Life in Prison

1. A number with so many uses.

There are 142 planar graphs with six unlabeled vertices.

HD 142 is a magnitude 6 star in the phoenix constellation.

142 is the atomic number of Unquadbium.

There were 142 staircases at Hogwarts school of witchcraft and wizardry.

Indeed, Twilight Sparkle knew many uses for the number 142. In fact, she’d recently learned a new one.

142 was the number on the front of her orange prison jumpsuit.

The door slammed open, and Twilight gave a start. In the doorway was a man in a blue uniform. He held a taser in one hand, and Twilight saw a holstered gun at his hip.

“You’re wearing the ring?” The man said, gripping the gun.

“Yes.” Twilight held up her right hand. The sun glinted off of the golden band on her ring finger. “I take it you’re a prison guard?”

The guard relaxed visibly at the sight of the ring, but maintained his posture. “Come here.” He said, ignoring Twilight’s question.

Twilight obediently got up, and walked to the guard. He took her firmly by the shoulder. He led her down the small corridor, never taking his eyes off of her.

They stepped out of the door, and Twilight blinked, tears forming in her eyes from the bright sunlight. She’d been in that cramped boat for so long, her eyes weren’t used to this light.

Once her eyes had adjusted, Twilight looked forward, and observed the scene in front of her.

Looming in front of her was an enormous building. It really wasn’t very pleasant to the eyes; it was just a block of steel five stories high. There windows scattered around at regular intervals, and a massive steel door on the front. There was also a sign, which read “COLD SOUL PRISON”.

Looking around, Twilight saw that the prison was located on a small island. No land was in sight. She didn’t get much more looking before she was inside.

They were in a grey steel room, made of the same material as the outside of the building. There were a few chairs, and a desk, behind which sat two orderlies. There was a sign behind the desk which read “Welcome to Cold Soul Prison”, but the name of the prison was crudely crossed out in black marker, and replaced with a single word, in the same marker: “HELL”.

“Once I catch the bastard doing that, they’re on cleanup for a month.” The guard escorting Twilight grumbled.

“And hello to you too.” One of the orderlies said, pressing a button with one hand and flipping the page of her magazine with the other.

There was a loud buzz, and the massive sliding door on the rear wall of the room slowly ground open. Twilight saw that the door was over five feet thick; evidently, they weren’t taking any chances.

“Welcome to your new home, Twilight.” The guard with his hand on Twilight’s shoulder said. He smiled, but the smile held no warmth.

“Wait, you’re Sparkle?” one of the orderlies at the desk asked, looking up.

“Y-yes?” Twilight said slowly.

She felt a cold glob of saliva smack her on the cheek.

“I’d piss on you if I had the equipment.” The female orderly said.

“Come on, Twilight.” The guard said brusquely, before Twilight could retaliate. Twilight raised a hand and brushed off the spit, as she was escorted into a long hallway.

Cells lined the walls of this hallway. Twilight glanced at the cell doors as she walked by. The doors were made of solid steel, with small windows of reinforced glass for viewing inside.

“Is this really the most high-security prison on the planet?” Twilight asked the guard, trying to remain casual. A prisoner leered at her out one of the windows, her grin filled with broken teeth.

“The most high-security FEMALE prison.” The guard stated. “100 cells, 20 cells on each floor, 2 inmates to a cell, 200 inmates max. Its relatively low capacity is made up for with many precautions, protocols, guards, security cameras, alarms, etc.” He said this quietly, as though he was used to saying the same thing over and over.

The two walked up to another set of sliding doors. The guard inserted a key into a slot, and there was a dinging noise. The doors opened into an elevator, and the two walked in. The guard hit the button labeled “4”. The elevator began to slowly grind its way up to the fourth floor.

“Do as we tell you, and we’ll get along just fine.” The guard continued his monologue. “Cause trouble, and you’ll be disciplined.”

“Disciplined?” Twilight asked.

“We like to keep it a secret.” The guard said. He smiled grimly, and Twilight shivered.

The doors ground back open on what Twilight assumed was the fourth floor. They walked out into an identical hallway to the first. The guard took Twilight to the first cell on the right of the elevator, labeled “71”.

“Oh, I don’t envy you, having to share a cell with this one.” The guard commented, raising an eyebrow as he swiped a keycard though a slot next to the door, unlocking it. He pulled on the handle, and the heavy steel door ground open ominously.

“One-forty-one, you have a cellmate.” The guard said, shoving Twilight inside the cell. She turned, but the door had closed and locked behind her.

“Hi!” Came a cheery voice from behind Twilight. She stiffened, and turned around.

Sitting in one of the cots was a girl, in an identical orange jumpsuit to Twilight. Her hair was pink and curly, and she had an almost inhumanly large grin on her face.

“I’m Pinkie Pie! Well, technically my name’s Pinkamena, but that’s one of the most boring names I’ve ever heard, so everyone just calls me Pinkie.” The pink-haired girl said rather quickly.

Twilight didn’t respond; she just walked over to her cot and laid down.

“Hellooooo!” Pinkie said, walking over and poking Twilight’s temple. “Anybody home?” She asked.

Twilight mumbled something.

“What was that? My earsies couldn’t pick that up!” Pinkie said, cupping her hand to her ear.

“I DUN WANNA BE RAPED UP THE BUUUTTTT!!!” Twilight suddenly yelled, and Pinkie flinched in surprise as Twilight started crying. “I’ve seen all the videos and the tv shows where people go into prison and when they come out their anus is the size of a softball they’ve been buttraped so many times and I don’t want to lose my anal virginity because I’ve heard it really really hurrrts!” This all poured out of Twilight’s mouth almost as quickly as the tears streaming down her face.

“Whoa! Easy there, girl!” Pinkie said, putting a hand on Twilight’s shoulder. “Relax. Nobody’s going to come in your rear entrance.”

Twilight sniffed. “R-really?”

“Cross my heart and hope to die, stick a cupcake in my eye!” Pinkie said, giggling as she shoved her fist into one of her own eyes. “So just relax, okay?”

“O-okay.” Twilight said slowly, straightening up as Pinkie sat down on her own cot. “I just always hear about how-“

“Listen, girl.” Pinkie stated. “Nobody here other than the guards even has the equipment to stick up there. That kind of stuff is saved for male prisons.”

“Oh. That makes sense, I guess.” Twilight said, blushing lightly. “What do you say we start this conversation again.”

“Sounds good to me!” Pinkie stated, holding out her hand across the small gap between the two cots. “Hi! I’m Pinkie Pie! Well, technically my name’s Pinkamena, but that’s one of the most boring names I’ve ever heard, so everyone just calls me Pinkie.”

“Hello, Pinkie. My name is Twilight Sparkle.” Twilight said as she raised her head a little and shook Pinkie’s hand. She noticed something: Pinkie had a large scar on one side of her wrist. Not a slitted scar, as though she’d attempted suicide, but rather a strange, round scar, about the size of a quarter.

“So, I suppose it’s mandatory for all new cellmates to ask each other.” Pinkie said, flopping down sideways onto her cot. “What’re YOU in for?”

Twilight averted her eyes from Pinkie’s gaze. “I don’t want to talk about it.” She, too, laid down on her cot. It was as lumpy as cold oatmeal.

“C’mon, girl, we’re all friends here. It’s not like they’ll arrest you for saying it – you already are arrested!” Pinkie giggled. “Really, though, what are-“

“I. Don’t. Want. To. Talk. About. It.” Twilight stated coldly.

“Aww… ooh! It can be a guessing game then!” Pinkie said, grinning widely. “Lemme think – you robbed a bank and killed everyone inside! No – you killed people and wore their skins like fuzzy slippers! No – you turned into a cheesy demon and tried to take over an entire high school!”

“What? No! Just stop, Pinkie. Please.” Twilight said, rolling over and facing the white-painted steel wall.

Twilight heard a sigh behind her. “C’mon, just a hint? Just one hint, and I’ll stop bothering you about it.”

Twilight rolled her eyes, and shifted over to face Pinkie again. “Let’s just say, it made headlines. Many, many headlines.”

“Ooh! Sounds juicy!” Pinkie said, licking her lips. “mmm… juicy!”

“Yeah, I guess so.” Twilight said with a bitter chuckle. “So, what are YOU in for?” she asked Pinkie.

“Oh, well, it was totally unfair!” Pinkie said, frowning. “They threw me in here just for hosting a PARTY!”

“A… party?” Twilight said, her eyebrows raised. “You got thrown in one of the most heavily guarded prisons on the planet for throwing a party?!”

“I know, right?!” Pinkie said, her voice rather exasperated. “And it was a really fun party, too, with lots of fireworks!”

“Fireworks, huh?” Twilight asked. “Care to tell me a little more about this… party?”

“Oh, absotutely-lutely!” Pinkie said, and began to cheerfully tell Twilight her tale.

XXXXXXXX

late in the evening, about two months ago...

XXXXXXXX

Negotator Dovesfoot stepped out of his tan-shaded car. He’d just pulled up the the site of what the news was calling a “massive terrorist attack in progress.” He’d been called out there by the police, for reasons they didn’t explain to him. Then again, explanations weren’t necessary: Dovesfoot was a hostage negotiator, there was only one thing he would be called in for at all.

“Dovesfoot. We must stop meeting like this.” Said a man with grey hair, walking up to Dovesfoot and clapping him on the back.

“I couldn’t agree more, Commissioner Flyswatter.” Dovesfoot said, smiling grimly. “We should get together sometime, grab a drink.”

“If we survive, that is.” Flyswatter said gruffly.

“Now now, don’t talk like that. Think on the bright side of life.” Dovesfoot came up to a table where SWAT team members were organizing their equipment. He noted one man held a large sniper rifle. “What’s that for? I thought you said this would be, preferably, a non-lethal mission.” Dovesfoot asked.

“Let’s just call it ‘insurance’, Dovesfoot, in case your silver tongue doesn’t quite cut it.” Flyswatter said. He turned around, and looked at the enormous building behind from the parking lot where the table was positioned. The Canterlot Dining hall; one of the most illustrious dining establishments in the country. Flyswatter felt sorry for the poor souls who’d had dinner reservations for tonight.

“So what’s the story, evening glory.” Dovesfoot asked Flyswatter, bringing his attention back to the matter at hand.

“All right, here’s the scoop.” Dovesfoot said, adopting a quick, low tone of voice. “2200 hours, a girl walks into the dining hall. She’s now been identified as Pinkamena Diane Pie; minor criminal record for stealing party supplies, but she served her time, and has kept her nose fairly clean… until now, that is.”

“Cut to the chase, Fly.” Dovesfoot said rather impatiently.

“Right, right. So she walks in, and goes up to the server; the one who reserves tables or whatever. She whips out a gun, brings it to the waitress’ head, and locks her arm around the waitress’ neck.”

“So it’s your basic ransom situation.” Dovesfoot inferred.

“You’d think, but it gets worse. Much, much worse.” Flyswatter said. “So she drags the waitress into the dining hall, where everyone’s eating, and threatens to shoot the poor girl unless her demands are met. She tells everyone to reach under their seats, and put on the quote-unquote ‘party vests’ underneath.”

“What?”

“Hang on, here’s the bad part. So sure enough, under every seat in the place is strapped a vest. Strapped onto each and every vest is a block of C4 high explosive.”

”What?!”

“Indeed. So Pinkamena threatens to detonate the c4 if anyone so much as taps it. She doesn’t want anyone ‘interfering with her party plans’, again quote-unquote. Here’s the worst part: she pulls out a detonator for the c4, but it has two buttons. One button will detonate half of the c4 blocks, the other will detonate the other half.”

“So she has the entire place hostage, and even if she murders some of them, she still has the rest as insurance.”

“Bitch must have planned this for months, down to the letter. We’re trying to track down the waiter she bribed to place the vests under the seats, not to mention whoever sold her almost a half-ton of c4.”

“Must’ve cost her a fortune.”

“She apparently owns a very successful bakery.” Flyswatter sighed, picking up a phone from the table. “Here you go. Pinkamena’s number is the first one on the speed dial. See if you can’t talk her out of it, and if she really gets nasty, just hang up, and I pull out plan B.”

“What’s plan B?”

“I’m really, really hoping it doesn’t come to that.” He clapped his hands and called to the SWAT operatives surrounding them. “All right, places, people! Operation Oven Mitt is a go!”

XXXXXXXX

“All right, party people! It’s time for pin the tail on the pony!” Pinkie cried, smiling. She raised her hands in the air with excitement. She might have been an innocent six-year-old, if not for the fact that in one hand was the explosives detonator.

“C’mon, let’s have a cheer!” Pinkie yelled at the crowd. She was grinning widely.

Every hostage’s eyes glanced at the last person who hadn’t participated in Pinkie’s “cheer”. Or more specifically, the bullet wound between his eyes.

Everyone started screaming madly.

“That’s the spirit! Now, who wants to go first!” Pinkie held up a large dagger, and pointed it at one unfortunate diner. “You sir!”

“M-m-me?” The man stuttered.

“Yes you! C’mon down!” Pinkie stated, gesturing to him with the knife. Nervously, the man walked up to her. Pinkie spun him around so she was facing his back. “Okay, here we go!” Pinkie closed her eyes and stuck out her tongue.

Then she jabbed her arm forward, sinking the dagger deep into the man’s back.

The man screamed, falling to the ground. “Aww, I missed!” Pinkie said, frowning. “The tail doesn’t go there, it goes on your rear!”

Pinkie yanked the dagger out of the man’s back, causing more screams, and spurts of blood. “Now now, there’s no frowning at a Pinkie Pie Party!” Pinkie said, rolling the man over so that he faced her. She traced the dagger around the corners of his mouth. “Turn that frown upside-down!” Pinkie said cheerfully.

The man’s eyes darted around, then he gulped, and forced a smile, despite the searing pain in his back.

“That’s the spirit! Everyone give ‘im a big hand!” Pinkie stood the man up, grinning. Everyone clapped nervously as Pinkie shoved the man back towards his seat. “All right, who wants to cut the cake?” Pinkie asked, raising her blood-stained dagger.

“cuz I love to make you smile, smile, smile… yes I do…”

Everything paused as a cheery tune began playing from nowhere. “Oh, rats. Will you excuse me for a moment?” Pinkie said. Still holding the detonator in one hand, she put the dagger back into her belt and pulled a ringing pink phone out of her back pocket. “Howdy doodles!” She said cheerily, answering the phone.

“Hello. This is Officer Dovesfoot of the CPD.” Came the calm, collected voice from the phone. “I’m just here to talk to you, and make sure everyone stays safe.”

“Stays safe?! What do you mean?!? These partygoers are having the times of their lives! I mean, listen!”

Pinkie held the phone out to the room. “You guys do know you’re free to leave at any time, right?” She called out to the hostages. She casually flipped the detonator in her free hand.

Nobody dared speak.

“See? They love my party! They want to stay with me!” Pinkie said cheerily, putting the phone back to her ear.

“Listen, miss... what’s your name?”

“My friends call me Pinkie, but everyone’s my friend, so you can call me Pinkie, too!”

“Listen… Pinkie… this is a very nice party you’ve got going on here.”

“Why thank you!” Pinkie said, giggling.

“You’re very good at throwing parties. It looks really fun.”

“Don’t I know it!”

“Can I come in with a few of my friends, to join the party?”

Pinkie paused. “Nuh-uh! Sorry, but this is a private party! I don’t even have any more party vests for you guys!” Pinkie said, smiling.

“I thought as much.” Said Dovesfoot through the tinny speaker. “So… how are the guests enjoying the party.”

“Oh, they’re loving it! We played pin the tail on the pony, and we had a dance party, and we played a guessing game!”

“Guessing game?”

“Yeah! The winner got a slice of cake! The loser got a consolation prize, too; I didn’t want him to feel bad.”

“Consolation prize?” Dovesfoot’s voice took on a slightly worried tone, but Pinkie didn’t notice it.

“Yeah, he was really upset about losing, so I had to give him a consolation prize. He was so excited, he fell asleep when he got it!” Pinkie patted the gun at her hip.

“I… I see. How many people are… asleep right now?”

“Eh….” Pinkie pointed the detonator at the bodies around the room. “One… two… three! Three of them are taking a nap. It’s okay; not everyone stays awake during a Pinkie Pie Party. Also, this guy right here looks pretty tired.” She patted the wounded man she had stuck her dagger in on the head.

“I see.” Dovesfoot paused, and Pinkie could hear whispering in the background.

“What’s that? Are you telling others about my stupendous party?! I wanted it to be a surprise!” Pinkie said sadly.

“Well, of course not. I’m not even talking to anyone at all.” Dovesfoot stated, his voice calm and collected.

“Oh, okay! Sorry, I just don’t want anyone to find out about the big fireworks finale of the party! It’s a surprise!” Pinkie said cheerfully. Someone in the room made a nervous squeak.

“Well of course. Wouldn’t want to spoil the surprise.” Dovesfoot said.

“See? You understand.” Pinkie said happily.

“Listen… Pinkie…” Dovesfoot said. “Don’t you think it’s about time to end the party? I mean, it’s awfully late.”

“What? No! We’re having fun! You can’t just stop a party!” Pinkie said.

“I understand that, it’s just… it’s past some of the guests’ bedtime.”

“But they’re adults! They don’t have bedtimes!”

“They do, actually. I’m sure they’re all very tired. So why don’t you just stop the party, and let everyone-“

“NO!” Pinkie screamed into the phone. “The party’s doesn’t end till I walk in – I mean, out! I know what you’re doing! You’re just a mean ol’ party crasher, aren’t you? You’re trying to ruin my party!”

“No, I’m just-“

“That’s it!” Pinkie ended the call, and threw the phone on the ground. “All right, everyone! Who wants to see some fireworks!” Pinkie cheered. She raised the detonator high above her head, her thumb on one of the buttons.

CRACK!

The sudden crack which rang through the air came from three sources, simultaneously.

The first crack came from a sniper rifle, positioned on the roof of a nearby building.

The second crack was caused by a shattering window, as a .50 caliber round launched from said rifle came hurtling through it.

And the final crack came from Pinkie’s raised wrist, as the sniper’s bullet tore through it like tissue paper, shattering over half of the bones in her wrist, and causing her to involuntarily drop the detonator.

“AGH!” Pinkie screamed. For the first time that night, she wasn’t smiling; her face was twisted in a grimace of pain. “MY WRIST! YOU BROKE MY FUCKING-“

Pinkie was cut off as a second window shattered, due to a large body bursting through it. In less then two seconds, Pinkie was pinned on the ground, and her wrists were being wrenched behind her back, cold metal clamps closing around them.

“You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law…”

XXXXXXXX

Present

XXXXXXXX

“…and then there was a bunch of boring legal stuff. They wanted to execute me, but my lawyer pleaded insanity, and so they let me have life without parole. Wasn’t that nice of them?” Pinkie said, smiling as she finished her story.

Twilight stared at the woman in the bed across from her, mouth agape. “You… what… for real?”

“Of course!” Pinkie said, smiling widely.

“Wow…” Twilight kept staring, unable to comprehend that this silly, naïve girl had performed an act worthy of a minor supervillain. “Remind me not to mess with you.”

“Oh puh-leeze!” Pinkie said, waving a hand in a dismissive gesture. “I’m small fry compared to some of the people in here. You’ll see when I introduce you to them at rec time tomorrow.”

“Wait, what about your wrist? Is it okay?” Twilight asked, pointing to the bullet wound on Pinkie’s left wrist.

“Oh, this? They fixed it up as best they could after they arrested me. It still doesn’t work quite right, though…” Pinkie flopped around her hand, and Twilight saw the fingers twitching, as if trying to move.

Suddenly, a voice echoed from the hallway: “Lights out!” Immediately, the lights in the cell shut off, leaving the two in pitch blackness.

“Oops! Where does the time go, eh?” Pinkie whispered, giggling. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Twilight. They get mad if I talk after lights out.”

“Goodnight, Pinkie.” Twilight stated, rolling over so that she faced the wall that she could not see. Even as she tried to get some rest, one thought kept repeating through her mind: what the heck did the other prisoners do that was worse than THAT?