Pilot: It's All in the Cake
I am perhaps the greatest detective mastermind that ever lived. I’ve been trained by the best, even served as the best. I’ve done it all, from busting dangerous criminal organizations to defeating dastardly thieves. I always knew that Mulia Mild was one bright bandit. Why she even...
“Pinkie! We already proved that Mulia didn’t sabotage the cake,” says Twilight Sparkle, my assistant, exasperated.
“It’s not just a cake Twilight. It was the MMMM,” I reply, miffed at how dense my assistant could be.
“She didn’t even eat it though. We have confessions from Rarity, Rainbow Dash, and Fluttershy,” retorts the librarian.
“Mulia’s still an evil mastermind,” I say.
Twilight shakes her head in disgust at my genius. How could she though?
I mean honestly, it was a marvelous masterpiece from the best minds. Mulia Mild would’ve sabotaged it if she could’ve. She knew it would’ve beaten her plain old chocolate mousse. How could anypony not remember it? The fact that her assistant was also her friend made it even worse. Of all the things to be ignorant of. I shook my head in disdain. I mean honestly, that cake made even my mouth water, and that’s saying something, considering I’m the Premiere Party Pony of Ponyville and a baker extraordinaire.
It’s another boring day in the office it is. No cases to solve, no puzzles to do. Where are the crimes when you need them? All my assistant does is worry about the trivial things, the things not important enough for the hard drive that is my brain. Even business is slow. It’s not a party type of day. I know, because I’m friends with everypony, and I mean everypony.
Even my siblings of sorts, Pound Cake and Pumpkin Cake seem different. Obviously, some kind of conspiracy against...
“Pinkie! Remember what we said about false assumptions? Look, for the last time, there haven’t been any conspiracies.” Twilight groans.
Alright, maybe the last interrogation hadn’t gone so well, but that doesn’t change anything. I put my hooves together in some sort of archaic thinking pose, or at least that’s what I think it is. I remember some funny looking--Heuman--do it. Or at least that’s what Lyra says they are. They should get a room. She’s so obviously in love. Can’t ever stop talking about them. Twilight says it’s just an obsession but I know what it really is. Every time I talk about it though, Twilight always says
“For the last time, she’s already with Bon-Bon.”
Like that. Exactly like that. See, I pay attention and I’m almost always right. No, no, hold your applause. It’s nothing special after all. Just basic deduction. It’s just like how I know that my assistant Twilight lives in a library and loves books.
“Pinkie, that’s just common knowledge,” remarks that purple librarian.
And she always tries to ruin my moment. Just like this time, and just like all the times in the future. I know that look on her face. It’s hungry, hungry for more than just fame and power, but knowledge. That, and she’s plotting to steal my detective hat. I know what she’s doing. You can see it from that ecstasy from the time she first got the hat. It’s a pattern.
Then the bell rings, and that tells me there’s a customer. What kind? Based on their face, it’s a case. At last!
“Actually, I really wanted a cake,” says the customer.
“Ah, a particular kind of cake then,” says I, knowing perfectly well where this is all going to lead into.
“No, I just wanted a cake,” says the customer, but I know better, oh yes.
It’s these characters, their always hiding something. All they want is an answer, but what they don’t realize is that I’m a real detective, and I get to the truth, all of it. That makes the mystery so much more fun to solve.
“But I’m the one that solves them,” interrupts Twilight.
She’s exaggerating of course, as she always does. When will she realize that there isn’t some sort of test to take or some requirement to meet to get my hat. It’s always something about my hat. Nonetheless, she’s a very useful assistant, even if she can’t quite keep up at times. But then I see that the client needs attention so I look at her, knowing that if I don’t, the case will be gone before I know it, right from under my nose. I need fun.
“Any details I need?” I ask for good measure.
“Well, it’s for a birthday.” she says.
“Good, very good. Who for?” It’s the obvious question.
“My sister, Carrot Top,” says her. I can see from the look in her eyes that she doesn’t get where this is going.
“So a carrot cake would be preferable then?” I inquire, knowing that I have to be careful about this part.
“Yes, yes. Of course,” she replies.
And the gears in my head begin turning, all of them, the felt ones, the metal ones, even the wonky ones that don’t fit together.
“And it’s a surprise party,” I conclude.
“How’d you know?” she asks, a look of shock on her face. She doesn’t want ponies to know about the party.
“The look on your face,” I answer.
It’s obvious really. I mean, why else would a sibling of Carrot Top’s have come in here asking for a cake with that kind of look. It has to be a surprise party.
“Coming right up,” I say before she can say anything more. I already know what to make, since she’s come here the year before and the year before that asking for the same thing. And the year before that year.
As I bake I hum. It helps with my thought process. Well it’s not humming, because that’s boring, but singing. By the wonderful smell from the oven, I know the cake is done. Now that, that’s something marvelous. It’s a deduction of the type only I could make, because nopony else is smart enough to see it, or in this case, smell it. I take it out and frost it, then box it into that particular box that I know that Top’s sister will want, and give the box to her, complete with an elegant ribbon.
“That’ll be ten bits please,” I say without missing a beat.
She puts the bits into my hooves, and walks out the door, bell jingling again. I can conclude from the sound that someone’s left Sugarcube Corner. It’s a case well solved, and I can feel the smile begin to grow on my face.
“Pinkie, stop that. It wasn’t even a mystery,” says Twilight, who’s been silent the entire time.
But I grin anyway, because as far as I’m concerned, it’s another case closed.
