Pinkie Pie didn’t like her tea.
Fluttershy had told her that it was peppermint. Peppermint is supposed to be good for you. It’s supposed to give you a cool, refreshing feeling, a sort of crispness. Pinkie Pie knew this because around Hearth’s Warming Eve peppermint tea was her favorite. This didn’t taste like peppermint, nor did it smell like anything close. She sniffed it. It smelled burnt. Like melted plastic.
Fluttershy must be lying. This probably wasn’t peppermint. It probably wasn’t even tea. It was slippery, oily. Like melted plastic.
“Is something wrong, Pinkie?” Fluttershy asked softly.
Pinkie shook her head numbly. “No,” she said, her voice echoing off the walls of the kitchen. “Nothing’s wrong.”
“Are you sure,” asked Fluttershy, cocking her head uncertainly. “You look off. Do you not like the tea? Should I make another pot for you?”
Pinkie didn’t try to smile. “No, it’s delicious. I like it a lot.”
“Then drink it.”
“I don’t want to.”
Fluttershy frowned, visibly hurt. Her hooves scuttled across the metal table at which they were both seated. The sound was like nails on chalkboard. Her breathing came in agonized gasps, inhaling the air that smelled like smoke. “Why don’t you want to if you like it? Are you lying to me, Pinkie Pie? If you don’t like my tea just say so. I don’t mind if you hurt my feelings. I’ll just kill myself, that’s all.”
“No, Fluttershy, I like the tea,” repeated Pinkie Pie. She took the teacup between her hooves and brought it to her lips. Her gag reflex didn’t stop her from sipping the awful substance. It had the consistency of paint, pasty and watery. And there was that awful taste, chemical and burnt. Like melted plastic. It slithered down her throat yet for some reason she didn’t throw up.
“If it tastes like plastic it’s probably your fault, Pinkie,” said Fluttershy, leaning back in her chair. The metal bent under her weight.
“It doesn’t taste like plastic,” lied Pinkie, putting the cup back on the saucer.
“That’s good. It’s peppermint. I know how much you like peppermint tea, Pinkie Pie. I made it especially for you. Would you like some sugar?”
Sugar. That probably wasn’t a good idea. Last time she had sugar here it burned her mouth and made her eyes hurt. But worst of all she couldn’t stop eating it. It made her see things, too. She’d killed Applejack last time because she wanted to take some of her sugar. Hopefully Applejack wouldn’t hold it against her.
“No thank you,” said Pinkie Pie, shaking her head.
“I really think you should have some sugar, Pinkie,” said Fluttershy, reaching for the bowl. “It’s good for you.”
“I really don’t want sugar, Fluttershy,” she answered. “I’m sorry.”
“You should be. It’s your fault,” Fluttershy reprimanded coldly. She gave the sugar bowl one more inviting tap with her hoof and let it be. “I try so hard and you never do anything for me, Pinkie. I guess you don’t care.”
“I guess not.”
“You didn’t even ask me how my day was, Pinkie. I guess you just assumed that all I had to do was sit around and wait for you to drink my tea that you hate.” Her brow furrowed. “I worked really hard on that tea, you know. I guess you don’t like it anyways. That’s okay. It’s probably your fault.”
Pinkie Pie didn’t answer. Fluttershy had said it so many times that she was starting to wonder if it really was her fault. She wasn’t sure. She couldn’t really remember anything before the tea party.
“I’m sorry I didn’t ask, Fluttershy. How was your day?”
“It was nice,” Fluttershy said, fluttering her wings with pleasure. “I sat here waiting for you to drink my tea that you hate. I’m so glad you came, Pinkie. I love it when you come. You should come over more often.”
“I’m not sure if I can do that, Fluttershy.”
“I also ate a bird today.”
“Is that so?” Pinkie Pie asked. It was less of a question and more of a statement than anything.
“Yes. I can still feel it moving around inside me. I think it’s trying to sing a song. I wish it would stop moving. It hurts me sometimes. Do you think I should cough it up, Pinkie? I might get sick and it could be your fault.”
Now that she mentioned it, Pinkie Pie did hear some birds tweeting. It sounded like distant bells echoing somewhere in the distance. As if to demonstrate, Fluttershy opened her mouth wide. Birdsong chirped from the inside of her throat.
“I don’t know, Fluttershy.”
“Oh, you never know.” The voice sounded a bit like Fluttershy, but that wouldn’t make sense. Fluttershy’s eyes were closed and her mouth was wide open. Pinkie wasn’t quite sure how she was talking. “This is probably your fault. This dumb bird is going to kill me. I can feel it moving around inside me. Why aren’t you making it stop?” Her speech was punctuated with sweet, blissful chirping from deep inside her gullet.
“Thanks for the tea, Fluttershy,” Pinkie said, slipping out of her chair. “I have to go now. I’ll be back tomorrow night.”
Fluttershy didn’t say anything. The bird was shoving its way out of her throat and the head was sticking out of her mouth. It watched her and chirped sweetly as Pinkie walked out of the room.
Well, not quite walked out. Pinkie had never found herself able of walking out of any room here. She just walked away and went somewhere else. Everything seemed to change around her, so things like walls and doors didn’t really matter anymore. In a way, it was easier. All she had to do was trot here or there and when she turned around she wasn’t where she’d been before. Of course the problem arose in the fact that once she wasn’t where she’d been she was instead Somewhere Else and she never knew where Somewhere Else was. Somewhere Else was never the same place twice. That was a little concerning, too. Could she really call it Somewhere Else when Somewhere Else was never the same place? That was like saying you were going to Ponyville but sometimes Ponyville was Canterlot or Trottingham or a train station. It didn’t make sense to name something that was never always the same something. Or perhaps it can be named for its consistent randomness?
Pinkie did her best to keep thinking about just that paradox so that she didn’t have to think too hard about where Somewhere Else would be this time. Unfortunately Somewhere Else waits for nopony and as soon as she stopped walking Somewhere Else was a bridge.
She couldn’t see an end to it. There was neither sign nor guardrail pointing her in any direction. Whatever was at the end vanished in the thick, gray air. Pinkie took a deep breath. Still smelled like smoke. She wondered briefly if it really was smoke, or if maybe it was just the air that smelled like smoke. Kind of like the tea, she thought, trotting along the bridge and waiting for it to take her Somewhere Else. It couldn’t possibly have been actual plastic. It was probably just water that smelled like plastic. And tasted like it. Like… like…
Like the water under the bridge. Pinkie peered over the edge down at the thick, slow moving waves lapping against the struts of the bridge. She wasn’t sure if it was water, though. Water probably shouldn’t be moving that slow. Finally Pinkie decided that since the only possible explanation to the question could only be found by diving into the plastic-water and taking a big gulp, which she didn’t want to do, she should continue on her way.
Unfortunately, when she continued along the bridge and waited for it to take her Somewhere Else, she found Rainbow Dash. She flapped her wings and hovered alongside her. The sound made Pinkie think of birds for some reason.
“Hello, Rainbow Dash,” Pinkie said as pleasantly as possible.
“Ha ha ha,” Rainbow Dash answered.
“Yes, good to see you too.”
“Ha ha ha.”
“Rainbow Dash, I’m sorry if this is rude,” said Pinkie, neither breaking her stride nor looking Rainbow Dash in the eyes, “but I really don’t want to talk too much. I just want to keep going. Is that okay?”
“Ha ha ha,” said Rainbow Dash. She kept following, her wings flapping rhythmically to keep her apace with Pinkie. Pinkie sighed and her breath tasted like smoke. She didn’t want to have to deal with Rainbow Dash again. She smiled too much and it got to the point where Pinkie almost got angry because nothing was funny.
“Ha ha ha.”
“I didn’t say anything, Rainbow Dash.”
“Ha ha ha.”
It was rather obvious to Pinkie that Rainbow Dash must not have forgiven her for when she made her cry. Truth be told, Pinkie did still feel awful about the whole thing. But how could she have known? Friends don’t often eat each other. Applejack had told Pinkie that she was being mean but Rainbow Dash acted like nothing was wrong when she was chewing through her stomach. Applejack wasn’t too happy that Rainbow Dash was making the floor dirty and that she’d have to clean it up. In fact, she was really upset about it. Bad things happened when Applejack was upset, and when she’d told that to Rainbow Dash she cried and Pinkie felt awful.
“Rainbow Dash, I’m sorry,” said Pinkie after they’d been walking for a while. “I didn’t mean to make you upset before.”
“Ha ha ha,” Rainbow Dash responded, her smile never fading.
“Yeah, I know, and I’m sorry,” Pinkie said, daring to make eye contact. Then she looked away, embarrassed that she forgot Rainbow Dash didn’t have eyes. “Applejack just seemed a little… upset about the whole thing. You know I love you both equally, and I’d never do anything to hurt any of you. It’s just really hard sometimes when you all want different things.”
“Ha ha ha.”
“Maybe it’s silly to feel so responsible. Maybe Fluttershy is right. It must be all my fault. She ate a bird, by the way. I’m not sure which one of them is still alive. I’m sure she’ll be fine by tomorrow night, though.”
“Ha ha ha.”
“Pinkamena Diane Pie, you’re late!” cawed a raspy voice.
Applejack emerged from the fog of Somewhere Else. Or was it smoke? Or air? Pinkie was forced to push aside the resurging question once again when Applejack hopped anxiously from hoof to hoof.
“Ah’ve been waiting here for ages!” complained Applejack, her voice rising into a whine. “You told me you weren’t going to be late but you’re late again!”
“Ha ha ha.”
“Stop it, Rainbow Dash! Pinkie, say somethin’! Rainbow Dash is being mean again!”
“I’m sorry,” said Pinkie Pie.
“Yer always sorry, Pinkie,” Applejack wheezed, doubling over. Something dribbled out of her mouth and spilled onto the bridge.
“Are you alright?” Pinkie asked carefully, stepping around her.
“Ah’m fine! Stop talking!”
“Ha ha ha.”
“It’s not funny!” wailed Applejack, looking up. That same black stuff as when Pinkie had killed her was pouring out of her nostrils. “Pinkie, why don’t you say something! She’s being mean to me and you’re being late!”
“I’m sorry,” said Pinkie. Apologizing had become a reflex, like saying “ow” when you bump your knee. “I didn’t mean to.”
“Always sorry,” rasped Applejack. Her eyes were wide and her breathing was becoming erratic. More black stuff leaked out of her eyes like black tears. “Look at me Pinkie. You’ve killed me again because you’re always late, it’s your fault!” Her last words became lost in a strangled croak as black stuff sprayed out of her mouth and she fell to the ground. She deflated like a balloon, letting the black stuff empty itself through the holes in her head.
“Ha ha ha.”
“Rainbow Dash, don’t lick that,” Pinkie said quietly. For some reason she didn’t really care. At least she was helping to get rid of the black stuff. There was an awful lot. It was already pouring off the sides of the bridge and it smelled burnt.
“Ha ha ha.”
“I have to go now, Rainbow Dash. Don’t lick that stuff.”
“Ha ha ha.”
Even though Rainbow Dash wasn’t listening to her, Pinkie Pie turned her back on them and kept walking. Applejack was right, though, she was late. She’d already spent far too long here. It was starting to get confusing. So far she’d found three of the five, which meant there were only two more but there was no way to tell when she’d find them. When she went Somewhere Else it was often nowhere at all and she could end up walking for what seemed like hours without finding a single one of them.
This normally wasn’t a problem, Pinkie Pie reminded herself as Somewhere Else turned into a forest filled with metal trees and then a street with tall white buildings. She usually planned for the delay. But this time she’d spent too long with the other three, and this was starting to seem longer than the time before. That was troublesome. She was feeling tired and wasn’t sure how much longer she’d be able to stay awake. It was time to go to bed.
Pinkie Pie went Somewhere Else and ended up inside one of the tall white buildings. She wasn’t fond of buildings. They more often than not didn’t make sense in how they were built. Who puts staircases that go on forever and windows that can’t be reached into a building? More importantly, why make a building be just one big empty room? Pinkie supposed it wasn’t her place to judge. At least it didn’t smell too much like smoke in here. This building wasn’t empty, though. Rarity was there.
“Hello, Rarity,” said Pinkie Pie.
“Oh, it’s you. I thought I smelled shit,” Rarity said between clenched teeth.
“Sorry, Rarity.”
“Don’t you fucking talk to me. You’re disgusting. Why are you even here? Just to make me puke, I bet. Freak.”
“I’m just looking for Twilight,” Pinkie Pie said, avoiding Rarity’s eyes. Her voice sounded terribly loud. Maybe it was the echo of the room. Maybe it was something far worse.
“What part of ‘don’t you fucking talk to me’ did you not understand?” Rarity sneered. “And why the fuck would Twilight want to talk to a shit like you? You’re not worth anyone’s fucking time, Pinkie. Get out of my fucking sight, you worthless—“
When Pinkie Pie jabbed a hoof into Rarity’s flank, she flinched and stood on the tips of her hooves.
“Did you just fucking touch me? I’ll slit your fucking throat, you little shit,” Rarity squawked.
“Sorry about that. I just wanted to check something. I’ll be going now.”
“What’s the matter? Am I not fucking good enough for you now? Putrid little shit-pile. And you’d better not go up the stairs. That’s where Twilight is. If you go up there I’ll gouge your disgusting eyes out.”
Pinkie hadn’t seen any stairs when she’d first walked in, but sure enough, there they were, directly behind Rarity. Come to think of it, Pinkie wasn’t quite sure if this was Rarity. She was real enough but her legs seemed too long. It didn’t matter. Pinkie didn’t quite like Rarity. She wasn’t sure if it was the legs or the fact that she always seemed to talk with her teeth bared and clenched.
“Alright, Rarity,” said Pinkie, walking past her friend. “I’ll be sure not to go up the stairs.”
Rarity didn’t move, but her head turned to follow her across the room, even when Pinkie was pretty sure that it wasn’t supposed to keep turning that way.
“What the fuck are you doing?” shrieked Rarity as Pinkie Pie headed for the stairs. “I told you not to go up there you fucking piece of shit. I’ll rip your guts out. I swear I’ll kill you dead, you fuck. If I see you again I’ll kill you so fast that your head’ll fly off.”
And yet she didn’t move from her exact spot, as if her hooves were nailed to the smooth white floor. Rarity screamed something else but Pinkie didn’t quite hear it. It was almost over.
She couldn’t help but notice how strange the steps were. They seemed to hum underneath her hooves, as if some giant machine was purring underneath the smooth white surface. It was possible. She didn’t know anything about these buildings. In fact, she didn’t even know what they were made of.
Pinkie tapped a hoof against the wall and it echoed in a hollow bang. The sound bounced back between the walls until it sounded like someone was knocking from the other side. Pinkie thought more and more as to how likely the prospect was as she climbed. She looked behind herself to be sure. It sounded like some pony was whispering to her in a language she didn’t understand. A language of hissing and calling and knocking on walls. Pinkie reached the end of the stairs, and Twilight’s breathing was added to that language.
“Hello, Twilight,” said Pinkie, walking into the room.
Twilight didn’t answer. She lay there with her mouth open, her eyes fixated on the wall from which Pinkie had come. At least, she thought she’d come from there. The door was gone.
“Twilight?”
Pinkie waited for a reaction from the pony. Her neck was starting to hurt from looking up at her. Finally, Twilight blinked slowly and looked down at her.
“I don’t have time to talk to you, Pinkie. Maybe some other time,” she said dismissively before refocusing her attention on the wall.
“That’s okay, Twilight. We don’t have to talk right now,” Pinkie said quietly, lowering her head.
“Come to think of it, some other time might not be the best time, Pinkie,” Twilight added, raising her hoof to her head and scratching it. “I’m going to have to leave soon.”
“Where are you going?” Pinkie asked politely, not mentioning the fact that Twilight was far too large for her to possibly get out of the room they were in.
“Far away. Very far away. It’s important.”
“Okay. Be sure to write, Twilight.”
“No, I won’t,” Twilight said, her eyes still focused on the wall. “It’s too important for writing. And besides, I don’t even know you. Why would I write to somepony I don’t know? That’s silly.”
“You’re right, that is silly,” Pinkie admitted, stepping around Twilight’s massive body. “I wouldn’t do it either.”
“Of course you wouldn’t, whoever you are. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m very busy and you’re interrupting.” She blinked slowly and breathed heavily through her mouth, staring at the wall.
“Alright. I’m going to go now, Twilight. I’ll be back.”
She didn’t answer, so Pinkie let her be and walked through the door that had appeared on the far side of the room. It took her exactly where she wanted to go.
The room hadn’t changed. It was still small, still gray, and still smelled of smoke stronger than anywhere else. Sometimes it was so bad that she wasn’t able to even get to sleep because her brain told her that her lungs shouldn’t be working. It didn’t help. It was hard enough to sleep as it was.
She didn’t have to turn around to know that the door was gone. It was always gone when she got here. Pinkie did what she always did and walked to the corner of the room. Kneeling down, she tucked her legs under her body and rested her head against the cold ground. The floor was metal and the cold was sharp enough to bite. She’d learned to ignore it.
Pinkie Pie closed her eyes in the small room, and there was no sound. She lay there quietly and waited to be forgotten.
***
“Goooooooooood morning!”
Twilight Sparkle yelped in surprise at the sudden wake-up call.
“P-Pinkie Pie?”
Smiling radiantly, Pinkie bounced up and down on Twilight’s bed. Spike groaned in frustration, peeking up out of his basket before deciding the disturbance wasn’t worth his attention and burying his head under his pillow.
“The one and only! C’mon, Twi! Up and at ‘em! Let’s go!”
Twilight Sparkle groaned and glanced at the clock beside her bed. The arrows on its face cheerfully read out seven-thirty in the morning.
“Pinkie, it’s way too early. What are you even doing here?”
“Pfft, duh!” snorted Pinkie Pie, bouncing off the bed with a perfectly executed spin and landing. “I’m here to wake you up! Otherwise, you’d still be sleeping and you might miss the picnic today. And you don’t want to miss that! I’ve already got the tricks, the trappings, the treats, the trimmings, the tribulations, the trombones, and of course, the trebuchet! It’s going to be teeeee-riffic!”
Twilight rubbed her eyes with her hooves. “Alright, two things. For one, I don’t think any picnic calls for a trebuchet. For another, the picnic isn’t until eleven!”
“Well, you can never be up too early! Look at me! I’m a regular early bird and I never miss a thing! It’s all about seizing the day! You know, like… uh… What’s the word… cable day? Caper dice? Carpet dye?”
“You mean carpe diem?”
Pinkie Pie giggled, and despite the rude awakening, Twilight couldn’t help but smile.
“Yeah, that one!” she exclaimed, bouncing out of her bedroom. “So get up, sleepy-head, or everypony’s going to be carpe-ing the diem without you!”
“Everypony?” Twilight asked, clambering out of bed. “Don’t tell me you’re going to‑“
“Get everypony else out of bed?” finished Pinkie Pie, popping out from behind her. “You betcha! We’re all getting a head start so we can take advantage of every second together! It’s gonna be so much fun! So I’d better hurry up so they don’t miss out! Oh, and I left you breakfast! Buh-bye!”
Before Twilight could get in another word edge-wise, Pinkie Pie had already vanished out the door in a pink blur. She shook her head in disbelief. Typical Pinkie Pie. Heading for the kitchen, she found toast and daisy jam waiting for her. She smiled and clucked her tongue. A real sweetheart. Twilight somehow wondered how she did it, managing to be so infallibly chipper and cheery. Carpe diem is right, thought Twilight, looking out her window as Pinkie Pie disappeared around the corner, heading for Carousel Boutique.
She treated each day as a gift, as if she thought she might never wake up ever again the next time she fell asleep.
