The stall sat in an unassuming corner of the Ponyville Plaza, festooned with bright pink streamers and balloons; its shelves heavily laden with cakes and treats steaming gently in the morning air. Any casual observer might describe this as another foray into the cutthroat world of small scale sweets sales, but they would have had to miss the very large, billowing banner, blowing brazenly in the breeze.
“Pinkie Pie: Cupcake Cures and Sweet Tooth Remedies”
Rainbow Dash wandered up to the stall, banging one hoof on the countertop, cradling her head with the other. She looked around the vacant booth with bloodshot eyes. “Oi! Anypony here—”
Dash reared back with a sudden jerk as Pinkie materialized behind the stall, smiling hugely. “Heeeeeey, Dashie, whatcha lookin’ for today?”
“Yo, Pinkie.” Rainbow grimaced, rubbing little circles into her forehead. “So, Twilight thinks I might have ‘many-guytis’ or something like that, so I’m s’posed to go to the hospital, right? But hospitals are expensive! I don’t have time for that nonsense!” Rainbow slumped onto the counter, cradling her head in her hooves. “Help a friend out?”
“Aw, you don’t have to go to that mean ol’ hospital—that’s why I opened up this!” Pinkie motioned at the stall, replete with sugary wonders.
Rainbow’s head came up quickly, and she smiled through the stabbing pain behind her eyes. “Rad!”
“Soooooo, what can I getcha?” Pinkie gestured expansively at her vast stocks of holistic remedies. “A Cherry Placebo Pie a la Mode, perhaps? Homeopathic Hazelnut De-lite? Ooooooo, maybe my Cupcake Curatives—”
Dash waved a hoof irritably, putting Pinkie’s pitch on pause. “Naw, I gotta get the good stuff. This ‘many-guytis’ really threw me for a loop. I gotta get in shape for the Wonderbolt Tryouts!” Dash reared on her hind legs, shadow boxing the air for emphasis. She winced and put her hooves to her face, slumping back down onto the counter. “I need something that’ll get me back in the game ASAP, yanno?”
“Ohhhh, a doozie, huh?” Pinkie Pie rubbed her chin in thought, tongue peeking slightly out of her mouth. Her hoof moved faster and faster when she suddenly stopped, face brightening instantly. “Oh! Okey-dokey, I’ve got juuuust the thing!”
She dived behind the counter; medical pastries flew as she rummaged through her considerable stockpile. Dash heard a muffled Aha! and Pinkie popped back up into view, wheeling a stubby metal canister on a cart.
Pinkie glanced around the market before drawing Dash in close. “It’s the latest from Flim Flam Herbal Pharmaceuticals,” Pinkie whispered conspiratorially.
An eyebrow peaked and Dash tilted her head quizzically. “Flim Flam? Like those shysters who tried to ruin my Cider Season and run Applejack out of town?” Dash crossed her forelegs over her chest and turned her head away with a derisive sniff. “Why would I use any of their stuff?”
Pinkie waved a hoof rapidly in the air, brushing away Rainbow’s protestations. “No, listen, listen it’s fine, it’s fine, it’s fine!” She crooned, running a hoof languorously across the shining metal cylinder. “They sell herbal products. Name me one, just one thing that’s herbal that’s bad for you!”
“Poison Joke?”
“Three things.”
“Neighponese yew and horsebane.”
“Ten things.”
“Uh…” Rainbow Dash furrowed her brow in intense concentration before she finally shrugged, defeated. “I guess I can’t.”
“See? You gotta trust ol’ auntie Pinkie Pie to see you through.” Pinkie punctuated her statement with a brisk nod before turning back to the canister. “They call it giggle gas. It really works— I can’t stop laughing when I take it.”
“Laughing, huh? You sure that’s gonna help?” Dash prodded the canister dubiously. The happy labeling peeled under her ministrations, curling slightly. Dash made out the words “NITROUS OXIDE” in large, unfriendly block letters before Pinkie snatched the canister back up, firmly pressing the label back down. Pinkie flashed Dash a quick grin as she cleared her throat.
“Oh, Dashie, don’t be a silly filly. It’s scientifically proven that laughter is the best medicine. Besides, it’s organic—that’s how you know it’s good for you!” Seeing Dash hesitate, she offered the facemask. “Give it a try!”
Dash inspected the facemask critically, but eventually shrugged—it wasn’t in her nature to say no to a free sample. She pulled the mask over her muzzle and breaaaathed—
Her lips quivered as she shifted weight back and forth. Her nose wiggled, then scrunched up. A little air escaped her tightly sealed muzzle. Pft.
Pfffffffft!
Dash bent over, eyes watering, tightly holding her sides as the laughter ripped out of her. The headache seemed to fade away, and she felt like she was drifting away on fuzzy white clouds. “Pinkie, you’re a genius!” Dash exclaimed, patting her on the shoulder. “I can’t feel my face, but I feel like a million bits!”
“Another satisfied customer!” Pinkie danced a little jig as she led Dash to the register. “That’ll be twenty bits, please!”
Pinkie waved to the guffawing Dash as she trotted away, newly purchased canister rattling around on the cart behind her. Pinkie nodded to herself, content. Today, she’d done good—not just for herself, but for everypony.
Three weeks later, at the funeral, Pinkie sat with her friends and watched as Rainbow Dash’s casket was solemnly laid to rest. She glanced at Twilight Sparkle, who wore a carefully neutral expression.
“So…” Pinkie began.
“So,” Twilight replied, evenly.
“Encephalitis, huh.”
“Yep. Brain just swelled up.”
There was a pause in the conversation as Pinkie fiddled with her tail. Twilight continued in her quiet monotone, “Caused by an easily preventable bacterial infection I sent her to the hospital for. Apparently she’d been huffing laughing gas for three weeks to get by the pain. A canister a day. A day. Crazy, that.”
There was a silence as the mourners dispersed, comforting each other as they walked past the rows of gravestones and police ponies waiting with cuffs on hoof.
Pinkie rubbed her hooves together as the awkward pause grew. She finally looked up at Twilight, who continued to avoid eye contact. “I’m going to pony jail, aren’t I?” she asked, tearing up.
“Oh, yeah,” Twilight responded without missing a beat. “You’re glue.”
Author's Note
Written for the Writeoff Association.
Lost horrifically.
