser was recovered from the frozen north. The victim’s identity is being withheld…” The Pie Maker listened intently to the news, unaware that he had stopped breathing. He was haunted by the nameless woman who met her end above the clouds. But he didn’t know why. “Here’s your leash,” sighed the disappointed mare as she came back from retrieving the leash. _____________________________________________________________________________________ “…her name’s still being withheld, and very little is known about the victim, who had been reportedly travelling alone, when murdered aboard a passenger air ship, that was returning from an exotic cruise flying between Equestria and Hoofululu. The ship’s captain initially dismissed the death as an accident, suggesting the victim likely returned from a late nig…” The Pie Maker was back in his Pie Hole, entranced by the reports flooding in about the recent murder. KNOCK! KNOCK! KNOCK! Entranced no longer, the Pie Maker left his storage room and opened the door to Cod. After brewing some coffee for the PI and himself, Cod finally broke the silence. “Been watching the news lately?” “Doesn’t seem like much is going on in the world besides a dead mare on an airship” replies the Pie Maker. “A lot going on with that dead mare.” “That so?” “Mmhmm, fifty thousand bits worth of ‘that so’. You interested in a conversation?” “I could be persuaded” “You better be persuaded quick, cause dead mares about to go underground.” “They just pulled her out of the water.” “Aurelian. Celestians just leave’em laying around. Aurelians gotta get’em buried.” “Where are we going?” “Ponyville, ever been there?” “I grew up there. Sort of. This dead mare from Ponyville, she have a name?” “Charlotte Sparkle.” The Pie Maker gasped in recognition. “Chuck”
Chapter Two: The ConfessionThe Pie Maker never returned to Ponyville after being sent away to school, but he thought of Chuck every day. At this very moment, the Pie Maker and PI Emerson Cod were on a train en route to the historic town. “You know this mare?” the PI questions. “I know of her” the Pie Maker replies, staring ahead and hoping his feelings aren’t obvious. “Know her in the Biblical sense?” “Haven’t thought of her since I was ten.” “Think of her a lot when you were ten?” “Don’t…remember anything when I was ten…” The Pie Maker remembers everything. _____________________________________________________________________________________ The facts were these. Charlotte Sparkle twenty-eight years, twenty-four weeks, three days, eleven hours and fifty-one minutes old, was found buried in a snowdrift, deep within the Frozen North, moments after her body was discarded there. Discarded by whom seemed to be a question only Charlotte Sparkle could answer. _____________________________________________________________________________________ Murder was rare in this area of Equestria; with the majority of the inhabitants being Celestian and following the Creed of Harmony with almost everypony being friends with each other, murder was a foreign concept to them. So when the murder of somepony within a tightly knit community, such as Ponyville’s, occurs, the townsponies usually bar their doors and windows waiting for the perpetrator to be caught. But, because the murdered pony in question was a descendent of Princess Twilight Sparkle (who happens to live in the nearby library), the ponies decided it would be better to attend young Chuck’s funeral, leaving the Pie Maker and Cod to trot their way through the deserted streets of Ponyville to the library The Pie Maker and Cod trotted into the Ponyville Funeral Home, ready to discover who, or what killed Chuck. At the same time, the funeral director, who coincidentally was one of the few atheist ponies in town, was off stealing heirlooms off of dead bodies. Always eager to supplement his income, he was more than eager to grant the deceased an audience, for the low price of fifty bits. As the Pie Maker and the PI entered the room that held Charlotte Sparkle’s casket, the Pie Maker grew anxious…and Cod noticed. “Um, I just wanna…I wanna…can I do this one alone on account of the, you know…historical context?” the Pie Maker asked. “Got something personal you need to say?” the PI retorted suspiciously. “No.” Cod only looked at him, knowing full well that the Pie Maker did have something personal he wanted to say. “Ok, maybe. But I’ve nothing to gain but a small amount of closure.” “Whatcha got so open that needs closing?” “I, uh, just…wanna say I’m sorry for something. One of those stupid things kids do they don’t know they’re doing.” “Yeah, well, you ask who killed her first.” “Ok.” “You’ve only got a minute.” “I know.” “Sixty seconds.” “I know.” “Alright.” And with that, Cod left the room, closing the door silently behind him. The Pie Maker, here-to-for known as Ned while alone with Chuck, trotted over to the simple casket, and lifted the lid to reveal Chuck’s face. Only Prince Charming would know how Ned felt upon looking at her. Great thought was taken as to where to touch her. The lips? Too forward. The cheek? The cheek. Ned touched her very gently on the cheek, and as soon as the golden flash faded, he found his face being slammed into the casket lid. She then jumped out of the casket and galloped to the other side of the room, picking up a chair with her magic ready to throw. “Chuck, wait!” “Who are you?” Chuck asked, confused as to how some stallion she had never met before knew her childhood nickname. “Do you remember a little foal who lived next door to you when your dad died?” “Ned?” She said, her eyes widening in surprise. “Oh my Celestia, hey, how are you?” Ned smiled, “good, you look great, um, do you know what’s happening? Like right now?” “I had the strangest dream. I was being strangled to death with a plastic sac.” “You were strangled to death with a plastic sac. It’s probably a bad thing to hear, but I wasn’t quite sure how to sugar coat it.” “Oh.” Chuck suddenly realized where she had been laying prior to her recent revival. “Oh!” “We only have a minute. Less.” “What can I do in less than a minute?” “Well, you can tell me who killed you so, you know, justice can be served.” “That’s really sweet and all, but I don’t know who killed me. I went to go get ice and I dropped my room key in the ice maker. As I was thinking ‘that was dumb’…” As she was thinking ‘that was dumb’, Chuck was strangled to death with a plastic sac. “…and then you touched my cheek,” finished Chuck. “You know, I can say things for myself, Mr. Narrator.” Ned looked around confused. “Uh, Chuck? Who are you talking to?” “Not important.” KNOCK, KNOCK, KNOCK. “Just a second!” Ned called. Chuck looked down at the floor. “Is my time up?” “I’m sorry.” “Well, thanks for calling me ‘Chuck’. You know, no one’s called me ‘Chuck’ since…since you.” “They used to,” Ned said, his voice choking with emotion. “When I lived next door to you, I had a cru- I was in…you were my first kiss.” Chuck smiled. “Yeah? You were my first kiss too.” Ned smiled at the memory. “You wanna be my last kiss? First and last? Or is that weird?” “That’s not weird. It’s magical.” Chuck’s minute of life was nearly over. The two leaned towards each other, Chuck ready to move on. Ned, however, went as far as he could without touching her, but stopped. He couldn’t will himself to go any further. And as a consequence, the thieving funeral director would go no further; across the hall, he rushed his way to the facilities, closing and locking the door behind him. No one would find him until the next day. Back in the room, Ned backed away. Chuck opened her eyes and smiled. “Hey, if you don’t want to kiss me, that’s OK, I just thought it might be…” “I do, I want to, I…” Ned steeled himself, and plunged in. “What if you didn’t have to be dead?” Chuck’s face lit up. “That would be preferable!” Ned smiled as the gears in his mind working on a plan of action. “No one can know.” “No one can know what?” Ned and Chuck whirled around to find Princess Twilight Sparkle standing in the doorway, her face filled with shock, wonder, confusion and anger all at once. “I’ll ask you again,” the princess said. “No one can know what?” The Pie Maker’s mind raced as he tried to come up with an answer, and settled with the truth. “Well, you see princess, uh, I can bring ponies back to life, and I’ve been using that gift to ask ponies who have been murdered who killed them.” The princess just stared at him, like he lost mind. But, the fact that her dead descendent was now standing before her, quite clearly alive, along with her experience with Pinkie Pie’s antics years ago, she decided to just go with it. “Alright, if that’s the case, who killed her?” “Well, that’s the thing; she didn’t see who it was that killed her.” “OK, what do you plan to do about that?” The Pie Maker thought about this for a moment, and realized he hadn’t thought that far ahead. “Well, I was gonna start by getting Chuck out of here. I…hadn’t really thought through what we’d do after that.” Twilight nodded. “I see. So you weren’t thinking about trying to catch the killer?” “Um, well, not really, no.” “I see. You should hide her in the coffin and get your friend to go before you try to get her out of here.” The Pie Maker was bewildered. He had expected the princess to make Chuck go with her back to the Library. “Um, I thought you would-“ “That I would make you kill her again, or take her back to the Library?” “Well, yes. Why would you want her going with me?” “I’ve been trying to get Charlotte to leave her home with her aunts for many years; this is a perfect opportunity for just that,” Twilight replied with a knowing smile. “You should probably hurry; your friend will be coming in the next couple minutes. Oh, and one more thing. I expect you to find the pony that did this. Also, I expect to be allowed to visit her, where will she be staying?” “The Crystal Empire. Just find the Pie Hole, and you’ll find Chuck.” Twilight nodded, and disappeared in a flash of violet light. “OK, you heard the princess, hop in,” Ned said gesturing to the now empty coffin. “OK” Chuck jumped into the coffin, and pretended to be dead once again. “Just, stay real still until I get back.” Ned closed the lid of the coffin and left the room, bumping into Cod, just as he was about to knock. “Doesn’t know. Didn’t know,” the Pie Maker said before Cod had a chance to ask. “So somepony just threw her carcass off the air ship and just, why are you sweating?” “Uh, it’s warm in there.” “Your eye is twitching.” “My eye?” “Your eye. Is twitching. When ponies aren’t being honest their eye twitches.” Right on cue, the Pie Maker’s eye twitches once again. “Right there. Like yours just did now.” “It’s nerves, it’s like acid reflux, but with my eye.” Cod wasn’t convinced, and it showed on his face. “I think I’m gonna stay for the service,” the Pie Maker said after a silence that seemed to last for an eternity, but in reality, it was only a few seconds. “Is that so?” “Just feeling nostalgic. Do you remember how to get back to the train station? It’s down the uh…I’ll catch you later boss.” Cod stood there for a moment, still suspicious that something else was going on, shrugged, and left, as the Pie Maker re-entered the room he had left Chuck’s coffin in, only to find the room empty, and the flimflammobile that the coffin had just been loaded into, on its way to the cemetery.
