It happened. It finally happened.
They knew. They knew everything.
Oh, how had she been so foolish? Just one slip-up and everything was ruined.
She could’ve avoided this. She didn’t have to be an announcer for the annual Running of the Leaves. She didn’t have to get distracted by her friends competing. She didn’t have to tell the entirety of Ponyville her deepest, darkest secret.
But she had, and now everypony knew. They knew she ate hotdogs.
They knew that she took sick pleasure in tearing her teeth into the smooth, delicious, processed flesh of others. That she savoured each juicy bite of cow, pig, or chicken that she ate and felt no guilt whatsoever afterwards.
They learned that day that sweet little Pinkie Pie, who loves everything and everypony, also loves devouring the meat of her friends and what ever family of theirs happened to come in that week’s coveted package of blackmarket hotdogs.
They didn’t react to her confession at first, in fact, most ponies couldn’t even hear the words that she had blasted through the microphone because of the din of the race. Still, a few did. Those who caught her words were confused at first, but as the carelessly spoken words sunk in, a horrible fear began to grow in their chests.
Could their Pinkie Pie really be capable of committing such horror? Most thought not and tried their best to forget what they’d heard, but some ponies were still feeling uneasy, and they alerted the Ponyville Police.
It took the police a few days to mobilise, as they too were skeptical of the accusations that were being leveled at the towns favourite party pony. Eventually their boss ordered them to at least check in on Pinkie and ask her a few questions to put the rumours to rest.
So that’s what they did. On a crisp Sunday morning a trio of officers went to Sugarcube Corner and knocked on the door.
No answer came from within, as the Cakes were out and Pinkie seemed to still be sleeping. Knowing of Pinkie’s reputation of being a heavy sleeper, the three shrugged and turned away. They would come back at noon, they decided.
And that they did.
At around twelve the group returned to the bakery and knocked again, and this time garnering an answer.
Pinkie answered the door after a few seconds, some clattering echoed from inside. She opened the door, and, for a moment, her entire being seemed to wither. Her smile faltered and grew infinitesimally more tense under the gaze of the three officers. They, of course, didn’t notice the subtle changes in her expression and posture.
“Miss Pie,” one of the stallions began in a gruff voice, breaking the awkward silence that had fallen upon the ponies as thoughts of doom swept through Pinkie’s mind. “Listen, we’ve had some rather unpleasant accusations leveled at you down at the precinct.”
Pinkie mind raced frantically. They’re not here to arrest me, she thought with extreme relief. “What kind of accusations, Mr. Police stallion?” she chirped back happily.
“A few ponies seem to think that you, uh- they’re saying you confessed to them that you eat hotdogs. I personally think that’s absurd, but the boss wants somepony to check it out anyways. I hope you understand.”
Pinkie could hardly contain her laughter as the officer spoke. They were so close, and yet they had no idea. Shooting her shimmering blue eyes wide with feigned shock Pinkie assured the stallions that she would never do something so terrible, and told them she felt hurt that another pony would accuse her of something so heinous.
They murmured agreeingly, saying how they too couldn’t believe their ears when they heard the story for themselves. “Pinkie,” one of them piped up. “We’re still going to need to come in and ask you a few questions. Nothing personal, of course. As much as we like you, we’ve still got to do our job.” his companions nodded, and Pinkie ushered them all inside.
As she walked ahead of them and showed them to the livingroom she saw something that caused her heart to come to a dead stop in her chest and forced her legs to freeze mid-step.
On the floor, sticking partway out from under the coffee table was a hotdog.
It must have fallen off the plate when I rushed to hide it, she thought hurriedly. I’ve got to hide it; kick it under the table or something. These three can’t be allowed to see it, or it’s over!
“Pinkie, you alright?” one inquired, confused as to why she had stopped in the middle of the room.
“What? Oh, yes. Yeah. Of course! I’m super duper uber fine! Just forgot to keep walking! Y’know?” she floundered, hoping to Celestia that the officers would let it be.
“Right…” they mumbled, taken slightly aback, but ultimately accepting that she was Pinkie, and she didn’t always make sense.
“Anyway,” Pinkie said, as she walked across the room and sat in the chair directly in front of the exposed hotdog. “Ask away! I’ll do my very super best to answer all your questions! Just don’t make ‘em too hard, okily dokily?”
“Gotcha, Pinkie.” the first stallion assured her with a smile, taking a seat on the couch opposite her and the very delicious, very incriminating and very illegal morsel of meat.
“Before we begin, may I use your washroom? I think I must’ve had a bit too much coffee at lunch…” he said, laughing guiltily.
“Sure! It’s just down the hallway. First on your left!”
He got up and trotted past Pinkie and the hotdog with not even so much as a glance. A few minutes later he returned, walking into the room just as Pinkie leaned down to scratch her leg and slide the meat fully under the table. The movement of Pinkie’s hoof drew the officer’s gaze lower, where he caught sight of the pink flesh of the hotdog peeking out from underneath the table.
He knew what it was immediately, but shock caused his words to come out staggeringly.
“P- Pinkamena Diane Pie, y- you’re under arrest!” he cried.
“Huh? Why? Did I do something wrong Mr. Police stallion?” fear shot through her chest.
“Yeah, what’s up, man?” his companion asked, very confused.
His expression grew sad and he pointed silently to the horrid sight he saw on the floor. The other two officers stood up and caught a look for themselves.
Pinkie meanwhile, sat unmoving in her chair. Her normally poofy and lively hair had deflated at his words, and now hung in a dull pink curtain around her shocked face. Her head hunched forwards and hung low as the others in the room came to grips with the new information presented to them. Her pupils shrank to pinpricks and the muscles under her right eye began to convulse uncontrollably. The corner of her lips turned upwards slowly, and a maniacal grin spread steadily across her face, splitting it from ear to ear.
No.
They weren’t going to do this to her.
She wouldn’t let them.
“Get on the floor!” one of the stallions cried, fear and disgust lacing his voice as the three of them approached the pink mare.
With deliberate movements Pinkamena got to her hooves and fell to her knees, letting a cry fly from her mouth. One of the ponies instinctively dashed forwards to help, only to be met with a letter opener through his throat.
He gurgled pathetically for a moment as shock painted his features. Clutching desperately at his throat, he fell to the floor, tears of disbelief gathering in his eyes.
The other two simply stood by, petrified by what had played out in front of them.
“What the buck…”
Pinkamena flew at them with a incoherent cry of pure rage and buried the letter opener in the remaining Unicorn stallion’s eye, causing a small spurt of fluid to spray out and land on the hair that hung in front of Pinkamena’s face. His body stood upright for a moment before crumbling horribly to the ground, his head colliding with the wood and giving out a sickening crack.
The last officer’s wings had flared, his natural instinct telling him to take to the air and flee. He flailed and tried frantically to rip his magical paralyser from his belt, but fumbled it and sent it careening to the floor.
Pinkamena stood staring at him, seething mad. Slowly, she advanced on him, closing the distance one step at a time while he merely stood there, trapped by her cold, unwavering gaze.
Tears trailed down his cheeks as she drew near, and he fell to the floor in fear. He curled into a ball and tried to retreat from the situation, but it proved useless as the freezing blade dug into the skin of his neck and drew a deep line through his flesh. His warm blood shot out and coated Pinkamena’s emotionless face.
As the life fled his teary eyes Pinkamena sat back and looked at the destruction she had caused. Her eyes trailed to the coffee table, where the hotdog sat in a puddle of blood that had seeped from the first stallion’s fatal wound.
Without a word she reached over and plucked it from the scarlet mess. Looking at it carefully she noted the red marring its surface. Silently, she raised it to her mouth and sank her teeth into it. She let the severed piece sit on her tongue while the flavour washed through her mouth. After a moment she began chewing and rending the meat with her teeth, the paste mingling with the remnants of the stallion’s blood, giving the food an odd but not bad taste. With a sigh of pleasure she swallowed the bite.
“Mmm. I prefer mustard, but I suppose ketchup will do.” she murmured with a broken cackle.
As she took another bite a tear slipped free and traced its way down the bloody fur of her cheek.
How did this happen, she wondered.
It was just a hotdog...
