Pound Cake, Pinkie Pie, and the Dentistsby bahatumayChaptersInto the Asylum Pinkie's Back in TownPaging the DentistsBrowniesBrownie AftermathPinkie vs ColgateResolutionInto the Asylum Author's Note Dedicated to Dr. Steiner, without whose cheerful declaration of the number of cavities I had, this would never have been written. Into the Asylum Pound Cake shuddered as the elevator descended. He jammed his hands into his jacket pockets, trying to steady himself; but as he descended deeper into the bowels of the loony bin… sorry, 'mental institution', he couldn't help but be worried. He'd heard that the more dangerous the inmates were, the deeper underground they'd keep them; and Pinkie Pie was being held on the lowest floor. The elevator stopped with a gentle 'ding', and the doors opened. The sharp smell of antiseptic hit his nose, and he winced slightly. Pound and the doctor exited to the small atrium, where a guard stood beside an enormous barred door. He flashed the plastic identification card to the guard (who was wearing what looked an awful lot like Strategic Response riot gear), and he nodded and pushed a button. The door slid open, and they walked in, the doctor leading the way. As they walked, Pound reviewed what he knew as he tried to ignore the shouts and cries of the other ponies down here. Pinkie Pie had snapped when he was still very young, and he didn't remember her very well. Most of what he did remember of her came from pictures or shards of memories that involved a lot of pink, a lot of hugs, and for some reason, big bags of flour. But that had all changed one dark day… He shook his head and continued following. “I'm still not sure zis is such a good idea,” the doctor said, his gentle accent somehow soothing among the chaos. “Our patient is not well.” “I know. Well, I've heard; I never really knew her. But right now, I need her help.” The doctor raised an eyebrow. “You are zat desperate?” Pound met his eyes. “I am.” The doctor realized that there was nothing else he could do. The paperwork was submitted and notarized, even signed by a princess, and so the pegasus had every legal right to this meeting. He grimaced, hoping against hope that Pinkie wouldn't accept his offer, and opened the little window in the top door. Pound Cake wasn't entirely sure what to expect. He didn't expect this. A bright pink head with brilliant blue eyes peeked back out at him. Her mane was huge and pink and poofy, and she smiled widely at the sight of him. Pound had the distinct impression that were it not for the large metal door and the tight straitjacket that bound her, he would be on the receiving end of a crushing glomp. She actually looked happy and surprisingly attractive; not something he would have expected from a pony who had done what she had done. He shook his head. Hot did not override crazy. “Poundy!” she cried, bouncing slightly on the padded floor. “Look at you, you've grown up so big! How are your wings doing?” Pound shrugged, but as pegasi are wont to do, he flared them to show them off. It is almost a guarantee that every pegasus will be proud of their wings, and Pound was nothing if not a normal pegasus. He quickly folded them again. “You're Pinkie Pie,” he said, not sure how else to start this conversation. “I am!” Pinkie chirped. “But you can call me auntie Pinkie if you want.” Pound paused. “We're not related, though… are we?” Had he just checked out a relative? “Not at all!” Pinkie said brightly. “But you couldn't really call me 'uncle Pinkie', now, could you? I'm a mare, after all!” She hopped back slightly and did her best to demonstratively thrust her chest out, but her forearms were still crossed in front of her body and somewhat hindered this gesture. Pound cracked a smile against his will. He'd heard she was supposed to represent the Element of Laughter, and perhaps there was some truth to that statement after all. He shook his head. “Pinkie, I need your help.” Pinkie seemed to sober slightly. “Of course,” she said. “What's up?” “Do you remember anything that happened? Before the…” How should he put this? “...incident?” Pinkie nodded. “Kindof, but I could use a refresher course.” Pound sighed, not really wanting to tell this story. “It all started many years ago. You got sick from eating too much sugar, and Twilight Sparkle… you remember her?” “Twilight Sparkle, alicorn, former wielder of the Element of Magic, current princess of friendship. Cutie mark is a six-pointed purple star with five surrounding white stars. Born December 3rd, mulberry coat, moderate-sapphire-blue mane with two stripes, one dark pink, one purple; violet eyes, first arrived at Ponyville on October 10th, favorite activity is reading and favorite ice cream flavor is pistachio.” Pinkie grinned at the shocked look on Pound's face. “Yeah, I remember her.” Pound worked his mouth, trying to get words to come out. “And how long have you been in here?” he stammered. “Seventeen years, three months, two days, fourteen hours, thirteen minutes, thirty-six seconds. Thirty-seven, now. Thirty-eight…” “And you remember all of that?” Pinkie shrugged. “I remember a lot of things,” she said. “Especially when it comes to my friends.” Pound coughed and resumed his story. “Well, Twilight did some investigating, and turns out Sweet Talk—the guy who ran almost the entire sugar industry—had been putting in some nasty filler to maximize profits. You just happened to eat enough to show the side-effects.” “That doesn't sound good,” Pinkie said, a frown darkening her face. “Yeah. Celestia herself came to shut him down. But he'd bought up almost everything in the industry, so sugar production across Equestria dropped ninety-nine percent.” Pinkie's ears drooped. “But was there enough sugar left for cookies and cupcakes and real cakes for everypony's birthdays and anniversaries?” she asked hopefully. Pound swallowed. He had the distinct feeling that if this conversation was going to go south, it would be at this point. “No,” he admitted. “There wasn't.” His premonition was right; Pinkie let out a dramatic groan, and then her eyes rolled back into her head and she fell backwards. Pound winced, but at least the padding had provided her a safe landing. She waited three seconds before popping back up. “So what happened?” she asked. “Business nearly dried up,” Pound admitted. “We had a large supply of sugar left over, but with it being contaminated we didn't want to use it, and the price of clean sugar octupled.” Pinkie giggled and repeated “Octupled,” under her breath a few times. She found it a funny word. “We managed to survive for about three weeks making mostly bread and such, and then that's about when you snapped.” Pinkie cocked her head. “I guess you'd read somewhere that the pony body uses sugar for energy, and you figured you could harvest it.” Pinkie's mane seemed to flatten. “What did I do?” she asked fearfully. Pound didn't want to answer that either, but he did. “They found you in the basement, with bloody knives everywhere and Rainbow Dash strapped to a table and you going on about making cupcakes.” It hadn't been an illusion; Pinkie's mane did look flatter now, and Pinkie herself looked as though she were about to cry. “But Rainbow Dash is one of my bestest friends,” she whispered. “I couldn't have… did I? What happened to her?” “Oh, she made a full recovery,” Pound said quickly. “She's retired from the Wonderbolts after flying with them for fifteen years, and now she runs her own training camps.” Pinkie smiled and seemed to perk up slightly. “Oh, good,” she said. “She'd wanted to do that ever since she was a teeny-tiny itty-bitty Cloudsdale filly.” “Anyway, you got sent here, Rainbow eventually recovered, and we tried to eke out a living without you. I don't have to tell you that mom and dad thought you were the best thing since buttercream frosting.” Pinkie brightened a bit more at that compliment. Apparently, she also liked buttercream frosting. “Twilight helped us grow more sugarcane, pure sugar this time, and we moved our operation into our now-expanded basement so it wouldn't get stolen. Pumpkin tends it now, with that Apple colt.” A brief smile crossed his face. “They're totally getting hitched, I'm calling it now.” “Whee!” Pinkie cheered, throwing her hands into the air. “I love weddings!” Her grin faded, and she put her arms down. “Where is Pumpkin?” she asked, looking over his shoulder as if she expected to see her there hiding behind her brother. Wait. Hadn't she been in a straitjacket? How did she…? Pound shook his head. “That's what I came here for. See, with no sugar for so many years, there were no sweets or baked goods. Even doing everything we could, there just wasn't enough sugar to go around; so we started making more breads and stuff. That meant there were fewer cavities, and fewer cavities meant less for the dentists to do. Do you remember Minuette?” Pinkie nodded. “Minuette, more commonly known as Colgate, certified dentist and oral hygienist. Cutie mark hourglass, half full-” “I get it,” Pound interrupted. “You know her. Well, she didn't have any cavities to fill and after about three years of that, she kindof went crazy too. The fourth year, she started extracting healthy teeth, putting crowns in where they weren't needed, and filling cavities that weren't there. She'd just gone loco with nothing to do.” Pinkie cocked her head. “When the town figured out what she was doing, they ran her out; but she swore revenge. The next month, she came back, still wearing her coat and mask. She pounced on some poor pony on the streets and cleaned her teeth and even pulled one out.” “That's not terrible…” Pinkie said. “Without painkillers.” Pinkie's eyes widened. “That's just wrong,” she whispered. “It gets better,” Pound said grimly. “She started striking once a week, then twice. Sometimes it was a cleaning, sometimes it was an extraction, and she usually gave either too much or too little numbing stuff. Some ponies even died. By the end of the month, ponies were afraid to go outside at night.” Pinkie frowned. “That's awful,” she pouted. “Then other dentists started doing the same thing. Now there's a couple packs of ten or twelve of them, terrorizing the town as soon as it gets dark.” Pinkie bit her lower lip. “We actually have a good supply of sugar now, but the dentists have everypony terrorized, so sales are still down and ponies usually stick to the breads. And I'm here because… because…” Pound took a steadying breath. “They caught Pumpkin.” Pinkie gasped, placing her hands over her mouth. Pound knew what he was seeing this time. He stared at the impossible sight, and his eyes narrowed. “How-?” Pinkie looked down at her hands and then quickly wrapped them around herself again. “What?” she asked innocently. Pound shook his head and continued. “They took her wisdom teeth and overdosed her on expired painkillers. She still hasn't woken up.” Pinkie Pie's face crinkled in sympathetic pain. “Then what are you here for?” she demanded. “You should be there with her!” “I'm here because I need your help. I want to stop those dentists for good, but I need you, Pinkie. It started with you, and I think you can end it.” Pinkie giggled. “I'd love to help, buuut-” Pound pointedly ignored the doctor's sigh of relief. But Pinkie wasn't done. “-I can't exactly leave. See? I'm in a straitjacket.” She turned around and wiggled her shoulders as best as she could, showing that she was well and truly restrained. Pound opened his mouth, then shut it again. “Look, I have the paperwork that will get you out…” “Woo hoo! Then what are we waiting for?” Pinkie stuck her head through the opening that seemed far too small, and pushed herself through. “No, you're supposed to wait until… until…” Pound's voice trailed off because when Pinkie pushed herself out, her straitjacket had remained behind, and there was now a stark-naked mare standing in front of him. Being a red-blooded stallion, he couldn't help but look. She was a bit thinner than he remembered from some of the pictures, but she still had wide hips and an ample chest. Her cutie mark of three balloons was emblazoned on a flank that still looked very firm, and Pound had to admit that Pinkie Pie was all-around a very beautiful mare. Come to think of it, she wasn't that much older than him… Pinkie noticed him staring, and smirked, apparently completely unconcerned. She rocked her hips and placed a hand on one. “I look pretty good for being in here seventeen years, three months, two days, fourteen hours, forty-five minutes, and thirty-seven seconds, huh?” she grinned. Pound closed his eyes and thought, 'Hot does not override crazy. Hot does not override crazy. Hot does not override crazy' before he could answer. “Yeah, you do,” he admitted. Pinkie took the doctor's coat off his shoulders and put it over herself. “Well, let's go, then,” she said, buttoning it up. “We've got ponies to do and things to see!” Pound grinned, but it turned into more of a grimace. He really hoped he wasn't going to regret this. Pinkie's Back in TownPound felt awkward walking Pinkie back to his house. She seemed fascinated with the simplest things from parking meters to the graffiti on the walls to the sun itself, and she would get so excited over little things that he really couldn't concentrate. Eventually, they managed to get back to Sugarcube Corner. Pinkie slowed to a stop. In the older days, they hadn't needed the bars over the windows or the reinforced doors, and the paint had looked new and fresh and inviting. Now, the whole building just looked tired and cold. Pinkie tried to crack a smile. “I… love what you've done with the place?” she tried. “It's miserable, and it's all those dentists' fault,” Pound muttered. He pulled his key out of his pocket, undid both locks, and pushed open the door. Pinkie whistled as she stepped inside, taking in the flaking paint, the warping wood of the floor, the displays of small cupcakes, more breads than they'd carried before, and big signs that said 'try our new sugar-free options!' She grimaced. This was not the Sugarcube Corner she remembered. This was all wrong. Totally and inconceivably wrong. “I'm gonna go take care of something,” Pound said, heading towards the bathroom. “Don't touch anything. Mom and dad are probably still at the hospital and should be back soon.” Pinkie looked around and crossed her arms like a shield over her body. “Not sure I'd even want to,” she murmured. When Pound emerged, he found Pinkie now clothed in a little jacket over a pink shirt that had her cutie mark on the front of it, short jean shorts, and a pair of thick, pink suspenders completed her outfit. Pound stared again. Pinkie met his eyes and grinned as she snapped her suspenders. “I keep clothes stashed all over Equestria in case of clothing emergencies,” she explained. Pound wasn't sure if he should believe this, as he had personally had to clean this place top to bottom completely numerous times and had never found any such clothing; but he had already decided that Pinkie was a bit strange that way and decided to merely accept it. There came a rattling at the door, and Pound jumped. The locks turned, and Carrot and Cup entered. Both stopped short at the sight of Pinkie Pie. A silent standoff occurred. Pound looked over and saw Pinkie was breathing a bit harder now. She swallowed and straightened up. “Mr. Cake,” she said in greeting. “Mrs. Cake.” “Pinkie,” Cup said hesitantly. Pinkie licked her lips. The next thing any of them knew, Pinkie had wrapped the two of them in a tight hug. “It is so good to see you again!” Pinkie squealed. “Oh, I've missed you both! So much!” She pulled back. “You look so good, Mrs. Cake! And Mr. Cake! Handsome as ever!” Pound let out a breath he didn't know he'd been holding when his parents hugged Pinkie back. “We're so glad you're back,” Cup said. “But I thought you were there for a few more years?” Pinkie shrugged. “I got better,” she said. “Pound helped me get out.” Both of Pound's parents looked at him, and Pound found himself more nervous than he had been in the insane asylum. “Uh…” “Son, can we talk to you? In private?” Carrot emphasized. Pinkie waited until they had gone into the kitchen, then pulled a glass out from the cupboard and held it against the wooden door to listen in. She frowned as she caught snippets of the hushed conversation. “-crazy-” “What were you thinking?” “-Pumpkin-” “How did you even-” “-paperwork-” “-fees and-” And then Pound's voice broke through loud and clear. “I thought she could help, all right? Twilight helped me do the paperwork, she thinks so too. The craziness started with her, I think it needs to end with her, too.” She could hear Carrot sigh. “Pound, son… this isn't a comic book or some fantasy story. This is real life. And what you did is really dangerous.” Pinkie frowned. She wasn't dangerous. Was she? “I know. But… I did it for Pumpkin. And for me. And for all of us. If she can end this…” “And if she can't?” Cup asked. “It'll be my responsibility.” “It might also be your life,” Carrot muttered. He sighed. “Fine. I'll agree with this. But stay safe, ok?” “I will.” Pinkie heard the sounds of a hug and knew they were coming out soon and so she'd better make herself look nonchalant. She quickly darted over, leaned against the counter, and whistled as they reemerged. Pound coughed. “Maybe we should think of a plan.” “Can we go see Pumpkin?” Pinkie asked excitedly. Mrs. Cake looked uncertain, but Pound agreed. “Yeah. I'll take you there.” * * * Pound wasn't sure how Pinkie would react to being back in a hospital-like setting, but nothing seemed to phase her. She pranced right in and greeted the mare at the triage desk. “Hi, Nurse Redheart! How are you?” The white mare looked up in surprise at the familiar voice, and that surprise turned to shock and horror as she recognized the speaker. She took a step back but misjudged the distance, and toppled over backwards over a short table. Pinkie giggled. “You sure picked a good place to fall,” she said. “You're in a hospital!” She peered over the desk railing. “You ok?” Perhaps it was the distressed squeaking, or Redheart's desperate strugglings to slide and put as much distance as possible between her and Pinkie. Either way, Pound got the distinct impression that Redheart was deathly afraid of Pinkie Pie, and so grabbed her arm and dragged her away. He already knew where Pumpkin's room was, anyway. “Remember to rest!” Pinkie called back. “And if you get a headache or your vision gets fuzzy, go get tested for a concussion!” * * * Pinkie looked down at the supine form of Pumpkin and slowly ran her fingers over her hand. The dentists couldn't just go buy their own supplies, so much of what they'd use was stolen or expired. That made for a terrible combination with some pretty bad side effects. “How long?” Pinkie asked. Pound noted that her mane seemed to have flattened somewhat again. “Two weeks,” he answered. “Nearly three, now.” “But she is going to wake up, right?” Pinkie asked. Pound was silent. “Right?” Pinkie asked, a bit more quietly this time. “We don't know,” Pound admitted. “The doctors said she'd have the greatest chance of recovery if she woke up within the first forty-eight hours.” “And it's been almost four hundred and fifty six,” Pinkie murmured. “But you think she'll wake up?” “She has to!” Pound said. Hot tears began forming in the corners of his eyes. “She just has to!” Pinkie straightened, her resolve strengthened. “Then this means war,” she said firmly. She took Pound by the hand. “Come on. I've got a plan.” * * * Pound hefted the crowbar he'd been given. “I'm not so sure this is such a good idea,” he protested. “It's a great idea!” Pinkie said. “I'm the bait, and while they're distracted with me, you hit them on the head with the crowbar! Simple enough, right?” “Well, yeah; but-” Pinkie pressed a finger over his lips. “Ah, ah, ah!” she chided. “Butts are for sitting. And for spanking, when somepony's been a bad little filly.” Pound flushed slightly red at that mental image. Pinkie removed her finger and trotted out into the middle of the street. She reached into her back pocket and pulled out a cupcake. “Oh, my!” she called. “Look at me! I'm going to eat this beautiful, sugary cupcake!” She extended her tongue and gave the frosting on top a long lick around the edges. “Mmm, so sugary, and so unhealthy for my teeth!” She licked it again up the side this time, really getting her tongue all over the cupcake, and Pound needed to look at the ground to try and maintain some semblance of composure. 'Stupid sexy Pinkie,' he groused silently. Pinkie continued her display, using her tongue much more than necessary as she played with the cupcake. Finally, she took a bite and chewed dramatically. “Mm-hmm!” she moaned. “So delicious!” The first dentist appeared in the shadows, horn glowing. He circled around Pinkie, carrying a pair of forceps in his magic. A second appeared in the shadows above, dropping to the ground. A third came from another alleyway. They drew close menacingly, their masks over their faces and their tools held high. Pinkie finished her cupcake and grinned. “Pound?” she called. “Now would be a great time for you to do your part of my plan.” She paused as the dentists came closer. “Pound?” she called, taking a step back. “Any time now…” She looked back to the alley where Pound was hidden, and gasped. He was surrounded by no less than four dentists, who were holding him down and pressing a mask of laughing gas over his mouth. Paging the DentistsPound couldn't resist. He struggled as hard as he could but the dentists had caught him by surprise. They held him down and pressed a mask on his face. His head started pounding and his vision started to swim as the gas took over. There was a sickening, slushy thud. The mask fell off his face, and the dentist in front of Pound keeled over, the back of her skull caved in. Pinkie stood behind her, and dropped the manhole cover she'd used as a weapon. “No one touches him,” she hissed. Pound gasped as he realized that Pinkie's mane was flat again, so flat it was almost straight. His horror tripled when she realized that her mouth and face were all bloody. The dentists turned to face this new target. One raised her forceps, but Pinkie grabbed her wrist, dragged her forward, and slammed her head with a punishing headbutt. She fell to the ground and twitched twice before falling still. The second dentist came at her, drill raised. Pinkie blocked it with wrists crossed, and Pound barely had time to avert his eyes before Pinkie redirected the drill and it found purchase in the center of his skull. Pinkie sidestepped and ripped the mask off the third. While he scrambled to put it back on, Pinkie kicked the crowbar up into her hands and bashed the fourth in the nose, which darkened his mask as blood spurted out. She dropped it and slammed the fifth over the head with his own canister of laughing gas, hitting him right in the temple and sending him crashing to the ground. He did not rise again. The third had replaced his mask and he looked up just in time to see two pink hooves coming right at his face. Pinkie's donkey kick sent him flying, and he impacted the wall with a sickening thud, slid to the ground, and didn't move. The sixth, a pegasus, decided that this pink mare wasn't worth the trouble and took off. Pinkie hurled a pair of forceps at him, and they tagged him in the back, right between the wings. He shouted in pain and dropped, but managed to recover his height and continue on. Pound stared in shock, then jumped as a pink hand appeared in front of him. It was Pinkie. Her mane had returned to its normal, poofy self. She smiled a bloody smile, showing that she had all her teeth. “Come on,” she said. “Let's go home.” Pound looked over at the first dentists in the street, and realized that they were on the ground with blood pooling mostly around their necks. A cold pit settled in his stomach as he slowly put two and two together. Hesitantly, he turned back to Pinkie, then let himself be pulled to his hooves. Together they walked home, leaving behind the bodies of the dentists. * * * At the sound of the door opening, Mr. Cake looked up, and he dropped the tray of bread he was carrying. “Pinkie!” he shouted as the two bloodied warriors stumbled in. “What happened?” Pinkie shrugged. “I don't know; but here's Pound, safe and sound.” She walked through the kitchen and back into the bathroom, then gasped. “Aiii! It looks like my neck had a period!” “What happened?” Carrot hissed at Pound. Pound wasn't sure how to answer that. He certainly didn’t want to say what had really happened. After a pause, he finally said, “She saved my life,” and left it at that. Carrot pulled his son into a tight hug. “Please don't do anything else stupid,” he whispered. “Having one child in the hospital is bad enough.” Pound nodded. The problem is, 'stupid' is such a subjective term. * * * The next night, Pound Cake waited in the shadows again, this time making sure his back was to the wall and that he constantly watched behind himself. He'd been very certain that this time he would be ready for anything. Unfortunately, no dentists appeared. Not even when Pinkie started rubbing her cupcake on her face and moaning. Pound had to move the crowbar to his belt level in front of him. “It won't work,” Pinkie said suddenly, giving up and shoving the whole cupcake into her mouth. “'ey 'ow I' a 'hret.” “What?” Pinkie swallowed and started picking up the frosting trails left on her chest with a finger. “They know I'm a threat,” she translated. “They're not going to come out to face me anymore.” Pound threw his crowbar down. “Then what are we supposed to do?” he whined. “We're going to draw them out,” Pinkie said. “Do something so big, and so amazing, they'll have no choice but to act.” “Like what?” Pound asked. Pinkie thought for a moment. “When was the last time your mom made brownies?” Pound cocked his head. “What are brownies?” Pinkie looked aghast. Then her expression turned resolute. “Pound,” she said firmly, “we are gonna make brownies.” BrowniesPound could only stare. He'd gotten up early to help Pinkie make the brownies, but she was already awake, dancing around the kitchen in a flour-dusted apron and yet another set of brightly-colored clothes, and she had already made a few batches. She waved hello with her tail and pulled another tray out of the oven. They smelled delicious. Pound found himself drawn to one tray in particular. He picked one up and put it into his mouth. He nearly collapsed in a whimpering heap of pleasure. This was the best thing he had ever eaten. Nothing mattered anymore; he could die happy for having eaten just one of these little slices of heaven. “Good, huh?” Pinkie grinned. Pound could only moan his agreement and nod weakly. “Good!” Pinkie grinned. “Because we've got plenty of them to make and plenty to sell.” “Do mom and dad know you're doing this?” Pound asked. Pinkie nodded. “Yep.” Pound looked at the empty sacks of flour and sugar and empty tins of cocoa piled up in the corner, and his eyebrow raised. This was a ton of supplies they probably couldn't afford to waste. “And they were ok with it?” “In a manner of speaking,” Pinkie said. Pound raised an eyebrow. “That means…?” “They came in, saw what I was doing, looked at each other, looked back at me, said, 'Typical Pinkie', and then left me alone.” Pound nodded. He hadn't known Pinkie for very long, but already that seemed to be a fitting response for her. “Wanna help me with the next batch?” Pinkie asked. Pound nodded and washed his hands and joined in. He began mixing and stirring, making sure to get the ingredients just moistened to not make it too tough, when something hit him in the face. He looked up, surprised, and wiped it off. It was white. It was powdery. It was flour. Pinkie had thrown flour on him. He looked over and saw her leaning against the counter, body quivering with silent laughter. Never one to let a challenge go, he scooped up some cocoa. “Hey, Pinkie!” he called. She turned, and he nailed her in the face. She blinked a few times, and then then a devious smile spread across her face as she scooped up some flour for a second throw. Pound was ready this time; he raised a wing and shielded his face, and he grabbed some flour and threw. Before long, flour flew back and forth, both ponies giggling and laughing. Pound couldn't remember the la “What's going on in h- pff!” Startled at the intrusion, Pinkie had flung her next shot of flour at the sound, and now both Pinkie and Pound stared in horror at Cup Cake, now looking paler than she had in a while. Pinkie giggled sheepishly. “Oopsie?” she tried. Cup opened her mouth, closed it again, opened it again, closed it again, then shook her head and left. Pinkie tapped her fingers together. “Maaaybe we’ve had enough fun for now,” she suggested. * * * Pound scratched the back of his neck under the candy-striped hat. When he said he would do anything to avenge Pumpkin, this isn't quite what he'd had in mind. He looked down at the tray of brownies he carried. They almost took the attention away from the dorky little bow tie and candy-striped vest he was also wearing. “And you're sure this is what they wore?” Pound asked to confirm. Pinkie, who was attired similarly, nodded. For some reason, she actually made it look good. “Yep! This is what the brothers wore while peddling their wares. It seemed to work well both times!” Pound frowned, but Pinkie was already skipping out the door. She stopped short, and Pound nearly ran into her. “Oh, right. They also sang.” She turned to Pound. “Want to start us off?” “Me?!” Pound protested. “No! Pumpkin's the singer, not me!” Pinkie gave him a disapproving look. “Pound, there is music in everypony. Just try.” Pound whimpered, but there was a pretty mare counting on him. He stepped forward to the edge of the fence and started. “We have brownies, and they're good…” Pound winced as his voice cracked slightly. “And you should try them, because… you should… and-” “Nope. You were right. You're pitiful.” Pinkie pushed him aside, cleared her throat, and began to sing herself. Pound could swear that he could hear a piano playing a little musical accompaniment from somewhere unseen as she sang. “Oh, ponies here in Ponyville, direct your eyes this way For I've returned and I bear gifts that'll really make your day. See, I have heard of all your troubles and I've got just the thing To give your eyes a sparkle and give your hooves back their spriiing!” She emphasized this last line by jumping up on the fence and bouncing off, holding her jumping pose as she gracefully descended, scissoring her legs as she floated slowly to the ground. Pound stared. How had she done that? And without wings, too! He looked around. Ponies were staring with everything from annoyance to mild interest. Only one or two looked truly fearful. Maybe Pinkie's reputation had preceded her. Pinkie, oblivious to all of this, continued singing as she pranced down the street, spinning and holding the platter above her head. The music came louder and faster now. “Because I've got brownies!” “Brownies!” Pound jumped. Who had sang that back? It almost sounded like a little choir. “Yes, I've got brownies!” “Brownies!” the returning call came again. “They're little, brown, and chocolatey; they'll turn you happy just like me! They're brownies!” “Brownies!” “Delicious brownies!” “Brownies!” “They're small, tasty, sugary! And they're my gift to you from me!” Pound blinked. Who was playing this music? And why was everypony starting to move in time with the beat? Pinkie continued her dance around the square. “Now I know that there are lots of you who view me with distaste But I solem-nen-ly beg of you to not judge me in haste. Yes, I went mad; but now I'm glad! And here's my offering To show you that I'm whole again and these are just the thing for they are brownies!” Pound jumped as the ponies around him called back. “Brownies!” “Delicious brownies!” “Brownies!” “They're tasty as tasty can be; and best of all, your first is free!” The music held that note as Pinkie held the platter out to the three flower ponies, bowing dramatically. “Free?” they asked in unison. “Free!” Pinkie confirmed. The music stopped. Lily, Roseluck, and Daisy looked at each other, and then back at the brownies. Silence reigned in the square. Curiosity eventually overcame apprehension, and Roseluck took one and slowly placed it in her mouth. Her eyes widened. “Oh, wow,” she said. Daisy and Lily took this as an invitation and picked up their own. “Whoa.” “That's delicious!” Pinkie held the platter out to the next pony, an orange mare of the Apple family. She looked at Pinkie and at the plate a few times, and Pound got the impression they knew each other. The apple mare took one and bit it. A wide smile spread across her face. “Well, Ah'll be,” she said. “This is the best thing Ah've eaten all year!” The crowd cheered; all except for a very confused Pound Cake. He didn't have time to be confused for long, though; the crowd swept him up in their march as they sang the chorus. “She's got brownies!” “Yes I do!” Pinkie shouted. “Yes, she's got brownies!” “They're right here!” “Be careful, all you unprepared for these delicious little squares! They're brownies!” Pinkie flung her tray into the air, raining brownies down on the crowd. “For everypony!” she squealed. “Delicious brownies!” “Follow me for more!” “These brownies are so very fine, so chocolatey and quite divine!” Pound could not fathom how the crowd could possibly sing along with a song Pinkie had just made up. There was something very, very strange about that mare. The song continued. Pinkie Pie marched in front, a drum major's staff in her hand as she led the crowd towards Sugarcube Corner. * * * Carrot Cake and Cup Cake could only stare at the mountain of brownies in their kitchen. There was barely enough room for them to walk through, and the house was definitely going to smell of chocolate for a week. “Dear, I know we've trusted Pinkie in the past, but she might have gone just a little bit too far this time,” Cup said hesitantly. “I think you're right, honeybun,” Carrot agreed. Both of their ears perked up as they heard singing. Singing? When was the last time the whole town had joined in a musical number? They looked at each other, then ran to the window. Sure enough, there was a crowd coming with Pinkie at the helm, leading what could only be called a hungry mob to the front door. Cup and Carrot looked at each other and laughed. How could they ever have doubted Pinkie Pie? Brownie AftermathPound Cake exhaled as he finally got the opportunity to turn the sign to 'Closed'. He slumped back against the doorway and slid to the ground, too exhausted to even take off that stupid hat. He had never seen this place so full; he had had to run the whole front while Pinkie and his parents were baking at full speed in the back. 'Pumpkin would have loved to see this,' he thought to himself. Then he whimpered internally. That just made him sad, and today was supposed to be a happy day. But right now, all he cared about was sleeping. Pinkie's plans could wait until tomorrow. Actually, that might have been Pinkie's plan anyway. “I've got this,” he heard her say from the kitchen. “You did a lot of baking today.” “Yes, but so did you,” Carrot pointed out. “Yeah, but I had seventeen years, three months, two days, fourteen hours, forty-five minutes, and thirty-seven seconds of not-baking.” She forcefully pushed them out of the kitchen. “I'll take care of all of this! You two go get some rest!” Pound sighed with relief. When he could stand again, he headed back to his room and threw himself on his bed, not even bothering to take his clothes off. He closed his eyes, trying to ignore the rhythmic thumping that was coming from his parents' room next do- Pound sat up straight. Sweet Celestia! * * * Pinkie exited the now sparkling-clean kitchen and ran right into Pound Cake, who was curled up in a ball under a blanket on the floor. She tapped him awake with a hoof. “You ok?” she asked. Pound stretched and popped his back. “Yeah. Can't sleep in my own room. My parents are celebrating in their room and it’s next door to mine.” Pinkie brightened. “You mean, they're having like a little party in the bedroom?” “No… I mean-” and Pound rocked a bit and made squeaking noises, imitating the sound of a squeaking bed. Pinkie cocked her head, completely missing the point. “They're doing the horizontal hustle?” Pinkie cocked her head even further. “They're doing the no pants dance?” Pinkie shook her head, still not comprehending. “They're doing the bedroom boogie?” “So… it's a dance party?” Pinkie said hopefully. Pound put his face in his hands. “My parents are having sex,” he said flatly. “Oh,” Pinkie grinned. “Why didn't you just say so?” Had he not already had his face in his hands, Pound would have facepalmed. “Anyway, since they're being stinkyheads and not inviting us to their dance party… We still have a little revenge to plot.” Pound looked up, and frowned. “Where did you get that mustache?” “I only use it for the most devious of plotting,” Pinkie explained, twirling it in a manner most devious. “And this is a most devious of plots.” “What kind of plot are you plotting?” Pound asked. “You'll see!” Pinkie sang. She kissed him on the forehead, making him blush. “Get some sleep, Pound. We've for a big day tomorrow!” Pound probably would have wondered why she bothered mentioning plotting a devious plot when she wasn’t going to tell him about her plot anyway, but the kiss had left his brain somewhat scrambled, and all he did was smile a dumb, goofy smile as she pranced away. * * * Colgate slammed her fists against the wall. “What? How?” she demanded. “How did the sugary treats come back? How could we have failed?” The dentists held their hooves up in submission. Their masks covered their faces, but the fear in their eyes was plain to see. “We don’t know! She just appeared!” “She?” Colgate caught this detail. “Who is ‘she’?” “A pink pony, not from around here. I’ve never seen her before. She's bouncy and happy and...” Colgate held up a hand. “Wears she three balloons?” she asked. The dentists looked at each other, trying to recall this detail. “Yes,” one finally said. “Two blue, one yellow.” Colgate growled. “Pinkie Pie…” she breathed, hissing the name as though it were a vile curse. “You just couldn’t stay away, could you? You just had to reappear?” She lifted her drill and raised it to the heavens. “Then we’re just going to have to make her un-appear!” she roared, and the dentists around her cheered. Pinkie vs ColgatePound woke up early the next morning. He stretched his arms, flared his wings, popped his back, and yawned. He walked downstairs, bleary-eyed and stumbling. He scratched at his waistline and then staggered into the kitchen. He paused as he saw his parents peeking out through boarded-up windows. That was most definitely not something he usually saw in the morning. “Mom? Dad? What's going on?” In response, they turned and looked at him with the most frightened looks he had ever seen them wear. He stepped forward and peeked through the slats. And then his own eyes widened. Dentists. Dentists everywhere. They surrounded Sugarcube Corner, looking just like a zombie horde in a horror movie; if zombie hordes carried drills and forceps and canisters of expired laughing gas, that is. “What do they want?” Pound breathed. He screamed and jumped back as a dentist slammed into the window. Even behind the mask he wore, it was clear he was snarling, and he scratched at the glass as he attempted to get inside. “They want me.” They spun around. Pinkie stood behind them, standing tall and resolute. Her hands were on her hips, and she had a half smile on her face. “But hey, I can't blame them. Who wouldn't like a little slice of Pinkie's pie?” She looked at Pound and winked as she ran her tongue across the front of her teeth. Pound had to jam his hands into his pajama pockets again. She's doing that on purpose, he fumed silently. Sometimes it was hard being a stallion. “Pinkie, sweetie…” Mrs. Cake said slowly. “You're not actually thinking of going out there, are you?” Pinkie nodded. “It's all part of my plan,” she said. “Wait. You're going out there?” Pound asked. Pinkie nodded, crossing her arms angrily. “You bet your muffin tin I am,” she said. “Nopony messes with the best foals I've ever foalsatted and gets away with it.” Carrot took a step in front of the door. “We won't let you,” he said. “We can find another way.” “Oh. I was going to go out the attic, anyway.” Pinkie leaned over, grabbed a handful of sprinkles off the jar on the counter, and happily skipped up the stairs. The two older Cakes looked at each other. “I think she's serious,” Carrot said, horrified. They sprinted up the stairs and went to the window, but it was too late; Pinkie was already on the roof. Dentists began to climb up, but she threw handfuls of sprinkles at them. They hissed and backed away as if they would be burned by the mere contact with sugar. Pinkie grinned and jumped off the roof and landed with a somersault on the ground. “Colgate!” she shrieked. The gathered dentists shifted, and a blue unicorn stepped out of their midst. “You,” she seethed, glaring at Pinkie. “Me.” Pinkie reached into her pants and pulled out a rolling pin and a cooling rack. She slid it on her left arm as a shield and spun the rolling pin around her hand. “Let's settle this mano a mano, eh? One on one. Just you and me. Or else.” “Or else what?” Colgate asked. Pinkie dropped her weapons and reached into her little jacket. “Or else… I'll eat this cookie!” she proclaimed, holding the cookie up between two fingers and lifting it to the sky. Colgate paused. “Seriously?” she asked. “That's your 'or else'?” Pinkie lowered the cookie. “Maybe I didn't think this out so well,” she admitted. “I'd probably just have eaten the cookie anyway.” She shrugged, and then she did. She shoved the whole cookie into her mouth. Pound's jaw dropped. That had been a big cookie. And she’d taken the whole thing into her mou- He slapped himself on the cheek. Enough of that. Pinkie was in serious danger this time. “Anyway,” Pinkie said. “I’ve come to take you down. You hurt Pumpkin Cake, and she was my favorite filly to foalsit!” Colgate rolled her eyes. “Wait, wait, don’t tell me. You’ve come to get revenge on me and the rest of the dentists by defeating me.” “Well, actually, yeah,” Pinkie said slowly. She frowned and scratched distractedly at her face. “I dunno how well I plotted this plot…” She brightened. “But still, I mean, it shouldn’t be too hard. After all, I love sugar, you guys hate it, and sugar is the best!” “I do not hate sugar! I hate the tooth decay it causes!” Colgate spat. “And I say sugar is healthy,” Pinkie grinned. Colgate raised a fist. “Them’s fighting words, Pinkie,” she seethed angrily. Pinkie sank into a fighting stance. “Then bring it, Minuette.” Colgate roared and charged. Pinkie dropped to the ground, rolled, and charged right back. Pound covered his eyes with his wings, but even so couldn't look away. The two titans charged and time seemed to slow as they neared. And then… Pound paused. “Are they… fillyfighting each other?” Indeed they were. Pinkie was growling and pulling Colgate's mane and scratching at her face as Colgate dug her fingernails into Pinkie's shoulder and tried to bite her. The fate of Ponyville was being decided over a catfight. Pinkie suddenly pulled back and pushkicked Colgate away, and swung her right fist. Pound was certain that Colgate was about to be knocked into next Tuesday; but Colgate ducked quickly and popped Pinkie right on the nose. The punch looked far too fast to be normal. Pinkie stumbled back. She swung blindly, but Colgate dodged every punch by the thinnest of margins. She double-punched Pinkie, one high one low, and then leaned backwards as Pinkie retaliated, letting her punch just graze the tip of her nose. “How is she doing that?” Pound wondered. It had been rhetorical (and quiet), but Pinkie had heard and answered anyway. “Colgate’s special talent is making time move slightly quicker for her. She used it for painful things like tooth extractions…” She turned back to glare at Colgate. “-before the hatred of sugar overtook her!” “I do not hate sugar! I hate the tooth decay it causes!” Colgate repeated, and she punched Pinkie in the chest, making her stagger backwards. Pinkie raised her hands again, but Colgate faked right and then crossed left, sending a crashing left hook to Pinkie’s jaw. “So she's just inequinely fast?” Pound asked. “Yep, yep, yep,” Pinkie said pleasantly as Colgate rabbit-punched her, sending blood dripping from her nose. “I might lose this fight.” Carrot Cake fainted. “But Pinkie,” Cup pointed out, “you're inequinely fast, too!” Pinkie reached out and caught Colgate's next punch. The unicorn's eyes widened in shock, and Pinkie's widened with glee. “Ooh, you're right!” Pinkie said brightly. “I'd forgotten about that. This changes things!” And then Pinkie reared back and headbutted her. Colgate stumbled backwards and swung wildly, but Pinkie was gone. Colgate looked around and then felt a hoof plant itself firmly on her hindquarters. Pinkie shoved her forward. Colgate regained her balance and spun around, but Pinkie was no longer there. She pulled out a pair of pliers, and looked around desperately. Pound Cake watched in stunned fascination as Pinkie followed behind Colgate, playfully shadowing her every move with a fist shoved into her mouth to suppress her laughter. Suddenly, Colgate lashed a kick out behind her, and Pinkie jumped, performing the splits as she avoided it. She spun around, wildly swinging with her pliers, but Pinkie danced around her strikes. Literally danced; she was shaking her hindquarters and making rhythmic circles with her hands as Colgate got more and more frustrated. And then Pinkie slapped her. Colgate looked shocked. Pinkie smirked. And then slapped her again. Colgate was infuriated. She pulled out her sharp scrapers and tried to slash at Pinkie, but it was no use. Pinkie dodged, ducked, dipped, dived, and dodged every single one of her attacks; and then she lifted herself onto the tips of her hooves and spun… delivering a punishing backhand slap to Colgate’s cheek. Colgate rolled her tongue around her mouth, feeling for loose teeth, and, finding none, raised her hand to lift her mask so she could spit the blood out. Her hand hit nothing but air. She looked up, and her jaw dropped as she realized that in her right hand, Pinkie held her mask. It was Pinkie’s left hand she should have worried about. Pinkie pulled a red velvet cupcake out of her jacket and shoved it into Colgate's open mouth. Her eyes widened, but Pinkie grabbed her hands and placed her mane over her nose, forcing Colgate to swallow so she could breathe. When Colgate gasped for air, Pinkie released her hands and retreated with a stylish backflip. The unicorn couldn't suppress a little “Mmm,” as the flavor danced over her tongue. The dentists neared. As if by unspoken agreement, they decided that their leader was now one of the enemy. Colgate's eyes widened as she realized what was happening, and she scrambled upright. “No! No!” she cried, raising her hands to defend herself. It was no use. One came behind her and using a finger like a fishhook, jerked her lip back and jabbed his syringe into her mouth. Another held her down as a third lifted his forceps. Pound pulled his wings over his eyes as the screaming intensified… and then stopped. Their deed done, they turned as one towards Pinkie. Pinkie reached behind her back and pulled out two more cupcakes, one in each hand. She spun around, whipping the closest dentist, a yellow mare with a green mane, with her tail. The dentist took a deep breath in preparation, adn then froze in horror as she realized she was also not wearing a mask anymore. She instinctively dodged Pinkie’s cupcake by only the skin of her teeth; the frosting very nearly skimmed her cheek. That was enough for her; she turned and sprinted away. The other dentists seemed to agree. They backed away slowly, still snarling and hissing, but definitely defeated. When they’d left, Pinkie shoved the frosting into her mouth. “It wa’ a ‘oo’ ‘ay,” she said proudly. ResolutionPound didn’t expect any big changes to happen because Colgate died. Apparently, neither did anypony else; the streets were still deserted for the entirety of the night. But the next day, Pound noticed a crowd gathering in an alleyway. Curiosity overcame him, and he walked over. A dentist lay on the ground, dead. He had clearly been in a fight, and likely with another dentist; he still had the sticks with numbing gel in his mouth, and the forceps in his hands held a tooth that didn’t seem to fit in his own mouth. That in and of itself wasn’t entirely strange. What was strange was the fact that this scene was repeated all over Ponyville. Bodies of the dentists littered the alleyways and streets. Most were bloodied and showed signs of being in a fight. “What happened?” Pound asked, taking in the carnage. He jumped at motion behind him. Pinkie stood on a dumpster, looking dramatically into the distance. “Clearly there was an epic battle,” she began. “Without Colgate in charge, the dentists fought amongst themselves for power; but behold, it was in vain. And thus it was that the dentists did infight, and did kill each other, bringing peace once again to the land.” She hopped off and skipped away. Pound watched as she left. More accurately, his eyes drifted lower to around her bouncing tail as she flounced away. Hot did not override crazy. But to be perfectly honest, she wasn't that crazy, was she? Nah. Not at all. A crazy mare wouldn’t have been able to bake as well as she could. A crazy mare wouldn’t have been able to She was totally still on the market. That made the next conversation Pound had to have with her quite awkward indeed. * * * That afternoon, Pound was busy thinking, trying to figure out how he would start this conversation when he suddenly sensed a presence behind him. “Hey Pound, why do you look so down?” Pinkie grabbed his wings and spread them, as if hoping to literally lift him off the ground. Pound sighed and tugged his wings free. “The papers I signed, to get you out of there… they say you have to go back.” Pinkie didn't seem to understand. “Get out of where and back where?” “Back to the asylum,” Pound said, chewing on his lower lip. “I only got you a temporary release into my custody. I'm sorry. Permanent release would have taken too long; I needed you out as quick as possible.” “Pound,” Pinkie said slowly, resting a hand on his shoulder, “I can't go back.” “You have to,” Pound said. “But I can't,” Pinkie stressed. “I was trapped in there for seventeen years, three months, two days, fourteen hours, forty-five minutes, and thirty-seven seconds. Do you know how many parties I've missed? How many ponies have been sad because I was stuck in there? How many presents have gone un-given and how many cakes have gone un-baken and how many songs have gone unsung? Pound, I can't go back. I just can't.” “You saved the town. You got rid of the dentists. My sister was avenged. Can’t that be enough?” Pound pleaded. “No,” Pinkie said. “Not enough. Never enough. Ponies haven’t laughed in far too long. That can’t be allowed to go on.” She stood up and faced the window and looked out dramatically. “No, I must do what I was born to do: bring laughter to the world!” Pound stood up. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I have to take you back. Or else they’ll track you down.” Pinkie slowly turned around. Her eyes widened slightly, her mouth curled up in a crazy smile, and Pound took an instinctive step back. “Pound,” she said, taking a tiny step forward. “I’m not going back. And I’ll do anything I have to to make sure I won’t.” Pound Cake reached behind himself, scrabbling for something, anything, to defend himself with. Finding nothing, he turned and looked and found a spatula just out of reach. He grabbed for it and raised it, but when he looked back, he saw nothing but pink. Pinkie had been faster; she’d already closed the gap. Pound was certain that this was how he was going to die. And then something soft pressed against his lips. Pinkie’s hands drifted up his back, exploring gently as her body leaned against his. One took hold of the base of a wing, pulling gently; the other kept going upwards until it reached his mane, where it dug in and took hold, pulling his head back and forcing him upwards into the kiss. Not that he needed much impelling, that is. And then Pinkie gently slid her tongue between his lips, and Pound’s brain overloaded as she gently but purposefully explored his mouth, brushing along the front of his teeth and pressing against his tongue. Suddenly, she pulled away and with a quick sweep of her hoof, took his knees out and dropped him onto his flank. “Good bye, Pound,” Pinkie said pleasantly as she waved. “Hopefully we'll see each other again soon!” Pound burbled something that might have been words somewhere in the mental process, but found himself powerless to do anything else but stare blankly into the distance as Pinkie bounced happily out of the bakery, taking with her an enormous stack of cupcakes. Hot overrode crazy. Hot definitely overrode crazy. * * * Pound wandered through the hospital in a bit of a daze. He felt like he needed to see his sister, even if it may have been to just brag about having made out with a hot, crazy mare. She wouldn’t have been conscious, but she might have understood. It was a twin thing. He wasn’t expecting Redheart to brighten at the sight of him, especially since last time she’d nearly wet herself in fear. “Pound!” she said. “You’re here to see your sister?” “Yeah…?” “Good! Go ahead!” she said, with a wide smile and an eager wave. Pound frowned, but continued up the stairs. When he pushed open the doors, his eyes widened and his wings extended in surprise. Pumpkin’s room was full of balloons. Literally full. He had to push his way through them. Cards littered the tables, all of them brightly-colored and glittery. Pound whistled appreciatively as he playfully punched a few back. “It's like seventeen years of birthdays crammed into one room.” “It is.” Pound whirled around, wings flaring at this strange new… wait… His jaw dropped. “P- Pumpkin?” Sure enough, his sister sat up in her bed, a smile on her face. “Yep!” Pound rushed over and grabbed her in a tight hug, burying his face in her shoulder. Pumpkin was ok. She was ok. “You’re back,” he said numbly. “How did…?” “It was Pinkie Pie,” Pumpkin answered. “I swear it was her. I thought I was dreaming until I realized that the balloons were real.” She reached out a fist and lightly punched one. Pound breathed a silent sigh of relief that Pinkie had managed to escape. He leaned over and picked a card up, and cracked a smile at the writing on the inside. “Laughter is always the best medicine!” “She left plenty of cupcakes, do you want one?” Pumpkin lit her horn and floated one over, and Pound gratefully accepted it. “So, it’s all because of Pinkie Pie,” Pound murmured. “I wonder where she is now.” * * * A yellow stallion with a dark brown mane sat at the mental hospital. He wore slippers and a robe, and he stared blankly at the wall. “Life is not a party,” he moaned in despair. He got up and walked back outside, in the protected dome area. Being on one of the higher levels of the institution, he was permitted to wander a bit by himself, as long as he stayed on the level. He walked over and rested his head against the padded wall. “Life is not a party,” he mumbled, repeating his sad mantra. “Life is a party, Cheese.” He looked up. He knew that voice. He turned around to see Pinkie Pie, hands crossed behind her back. “Life is a party,” she repeated, stepping closer to him and resting a hand on his shoulder. “And I need your help to make sure everypony gets the party they deserve.” Cheese Sandwich licked his lips. Pinkie was back. Pinkie Pie. Pinkie was back. Pinkie was good. Pinkie was party. Was… was life…? “I- I want to,” he said, “but I don't know if I can. You've been gone for so long.” “Seventeen years, three months, two days, fourteen hours, forty-five minutes, and thirty-seven seconds,” Pinkie confirmed. “I couldn't do it without you; and now it's been so long, I might have forgotten how,” Cheese said mournfully. He hadn't meant to; but Pinkie's incarceration had really done a number on him. “I know you can remember,” Pinkie said, bringing her other hand forward. She pressed the rubber chicken into his hands with a hopeful smile. “Boneless?” Cheese said, a slow smile spreading across his face. “I think we're up to Boneless V by now,” Pinkie admitted, “but yes.” Cheese clasped Boneless V to his chest, relishing the squeak he made, then slid him around his neck like a rubber boa. “Yes,” he repeated. “Life is a party.” Pinkie stretched out her hand. “Come with me,” she said. “Let's go make it awesome.” Cheese Sandwich took her hand, and the two sprinted off into the night. Angry shouts and furious guards chased them, unicorns shot stunning spells and pegasi flew overhead, and even one mare who barked like a dog followed them, but neither cared. Life was a party. And it was time to throw the biggest party yet.
Into the Asylum Author's Note Dedicated to Dr. Steiner, without whose cheerful declaration of the number of cavities I had, this would never have been written. Into the Asylum Pound Cake shuddered as the elevator descended. He jammed his hands into his jacket pockets, trying to steady himself; but as he descended deeper into the bowels of the loony bin… sorry, 'mental institution', he couldn't help but be worried. He'd heard that the more dangerous the inmates were, the deeper underground they'd keep them; and Pinkie Pie was being held on the lowest floor. The elevator stopped with a gentle 'ding', and the doors opened. The sharp smell of antiseptic hit his nose, and he winced slightly. Pound and the doctor exited to the small atrium, where a guard stood beside an enormous barred door. He flashed the plastic identification card to the guard (who was wearing what looked an awful lot like Strategic Response riot gear), and he nodded and pushed a button. The door slid open, and they walked in, the doctor leading the way. As they walked, Pound reviewed what he knew as he tried to ignore the shouts and cries of the other ponies down here. Pinkie Pie had snapped when he was still very young, and he didn't remember her very well. Most of what he did remember of her came from pictures or shards of memories that involved a lot of pink, a lot of hugs, and for some reason, big bags of flour. But that had all changed one dark day… He shook his head and continued following. “I'm still not sure zis is such a good idea,” the doctor said, his gentle accent somehow soothing among the chaos. “Our patient is not well.” “I know. Well, I've heard; I never really knew her. But right now, I need her help.” The doctor raised an eyebrow. “You are zat desperate?” Pound met his eyes. “I am.” The doctor realized that there was nothing else he could do. The paperwork was submitted and notarized, even signed by a princess, and so the pegasus had every legal right to this meeting. He grimaced, hoping against hope that Pinkie wouldn't accept his offer, and opened the little window in the top door. Pound Cake wasn't entirely sure what to expect. He didn't expect this. A bright pink head with brilliant blue eyes peeked back out at him. Her mane was huge and pink and poofy, and she smiled widely at the sight of him. Pound had the distinct impression that were it not for the large metal door and the tight straitjacket that bound her, he would be on the receiving end of a crushing glomp. She actually looked happy and surprisingly attractive; not something he would have expected from a pony who had done what she had done. He shook his head. Hot did not override crazy. “Poundy!” she cried, bouncing slightly on the padded floor. “Look at you, you've grown up so big! How are your wings doing?” Pound shrugged, but as pegasi are wont to do, he flared them to show them off. It is almost a guarantee that every pegasus will be proud of their wings, and Pound was nothing if not a normal pegasus. He quickly folded them again. “You're Pinkie Pie,” he said, not sure how else to start this conversation. “I am!” Pinkie chirped. “But you can call me auntie Pinkie if you want.” Pound paused. “We're not related, though… are we?” Had he just checked out a relative? “Not at all!” Pinkie said brightly. “But you couldn't really call me 'uncle Pinkie', now, could you? I'm a mare, after all!” She hopped back slightly and did her best to demonstratively thrust her chest out, but her forearms were still crossed in front of her body and somewhat hindered this gesture. Pound cracked a smile against his will. He'd heard she was supposed to represent the Element of Laughter, and perhaps there was some truth to that statement after all. He shook his head. “Pinkie, I need your help.” Pinkie seemed to sober slightly. “Of course,” she said. “What's up?” “Do you remember anything that happened? Before the…” How should he put this? “...incident?” Pinkie nodded. “Kindof, but I could use a refresher course.” Pound sighed, not really wanting to tell this story. “It all started many years ago. You got sick from eating too much sugar, and Twilight Sparkle… you remember her?” “Twilight Sparkle, alicorn, former wielder of the Element of Magic, current princess of friendship. Cutie mark is a six-pointed purple star with five surrounding white stars. Born December 3rd, mulberry coat, moderate-sapphire-blue mane with two stripes, one dark pink, one purple; violet eyes, first arrived at Ponyville on October 10th, favorite activity is reading and favorite ice cream flavor is pistachio.” Pinkie grinned at the shocked look on Pound's face. “Yeah, I remember her.” Pound worked his mouth, trying to get words to come out. “And how long have you been in here?” he stammered. “Seventeen years, three months, two days, fourteen hours, thirteen minutes, thirty-six seconds. Thirty-seven, now. Thirty-eight…” “And you remember all of that?” Pinkie shrugged. “I remember a lot of things,” she said. “Especially when it comes to my friends.” Pound coughed and resumed his story. “Well, Twilight did some investigating, and turns out Sweet Talk—the guy who ran almost the entire sugar industry—had been putting in some nasty filler to maximize profits. You just happened to eat enough to show the side-effects.” “That doesn't sound good,” Pinkie said, a frown darkening her face. “Yeah. Celestia herself came to shut him down. But he'd bought up almost everything in the industry, so sugar production across Equestria dropped ninety-nine percent.” Pinkie's ears drooped. “But was there enough sugar left for cookies and cupcakes and real cakes for everypony's birthdays and anniversaries?” she asked hopefully. Pound swallowed. He had the distinct feeling that if this conversation was going to go south, it would be at this point. “No,” he admitted. “There wasn't.” His premonition was right; Pinkie let out a dramatic groan, and then her eyes rolled back into her head and she fell backwards. Pound winced, but at least the padding had provided her a safe landing. She waited three seconds before popping back up. “So what happened?” she asked. “Business nearly dried up,” Pound admitted. “We had a large supply of sugar left over, but with it being contaminated we didn't want to use it, and the price of clean sugar octupled.” Pinkie giggled and repeated “Octupled,” under her breath a few times. She found it a funny word. “We managed to survive for about three weeks making mostly bread and such, and then that's about when you snapped.” Pinkie cocked her head. “I guess you'd read somewhere that the pony body uses sugar for energy, and you figured you could harvest it.” Pinkie's mane seemed to flatten. “What did I do?” she asked fearfully. Pound didn't want to answer that either, but he did. “They found you in the basement, with bloody knives everywhere and Rainbow Dash strapped to a table and you going on about making cupcakes.” It hadn't been an illusion; Pinkie's mane did look flatter now, and Pinkie herself looked as though she were about to cry. “But Rainbow Dash is one of my bestest friends,” she whispered. “I couldn't have… did I? What happened to her?” “Oh, she made a full recovery,” Pound said quickly. “She's retired from the Wonderbolts after flying with them for fifteen years, and now she runs her own training camps.” Pinkie smiled and seemed to perk up slightly. “Oh, good,” she said. “She'd wanted to do that ever since she was a teeny-tiny itty-bitty Cloudsdale filly.” “Anyway, you got sent here, Rainbow eventually recovered, and we tried to eke out a living without you. I don't have to tell you that mom and dad thought you were the best thing since buttercream frosting.” Pinkie brightened a bit more at that compliment. Apparently, she also liked buttercream frosting. “Twilight helped us grow more sugarcane, pure sugar this time, and we moved our operation into our now-expanded basement so it wouldn't get stolen. Pumpkin tends it now, with that Apple colt.” A brief smile crossed his face. “They're totally getting hitched, I'm calling it now.” “Whee!” Pinkie cheered, throwing her hands into the air. “I love weddings!” Her grin faded, and she put her arms down. “Where is Pumpkin?” she asked, looking over his shoulder as if she expected to see her there hiding behind her brother. Wait. Hadn't she been in a straitjacket? How did she…? Pound shook his head. “That's what I came here for. See, with no sugar for so many years, there were no sweets or baked goods. Even doing everything we could, there just wasn't enough sugar to go around; so we started making more breads and stuff. That meant there were fewer cavities, and fewer cavities meant less for the dentists to do. Do you remember Minuette?” Pinkie nodded. “Minuette, more commonly known as Colgate, certified dentist and oral hygienist. Cutie mark hourglass, half full-” “I get it,” Pound interrupted. “You know her. Well, she didn't have any cavities to fill and after about three years of that, she kindof went crazy too. The fourth year, she started extracting healthy teeth, putting crowns in where they weren't needed, and filling cavities that weren't there. She'd just gone loco with nothing to do.” Pinkie cocked her head. “When the town figured out what she was doing, they ran her out; but she swore revenge. The next month, she came back, still wearing her coat and mask. She pounced on some poor pony on the streets and cleaned her teeth and even pulled one out.” “That's not terrible…” Pinkie said. “Without painkillers.” Pinkie's eyes widened. “That's just wrong,” she whispered. “It gets better,” Pound said grimly. “She started striking once a week, then twice. Sometimes it was a cleaning, sometimes it was an extraction, and she usually gave either too much or too little numbing stuff. Some ponies even died. By the end of the month, ponies were afraid to go outside at night.” Pinkie frowned. “That's awful,” she pouted. “Then other dentists started doing the same thing. Now there's a couple packs of ten or twelve of them, terrorizing the town as soon as it gets dark.” Pinkie bit her lower lip. “We actually have a good supply of sugar now, but the dentists have everypony terrorized, so sales are still down and ponies usually stick to the breads. And I'm here because… because…” Pound took a steadying breath. “They caught Pumpkin.” Pinkie gasped, placing her hands over her mouth. Pound knew what he was seeing this time. He stared at the impossible sight, and his eyes narrowed. “How-?” Pinkie looked down at her hands and then quickly wrapped them around herself again. “What?” she asked innocently. Pound shook his head and continued. “They took her wisdom teeth and overdosed her on expired painkillers. She still hasn't woken up.” Pinkie Pie's face crinkled in sympathetic pain. “Then what are you here for?” she demanded. “You should be there with her!” “I'm here because I need your help. I want to stop those dentists for good, but I need you, Pinkie. It started with you, and I think you can end it.” Pinkie giggled. “I'd love to help, buuut-” Pound pointedly ignored the doctor's sigh of relief. But Pinkie wasn't done. “-I can't exactly leave. See? I'm in a straitjacket.” She turned around and wiggled her shoulders as best as she could, showing that she was well and truly restrained. Pound opened his mouth, then shut it again. “Look, I have the paperwork that will get you out…” “Woo hoo! Then what are we waiting for?” Pinkie stuck her head through the opening that seemed far too small, and pushed herself through. “No, you're supposed to wait until… until…” Pound's voice trailed off because when Pinkie pushed herself out, her straitjacket had remained behind, and there was now a stark-naked mare standing in front of him. Being a red-blooded stallion, he couldn't help but look. She was a bit thinner than he remembered from some of the pictures, but she still had wide hips and an ample chest. Her cutie mark of three balloons was emblazoned on a flank that still looked very firm, and Pound had to admit that Pinkie Pie was all-around a very beautiful mare. Come to think of it, she wasn't that much older than him… Pinkie noticed him staring, and smirked, apparently completely unconcerned. She rocked her hips and placed a hand on one. “I look pretty good for being in here seventeen years, three months, two days, fourteen hours, forty-five minutes, and thirty-seven seconds, huh?” she grinned. Pound closed his eyes and thought, 'Hot does not override crazy. Hot does not override crazy. Hot does not override crazy' before he could answer. “Yeah, you do,” he admitted. Pinkie took the doctor's coat off his shoulders and put it over herself. “Well, let's go, then,” she said, buttoning it up. “We've got ponies to do and things to see!” Pound grinned, but it turned into more of a grimace. He really hoped he wasn't going to regret this.
Pinkie's Back in TownPound felt awkward walking Pinkie back to his house. She seemed fascinated with the simplest things from parking meters to the graffiti on the walls to the sun itself, and she would get so excited over little things that he really couldn't concentrate. Eventually, they managed to get back to Sugarcube Corner. Pinkie slowed to a stop. In the older days, they hadn't needed the bars over the windows or the reinforced doors, and the paint had looked new and fresh and inviting. Now, the whole building just looked tired and cold. Pinkie tried to crack a smile. “I… love what you've done with the place?” she tried. “It's miserable, and it's all those dentists' fault,” Pound muttered. He pulled his key out of his pocket, undid both locks, and pushed open the door. Pinkie whistled as she stepped inside, taking in the flaking paint, the warping wood of the floor, the displays of small cupcakes, more breads than they'd carried before, and big signs that said 'try our new sugar-free options!' She grimaced. This was not the Sugarcube Corner she remembered. This was all wrong. Totally and inconceivably wrong. “I'm gonna go take care of something,” Pound said, heading towards the bathroom. “Don't touch anything. Mom and dad are probably still at the hospital and should be back soon.” Pinkie looked around and crossed her arms like a shield over her body. “Not sure I'd even want to,” she murmured. When Pound emerged, he found Pinkie now clothed in a little jacket over a pink shirt that had her cutie mark on the front of it, short jean shorts, and a pair of thick, pink suspenders completed her outfit. Pound stared again. Pinkie met his eyes and grinned as she snapped her suspenders. “I keep clothes stashed all over Equestria in case of clothing emergencies,” she explained. Pound wasn't sure if he should believe this, as he had personally had to clean this place top to bottom completely numerous times and had never found any such clothing; but he had already decided that Pinkie was a bit strange that way and decided to merely accept it. There came a rattling at the door, and Pound jumped. The locks turned, and Carrot and Cup entered. Both stopped short at the sight of Pinkie Pie. A silent standoff occurred. Pound looked over and saw Pinkie was breathing a bit harder now. She swallowed and straightened up. “Mr. Cake,” she said in greeting. “Mrs. Cake.” “Pinkie,” Cup said hesitantly. Pinkie licked her lips. The next thing any of them knew, Pinkie had wrapped the two of them in a tight hug. “It is so good to see you again!” Pinkie squealed. “Oh, I've missed you both! So much!” She pulled back. “You look so good, Mrs. Cake! And Mr. Cake! Handsome as ever!” Pound let out a breath he didn't know he'd been holding when his parents hugged Pinkie back. “We're so glad you're back,” Cup said. “But I thought you were there for a few more years?” Pinkie shrugged. “I got better,” she said. “Pound helped me get out.” Both of Pound's parents looked at him, and Pound found himself more nervous than he had been in the insane asylum. “Uh…” “Son, can we talk to you? In private?” Carrot emphasized. Pinkie waited until they had gone into the kitchen, then pulled a glass out from the cupboard and held it against the wooden door to listen in. She frowned as she caught snippets of the hushed conversation. “-crazy-” “What were you thinking?” “-Pumpkin-” “How did you even-” “-paperwork-” “-fees and-” And then Pound's voice broke through loud and clear. “I thought she could help, all right? Twilight helped me do the paperwork, she thinks so too. The craziness started with her, I think it needs to end with her, too.” She could hear Carrot sigh. “Pound, son… this isn't a comic book or some fantasy story. This is real life. And what you did is really dangerous.” Pinkie frowned. She wasn't dangerous. Was she? “I know. But… I did it for Pumpkin. And for me. And for all of us. If she can end this…” “And if she can't?” Cup asked. “It'll be my responsibility.” “It might also be your life,” Carrot muttered. He sighed. “Fine. I'll agree with this. But stay safe, ok?” “I will.” Pinkie heard the sounds of a hug and knew they were coming out soon and so she'd better make herself look nonchalant. She quickly darted over, leaned against the counter, and whistled as they reemerged. Pound coughed. “Maybe we should think of a plan.” “Can we go see Pumpkin?” Pinkie asked excitedly. Mrs. Cake looked uncertain, but Pound agreed. “Yeah. I'll take you there.” * * * Pound wasn't sure how Pinkie would react to being back in a hospital-like setting, but nothing seemed to phase her. She pranced right in and greeted the mare at the triage desk. “Hi, Nurse Redheart! How are you?” The white mare looked up in surprise at the familiar voice, and that surprise turned to shock and horror as she recognized the speaker. She took a step back but misjudged the distance, and toppled over backwards over a short table. Pinkie giggled. “You sure picked a good place to fall,” she said. “You're in a hospital!” She peered over the desk railing. “You ok?” Perhaps it was the distressed squeaking, or Redheart's desperate strugglings to slide and put as much distance as possible between her and Pinkie. Either way, Pound got the distinct impression that Redheart was deathly afraid of Pinkie Pie, and so grabbed her arm and dragged her away. He already knew where Pumpkin's room was, anyway. “Remember to rest!” Pinkie called back. “And if you get a headache or your vision gets fuzzy, go get tested for a concussion!” * * * Pinkie looked down at the supine form of Pumpkin and slowly ran her fingers over her hand. The dentists couldn't just go buy their own supplies, so much of what they'd use was stolen or expired. That made for a terrible combination with some pretty bad side effects. “How long?” Pinkie asked. Pound noted that her mane seemed to have flattened somewhat again. “Two weeks,” he answered. “Nearly three, now.” “But she is going to wake up, right?” Pinkie asked. Pound was silent. “Right?” Pinkie asked, a bit more quietly this time. “We don't know,” Pound admitted. “The doctors said she'd have the greatest chance of recovery if she woke up within the first forty-eight hours.” “And it's been almost four hundred and fifty six,” Pinkie murmured. “But you think she'll wake up?” “She has to!” Pound said. Hot tears began forming in the corners of his eyes. “She just has to!” Pinkie straightened, her resolve strengthened. “Then this means war,” she said firmly. She took Pound by the hand. “Come on. I've got a plan.” * * * Pound hefted the crowbar he'd been given. “I'm not so sure this is such a good idea,” he protested. “It's a great idea!” Pinkie said. “I'm the bait, and while they're distracted with me, you hit them on the head with the crowbar! Simple enough, right?” “Well, yeah; but-” Pinkie pressed a finger over his lips. “Ah, ah, ah!” she chided. “Butts are for sitting. And for spanking, when somepony's been a bad little filly.” Pound flushed slightly red at that mental image. Pinkie removed her finger and trotted out into the middle of the street. She reached into her back pocket and pulled out a cupcake. “Oh, my!” she called. “Look at me! I'm going to eat this beautiful, sugary cupcake!” She extended her tongue and gave the frosting on top a long lick around the edges. “Mmm, so sugary, and so unhealthy for my teeth!” She licked it again up the side this time, really getting her tongue all over the cupcake, and Pound needed to look at the ground to try and maintain some semblance of composure. 'Stupid sexy Pinkie,' he groused silently. Pinkie continued her display, using her tongue much more than necessary as she played with the cupcake. Finally, she took a bite and chewed dramatically. “Mm-hmm!” she moaned. “So delicious!” The first dentist appeared in the shadows, horn glowing. He circled around Pinkie, carrying a pair of forceps in his magic. A second appeared in the shadows above, dropping to the ground. A third came from another alleyway. They drew close menacingly, their masks over their faces and their tools held high. Pinkie finished her cupcake and grinned. “Pound?” she called. “Now would be a great time for you to do your part of my plan.” She paused as the dentists came closer. “Pound?” she called, taking a step back. “Any time now…” She looked back to the alley where Pound was hidden, and gasped. He was surrounded by no less than four dentists, who were holding him down and pressing a mask of laughing gas over his mouth.
Paging the DentistsPound couldn't resist. He struggled as hard as he could but the dentists had caught him by surprise. They held him down and pressed a mask on his face. His head started pounding and his vision started to swim as the gas took over. There was a sickening, slushy thud. The mask fell off his face, and the dentist in front of Pound keeled over, the back of her skull caved in. Pinkie stood behind her, and dropped the manhole cover she'd used as a weapon. “No one touches him,” she hissed. Pound gasped as he realized that Pinkie's mane was flat again, so flat it was almost straight. His horror tripled when she realized that her mouth and face were all bloody. The dentists turned to face this new target. One raised her forceps, but Pinkie grabbed her wrist, dragged her forward, and slammed her head with a punishing headbutt. She fell to the ground and twitched twice before falling still. The second dentist came at her, drill raised. Pinkie blocked it with wrists crossed, and Pound barely had time to avert his eyes before Pinkie redirected the drill and it found purchase in the center of his skull. Pinkie sidestepped and ripped the mask off the third. While he scrambled to put it back on, Pinkie kicked the crowbar up into her hands and bashed the fourth in the nose, which darkened his mask as blood spurted out. She dropped it and slammed the fifth over the head with his own canister of laughing gas, hitting him right in the temple and sending him crashing to the ground. He did not rise again. The third had replaced his mask and he looked up just in time to see two pink hooves coming right at his face. Pinkie's donkey kick sent him flying, and he impacted the wall with a sickening thud, slid to the ground, and didn't move. The sixth, a pegasus, decided that this pink mare wasn't worth the trouble and took off. Pinkie hurled a pair of forceps at him, and they tagged him in the back, right between the wings. He shouted in pain and dropped, but managed to recover his height and continue on. Pound stared in shock, then jumped as a pink hand appeared in front of him. It was Pinkie. Her mane had returned to its normal, poofy self. She smiled a bloody smile, showing that she had all her teeth. “Come on,” she said. “Let's go home.” Pound looked over at the first dentists in the street, and realized that they were on the ground with blood pooling mostly around their necks. A cold pit settled in his stomach as he slowly put two and two together. Hesitantly, he turned back to Pinkie, then let himself be pulled to his hooves. Together they walked home, leaving behind the bodies of the dentists. * * * At the sound of the door opening, Mr. Cake looked up, and he dropped the tray of bread he was carrying. “Pinkie!” he shouted as the two bloodied warriors stumbled in. “What happened?” Pinkie shrugged. “I don't know; but here's Pound, safe and sound.” She walked through the kitchen and back into the bathroom, then gasped. “Aiii! It looks like my neck had a period!” “What happened?” Carrot hissed at Pound. Pound wasn't sure how to answer that. He certainly didn’t want to say what had really happened. After a pause, he finally said, “She saved my life,” and left it at that. Carrot pulled his son into a tight hug. “Please don't do anything else stupid,” he whispered. “Having one child in the hospital is bad enough.” Pound nodded. The problem is, 'stupid' is such a subjective term. * * * The next night, Pound Cake waited in the shadows again, this time making sure his back was to the wall and that he constantly watched behind himself. He'd been very certain that this time he would be ready for anything. Unfortunately, no dentists appeared. Not even when Pinkie started rubbing her cupcake on her face and moaning. Pound had to move the crowbar to his belt level in front of him. “It won't work,” Pinkie said suddenly, giving up and shoving the whole cupcake into her mouth. “'ey 'ow I' a 'hret.” “What?” Pinkie swallowed and started picking up the frosting trails left on her chest with a finger. “They know I'm a threat,” she translated. “They're not going to come out to face me anymore.” Pound threw his crowbar down. “Then what are we supposed to do?” he whined. “We're going to draw them out,” Pinkie said. “Do something so big, and so amazing, they'll have no choice but to act.” “Like what?” Pound asked. Pinkie thought for a moment. “When was the last time your mom made brownies?” Pound cocked his head. “What are brownies?” Pinkie looked aghast. Then her expression turned resolute. “Pound,” she said firmly, “we are gonna make brownies.”
BrowniesPound could only stare. He'd gotten up early to help Pinkie make the brownies, but she was already awake, dancing around the kitchen in a flour-dusted apron and yet another set of brightly-colored clothes, and she had already made a few batches. She waved hello with her tail and pulled another tray out of the oven. They smelled delicious. Pound found himself drawn to one tray in particular. He picked one up and put it into his mouth. He nearly collapsed in a whimpering heap of pleasure. This was the best thing he had ever eaten. Nothing mattered anymore; he could die happy for having eaten just one of these little slices of heaven. “Good, huh?” Pinkie grinned. Pound could only moan his agreement and nod weakly. “Good!” Pinkie grinned. “Because we've got plenty of them to make and plenty to sell.” “Do mom and dad know you're doing this?” Pound asked. Pinkie nodded. “Yep.” Pound looked at the empty sacks of flour and sugar and empty tins of cocoa piled up in the corner, and his eyebrow raised. This was a ton of supplies they probably couldn't afford to waste. “And they were ok with it?” “In a manner of speaking,” Pinkie said. Pound raised an eyebrow. “That means…?” “They came in, saw what I was doing, looked at each other, looked back at me, said, 'Typical Pinkie', and then left me alone.” Pound nodded. He hadn't known Pinkie for very long, but already that seemed to be a fitting response for her. “Wanna help me with the next batch?” Pinkie asked. Pound nodded and washed his hands and joined in. He began mixing and stirring, making sure to get the ingredients just moistened to not make it too tough, when something hit him in the face. He looked up, surprised, and wiped it off. It was white. It was powdery. It was flour. Pinkie had thrown flour on him. He looked over and saw her leaning against the counter, body quivering with silent laughter. Never one to let a challenge go, he scooped up some cocoa. “Hey, Pinkie!” he called. She turned, and he nailed her in the face. She blinked a few times, and then then a devious smile spread across her face as she scooped up some flour for a second throw. Pound was ready this time; he raised a wing and shielded his face, and he grabbed some flour and threw. Before long, flour flew back and forth, both ponies giggling and laughing. Pound couldn't remember the la “What's going on in h- pff!” Startled at the intrusion, Pinkie had flung her next shot of flour at the sound, and now both Pinkie and Pound stared in horror at Cup Cake, now looking paler than she had in a while. Pinkie giggled sheepishly. “Oopsie?” she tried. Cup opened her mouth, closed it again, opened it again, closed it again, then shook her head and left. Pinkie tapped her fingers together. “Maaaybe we’ve had enough fun for now,” she suggested. * * * Pound scratched the back of his neck under the candy-striped hat. When he said he would do anything to avenge Pumpkin, this isn't quite what he'd had in mind. He looked down at the tray of brownies he carried. They almost took the attention away from the dorky little bow tie and candy-striped vest he was also wearing. “And you're sure this is what they wore?” Pound asked to confirm. Pinkie, who was attired similarly, nodded. For some reason, she actually made it look good. “Yep! This is what the brothers wore while peddling their wares. It seemed to work well both times!” Pound frowned, but Pinkie was already skipping out the door. She stopped short, and Pound nearly ran into her. “Oh, right. They also sang.” She turned to Pound. “Want to start us off?” “Me?!” Pound protested. “No! Pumpkin's the singer, not me!” Pinkie gave him a disapproving look. “Pound, there is music in everypony. Just try.” Pound whimpered, but there was a pretty mare counting on him. He stepped forward to the edge of the fence and started. “We have brownies, and they're good…” Pound winced as his voice cracked slightly. “And you should try them, because… you should… and-” “Nope. You were right. You're pitiful.” Pinkie pushed him aside, cleared her throat, and began to sing herself. Pound could swear that he could hear a piano playing a little musical accompaniment from somewhere unseen as she sang. “Oh, ponies here in Ponyville, direct your eyes this way For I've returned and I bear gifts that'll really make your day. See, I have heard of all your troubles and I've got just the thing To give your eyes a sparkle and give your hooves back their spriiing!” She emphasized this last line by jumping up on the fence and bouncing off, holding her jumping pose as she gracefully descended, scissoring her legs as she floated slowly to the ground. Pound stared. How had she done that? And without wings, too! He looked around. Ponies were staring with everything from annoyance to mild interest. Only one or two looked truly fearful. Maybe Pinkie's reputation had preceded her. Pinkie, oblivious to all of this, continued singing as she pranced down the street, spinning and holding the platter above her head. The music came louder and faster now. “Because I've got brownies!” “Brownies!” Pound jumped. Who had sang that back? It almost sounded like a little choir. “Yes, I've got brownies!” “Brownies!” the returning call came again. “They're little, brown, and chocolatey; they'll turn you happy just like me! They're brownies!” “Brownies!” “Delicious brownies!” “Brownies!” “They're small, tasty, sugary! And they're my gift to you from me!” Pound blinked. Who was playing this music? And why was everypony starting to move in time with the beat? Pinkie continued her dance around the square. “Now I know that there are lots of you who view me with distaste But I solem-nen-ly beg of you to not judge me in haste. Yes, I went mad; but now I'm glad! And here's my offering To show you that I'm whole again and these are just the thing for they are brownies!” Pound jumped as the ponies around him called back. “Brownies!” “Delicious brownies!” “Brownies!” “They're tasty as tasty can be; and best of all, your first is free!” The music held that note as Pinkie held the platter out to the three flower ponies, bowing dramatically. “Free?” they asked in unison. “Free!” Pinkie confirmed. The music stopped. Lily, Roseluck, and Daisy looked at each other, and then back at the brownies. Silence reigned in the square. Curiosity eventually overcame apprehension, and Roseluck took one and slowly placed it in her mouth. Her eyes widened. “Oh, wow,” she said. Daisy and Lily took this as an invitation and picked up their own. “Whoa.” “That's delicious!” Pinkie held the platter out to the next pony, an orange mare of the Apple family. She looked at Pinkie and at the plate a few times, and Pound got the impression they knew each other. The apple mare took one and bit it. A wide smile spread across her face. “Well, Ah'll be,” she said. “This is the best thing Ah've eaten all year!” The crowd cheered; all except for a very confused Pound Cake. He didn't have time to be confused for long, though; the crowd swept him up in their march as they sang the chorus. “She's got brownies!” “Yes I do!” Pinkie shouted. “Yes, she's got brownies!” “They're right here!” “Be careful, all you unprepared for these delicious little squares! They're brownies!” Pinkie flung her tray into the air, raining brownies down on the crowd. “For everypony!” she squealed. “Delicious brownies!” “Follow me for more!” “These brownies are so very fine, so chocolatey and quite divine!” Pound could not fathom how the crowd could possibly sing along with a song Pinkie had just made up. There was something very, very strange about that mare. The song continued. Pinkie Pie marched in front, a drum major's staff in her hand as she led the crowd towards Sugarcube Corner. * * * Carrot Cake and Cup Cake could only stare at the mountain of brownies in their kitchen. There was barely enough room for them to walk through, and the house was definitely going to smell of chocolate for a week. “Dear, I know we've trusted Pinkie in the past, but she might have gone just a little bit too far this time,” Cup said hesitantly. “I think you're right, honeybun,” Carrot agreed. Both of their ears perked up as they heard singing. Singing? When was the last time the whole town had joined in a musical number? They looked at each other, then ran to the window. Sure enough, there was a crowd coming with Pinkie at the helm, leading what could only be called a hungry mob to the front door. Cup and Carrot looked at each other and laughed. How could they ever have doubted Pinkie Pie?
Brownie AftermathPound Cake exhaled as he finally got the opportunity to turn the sign to 'Closed'. He slumped back against the doorway and slid to the ground, too exhausted to even take off that stupid hat. He had never seen this place so full; he had had to run the whole front while Pinkie and his parents were baking at full speed in the back. 'Pumpkin would have loved to see this,' he thought to himself. Then he whimpered internally. That just made him sad, and today was supposed to be a happy day. But right now, all he cared about was sleeping. Pinkie's plans could wait until tomorrow. Actually, that might have been Pinkie's plan anyway. “I've got this,” he heard her say from the kitchen. “You did a lot of baking today.” “Yes, but so did you,” Carrot pointed out. “Yeah, but I had seventeen years, three months, two days, fourteen hours, forty-five minutes, and thirty-seven seconds of not-baking.” She forcefully pushed them out of the kitchen. “I'll take care of all of this! You two go get some rest!” Pound sighed with relief. When he could stand again, he headed back to his room and threw himself on his bed, not even bothering to take his clothes off. He closed his eyes, trying to ignore the rhythmic thumping that was coming from his parents' room next do- Pound sat up straight. Sweet Celestia! * * * Pinkie exited the now sparkling-clean kitchen and ran right into Pound Cake, who was curled up in a ball under a blanket on the floor. She tapped him awake with a hoof. “You ok?” she asked. Pound stretched and popped his back. “Yeah. Can't sleep in my own room. My parents are celebrating in their room and it’s next door to mine.” Pinkie brightened. “You mean, they're having like a little party in the bedroom?” “No… I mean-” and Pound rocked a bit and made squeaking noises, imitating the sound of a squeaking bed. Pinkie cocked her head, completely missing the point. “They're doing the horizontal hustle?” Pinkie cocked her head even further. “They're doing the no pants dance?” Pinkie shook her head, still not comprehending. “They're doing the bedroom boogie?” “So… it's a dance party?” Pinkie said hopefully. Pound put his face in his hands. “My parents are having sex,” he said flatly. “Oh,” Pinkie grinned. “Why didn't you just say so?” Had he not already had his face in his hands, Pound would have facepalmed. “Anyway, since they're being stinkyheads and not inviting us to their dance party… We still have a little revenge to plot.” Pound looked up, and frowned. “Where did you get that mustache?” “I only use it for the most devious of plotting,” Pinkie explained, twirling it in a manner most devious. “And this is a most devious of plots.” “What kind of plot are you plotting?” Pound asked. “You'll see!” Pinkie sang. She kissed him on the forehead, making him blush. “Get some sleep, Pound. We've for a big day tomorrow!” Pound probably would have wondered why she bothered mentioning plotting a devious plot when she wasn’t going to tell him about her plot anyway, but the kiss had left his brain somewhat scrambled, and all he did was smile a dumb, goofy smile as she pranced away. * * * Colgate slammed her fists against the wall. “What? How?” she demanded. “How did the sugary treats come back? How could we have failed?” The dentists held their hooves up in submission. Their masks covered their faces, but the fear in their eyes was plain to see. “We don’t know! She just appeared!” “She?” Colgate caught this detail. “Who is ‘she’?” “A pink pony, not from around here. I’ve never seen her before. She's bouncy and happy and...” Colgate held up a hand. “Wears she three balloons?” she asked. The dentists looked at each other, trying to recall this detail. “Yes,” one finally said. “Two blue, one yellow.” Colgate growled. “Pinkie Pie…” she breathed, hissing the name as though it were a vile curse. “You just couldn’t stay away, could you? You just had to reappear?” She lifted her drill and raised it to the heavens. “Then we’re just going to have to make her un-appear!” she roared, and the dentists around her cheered.
Pinkie vs ColgatePound woke up early the next morning. He stretched his arms, flared his wings, popped his back, and yawned. He walked downstairs, bleary-eyed and stumbling. He scratched at his waistline and then staggered into the kitchen. He paused as he saw his parents peeking out through boarded-up windows. That was most definitely not something he usually saw in the morning. “Mom? Dad? What's going on?” In response, they turned and looked at him with the most frightened looks he had ever seen them wear. He stepped forward and peeked through the slats. And then his own eyes widened. Dentists. Dentists everywhere. They surrounded Sugarcube Corner, looking just like a zombie horde in a horror movie; if zombie hordes carried drills and forceps and canisters of expired laughing gas, that is. “What do they want?” Pound breathed. He screamed and jumped back as a dentist slammed into the window. Even behind the mask he wore, it was clear he was snarling, and he scratched at the glass as he attempted to get inside. “They want me.” They spun around. Pinkie stood behind them, standing tall and resolute. Her hands were on her hips, and she had a half smile on her face. “But hey, I can't blame them. Who wouldn't like a little slice of Pinkie's pie?” She looked at Pound and winked as she ran her tongue across the front of her teeth. Pound had to jam his hands into his pajama pockets again. She's doing that on purpose, he fumed silently. Sometimes it was hard being a stallion. “Pinkie, sweetie…” Mrs. Cake said slowly. “You're not actually thinking of going out there, are you?” Pinkie nodded. “It's all part of my plan,” she said. “Wait. You're going out there?” Pound asked. Pinkie nodded, crossing her arms angrily. “You bet your muffin tin I am,” she said. “Nopony messes with the best foals I've ever foalsatted and gets away with it.” Carrot took a step in front of the door. “We won't let you,” he said. “We can find another way.” “Oh. I was going to go out the attic, anyway.” Pinkie leaned over, grabbed a handful of sprinkles off the jar on the counter, and happily skipped up the stairs. The two older Cakes looked at each other. “I think she's serious,” Carrot said, horrified. They sprinted up the stairs and went to the window, but it was too late; Pinkie was already on the roof. Dentists began to climb up, but she threw handfuls of sprinkles at them. They hissed and backed away as if they would be burned by the mere contact with sugar. Pinkie grinned and jumped off the roof and landed with a somersault on the ground. “Colgate!” she shrieked. The gathered dentists shifted, and a blue unicorn stepped out of their midst. “You,” she seethed, glaring at Pinkie. “Me.” Pinkie reached into her pants and pulled out a rolling pin and a cooling rack. She slid it on her left arm as a shield and spun the rolling pin around her hand. “Let's settle this mano a mano, eh? One on one. Just you and me. Or else.” “Or else what?” Colgate asked. Pinkie dropped her weapons and reached into her little jacket. “Or else… I'll eat this cookie!” she proclaimed, holding the cookie up between two fingers and lifting it to the sky. Colgate paused. “Seriously?” she asked. “That's your 'or else'?” Pinkie lowered the cookie. “Maybe I didn't think this out so well,” she admitted. “I'd probably just have eaten the cookie anyway.” She shrugged, and then she did. She shoved the whole cookie into her mouth. Pound's jaw dropped. That had been a big cookie. And she’d taken the whole thing into her mou- He slapped himself on the cheek. Enough of that. Pinkie was in serious danger this time. “Anyway,” Pinkie said. “I’ve come to take you down. You hurt Pumpkin Cake, and she was my favorite filly to foalsit!” Colgate rolled her eyes. “Wait, wait, don’t tell me. You’ve come to get revenge on me and the rest of the dentists by defeating me.” “Well, actually, yeah,” Pinkie said slowly. She frowned and scratched distractedly at her face. “I dunno how well I plotted this plot…” She brightened. “But still, I mean, it shouldn’t be too hard. After all, I love sugar, you guys hate it, and sugar is the best!” “I do not hate sugar! I hate the tooth decay it causes!” Colgate spat. “And I say sugar is healthy,” Pinkie grinned. Colgate raised a fist. “Them’s fighting words, Pinkie,” she seethed angrily. Pinkie sank into a fighting stance. “Then bring it, Minuette.” Colgate roared and charged. Pinkie dropped to the ground, rolled, and charged right back. Pound covered his eyes with his wings, but even so couldn't look away. The two titans charged and time seemed to slow as they neared. And then… Pound paused. “Are they… fillyfighting each other?” Indeed they were. Pinkie was growling and pulling Colgate's mane and scratching at her face as Colgate dug her fingernails into Pinkie's shoulder and tried to bite her. The fate of Ponyville was being decided over a catfight. Pinkie suddenly pulled back and pushkicked Colgate away, and swung her right fist. Pound was certain that Colgate was about to be knocked into next Tuesday; but Colgate ducked quickly and popped Pinkie right on the nose. The punch looked far too fast to be normal. Pinkie stumbled back. She swung blindly, but Colgate dodged every punch by the thinnest of margins. She double-punched Pinkie, one high one low, and then leaned backwards as Pinkie retaliated, letting her punch just graze the tip of her nose. “How is she doing that?” Pound wondered. It had been rhetorical (and quiet), but Pinkie had heard and answered anyway. “Colgate’s special talent is making time move slightly quicker for her. She used it for painful things like tooth extractions…” She turned back to glare at Colgate. “-before the hatred of sugar overtook her!” “I do not hate sugar! I hate the tooth decay it causes!” Colgate repeated, and she punched Pinkie in the chest, making her stagger backwards. Pinkie raised her hands again, but Colgate faked right and then crossed left, sending a crashing left hook to Pinkie’s jaw. “So she's just inequinely fast?” Pound asked. “Yep, yep, yep,” Pinkie said pleasantly as Colgate rabbit-punched her, sending blood dripping from her nose. “I might lose this fight.” Carrot Cake fainted. “But Pinkie,” Cup pointed out, “you're inequinely fast, too!” Pinkie reached out and caught Colgate's next punch. The unicorn's eyes widened in shock, and Pinkie's widened with glee. “Ooh, you're right!” Pinkie said brightly. “I'd forgotten about that. This changes things!” And then Pinkie reared back and headbutted her. Colgate stumbled backwards and swung wildly, but Pinkie was gone. Colgate looked around and then felt a hoof plant itself firmly on her hindquarters. Pinkie shoved her forward. Colgate regained her balance and spun around, but Pinkie was no longer there. She pulled out a pair of pliers, and looked around desperately. Pound Cake watched in stunned fascination as Pinkie followed behind Colgate, playfully shadowing her every move with a fist shoved into her mouth to suppress her laughter. Suddenly, Colgate lashed a kick out behind her, and Pinkie jumped, performing the splits as she avoided it. She spun around, wildly swinging with her pliers, but Pinkie danced around her strikes. Literally danced; she was shaking her hindquarters and making rhythmic circles with her hands as Colgate got more and more frustrated. And then Pinkie slapped her. Colgate looked shocked. Pinkie smirked. And then slapped her again. Colgate was infuriated. She pulled out her sharp scrapers and tried to slash at Pinkie, but it was no use. Pinkie dodged, ducked, dipped, dived, and dodged every single one of her attacks; and then she lifted herself onto the tips of her hooves and spun… delivering a punishing backhand slap to Colgate’s cheek. Colgate rolled her tongue around her mouth, feeling for loose teeth, and, finding none, raised her hand to lift her mask so she could spit the blood out. Her hand hit nothing but air. She looked up, and her jaw dropped as she realized that in her right hand, Pinkie held her mask. It was Pinkie’s left hand she should have worried about. Pinkie pulled a red velvet cupcake out of her jacket and shoved it into Colgate's open mouth. Her eyes widened, but Pinkie grabbed her hands and placed her mane over her nose, forcing Colgate to swallow so she could breathe. When Colgate gasped for air, Pinkie released her hands and retreated with a stylish backflip. The unicorn couldn't suppress a little “Mmm,” as the flavor danced over her tongue. The dentists neared. As if by unspoken agreement, they decided that their leader was now one of the enemy. Colgate's eyes widened as she realized what was happening, and she scrambled upright. “No! No!” she cried, raising her hands to defend herself. It was no use. One came behind her and using a finger like a fishhook, jerked her lip back and jabbed his syringe into her mouth. Another held her down as a third lifted his forceps. Pound pulled his wings over his eyes as the screaming intensified… and then stopped. Their deed done, they turned as one towards Pinkie. Pinkie reached behind her back and pulled out two more cupcakes, one in each hand. She spun around, whipping the closest dentist, a yellow mare with a green mane, with her tail. The dentist took a deep breath in preparation, adn then froze in horror as she realized she was also not wearing a mask anymore. She instinctively dodged Pinkie’s cupcake by only the skin of her teeth; the frosting very nearly skimmed her cheek. That was enough for her; she turned and sprinted away. The other dentists seemed to agree. They backed away slowly, still snarling and hissing, but definitely defeated. When they’d left, Pinkie shoved the frosting into her mouth. “It wa’ a ‘oo’ ‘ay,” she said proudly.
ResolutionPound didn’t expect any big changes to happen because Colgate died. Apparently, neither did anypony else; the streets were still deserted for the entirety of the night. But the next day, Pound noticed a crowd gathering in an alleyway. Curiosity overcame him, and he walked over. A dentist lay on the ground, dead. He had clearly been in a fight, and likely with another dentist; he still had the sticks with numbing gel in his mouth, and the forceps in his hands held a tooth that didn’t seem to fit in his own mouth. That in and of itself wasn’t entirely strange. What was strange was the fact that this scene was repeated all over Ponyville. Bodies of the dentists littered the alleyways and streets. Most were bloodied and showed signs of being in a fight. “What happened?” Pound asked, taking in the carnage. He jumped at motion behind him. Pinkie stood on a dumpster, looking dramatically into the distance. “Clearly there was an epic battle,” she began. “Without Colgate in charge, the dentists fought amongst themselves for power; but behold, it was in vain. And thus it was that the dentists did infight, and did kill each other, bringing peace once again to the land.” She hopped off and skipped away. Pound watched as she left. More accurately, his eyes drifted lower to around her bouncing tail as she flounced away. Hot did not override crazy. But to be perfectly honest, she wasn't that crazy, was she? Nah. Not at all. A crazy mare wouldn’t have been able to bake as well as she could. A crazy mare wouldn’t have been able to She was totally still on the market. That made the next conversation Pound had to have with her quite awkward indeed. * * * That afternoon, Pound was busy thinking, trying to figure out how he would start this conversation when he suddenly sensed a presence behind him. “Hey Pound, why do you look so down?” Pinkie grabbed his wings and spread them, as if hoping to literally lift him off the ground. Pound sighed and tugged his wings free. “The papers I signed, to get you out of there… they say you have to go back.” Pinkie didn't seem to understand. “Get out of where and back where?” “Back to the asylum,” Pound said, chewing on his lower lip. “I only got you a temporary release into my custody. I'm sorry. Permanent release would have taken too long; I needed you out as quick as possible.” “Pound,” Pinkie said slowly, resting a hand on his shoulder, “I can't go back.” “You have to,” Pound said. “But I can't,” Pinkie stressed. “I was trapped in there for seventeen years, three months, two days, fourteen hours, forty-five minutes, and thirty-seven seconds. Do you know how many parties I've missed? How many ponies have been sad because I was stuck in there? How many presents have gone un-given and how many cakes have gone un-baken and how many songs have gone unsung? Pound, I can't go back. I just can't.” “You saved the town. You got rid of the dentists. My sister was avenged. Can’t that be enough?” Pound pleaded. “No,” Pinkie said. “Not enough. Never enough. Ponies haven’t laughed in far too long. That can’t be allowed to go on.” She stood up and faced the window and looked out dramatically. “No, I must do what I was born to do: bring laughter to the world!” Pound stood up. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I have to take you back. Or else they’ll track you down.” Pinkie slowly turned around. Her eyes widened slightly, her mouth curled up in a crazy smile, and Pound took an instinctive step back. “Pound,” she said, taking a tiny step forward. “I’m not going back. And I’ll do anything I have to to make sure I won’t.” Pound Cake reached behind himself, scrabbling for something, anything, to defend himself with. Finding nothing, he turned and looked and found a spatula just out of reach. He grabbed for it and raised it, but when he looked back, he saw nothing but pink. Pinkie had been faster; she’d already closed the gap. Pound was certain that this was how he was going to die. And then something soft pressed against his lips. Pinkie’s hands drifted up his back, exploring gently as her body leaned against his. One took hold of the base of a wing, pulling gently; the other kept going upwards until it reached his mane, where it dug in and took hold, pulling his head back and forcing him upwards into the kiss. Not that he needed much impelling, that is. And then Pinkie gently slid her tongue between his lips, and Pound’s brain overloaded as she gently but purposefully explored his mouth, brushing along the front of his teeth and pressing against his tongue. Suddenly, she pulled away and with a quick sweep of her hoof, took his knees out and dropped him onto his flank. “Good bye, Pound,” Pinkie said pleasantly as she waved. “Hopefully we'll see each other again soon!” Pound burbled something that might have been words somewhere in the mental process, but found himself powerless to do anything else but stare blankly into the distance as Pinkie bounced happily out of the bakery, taking with her an enormous stack of cupcakes. Hot overrode crazy. Hot definitely overrode crazy. * * * Pound wandered through the hospital in a bit of a daze. He felt like he needed to see his sister, even if it may have been to just brag about having made out with a hot, crazy mare. She wouldn’t have been conscious, but she might have understood. It was a twin thing. He wasn’t expecting Redheart to brighten at the sight of him, especially since last time she’d nearly wet herself in fear. “Pound!” she said. “You’re here to see your sister?” “Yeah…?” “Good! Go ahead!” she said, with a wide smile and an eager wave. Pound frowned, but continued up the stairs. When he pushed open the doors, his eyes widened and his wings extended in surprise. Pumpkin’s room was full of balloons. Literally full. He had to push his way through them. Cards littered the tables, all of them brightly-colored and glittery. Pound whistled appreciatively as he playfully punched a few back. “It's like seventeen years of birthdays crammed into one room.” “It is.” Pound whirled around, wings flaring at this strange new… wait… His jaw dropped. “P- Pumpkin?” Sure enough, his sister sat up in her bed, a smile on her face. “Yep!” Pound rushed over and grabbed her in a tight hug, burying his face in her shoulder. Pumpkin was ok. She was ok. “You’re back,” he said numbly. “How did…?” “It was Pinkie Pie,” Pumpkin answered. “I swear it was her. I thought I was dreaming until I realized that the balloons were real.” She reached out a fist and lightly punched one. Pound breathed a silent sigh of relief that Pinkie had managed to escape. He leaned over and picked a card up, and cracked a smile at the writing on the inside. “Laughter is always the best medicine!” “She left plenty of cupcakes, do you want one?” Pumpkin lit her horn and floated one over, and Pound gratefully accepted it. “So, it’s all because of Pinkie Pie,” Pound murmured. “I wonder where she is now.” * * * A yellow stallion with a dark brown mane sat at the mental hospital. He wore slippers and a robe, and he stared blankly at the wall. “Life is not a party,” he moaned in despair. He got up and walked back outside, in the protected dome area. Being on one of the higher levels of the institution, he was permitted to wander a bit by himself, as long as he stayed on the level. He walked over and rested his head against the padded wall. “Life is not a party,” he mumbled, repeating his sad mantra. “Life is a party, Cheese.” He looked up. He knew that voice. He turned around to see Pinkie Pie, hands crossed behind her back. “Life is a party,” she repeated, stepping closer to him and resting a hand on his shoulder. “And I need your help to make sure everypony gets the party they deserve.” Cheese Sandwich licked his lips. Pinkie was back. Pinkie Pie. Pinkie was back. Pinkie was good. Pinkie was party. Was… was life…? “I- I want to,” he said, “but I don't know if I can. You've been gone for so long.” “Seventeen years, three months, two days, fourteen hours, forty-five minutes, and thirty-seven seconds,” Pinkie confirmed. “I couldn't do it without you; and now it's been so long, I might have forgotten how,” Cheese said mournfully. He hadn't meant to; but Pinkie's incarceration had really done a number on him. “I know you can remember,” Pinkie said, bringing her other hand forward. She pressed the rubber chicken into his hands with a hopeful smile. “Boneless?” Cheese said, a slow smile spreading across his face. “I think we're up to Boneless V by now,” Pinkie admitted, “but yes.” Cheese clasped Boneless V to his chest, relishing the squeak he made, then slid him around his neck like a rubber boa. “Yes,” he repeated. “Life is a party.” Pinkie stretched out her hand. “Come with me,” she said. “Let's go make it awesome.” Cheese Sandwich took her hand, and the two sprinted off into the night. Angry shouts and furious guards chased them, unicorns shot stunning spells and pegasi flew overhead, and even one mare who barked like a dog followed them, but neither cared. Life was a party. And it was time to throw the biggest party yet.
