Pinkie Pie Destroys A Classic Muscle Car Just To Make A Bad Pun
The recently constructed Crystal Empire Coliseum was filled to capacity by cheering throngs of ponies from all over Equestria. All of them were there for one reason: to cheer on their hometown heroes as they competed for the gold.
Ponyville was no exception, though as a small town competing against major cities like Canterlot, Manehattan, Las Pegasus, and Fillydelphia, some of their teams had been filled with ponies of dubious athletic talent. While Rainbow Dash could likely easily win the relay race solo, it was a team event and neither of her teammates was as strong a flier as she was. The same could be said for many of Ponyville's other competing teams. One team had even needed to recruit Pinkie Pie to complete their roster. Each pony would be competing separately, but they needed to enter three ponies. No more and no less.
Her teammates had already taken their turns, and neither was even in contention for a medal, so Ponyville's hopes rested solely on the party planner's withers. However, she was nowhere to be found. With disqualification looming mere seconds away a low rumbling could be heard outside the arena. A gray muscle car burst through the gates and Pinkie Pie revealed herself to be the driver. She gunned the motor and it responded with a throaty roar. Sunlight gleamed off the bulging front fenders as she took a lap around the track, smashing hurdles as she went. She rolled down the driver's side window and waved a hoof at the crowd as judges trailed after her screaming for her to stop.
Once her lap around the track was completed she pulled the car into the infield and started doing donuts. The officials who had been chasing her only moments earlier found themselves diving for cover as clods of dirt and grass were thrown in all directions. Pinkie cut the engine and crawled out through the window. Partially because she wanted to imitate the Duke boys, but mostly because the door handles really weren't designed for hooves.
"What is the meaning of this?" Ms. Harshwhinny demanded.
"Oh, I just thought I'd make a stylish entrance! You know, get the crowd pumped up a bit!"
Ms. Harshwhinny looked over the crowd. Every colt and stallion was cheering and pumping their hooves into the air repeatedly. Young fillies, on the other hoof, were nuzzling their mothers and crying. "This isn't 'professional' wrestling, Miss Pie. Your antics have completely decimated our field."
Pinkie waved a hoof dismissively. "It's grass. I'm pretty sure it'll grow back."
"That's not the point. The point is that we have a competition going on here and we're trying to remain professional."
Pinkie cocked a head, quizzically. "But you just said this wasn't professional. And if it isn't professional, than it must be funfessional! And funfessional is fun!"
"As much as I'd like to disqualify you, there's no rule against destroying the field of play."
"Woo! I love loopholes!"
"Be that as it may, I assure you that that particular loophole will be closed by the time the next Equestria Games rolls around four years from now."
Pinkie patted Harshwhinny's back. "That's okay. I'll find some new ones, don't you fret! It wouldn't be any fun to use the same ones over and over again anyway. That gets like super boring and junk!"
Ms. Harshwhinny rolled her eyes. "And what, precisely, is this monstrosity?" She motioned to the muscle car. Flat black stripes, chrome emblems, and Goodyear Polyglas GT tires with raised white letters and redlines completed the look.
"This is a car."
"And where's your javelin?"
"Right here! This is a 1973 AMC Javelin AMX. It's got a 401 cubic inch V8 motor, Go Package, and a Pierre Cardin interior."
"And you intend on throwing this Miss Pie?"
"Absolutely-dutely!"
"How much does this thing weigh?"
Pinkie Pie pulled a portable truck scale out of nowhere and pushed the Javelin onto it. "3,244 pounds."
"While a standard javelin weighs less than two. If you want to handicap yourself, by all means, don't let me stop you."
"Oh, I won't!" Pinkie swung her flank around and bumped Ms. Harshwhinny all the way into the cheap seats. She started posing in classic bodybuilder positions and flexed her muscles. "My 6.6 is a little too heavy...but only if you're a big Boss Ford... or a 350 Chevy. For me though, this thing's as light as a feather! So who wants to see me throw a Javelin really, really, totally far? Give me a great big 'Tartarus yeah!'"
"Tartarus yeah!" came the roar of the crowd.
"All right, you asked for it!" Pinkie grinned as she slipped underneath the car. Soon the Javelin was precariously hanging from her right front hoof. She brought her foreleg back, then snapped it forward suddenly. The car soared into the air. All eyes were on it as the Javelin flew through the air in ways the American Motors Corporation never intended it to. It easily surpassed the mark set by the javelins thrown by the other ponies and just kept going and going, right out of the arena and over the horizon.
The explosion was large enough to make a Ford Pinto jealous, and the resultant shockwave rushed over the crowd and rained parts of the demolished car down upon the gathered ponies. A Goodyear Polyglas GT tire bounced down the field and eventually rolled to a stop behind Pinkie Pie. Ms. Harshwhinny grabbed a tape measure and measured from the starting point back to the wheel. "Negative three yards, two feet, seven inches. Congratulations, Miss Pie, you've set a new record for futility."
"But...but... the Javelin landed miles away from here!"
"Perhaps, but I can't measure what I can't see."
The crowd started to boo and pelt Harshwhinny with popcorn, cups of lukewarm cider, peanuts, and ice-filled soft drinks. Pinkie Pie caught as many of the snacks as she could and started munching on them happily. "It may not be a gold medal, but this does make a good consolation prize!"
