No Ship to Sail

The shower had completely frizzed her mane. Pinkie shook the excess water from it and toweled the ends dry, shaking her coat from neck to haunch. Her fur stood every which way. She giggled.

It had been a hard day at Sugarcube Corner. Mr. Cake had been home sick with a headache, so Pinkie had volunteered to stay in the back and do all the baking. Mrs. Cake had been uncertain at first, but relented after the seventy-fifth time Pinkie had assured her she could do it.

"See, Gummy? And nothing burned down!" She laughed, emerging from the small bathroom. The toothless alligator offered her a vacant stare before scuttling under the bed. Pinkie giggled some more and tossed the towel into the hamper, trotting bouncily to her dresser. She picked up her brush and frowned at her frizzy mane in the mirror. So many tangles!

She winced as the bristles caught after the second stroke.

"Stupid mane," she grumbled, yanking on the brush.

"You could condition it, you know."

Pinkie looked up and sighed at her reflection. "I don't have time for you tonight."

Her reflection folded her forelegs and cocked her head. Her mane hung straight and flat. Her eyebrow was arched, and a sardonic smile tugged at the corner of her muzzle. Smirky, that one. Pinkie hated her.

"Oh? Hot date?" Her reflection teased, making a kissing motion. Pinkie wrinkled her muzzle.

"Buck off," she grumbled. She always appeared at the worst of times, whenever Pinkie was feeling tired or sad. But today wasn't bad - just long. Nothing horrible had happened. She had done well at work - only two bags of flour had spilled and one cake caught on fire and there were only three times she had to scrape icing from the ceiling -

"I forget. You're Miss Success, here in your studio apartment above a bakery," her reflection continued, her tone biting. Pinkie met her eyes in the mirror, setting the brush down on the dresser.

"You're a meanie, and I really don't have time for you," Pinkie insisted.

Why is she here? Today was fine! she screamed inside.

Fluttershy and Rarity... oh...

"Yes... they stopped by today, didn't they?" her reflection purred, putting her hooves up against the glass. Pinkie looked down. "Awfully... snuggly... weren't they?"

"They're bestest friends. It's what bestest friends do," Pinkie replied softly. Her reflection snorted and laughed, her tone dripping with derision.

"Yes, friends. Why, I bet they're special hugging right now!"

"You be quiet!" Pinkie shouted angrily, glaring at her own mocking face. "You don't get to be in my mirror and in my head! We agreed! You live in the mirror or I take the daily magic that makes you away forever!"

"Oh Pinkie Pie... darling..." The voice was behind her now. Warm breath tickled the soft fur lining her ear, and Pinkie shivered. She stared in horror at the empty mirror. Well, not empty. Pinkie saw herself - Pinkie - as she should, but she was on the wrong side! The mirror her slid her forelegs about Pinkie's neck and nibbled her ear seductively. "We both know... I'm the only one who will ever always be here for you..."

"Get... get away from me!" Pinkie stammered, scrambling to escape her doppelgänger's embrace. Mirror Pinkie - Pinkamena - smirked. It was sultry, knowing. It terrified Pinkie.

"You are so horribly alone," Pinkamena said softly, dropping her head to the side so her straight mane fell in a solid magenta wall. "So terribly broken. No pony could ever love you."

"No! I have friends! Lots of friends! All of Ponyville loves me!" Pinkie insisted angrily, desperately. "I make them laugh!"

Pinkamena inclined her head the opposite way, clicking her tongue. "Oh dear... don't you see? You are a clown."

Pinkie blinked.

"Ponies don't laugh with clowns, Pinkie Pie." Pinkamena smiled wickedly.

Pinkie Pie continued her slow retreat across her small bedroom, backing up, hoof over uncertain hoof. She hated her. She hated her. She didn't belong here. The mirror was where she lived, so Pinkie could get away from her when she was being nasty like this. Why was she chasing her down to be so mean?!

"Look at your peers," Pinkamena continued. "Applejack runs a farm. Rarity... gorgeous, famous designer with a stunning model girlfriend." She winked evilly at Pinkie, who winced. "Rainbow Dash, accomplished athlete. And Twilight - no, no... forgive me. Princess Twilight Sparkle."

"I'm proud... of my friends," Pinkie retorted, though her voice caught in her throat. She had backed up as far as she could, and her haunches hit the edge of her bed. Pinkamena stopped her approach, muzzle to muzzle.

"You have nothing to offer the world but your silliness," she whispered. "You can not create. You cannot teach. And when your friends tire of your childish antics... they will tire of you. You wonder why you lay here, alone, every night, without a special somepony?"

"Stop..." Pinkie begged. She felt fat, hot tears spill down her cheeks, and heard them hit the floor.

"Who wants a party from a sad clown?"

"Stop!" Pinkie sobbed, sinking to her knees, burying her face in her forelegs. "Just... stop..."

A gentle hoof caressed her back. Pinkie's body shook with the force of her emotional turmoil. Pinkamena stroked along her spine until the sobs subsided to whimpers, and pulled the distraught pony to her hooves.

"Come lay, sweetness," she whispered, helping Pinkie into bed.

Pinkie felt numb. Her limbs were heavy, and her eyes burned. She crawled under the blankets and turned to lay on her side. Pinkamena embraced her from behind, that soothing hoof stroking her mane now.

"I am always here..." she whispered.

"I hate you," Pinkie whispered back, closing her eyes.

Alone, above Sugarcube Corner, the rock farmer's daughter softly cried herself to sleep.