Pink Surprise Potionsby PonyessChaptersIntroductions: 1The Beginning of the Ooze: 2Ponying Around: 3Introductions: 1Author's Note Pinkie Pie's POV Introductions: 1 Apparently, my friend Surprise had found what she thought an interesting book about potions. With that she came over to my place, carrying a good set of ingredients for a particular potion she had in mind. Just after closing time, she knocked on my door with a buffalo skin bag in her saddle bags, with the ingredients she required for what she had in mind. “Hiya, Surprise. What a lovely surprise!” I exclaimed as I opened the door in order to let her into my room on the second floor in the Cakes’ building in which the Sugar-Cube Corner café is housed. “Hiya, Pinkie Pie. In your case, not really. You always know when I am coming over to you, as much as I may try to make it into a surprise. I knew you had just gotten back from work, by the way!” she responded with a crooked grin. “Yeah, I know, I know!” I put forth as I closed the door behind her, “It is a pain to know. Yet, I still love to have you over. Whatever you have in mind, I am counting on it to be a blast!” I responded. “I brought a few items over, something a little fun on the side. You just need to help me with a few details, including pulling the items out of my saddle bags, Pinkie!” she exclaimed. “Oh, okay; I can do that!” I responded. “If you start with the stuff in the right bag? Just place it onto the floor. Hope none of your balloons will try to attack any of it, though!” she responded. “Naeh, they are shy and timid, which is why they are all cowering under my bed. The others are all crowding my ceiling, but they will stay up there!” I pointed out as I helped her loosening the bags and placing them onto the floor as she suggested. “Like your friend, Fluttershy?” she prompted. “That sounds like a picture, when you put it like that. I take it you will explain what you brought with you!” I put forth. “If you pull out the Dragon-skin bags out of my saddle bags, I will explain everything as we go along. Place the book on your bed, page sixty-nine!” she continued. “A Dragon-skin bag, aye? This looks like very exciting and excitable stuff. You really don’t have a good use of these very often, and they are very hard to come by!” I observed. “Yeah, very hard to come by. Dragons hold on to their skin rather fiercely, I have come to understand. Not that I could blame them. This isn’t why we don’t use these bags very often, though. This time, I fear I had to!” she responded. “Page sixty-nine!” I pondered with a silly grin all over my face. “Exactly!” she pointed out as I opened the book at the direction. “A ceramic mold, with the local rubber coating!” she then chanted. “A ceramic mold, with the local rubber coating!” I responded her chant. “Hoof of a Doe!” she continued. “Hoof of a Doe!” I responded, slipping the item into the mold as the instructions reads. “A vertebra of Zebra!” she continued. “A vertebra of Zebra!” I responded as I picked the item and slipped it on top of the hoof. “Tail of a Filly!” she continued. “Tail of a Filly!” I echoed as I slipped the item onto the now growing pile. “Teat of a Moo!” she moved on. “Teat of a Moo!” I echoed. “Feather of a Griffin!” she chanted. “Feather of a Griffin!” I echoed. “Feather of a Phoenix!” she chanted. “Feather of a Phoenix!” I echoed. “Tongue of a Buffalo!” she chanted. “Tongue of a Buffalo!” I echoed. “Green bottle of Ooze!” she chanted. “Green bottle of Ooze!” I echoed. As the Ooze poured down onto the pile of items it slowly absorbed them. The Ooze slowly trickled down to the lower regions of the mold and formed small pools, still in the original hue. “A pinch of Iron dust!” she chanted. “A pinch of Iron dust!” I echoed. “A Vial of clear rubber!” she chanted. “A Vial of clear rubber!” I echoed. “Three bottles of glistering Trails!” she chanted. “Three bottles of glistering Trails!” I echoed. “The Bucket of shiny Goo!” she chanted. “The Bucket of shiny Goo!” I echoed. I could clearly see how the mold was filling up, there is little room for anything in the remaining space within. Yet, something told me a single item is still missing, Knowing she was about to tell me and motion me to slip it in. “A heart of a Horse!” she chanted. “A heart of a Horse!” I echoed. “A tear of a Dragon!” she chanted. “A tear of a Dragon!” I echoed. “A vial of Polish!” she chanted. “A vial of Polish!” I echoed. Just as the Polish hit the content, the gap started to close and the Mold soon closed up entirely. There is no sign of where it had been. The next moment, a seam appeared along the length of the entire mold, from the muzzle to the rear end, all the way along the spine as well as on the belly. For a moment, the mold only stood there on all its four hooves as if it had just been a solid mass of ceramic. Only then, it fell to the right and left, revealing the creature that soon crept out from inside. For that one moment, it lay on its belly, all four legs spread out to the four winds. Finally it gathered itself and pulled its legs together in order to stand up, like the Pony she is. Yet, she merely stood there for a while longer, waiting for something, something she knew nothing about. Until the instant it happened, that is. “I greet you, in the name of all things fun!” Surprise put forth, thus concluding the ritual. “Greetings..” she responded, looking up at Surprise with a measure of hope. “Let me present myself, my name is Surprise, I am a white Pegasus. She is Pinkamena Diana Pie, a pink Earth Pony, but please, do call her Pinkie Pie, or Pinkie; for short!” Surprise offered. “Hi, Surprise and Pinkie!” she responded. “As an Ooze Pony, I hope you are going to enjoy your time with us. I intend to make my bestest to make you laugh and have fun!” I promised cheerfully. “I think we are going to call you Oozey, for now. You will have to find your true self, and who you are just like the rest of us. When you find yourself, I expect a mark to appear on your flank, just like these three Balloons on mine and Pinkie’s. By then, you will most likely have developed a hue for both your body and your main and tail!” Surprise explained. “Oozey?” the Goo Pony responded, in more uncertain tones, not quite sure as to what to make out of it. “From the Ooze you are made out of, of course!” Surprise explained. “It is a diminutive form of the word. Just like my friends call me Pinkie, short for Pinkamena!” I pointed out. “Ooooh. Oh!” Oozey responded. Then she looked around, blinking at the balloons on my flank, then the once on Surprises flank. “These are our Cutie Marks. I am sure you will have yours, soon enough, Oozy. Just a matter of what it will be, and how long it will take you to figure out, just who you are!” I pointed out. The Beginning of the Ooze: 2Author's Note Oozey's POV The Beginning of the Ooze: 2 There is but this strange tingling sensation, as if tickled. I have no sense of self, light and dark, up and down or anything else at this time. Not even a boundary of my own self, I am no-one, nothing. My substance, the matter that will soon become me is slowly poured down into a mold the form that I was about to be given. At this point, it doesn’t matter, it has no meaning to me. I have no preference at this point. There is no way out, no way around the boundary I am being given. There is this strange elastic matter, I will later learn is known as rubber. It has no name, no meaning to me at this point. I have no idea as to what it is, or the purpose of it. Just the hard boundary behind it. Not that I am really, truly aware or conscious of it right now. Objects, body parts are tossed into me, the form in which I am currently contained. I absorb them, the matter, the meaning and their essence as they plummet into the ooze I am at this point. Bit by bit, I am taking a form, a shape, even if it is the one of the containment, the boundary of the mold in which I am at the moment. The rubber is becoming my skin as I slowly expand to fill up the space within. Each object I absorb, slowly giving me more than the form, but now also the rudimentary beginning of a personality. I am still not aware or conscious of my very own self, but the surrounding space is slowly clarifying, even if I can only persceive it as the pressure and the boundary surrounding my skin. Absorbing the objects isn’t conscious, or even a reflect, merely physical reactions of the objects falling onto and into me. I have no control, I can’t pick and choose what to take on and what to ignore or reject. I need a self and a consciousness in order to manage anything as complex as that. Then they pour in more substance. Since I am still deaf, I could never have heard their chanting or what they said. The mold also prevented me from even sensing the slight vibration from their voices and their movements. Once released from the confines of the mold within which I had been created, they graciously greeted me into the world within they live out their lives. Only now, I am no longer the formless mass with no consciousness or awareness of my very own self, my body and personality. I view them as separate beings, and consciously interact with them. “I think I like the looks of your balloons. Even if I don’t know what they are, or what they mean in this case!” I pointed out. “Thanks, they represent my festive nature!” Surprise expressed in a more serious tone than usual. “I enjoy throwing parties left and right, for the joy of every Pony, aside from who ever else likes to be there. Zebras, Donkeys, Mules, Griffins, to name but a few of the more common once!” Pinkie Pie, the pink mare explained. “Parties? I think I could get used to, and enjoy partaking in a party or two!” I responded. “Now you will be able to. Considering we even has a few Changelings around, they are most likely going to enjoy your presence as well. If they see you on a merry party, which they will!” Pinkie continued. “Now you just need to get used to a rich diet of Muffins and having happy Ponies surround you for prolonged periods of time. I hope that isn’t a problem to you, Oozey!” Surprise suggested. “Happy Ponies? Like the two of you, I hope. Muffins? Now you made it sound as if they should be delicious!” I put forth. “A Muffin. Like these!” Pinkie Pie explained as she placed a place with assorted pastries before me, just the bare, undressed once that is. “Served by a happy Pony, like my friend Pinkie Pie!” Surprised filled in, pointing at the pink mare I had figured to be the one referred to as Pinkie Pie. “Worth a shot!” I responded, picking up one, before chewing it in order to evaluate its flavour. “Yeah, it always is. Oh, and try each and every flavour, we need to know which one you enjoy and which once merely agrees with you. These are going to be your diet from now on!” Surprise pronounced. “You know what this calles for? A party!” Pinkie Pie announced jubilantly. I chewed down one muffin after the other. Muffin by muffin, I evaluated the taste, flavour, texture and contents as best I could. For now, I had not found any one of the pastries that did not agree with me; which I guess is good, given the current company. Actually, I like most of them. Just that a few did stick out as more delicious than the rest of them. I guess this is what I was told to look out for; the once sticking out as better than the rest. Now I just hope these are the once that are to actually sustain me in the long run, too. Some of the pastries are what one is to call yummy, which promptly brought a smile to my face. My ears perked instantly and the corners of my mouth soon started to rice in a pleased and pleasant smile. The rest of my face and indeed my entire body soon followed suit. I guess I couldn’t hide the feelings of joy. Sadly, that effect soon reversed as I found one of the less agreeable flavours. I could even see the effects on my friends, Pinkie Pie and Surprise. It is apparent, just how well tuned they both are, towards what their fellow Ponies felt. It may be convenient, if your life is aimed towards throwing parties and keeping your fellow Ponies happy, I gathered. It would make them spectacular party organisers. Now, I guess that is convenient, too. To my surprise, they took turn filling my plate with yet more pastries, supplementing the assortment of muffins. Before I knew it, I had gorged myself on the pastries Pinkie had been baking. I certainly had enjoyed it. Particularly some of them, in any case. Incidentally, these were the once I realised had been filling up the plate, while other flavours soon were running out before the others. After a moment, it struck me; just how diverse the selection of the treats had been. This is the Pinkie Pie who made me come into existence. A former Rock Farmer? Apparently, she had used every imaginable flavour available to her as a Pony living in Ponyville. “From the effects upon you, I think we have pinned down which once you enjoy, and which once needs to be in your diet, Oozey!” Pinkie Pie announced, with quite some joy as a smile slowly spread out over her face, and beyond. Ponying Around: 3I had just woken up, maybe it is the sun stirring. Yet, I had woken up. There are a few blank spaces, and plenty of blurry space in my memory. Almost as if I had been knocked out of the body. The light is reflecting on the blue and yellow balloons in the ceiling, which all by itself feels strange. Yet, it is also eerily familiar. These balloons has been there for as long as I can remember. Maybe this is the consolation I had been searching for. Is it? The most curious thing is the pink balloons cowering under the bed, her bed. Apparently, they had gathered their courage and slithered, or floated out, spreading out into the room. Now, with the returning of a new day, they scurry back in, under the safety of the shadow of their imaginary night, under her bed. Are they Luna’s Minions? Now I experience overlapping, conflicting memories and recollections. Who is Luna, and what is a Minion? Are the balloons pets? Looking around, only to find everything exactly where they had been the day before. Where my recollections told me that they would be. I guess this is reassuring. Thinking back, I recall Pinkie Pie having exactly the kind of balloons on her flanks, the once I now see under her ceiling. Maybe that could make some senseless sense, after all. This is her room. The problem I can not grasp, is how the balloons could have migrated from her flank, and out into her room. Besides, how many balloons had she been covered with, if these had indeed been on her body? Or, had she grown new balloons on her flanks, the way her hooves and mane would grow out? If this was the case, she would in effect be their Mother? Now I got all kinds of strange entangled notions and images in my head. In the end; I chose to decide that I believe that these are her children. As strange a notion as it may be for any Pony, it isn’t strange in the least, not to me. Maybe it is in my heritage, even if I had no memory of it. If Pinkie Pie, that pink mare is my Mother, I have a Father somewhere. He is bound to be the other part of who I am. A slime like creature. From this perspecti9ve, how is it strange for her to give birth to these Balloons; as her children, her Foals? Maybe I should ask her? From the perspective, with her as my Mother, it is right and correct for me to ask her. Yet, there is the chance that the topic is sensitive and touchy. Would I embarrass her, if I asked her? If so, I guess it is better if I ask her in private. I may not be an infant in the strict meaning, but considering how long I have been around; could I still be considered a Foal. Her Foal? Something about her Balloons is fascinating me. Is it merely the way they move around? How they move about when you don’t look at them? All the Blue and Yellow once hanging bravely in the ceiling, while the pink once is crowding the narrow space under her bed. To me, they act as if she was their Mother. I just can’t quite explain, or place one of my hooves on it all. How does one place a rubbery and elastic hoof on a topic, or situation like this? Maybe I will figure that out, in due time? I am after all quite young. I certainly am a separate individual with my clearly defined body. I am not Pinkie Pie, or Surprise. Just as I am not my Father, who ever he may be. Maybe I should not worry, or think about it? I hope Pinkie Pie will let me know, when she feels it is the right time. When she thinks I am old enough to understand. When ever that is. I carefully fold the quilt on my bed in and towards the wall. Slowly slipping my hind quarters towards the side of the bed, sliding down and out of the bed. My bed. Moving slowly, in the hopes that I will not cause any noises, preventing her to wake up, before she had intended. Of course, I may still have to wake her up soon. I don’t have any food, and I don’t know where to find anything I can and want to eat. One may argue that I could pick up anything and nibble. Just swallow anything before me, absorbing the mass and nutrients. Yet, it isn’t how I do. There has to be more purpose to it than that. Am I over thinking it? Yet, I feel I am too young to know what I need, or to know what I can, or is allowed to eat. With nothing better to do, I move along, around the floor and the walls. Looking around, sniffing and snorting at and on everything I come close enough to. Enjoying the scents of most of what I find, just not in the exciting manner of recognising something I want or need to eat. I may start to feel hungry, but I still don’t quite know. Step by step, I move forwards, one hoof before the other. I am quiet, careful steps avoiding noises. I don’t like noises. Yet, I do like how quiet my hooves are, when I do put the effort into it. Is it the soft hooves, or my insignificant mass that makes this possible? I don’t know. Maybe I shouldn’t care. I see the light flowing through the window, into the room. Her room. My mother’s room. I like the sound of these words, just as I like the warmth the light spread over my flank as I pass by the window. With the realisation, I consider it. I think I would like to go out, to trot over the grasses outdoors. I just need to wait for Mother, Pinkie Pie to feed me and guide me outside. I dare not go out on my own. If she would be angry or worried. What would the other Ponies think, if they saw me on the lawn? What if other Ponies would be mean to me? After endless laps, circuiting the room, I feel a stirring. She is waking up. Looking back, I hastily fold the quilt on my bed, leaving it looking neat. I hope she likes neat; that she likes me to make my bed look just right. I could see and feel her waking up. Her eyes going up. There is a strange sensation, feeling to the moment. She knows, she knew. “Oozey. Good morning, my dear!” she exclaimed in a bubbly exciting, or excited voice, looking straight at me. “Good morning, Mom. Pinkie Pie!” I responded, looking at her. I aim my entire consciousness at her. “Pinkie is just fine. Not that I mind you calling me Mom!” she expressed, a wide grin all over her face. A hysterical giggle spread from her, she was beaming, almost as bright as Celestias sun. How could a Pony do that? Should I ask? “Pinkie, you are the bestest of Moms one little filly like me could ever have!” I then exploded in excitement. “Every little filly loves me, Oozey. I do my very bestest in order to make them like me. Throwing parties left and right, selling the bestest, tastiest, sweetest, and not to mention, yummiest pastries in town!” she responded. “Speaking of pastries, I think I am hungry, but I don’t know what I can eat. I don’t want you to be angry with me, for chewing on something I was not supposed to, or something that is not good for me!” I pointed out. The question worried me, but it felt as if it was the perfect, natural place to mention it. Author's Note Note that the story is featuring both Pinkie Pie and Surprise.
Introductions: 1Author's Note Pinkie Pie's POV Introductions: 1 Apparently, my friend Surprise had found what she thought an interesting book about potions. With that she came over to my place, carrying a good set of ingredients for a particular potion she had in mind. Just after closing time, she knocked on my door with a buffalo skin bag in her saddle bags, with the ingredients she required for what she had in mind. “Hiya, Surprise. What a lovely surprise!” I exclaimed as I opened the door in order to let her into my room on the second floor in the Cakes’ building in which the Sugar-Cube Corner café is housed. “Hiya, Pinkie Pie. In your case, not really. You always know when I am coming over to you, as much as I may try to make it into a surprise. I knew you had just gotten back from work, by the way!” she responded with a crooked grin. “Yeah, I know, I know!” I put forth as I closed the door behind her, “It is a pain to know. Yet, I still love to have you over. Whatever you have in mind, I am counting on it to be a blast!” I responded. “I brought a few items over, something a little fun on the side. You just need to help me with a few details, including pulling the items out of my saddle bags, Pinkie!” she exclaimed. “Oh, okay; I can do that!” I responded. “If you start with the stuff in the right bag? Just place it onto the floor. Hope none of your balloons will try to attack any of it, though!” she responded. “Naeh, they are shy and timid, which is why they are all cowering under my bed. The others are all crowding my ceiling, but they will stay up there!” I pointed out as I helped her loosening the bags and placing them onto the floor as she suggested. “Like your friend, Fluttershy?” she prompted. “That sounds like a picture, when you put it like that. I take it you will explain what you brought with you!” I put forth. “If you pull out the Dragon-skin bags out of my saddle bags, I will explain everything as we go along. Place the book on your bed, page sixty-nine!” she continued. “A Dragon-skin bag, aye? This looks like very exciting and excitable stuff. You really don’t have a good use of these very often, and they are very hard to come by!” I observed. “Yeah, very hard to come by. Dragons hold on to their skin rather fiercely, I have come to understand. Not that I could blame them. This isn’t why we don’t use these bags very often, though. This time, I fear I had to!” she responded. “Page sixty-nine!” I pondered with a silly grin all over my face. “Exactly!” she pointed out as I opened the book at the direction. “A ceramic mold, with the local rubber coating!” she then chanted. “A ceramic mold, with the local rubber coating!” I responded her chant. “Hoof of a Doe!” she continued. “Hoof of a Doe!” I responded, slipping the item into the mold as the instructions reads. “A vertebra of Zebra!” she continued. “A vertebra of Zebra!” I responded as I picked the item and slipped it on top of the hoof. “Tail of a Filly!” she continued. “Tail of a Filly!” I echoed as I slipped the item onto the now growing pile. “Teat of a Moo!” she moved on. “Teat of a Moo!” I echoed. “Feather of a Griffin!” she chanted. “Feather of a Griffin!” I echoed. “Feather of a Phoenix!” she chanted. “Feather of a Phoenix!” I echoed. “Tongue of a Buffalo!” she chanted. “Tongue of a Buffalo!” I echoed. “Green bottle of Ooze!” she chanted. “Green bottle of Ooze!” I echoed. As the Ooze poured down onto the pile of items it slowly absorbed them. The Ooze slowly trickled down to the lower regions of the mold and formed small pools, still in the original hue. “A pinch of Iron dust!” she chanted. “A pinch of Iron dust!” I echoed. “A Vial of clear rubber!” she chanted. “A Vial of clear rubber!” I echoed. “Three bottles of glistering Trails!” she chanted. “Three bottles of glistering Trails!” I echoed. “The Bucket of shiny Goo!” she chanted. “The Bucket of shiny Goo!” I echoed. I could clearly see how the mold was filling up, there is little room for anything in the remaining space within. Yet, something told me a single item is still missing, Knowing she was about to tell me and motion me to slip it in. “A heart of a Horse!” she chanted. “A heart of a Horse!” I echoed. “A tear of a Dragon!” she chanted. “A tear of a Dragon!” I echoed. “A vial of Polish!” she chanted. “A vial of Polish!” I echoed. Just as the Polish hit the content, the gap started to close and the Mold soon closed up entirely. There is no sign of where it had been. The next moment, a seam appeared along the length of the entire mold, from the muzzle to the rear end, all the way along the spine as well as on the belly. For a moment, the mold only stood there on all its four hooves as if it had just been a solid mass of ceramic. Only then, it fell to the right and left, revealing the creature that soon crept out from inside. For that one moment, it lay on its belly, all four legs spread out to the four winds. Finally it gathered itself and pulled its legs together in order to stand up, like the Pony she is. Yet, she merely stood there for a while longer, waiting for something, something she knew nothing about. Until the instant it happened, that is. “I greet you, in the name of all things fun!” Surprise put forth, thus concluding the ritual. “Greetings..” she responded, looking up at Surprise with a measure of hope. “Let me present myself, my name is Surprise, I am a white Pegasus. She is Pinkamena Diana Pie, a pink Earth Pony, but please, do call her Pinkie Pie, or Pinkie; for short!” Surprise offered. “Hi, Surprise and Pinkie!” she responded. “As an Ooze Pony, I hope you are going to enjoy your time with us. I intend to make my bestest to make you laugh and have fun!” I promised cheerfully. “I think we are going to call you Oozey, for now. You will have to find your true self, and who you are just like the rest of us. When you find yourself, I expect a mark to appear on your flank, just like these three Balloons on mine and Pinkie’s. By then, you will most likely have developed a hue for both your body and your main and tail!” Surprise explained. “Oozey?” the Goo Pony responded, in more uncertain tones, not quite sure as to what to make out of it. “From the Ooze you are made out of, of course!” Surprise explained. “It is a diminutive form of the word. Just like my friends call me Pinkie, short for Pinkamena!” I pointed out. “Ooooh. Oh!” Oozey responded. Then she looked around, blinking at the balloons on my flank, then the once on Surprises flank. “These are our Cutie Marks. I am sure you will have yours, soon enough, Oozy. Just a matter of what it will be, and how long it will take you to figure out, just who you are!” I pointed out.
The Beginning of the Ooze: 2Author's Note Oozey's POV The Beginning of the Ooze: 2 There is but this strange tingling sensation, as if tickled. I have no sense of self, light and dark, up and down or anything else at this time. Not even a boundary of my own self, I am no-one, nothing. My substance, the matter that will soon become me is slowly poured down into a mold the form that I was about to be given. At this point, it doesn’t matter, it has no meaning to me. I have no preference at this point. There is no way out, no way around the boundary I am being given. There is this strange elastic matter, I will later learn is known as rubber. It has no name, no meaning to me at this point. I have no idea as to what it is, or the purpose of it. Just the hard boundary behind it. Not that I am really, truly aware or conscious of it right now. Objects, body parts are tossed into me, the form in which I am currently contained. I absorb them, the matter, the meaning and their essence as they plummet into the ooze I am at this point. Bit by bit, I am taking a form, a shape, even if it is the one of the containment, the boundary of the mold in which I am at the moment. The rubber is becoming my skin as I slowly expand to fill up the space within. Each object I absorb, slowly giving me more than the form, but now also the rudimentary beginning of a personality. I am still not aware or conscious of my very own self, but the surrounding space is slowly clarifying, even if I can only persceive it as the pressure and the boundary surrounding my skin. Absorbing the objects isn’t conscious, or even a reflect, merely physical reactions of the objects falling onto and into me. I have no control, I can’t pick and choose what to take on and what to ignore or reject. I need a self and a consciousness in order to manage anything as complex as that. Then they pour in more substance. Since I am still deaf, I could never have heard their chanting or what they said. The mold also prevented me from even sensing the slight vibration from their voices and their movements. Once released from the confines of the mold within which I had been created, they graciously greeted me into the world within they live out their lives. Only now, I am no longer the formless mass with no consciousness or awareness of my very own self, my body and personality. I view them as separate beings, and consciously interact with them. “I think I like the looks of your balloons. Even if I don’t know what they are, or what they mean in this case!” I pointed out. “Thanks, they represent my festive nature!” Surprise expressed in a more serious tone than usual. “I enjoy throwing parties left and right, for the joy of every Pony, aside from who ever else likes to be there. Zebras, Donkeys, Mules, Griffins, to name but a few of the more common once!” Pinkie Pie, the pink mare explained. “Parties? I think I could get used to, and enjoy partaking in a party or two!” I responded. “Now you will be able to. Considering we even has a few Changelings around, they are most likely going to enjoy your presence as well. If they see you on a merry party, which they will!” Pinkie continued. “Now you just need to get used to a rich diet of Muffins and having happy Ponies surround you for prolonged periods of time. I hope that isn’t a problem to you, Oozey!” Surprise suggested. “Happy Ponies? Like the two of you, I hope. Muffins? Now you made it sound as if they should be delicious!” I put forth. “A Muffin. Like these!” Pinkie Pie explained as she placed a place with assorted pastries before me, just the bare, undressed once that is. “Served by a happy Pony, like my friend Pinkie Pie!” Surprised filled in, pointing at the pink mare I had figured to be the one referred to as Pinkie Pie. “Worth a shot!” I responded, picking up one, before chewing it in order to evaluate its flavour. “Yeah, it always is. Oh, and try each and every flavour, we need to know which one you enjoy and which once merely agrees with you. These are going to be your diet from now on!” Surprise pronounced. “You know what this calles for? A party!” Pinkie Pie announced jubilantly. I chewed down one muffin after the other. Muffin by muffin, I evaluated the taste, flavour, texture and contents as best I could. For now, I had not found any one of the pastries that did not agree with me; which I guess is good, given the current company. Actually, I like most of them. Just that a few did stick out as more delicious than the rest of them. I guess this is what I was told to look out for; the once sticking out as better than the rest. Now I just hope these are the once that are to actually sustain me in the long run, too. Some of the pastries are what one is to call yummy, which promptly brought a smile to my face. My ears perked instantly and the corners of my mouth soon started to rice in a pleased and pleasant smile. The rest of my face and indeed my entire body soon followed suit. I guess I couldn’t hide the feelings of joy. Sadly, that effect soon reversed as I found one of the less agreeable flavours. I could even see the effects on my friends, Pinkie Pie and Surprise. It is apparent, just how well tuned they both are, towards what their fellow Ponies felt. It may be convenient, if your life is aimed towards throwing parties and keeping your fellow Ponies happy, I gathered. It would make them spectacular party organisers. Now, I guess that is convenient, too. To my surprise, they took turn filling my plate with yet more pastries, supplementing the assortment of muffins. Before I knew it, I had gorged myself on the pastries Pinkie had been baking. I certainly had enjoyed it. Particularly some of them, in any case. Incidentally, these were the once I realised had been filling up the plate, while other flavours soon were running out before the others. After a moment, it struck me; just how diverse the selection of the treats had been. This is the Pinkie Pie who made me come into existence. A former Rock Farmer? Apparently, she had used every imaginable flavour available to her as a Pony living in Ponyville. “From the effects upon you, I think we have pinned down which once you enjoy, and which once needs to be in your diet, Oozey!” Pinkie Pie announced, with quite some joy as a smile slowly spread out over her face, and beyond.
Ponying Around: 3I had just woken up, maybe it is the sun stirring. Yet, I had woken up. There are a few blank spaces, and plenty of blurry space in my memory. Almost as if I had been knocked out of the body. The light is reflecting on the blue and yellow balloons in the ceiling, which all by itself feels strange. Yet, it is also eerily familiar. These balloons has been there for as long as I can remember. Maybe this is the consolation I had been searching for. Is it? The most curious thing is the pink balloons cowering under the bed, her bed. Apparently, they had gathered their courage and slithered, or floated out, spreading out into the room. Now, with the returning of a new day, they scurry back in, under the safety of the shadow of their imaginary night, under her bed. Are they Luna’s Minions? Now I experience overlapping, conflicting memories and recollections. Who is Luna, and what is a Minion? Are the balloons pets? Looking around, only to find everything exactly where they had been the day before. Where my recollections told me that they would be. I guess this is reassuring. Thinking back, I recall Pinkie Pie having exactly the kind of balloons on her flanks, the once I now see under her ceiling. Maybe that could make some senseless sense, after all. This is her room. The problem I can not grasp, is how the balloons could have migrated from her flank, and out into her room. Besides, how many balloons had she been covered with, if these had indeed been on her body? Or, had she grown new balloons on her flanks, the way her hooves and mane would grow out? If this was the case, she would in effect be their Mother? Now I got all kinds of strange entangled notions and images in my head. In the end; I chose to decide that I believe that these are her children. As strange a notion as it may be for any Pony, it isn’t strange in the least, not to me. Maybe it is in my heritage, even if I had no memory of it. If Pinkie Pie, that pink mare is my Mother, I have a Father somewhere. He is bound to be the other part of who I am. A slime like creature. From this perspecti9ve, how is it strange for her to give birth to these Balloons; as her children, her Foals? Maybe I should ask her? From the perspective, with her as my Mother, it is right and correct for me to ask her. Yet, there is the chance that the topic is sensitive and touchy. Would I embarrass her, if I asked her? If so, I guess it is better if I ask her in private. I may not be an infant in the strict meaning, but considering how long I have been around; could I still be considered a Foal. Her Foal? Something about her Balloons is fascinating me. Is it merely the way they move around? How they move about when you don’t look at them? All the Blue and Yellow once hanging bravely in the ceiling, while the pink once is crowding the narrow space under her bed. To me, they act as if she was their Mother. I just can’t quite explain, or place one of my hooves on it all. How does one place a rubbery and elastic hoof on a topic, or situation like this? Maybe I will figure that out, in due time? I am after all quite young. I certainly am a separate individual with my clearly defined body. I am not Pinkie Pie, or Surprise. Just as I am not my Father, who ever he may be. Maybe I should not worry, or think about it? I hope Pinkie Pie will let me know, when she feels it is the right time. When she thinks I am old enough to understand. When ever that is. I carefully fold the quilt on my bed in and towards the wall. Slowly slipping my hind quarters towards the side of the bed, sliding down and out of the bed. My bed. Moving slowly, in the hopes that I will not cause any noises, preventing her to wake up, before she had intended. Of course, I may still have to wake her up soon. I don’t have any food, and I don’t know where to find anything I can and want to eat. One may argue that I could pick up anything and nibble. Just swallow anything before me, absorbing the mass and nutrients. Yet, it isn’t how I do. There has to be more purpose to it than that. Am I over thinking it? Yet, I feel I am too young to know what I need, or to know what I can, or is allowed to eat. With nothing better to do, I move along, around the floor and the walls. Looking around, sniffing and snorting at and on everything I come close enough to. Enjoying the scents of most of what I find, just not in the exciting manner of recognising something I want or need to eat. I may start to feel hungry, but I still don’t quite know. Step by step, I move forwards, one hoof before the other. I am quiet, careful steps avoiding noises. I don’t like noises. Yet, I do like how quiet my hooves are, when I do put the effort into it. Is it the soft hooves, or my insignificant mass that makes this possible? I don’t know. Maybe I shouldn’t care. I see the light flowing through the window, into the room. Her room. My mother’s room. I like the sound of these words, just as I like the warmth the light spread over my flank as I pass by the window. With the realisation, I consider it. I think I would like to go out, to trot over the grasses outdoors. I just need to wait for Mother, Pinkie Pie to feed me and guide me outside. I dare not go out on my own. If she would be angry or worried. What would the other Ponies think, if they saw me on the lawn? What if other Ponies would be mean to me? After endless laps, circuiting the room, I feel a stirring. She is waking up. Looking back, I hastily fold the quilt on my bed, leaving it looking neat. I hope she likes neat; that she likes me to make my bed look just right. I could see and feel her waking up. Her eyes going up. There is a strange sensation, feeling to the moment. She knows, she knew. “Oozey. Good morning, my dear!” she exclaimed in a bubbly exciting, or excited voice, looking straight at me. “Good morning, Mom. Pinkie Pie!” I responded, looking at her. I aim my entire consciousness at her. “Pinkie is just fine. Not that I mind you calling me Mom!” she expressed, a wide grin all over her face. A hysterical giggle spread from her, she was beaming, almost as bright as Celestias sun. How could a Pony do that? Should I ask? “Pinkie, you are the bestest of Moms one little filly like me could ever have!” I then exploded in excitement. “Every little filly loves me, Oozey. I do my very bestest in order to make them like me. Throwing parties left and right, selling the bestest, tastiest, sweetest, and not to mention, yummiest pastries in town!” she responded. “Speaking of pastries, I think I am hungry, but I don’t know what I can eat. I don’t want you to be angry with me, for chewing on something I was not supposed to, or something that is not good for me!” I pointed out. The question worried me, but it felt as if it was the perfect, natural place to mention it. Author's Note Note that the story is featuring both Pinkie Pie and Surprise.
