A cute little unicorn filly, short and stout,
took extra special care in blowing her candles out.
Six of them, she counted; one for every year.
She looked up at her family, each one she held dear.
"I did it," she spoke with a grin, "I blew them all out!"
"So you did," her aunt spoke, and dabbed some cream on her snout.
The filly wriggled her nose at the cream, her eyes crossing to see.
But then licked it all up while letting out a squeal of glee.
Her mother strode forward, holding a box,
her magic making her as strong as an ox.
The box looked bigger than the filly ever did see,
and she stared at it in wonder to ask "Is this for me?"
At the nod of her kin, she tore into the box that was there,
eagerly sending ribbon and paper flying absolutely everywhere.
The scraps fell on her aunt, her uncle, her nephew and niece,
her sister, her mother, her father, each got a piece.
When she was finally finished, the wrapping all gone,
she opened the box with excitement, having waited so long.
But the filly's heart sank as she stared in the box to see,
not a single item within it. "What are you pulling on me?"
The filly's mom rushed to her side, and wiped the child's cheek.
"I was sure I put it in last night," she offered, her voice soft and meek.
"But it's empty now!" the filly decried!
"There's nothing in it!" she shouted, her present denied.
The mom sighed in defeat, "And it would have been so nice a surprise..."
When suddenly Pinkie Pie jumped out of the box, spraying confetti in everyone's eyes!
"A surprise??" she wondered, bouncing around,
"Ooh, cake! I love cake!" she decided, when the cake was found.
"Pinkie, not now," the filly's father demanded,
"My wife lost our child's present," he all but reprimanded.
Pinkie stopped bouncing, her hair falling flat.
"No present?" she asked, "What's up with that?"
"I thought I had packed it," the mother repeated,
"but I must have left it at the store." she finished, defeated.
Pinkie looked thoughtful, then poked up a hoof.
"What are you looking at, buddy?" she demanded in anger.
"You didn't even rhyme there," she sneered, and I backed away.
The readers won't mind, if my rhyme goes astray?
"Your words are the least of my concern right now,"
said the pink pony with a hardly-hidden scowl.
"You can't have a birthday without presents, you know?"
Pinkie Pie offered to all in the room, "And I should know."
She bounced back to the filly and cuddled her close.
"I'll find you your present, or my name's not Pinkamena Diane Pie!"
Breaking my rhyming scheme again, the pink pony stared at the box,
"Maybe someone took it?" she wondered, "Maybe even a fox?
Fluttershy would know, as she knows EVERY creature there is.
And I mean EVERY creature from here to the Everfree Forest."
Everyone stared at her, but Pinkie didn't seem to mind.
"Maybe it just evaporated? That wouldn't be so kind."
She stared intently at me as she rhymed that last word,
"Can't you do something for this filly? This is getting absurd!"
I looked at my screen where I was typing this story,
and wondered if I should for all writers' glory?
"If you would just stop trying to rhyme all the time,"
Pinkie chided me again, "You would be able to fix this in no time!"
I sighed and I thought hard on what I could do.
What would a filly need, what present could I give you?
"I really don't need much," the filly piped up,
"I just want my friends and a good time. And maybe a pup."
A pup, I pondered, would easily fit.
And the box stirred to close its own lid.
Pinkie grinned as she realized through rhyme,
that I was forcing the party back through time.
The filly finally finished, the wrapping all gone,
and she opened the box with excitement, having waited so long.
A puppy jumped out and licked at her face,
and the filly took her with glee into a warm embrace!
"A puppy!" she shouted, "that's just what I wanted!"
and Pinkie nodded in my direction and said "Banted."
"Banted?" I asked, and she rolled with her eyes.
"I had to rhyme it somehow," and, much to my surprise,
the pink pony jumped out of my screen!
As my mind reeled at what I had seen,
Pinkie sat down beside me,
and patted my knee.
"You're no Zecora, but you're doing all right.
Now just find an ending and we can call it a night."
I shook my head in disbelief, but she turned me away,
to face my computer again so I would not be led astray.
I stared hard at the screen in the hopes it would come,
that wonderful ending that would keep people from...
"Will you stop thinking and write already?" Pinkie decried,
and I quickly typed out all the above, my fingers "fried!"
Not fried, Pinkie, that would stop me from typing.
Fried fingers are for eating, not for story "wiping?"
How can a story be made if it's wiped at the same time?
You're not making sense, Pinkie. "But it had to rhyme!"
You're right, of course, the rhyming is hard.
But it's fairly easy to do, when you're smart.
"Zecora must be a lot smarter than you, then."
That almost sounds like you're her number one fan.
"She at least doesn't rely on" and this is where I cut.
Because, honestly, Pinkie is becoming a pain in my butt.
An ending she wants, and an ending she shall get.
But I want to finish this filly's story before she has to go to bed.
A puppy she got, and they both played so sweet.
The grown ponies all smiled, as it was such a treat.
Seeing the filly enjoy her new friend,
made sure all the past heartaches would mend.
Birthdays aren't for presents, although they are nice,
especially if given from the heart, like cream on top of ice.
The best thing about birthdays is meeting with friends, out and about.
And the best among them is... Pinkie, leave that alone or the power goes ou
Author's Note
(C)2014 Helping Hoof AKA Maki Jaderborg
Written on my own birthday.
