Oh my gosh why did I write this?
Hi! I’m Pinkie Pie and I made this story just for you! No, not you, guy on monitor 8,463, the guy on monitor 4,328! Yes! You! Stop trying to hide, you know who you are.
So, there I was, sitting in Sugarcube corner, thinking about a cupcake that could cure the common cold and still taste like strawberries when, suddenly, a human walks into the store. I don’t know why they’re called humans, they look more like fuzzy apes. But when I call them fuzzy apes they frown. And where are all the humans coming from anyways!? For as long as we can remember, we never saw them and then, one day, a bunch of them pop up! And they do really cool stuff, like they’re in a story or something. Anyways, he walks in on two feet like a weirdo and asks me the strangest thing!
“Do you have any food?”
Well, duh! Of course I have food! I work at a bakery, why wouldn’t I have food? Unless I was at a bakery that didn’t give out food, but then it wouldn’t be baking. Maybe they gave out haircuts? Oh! A barbery!
When I told him all of this, he got kind of aggravated (I learned that word from Twilight!) and then asked me if he could buy some, then.
Well duh, of course he coooooooould buy food but I think he wanted to get some food. I told him this and he got really really aggriba… uh no, what was the word again? Aggrichated? Wait, I could look at what I already wrote a few lines up.
Ahh, right, it was “aggravated”.
So then he was about to leave, stomping his hoof-feet thingies on the ground until I made a scrunchy face. Fuzzy ape then turned around and looked at me oddly.
“Excuse me,” the fuzzy ape said with a hint of curiosity, “what’s that face you’re making?”
“What face?” I replied, holding the expression.
“T-that,” he said, pointing at my head, “the face where you’re holding your nose up like that. How are you doing that?”
“Oh, that’s easy! I’m making a scrunchy face! It’s the source of all magic in Equestria!”
He must have thought I was crazy because he stood there all “ape-like”, scratching his head with his hoof-fingers.
“Making a face… is the source of magic?”
“Absolutely! Whenever a pony makes that face, he concentrates his or her internal magic into the base of his/her forehead. Twilight says unicorns can then channel it through their horn and do all sorts of cool stuff. Pegasi can fly and Earth Ponies like me can do all these super strong stuff. Or in my case, break the fourth wall. Like this!”
A pink hoof shatters through your monitor screen and grabs your hand. Suddenly, another one bursts through, completely ruining the screen, and makes you hi-five. They both zoom back into the story and disappear without a trace, leaving your floor covered with shards of a once perfectly fine computer monitor. Before returning (and Pinkie patiently waits) you go to the local electronics store and purchase another, this time with fourth wall insurance.
The employee lady thinks you’re nuts, but then you explain Pinkie Pie to her. Luckily, she’s a brony so she doesn’t call the police on you for being insane. When you get home, there’s a cupcake in your chair where you normally sit at when computing with an apology card on it. It tastes so good you forgive her and continue reading. Oh, and she cleaned the floor too.
“But wait, I don’t see ponies doing that at all! Are you lying Pinkie?”
“Of course not! We all do it at night for about three hours. I can’t imagine how long Celestia has to hold a scrunchy face to move the sun. I always thought the crease lines on her nose were from scrunchy-ing but I think she’s getting fat. Too much cake or something I guess. That doesn’t make any sense to me, though, because we at Sugarcube Corner-“
“Pinkie?”
“- however, the Timber Wolves get feistier and feistier every year because of the growing Zap Apple plantation. Sure, they only harvest them once a year but Timber Wolves always act like they have a splinter in their foot. I don’t think even Fluttershy would cuddle that-
“Pinkie!”
“- but I didn’t even know that oatmeal could get that crazy. So the next time I went over to Rainbow’s house and she wanted to make breakfast. I was like, ‘Oatmeal!? Are-“
“PINKIE!”
“Yes?”
“So you’re telling me that every night, ponies scrunch their faces for three straight hours in order to concentrate magic?”
“Absolutely!”
He kind of left with his hoof-hand to his face like he didn’t believe me. Who does Mr. Fuzzy Ape think he is!? Mr. Knower of all things!? He’s not even from Equestria!
You don’t answer the question because you figure it’s rhetorical.
So, out of boredom, I took the rest of the day off and followed Mr.nonbelieverpants as he went into Twilight’s Library. He looked around a few times before entering, too. I think I knew what he was going to ask, so I snuck inside through the roof and hid in a twelve inch high flower vase on a bookshelf to investigate. He wouldn’t even know.
The door creaked open and Mr.anti-scrunchyface walked in and called Twilight’s name. She came down the stairs, still reading a book (oh Twilight, you’re so adorkable), and approached him.
“Yes? How may I help you today? Do you need a portal on getting home or are you one of those humans that are trying to stay without a green card?”
“Uhm,” he started, “how do ponies create magic?”
Before the story continues, Pinkie reaches around your monitor (and you don’t ask how that works) and gives you popcorn. It’s gonna get good. You begin to eat the popcorn as you watch events unfold.
“Well, most ponies are born with an ample supply of stock that adjusts to their size as they grow. However, when they over exert themselves, they have to create more magic by applying magical energy to the base of their forehead. It pools there collectively and then flows through your body when excess is created. While this can be done normally with normally focusing, the most effective way is to scrunch your face.”
“Ah ha!” I said, popping out of the flower vase, “I told you!”
“Holy crap, Pinkie! How did you even fit in there!?”
But then Pinkie sensed that there were customers arriving at the shop, leaving the story to end with little to no closure. You’d try and argue to hear the rest… but something tells you, you really don’t want more. And something tells me… I don’t want to write anymore.
