Rainbow Dash sauntered into SugarCube Corner with her chin up, her wings spread, and her mouth set in a grin. It all made for an entrance that said in a smouldery voice: ‘Hey. Sure I’ll give you an autograph, yeah I’ll kiss that baby for the cameras...’ and the effect was only slightly spoiled by the mare getting her upright wings caught in the doorframe.
A moment of tugging effort and a sudden drop to her backside later she was right back up on the proverbial horse, quickly saving face. She blew a tuft of mane from her eyes with a practised perfection of effortless ease. “Hey.”
Mrs. Cake, who’d been busy kneading dough this whole while and had summarily missed the whole thing and even if she hadn’t was used to this sort of thing anyway said, “Hello dearie. What can I get for you?”
Dash sighed and smiling, shook her head. So much for putting on a show. “Is Pinkie in? I’ve got a few hours to fill and nothing to fill them with.”
The baker flipped the dough with a splat. No sooner had it landed than the mare was at work rolling it again. “Oh, well, yes she is in, but she’s not seeing anyone today.”
“Great! I’ll just-” Dash whinnied as the rest of the sentence reached her. It wasn’t that her brain was slow. Just slower. “What? Not seeing anypony today? Since when does Pinkie Pie not see anypony? I mean, you know, Pinkie Pie.” Her hooves struggled to articulate what her elocution could not.
Again the dough flipped with a soft splat! Cup Cake didn’t look up. “It’s nothing to worry about dearie. She’s just having a grumpy day is all.”
“Since when does Pinkie have grumpy days?”
And now Mrs. Cake did look up, her face one of mild confusion and query. “She’s always had them, every once in a while. I didn’t realize it was a secret. It’s just part of being her.”
Dash’s wingbeats made her whole body bob up and down like an irate hummingbird. She flew wildly overbalanced, as if she were coming down a set of stairs to discuss this with the mare. “So how come I never knew nothing about it?”
Cup Cape shrugged mid-knead. “You could go on up if you're in a fuss over it.”
“I think I will!” Dash popped upright in the air, smacking her head off the ceiling. “Ow...”
“That’s nice dearie. Oh, take this teapot up for her while you're at it if you would.”
Somewhat stunned from her impassioned moment, Dash quietly took it without protest. “It’s gone cold.”
The mare flashed Dash a quick smile. “It’s chocolate milk, dear. She likes being able to pour it.”
“And that’ll cheer her up, back to non-grump Pinkie?”
“It’s a good start anyway.”
It is, Dash realized, nigh impossible to carry oneself with impassioned purpose when oneself is also carrying a teapot. Getting called back down for cups to bring up as well did not help matters. It made her feel like a maid, this. Maids weren’t awesome, or at least maiding...maidening...maidlying...whatever it was called, it wasn’t awesome.
Hooves full, she knocked with a knee. “You in Pinks?”
The grunt that answered her had a certain Pinkiesque ring to it.
“Well I’m coming in, so...” Dash went in. The teapot was seriously cramping her game. It wasn’t even carrying tea for that matter. “I got this,” she finished lamely.
Pinkie was not to be seen, though a certain suggestive lump in the was definitely Pie implying. Dash set the wares down and prodded a likely looking spot. She was answered with another grunt and a rustle. “Hi Dash,” Pinkie groaned.
Dash tried prying up an edge only for it to be pulled back down from within. “What’s up with you?” she asked.
“ ‘m a grump.”
“I see. Why?”
The rise and fall of the blankets - a delightful baby blue - might have been a shrug. An accompanying groan stressed the point.
“Come on. Get up already.”
The blanket fought back with a grunt of effort. “No,” Pinkie whined. “ ‘m a grump!”
“But Pinkie,” Dash return-whined “I’m bored!”
The mound harrumphed, then seemed to reconsider. “Give me chocolate milk,” the blanket heap grumbled.
Dash muttered a snide mimicry under her breath as she poured one. “I’m not putting it under there for you.”
Grumpy Pie growled. The blanket shuffled about and a hoof snaked its way out resentfully, groping blindly. “ ‘chlate milk.”
“Aha! Got you now!” The blanket flew back, blue to pink. Pinkie hissed, swatted at all that dreadful stuff called ‘light’ and curled up tighter.
Dash prodded her with the mug. “Wow. Look, here’s the chocolate milk. Drink it and be, you know, poofy again. Well go on.”
Pinkie unfurled like a fuchsia flower that had heard of pollination and wanted no part of it. “Woah!” Dash exclaimed as a hoof shout out and claimed the mug. “So... what’s up with you? Why so...” again Dash let her hooves articulate with a series of complicated swirling motions, like a very drunk maestro seeing double and trying to conduct accordingly.
“I ‘unno. ‘m a grump. Thanks.”
It really was good stuff, chocolate milk. Dash wiped at the mustache it gave her as she paced around the bed. “So,” she said, “you’re a grump.”
“ ‘mm,” Pinkie grumbled. Her face was long, her chocolate milkstache was longer.
“You know, this is really ruining all my plans for today.”
Pinkie glowered, then pouted as she burrowed herself back into the bed. “Your plan was to see what I’m doing. Well, I’m doing grumpy.”
Dash flared her wings and stretched her eyelids. “But why?”
“Sometimes I just feel like it. I ‘unno.”
“Ugh!” To stop herself tearing at her mane, Dash sloshed more of milk into her mug. After a grumbling second of consideration, she filled up Pinkie’s too. “Don’t you want to go do, Oh I don’t know, stuff?”
Pinkie’s lips slapped together on the word, “Nope. ‘ wanna lurk in bed and glower at stuff.”
Hunched and fuming, Dash tried to think through her agitation. She could just go. But what would the point in that be? It was too much like admitting defeat and besides, Dash liked having a cheering audience. If she went to fly now, that absence would be too infuriatingly apparent.
“Fine!” the pegasus declared, her wings slapping tightly to her sides. She gulped down the last of the chocolate milk and set her mug down with a resounding slam. “Now I’m all grumped out too!” Dash nosed her way under the blankets and hunched in a lair of her own fluffy devising at the other end of the bed. “Don’t wanna do anything now.”
After a few minutes of half-hearted thieving, shoving, and blanket-burrowing, Dash blinked with a thought that struck her a glancing blow. “You know,” she hazarded from the den of blankets, “Being a grump is surprisingly fun.”
Pinkie flashed her a cheeky smile under the covers. “Shh, don’t telling everypony. It’s a secret.”
Dash chuckled. “Yeah, okay.”
After a few minutes more Mrs. Cake came up with more chocolate milk. There were no ponies to be seen, but highly suspicious lumps grumbled at her from under the covers. She left without a word, only a knowing smile.
