Pinkie's Off Dayby The Engineer PonyChaptersUnhappyUnsuccessfulUnbreakableUnhappyPinkie Pie opened her eyes. A dull, grey light coming in from the windows illuminated the familiar sights of her bedroom. In one corner were the pink lollipops, their intricate swirls hidden in shadow. In another stood an ice cream cone, resolutely denying access to Pinkie’s secret party-planning chamber. On the windowsill, a morosely immobile alligator sat contemplating the mysteries of life. And behind Pinkie, one of the balloons tied to the bedframe sagged as it leaked helium. With a bound, Pinkie launched herself out of bed and onto the floor. She immediately began hopping around the room as she prepared for her day. She snagged a donut from a nearby hidden stash and swallowed it in a single gulp. Then she zipped over to her closet and picked out an outfit for her not to wear that day. Lastly, she pulled a balloon out of her mane, inflated it with a single, mighty breath, and swapped it for the sinking balloon on her bedpost. These vital tasks complete, Pinkie paused to greet her favorite toothless pet alligator. Gummy responded to her cheerful “Good morning!” with an intently vacant look out the window. Curious, Pinkie turned her own gaze to follow that of her pet. Outside, Ponyville lay quiet in the cool stillness of dawn. Not a pony stirred on the streets below; not a flicker of light could be seen through the windows of nearby buildings. The brilliance of Celestia’s sun was hidden behind a thick layer of clouds. Only a weak, diffuse glow penetrated the veil to wash Ponyville in the colorless rays of a dreary morning. Pinkie blinked slowly a couple of times, enraptured with the scene before her. Then, with a quick shiver, she pried herself away from the window and hopped toward the staircase to begin another fun, exciting day. It would not do to dwell on the lackluster image of a lifeless morning. Knead, press, roll, cut. Knead, press, roll, cut. Pinkie stood in the kitchen of Sugarcube Corner, diligently baking cookies to sell throughout the rest of the day. She reached across the sea of flour that covered the table in front of her to extract another glob of dough from a bowl on the other side of the room. Her hoofs quickly worked the sticky mess into a host of bizarre shapes as she mixed in the flour. In quick succession, Pinkie molded a yo-yo, a castle, and a detailed, three-dimensional map of the Manehattan subway system. Then she squashed the architectural marvel into a blob and rolled it into a flat pancake that spread across the entire table. Pinkie tossed two-dozen cookie cutters into the air and watched them land in perfect tessellation on the dough below. A few moments of scurried movement later, and Pinkie had turned the amebic mess into another batch of cookies ready to put in the oven. And then the process began again. Knead, press, roll, cut. Knead, press, roll, cut. Pinkie had been doing this so long she could do it in her sleep. In fact, she had done just that on one memorable day, when she had spent the entire morning going about her daily routine without ever waking up. Only after baking seven cakes, delivering five orders of donuts, and running the cash register for three hours (customers had marveled at how quiet Pinkie was being) had Pinkie finally woken up. Fluttershy had stood waiting for twenty minutes for Pinkie to hand her the change from her order when Rainbow Dash had finally gotten tired of waiting in line and tackled the oblivious Pinkie Pie into consciousness. That had been a pity; Pinkie had really been enjoying her dream. She had just conquered Griffonstone with her own personal army of teenage zombies, giving her free rein to unleash her thousand-year reign of chocolate rain. But just as she was preparing to unleash a flood of rock chickens upon the city of Cloudsdale, she suddenly found herself lying on the floor of Sugarcube Corner with a very frustrated pegasus standing over her. Pinkie had tried to apologize for her diabolical plan, but for whatever reason Rainbow Dash had been more interested in buying a cupcake than in Pinkie’s attempts at world domination. Dash had told Pinkie to give Fluttershy her change so that the line could move again. And then it had been back to work for Pinkie. Knead, press, roll, cut. Pinkie churned out another batch of delicious treats. This time, all of the cookies were cut into the shapes of famous sculptures in Canterlot, and interlocking them like puzzle pieces formed a perfect, life-sized replica of Discord’s old stone prison. Same old, same old. Pinkie looked around. Maybe there was something else in the kitchen that could keep her entertained. But the Cakes had already banned her from juggling plates after she had gotten three of them stuck to the ceiling. It had taken an entire afternoon to get them unstuck. And she dared not go near the new sink after what she had done to the previous one. Although she had forgotten the exact details, she was pretty sure it involved putting the sink in the mail and sending it to one of her friends. She could not remember exactly which one. So now she was left with nothing to distract her from the task at hoof. There was nothing left to do but bake more cookies. Knead, press, roll, cut. Pinkie’s head drooped for a second. Her hoofs ceased their frantic activity and remained motionless for the briefest moment. Her eyes dulled imperceptibly and her perpetual smile faltered. “Hi, Pinkie!” Twilight Sparkle strolled into the kitchen and glanced around. She saw Pinkie Pie hard at work turning a lump of dough into another masterpiece of delicious treats. Pinkie zoomed around the kitchen with such frenzied excitement that Twilight could not help but grin at her friend’s boundless energy. After sliding another tray of newly cut cookies into the oven, Pinkie turned to greet Twilight with wide grin. “Hiya, Twilight. What brings you here? Ooh, do you want to try out my new recipe for cheeseless quesadillas? I made it especially for you.” Pinkie hopped over to the refrigerator and rummaged around inside of it. “Uh, not now, Pinkie,” Twilight replied before her friend could pull out her latest ridiculous concoction. “I’m sure they taste great, but I’m in a hurry this morning.” “Okie-dokie-lokie. Maybe you can try them tonight at the party.” A timer rang from inside Pinkie’s mane. She immediately dashed over to the oven to remove a batch of cookies that had just finished baking. Flipping the tray sideways at an angle, she added it to the top of what appeared to be an elaborate card-castle-like structure made completely out of baking trays. Twilight noted that all of the trays still had cookies on them. “Actually, that’s what I wanted to talk to you about. The party, I mean, not the quesadillas.” Twilight suppressed a small shudder at the word. “I wanted to check that you were going to have everything ready for Spike’s birthday party this evening.” “Of course!” Pinkie exclaimed. “There would never be any reason for me give to anything less than one of my bestest, most super-exciting-awesome-amazing birthday parties to celebrate one of my friends. No, siree. No reason whatsoever.” Her grin stretched even further than before. “I know that, Pinkie, and I greatly appreciate it,” Twilight said. “I just wanted to make sure that you had done everything on the list I gave you last week.” “Let’s see.” Pinkie reached into the freezer and pulled out a clipboard. “Streamers? Check. Gem cake? Check. Photographs of Spike being generous to remind him what a nice dragon he is just in case he gets greedy and turns into a giant monster bent on destroying all of Ponyville?” “You can never be too careful,” Twilight pointed out. “Check,” confirmed Pinkie. “Wow, Twilight, you’ve thought of everything. Maybe you should go into the party-planning business.” “Don’t be ridiculous, Pinkie Pie.” Twilight shook her head. “I could never do half as good a job as you.” “Sure you could, Twilight,” Pinkie replied. “You just need to be super-duper organized and keep track of what everypony likes to have at their parties. Surely the princess of checklists could keep up with that.” “I suppose,” mused Twilight, “but I don’t have your joyful personality. What really makes your parties special, beyond the simple logistics, is the energy and enthusiasm you put into making sure each pony feels appreciated and celebrated.” “Well, anypony could do that,” countered Pinkie, while cutting a series of cookies into the shape of the Trottingham skyline. “That’s just a part of being a really good friend.” “I don’t know, Pinkie,” said Twilight, watching her friend transfer more trays into and out of the oven. “I’ve never seen anypony as perpetually happy as you. Your joy is so infectious that other ponies can’t help but have a good time at your parties. And that is why you will always be the best party planner in Equestria.” For a brief fraction of a second, Pinkie seemed to pause in her frenzied baking efforts. But then Twilight blinked, and Pinkie was once again stacking trays atop the precarious tower. Maybe Twilight had just imagined that Pinkie had stopped moving. After all, Twilight was not sure if it was even possible for Pinkie Pie to stand still. “Thanks, Twilight.” Pinkie grinned broadly, pulled a rolling pin out of her mane, and turned toward the next batch of dough. “Yeah, I’m the craziest, happiest pony around. Now if you’ll excuse me, I still have, like, a bunch of cookies left to bake before tonight, not to mention checking on the supply of eye patches around the town. I’m super busy.” “Ok, Pinkie, I’ll see you tonight. Thanks again for all of your hard work.” With a cheerful wave, Twilight turned and walked out of the kitchen. Twilight strolled through the front room of Sugarcube Corner, went out the front door, and took flight for her castle. Pinkie Pie listened intently for ring of the front bell followed by the swoosh of wings that indicated Twilight’s departure. Once Pinkie was sure her friend had left, she dropped her smile. UnsuccessfulPinkie strolled along the outskirts of Ponyville. Yes, she actually strolled for once. Rather than hopping, or bouncing, or inexplicably teleporting from one location to the next, the normally boisterous pony walked like a normal pony at a rather relaxed pace. In fact, at times she even moved more slowly than the average pony. And occasionally, in the few brief moments when she was sure nopony was watching her, Pinkie would halt, droop her neck, and stare blankly at the dirt beneath her. But then, she would immediately straighten up, check that her mane was puffy and her smile was broad, and quickly trot for several paces before slowing down again. Pinkie reached her hoof into another secret hiding spot in another nondescript tree. She felt around for a few seconds until she had located the eye patch concealed within. With a satisfied nod, Pinkie withdrew her hoof and turned in the direction of the next clandestine repository of piratic therapeutic eyewear. She paused for a moment when she heard a quiet noise. Amid the rustling of leaves and the gentle song of a nearby bird, Pinkie listened again for the soft whisper. It had almost sounded like a sniffle, like somepony was crying. Forcing herself to remain perfectly still, Pinkie strained her ears to pick out the low sound. After a few seconds, the sound came again: the unmistakable whimper of a weeping pony. Pinkie wavered for a moment with indecision. On the one hoof, it was her solemn duty to make sure every pony she came across was unequivocally joyful. But on the other hoof, she was not sure if she was in the appropriately boisterous mood she needed to be in so as to cheer somepony up. On the other, other hoof, here was a chance for Pinkie to break out of her own depressed state, by cheering up somepony else. But on the other, other, other hoof, Pinkie found that raising all four hoofs up in the air caused her to fall to the ground with a sudden splat. As she bounced back upright, Pinkie reached her decision. With a quick leap, she bounded in the direction of the crying pony. Weaving in and out of trees as she followed the source of the low whimpers, Pinkie acquired the necessary items for cheering a pony up: a delicious cake oozing with frosting, a bundle of vibrantly colored helium balloons, seventeen streamers, and a tuba. Frowning at the large brass instrument, Pinkie quickly swapped it out for the far more appropriate kazoo. Her target was directly ahead, just beyond a clump of bushes. With a mighty spring, Pinkie hurtled the shrubbery and tossed confetti in every direction. Streamers unfurled behind her as she landed, the cake held triumphantly before her. Pinkie held her pose proudly, until she noticed the pony cowering in front of her. Fluttershy lay curled up on the ground. Startled by the sudden arrival of Pinkie Pie, she had ducked down and hidden her face behind her hooves, only slowly peeking her head up as she realized it was only Pinkie. Her startled gaze began to soften, but even her frightened look could not hide the puffiness around her eyes. “Oh, um, hi, Pinkie Pie,” Fluttershy mumbled. “Hi, Fluttershy!” Pinkie responded with a massive grin. She forced energy into her voice as she continued. “It sounds to me like you need somepony to help cheer you up!” “Um, well, actually,” Fluttershy began as she turned away from Pinkie, “I’m not sure if this is exactly the best time for…” “Don’t be silly!” Pinkie exclaimed, drowning out Fluttershy’s subdued declaration. “Everypony deserves to be cheery and glad. If there’s one thing that makes me happy…” “Please don’t start singing,” whispered Fluttershy. But it was too late; her exuberant friend had already launched into an impromptu musical routine, complete with colorful backgrounds and random ponies appearing to provide harmony. For the next several minutes, Fluttershy lay silently as Pinkie Pie belted out her joyous melody. Finally, after an extra chorus, a key change, and the inexplicable appearance of Cheese Sandwich among the backup singers, the song reached its conclusion. Then it was just Fluttershy and Pinkie again, the latter staring with an expectant smile straight into the mournful eyes of the former. “That was, um, that was nice,” Fluttershy murmured, with little conviction in her voice. Pinkie’s face fell. “Come on, Fluttershy! You should be happy! What reason could you possibly have for being sad?” At this, Fluttershy’s face hardened. She stood up, turned directly toward Pinkie, and took a step forward. “Do you want to know what’s bothering me?” Fluttershy said with quiet firmness. “I’ll tell you what the matter is. This morning I found that Mr. Beaverteeth had been seriously injured when a tree fell on him. I’ve spent all day tending to him, but he’s been getting weaker every minute. I’m not sure if he’ll recover, I can’t find his family to let them know what’s going on, and the last thing I need is somepony to come skipping by and tell me I should be happy!” Fluttershy raised her voice as she took another step toward Pinkie. “Maybe life consists only of sunshine and parties for you, Pinkie Pie, but the rest of us have real problems to deal with. Now if you’re done be frivolous, I must be going!” Fluttershy turned her back on Pinkie Pie. Spreading her wings, the Fluttershy took flight and soared away from her dumbstruck friend. A single tear trailed behind the pegasus as she departed. Pinkie Pie sat there a minute, not moving a muscle. She just stared into space, even as the balloons she held sank to the ground and a stray breeze blew out the candles on the cake. The kazoo fell from her gaping mouth and landed in the dirt. A passing squirrel picked up the instrument and excitedly carried it off, but still the pony did not stir. She sat, she stared, and she pondered as her mane slowly deflated. Today was not going well. “This party is great!” With eager excitement, Spike plucked another gift off of the table and quickly tore open the wrapping paper. His eyes gleamed at the sight of the rich assortment of gemstones that fell from the package. Spike immediately snatched up the loose gems before any of them could fall to the floor. From her seat on the throne opposite Spike’s, Pinkie surveyed the scene. To Spike’s left, Twilight fidgeted nervously, unconsciously reaching one hoof under the table for the photos of Spike she had kept nearby. Twilight seemed concerned that Spike might show signs of greed again, and she was ready to step in at a moment’s notice. When she and Pinkie had met the previous week to begin preparations for the party, they had agreed that a series of photographs that showed Spike being helpful and generous would probably be enough to keep him from succumbing to draconic envy. If they could remind Spike of his true nature before he grew out of control, then they could avert another crisis. Still, Pinkie knew that as a precautionary measure, Twilight had also researched large-scale freezing spells, capable of incapacitating a full-sized dragon. But she need not have worried. As Spike earnestly thanked Rarity for the gift, Pinkie saw they had no reason to fear him. Spike would not let greed get the better of him again. He was far too kind a dragon to let such evil tendencies take control of him again. No, Spike would always be himself, and that would never change. The thought almost brought a smile to Pinkie’s face. Well, it would have, had she not already been grinning ear to ear. “Ooh! Ooh! You should open mine next!” Pinkie leaned to the side and reached for a gift that was somehow hidden just barely out of sight from all her friends. Stretching across the table, she dropped the large, colorful box in front of Spike in a brief flurry of confetti. Pinkie returned to her seat as Spike began to rip open the present. She wondered for a moment what it was she had gotten him. Then Pinkie remembered that she had been the one to pick out the gift. She could just ask herself what she had bought for Spike. Pinkie Pie was in the process of doing just that when the sound of a small explosion interrupted her. Pinkie leapt into the air, hooves flailing every which way. Eventually she managed to grab onto one of the roots of the tree chandelier. Dangling high above the party, Pinkie surveyed the chaos below her. A brightly colored piece of heavy artillery protruded from an equally vibrant—but far less tactically valuable—box. Waves of confetti and streamers surrounded this epicenter that had vomited its cheerful contents across the entire room. Five ponies cautiously poked their heads above the table under which they had taken momentary cover. And lying in a daze on the floor next to the surprise present was one dragon too shocked to move. Twilight recovered first. Her gaze turned from the twitching dragon on the floor, to the party cannon gift resting on the table, and finally up to the sheepishly grinning pony hanging above her. With the all the calm reserve and elegant demeanor befitting royalty, Twilight succinctly expressed her assessment of the situation with a single word. “PINKIE!” The pony in question grinned sheepishly. Letting go of the decorative tree root, she quickly dropped back down to her throne. Pinkie halted her fall immediately before landing, so she returned to her seat with a barely a sound. Silence reigned for a few more seconds as all eyes turned toward the party pony. Spike sat up with a groan and fixed Pinkie with as questioning a look as he could manage in his befuddled state. “What was that supposed to be?” Pinkie swallowed slowly without dropping her smile. Then she answered, “Sorry, I may have possibly accidently made a slight mistake in wrapping your present. There’s a distinct chance that instead of wrapping the hoof-picked masterpiece that I had carefully selected to ensure you were satisfied with your gift and pleased with your party and generally happy enough that you would look back on this evening with fond memories that most certainly would not include being temporarily paralyzed by the shock of an unexpected explosion…instead-I-accidently-wrapped-a-party-cannon-instead,” Pinkie Pie finished in a rush. Spike blinked, stared at Pinkie, and blinked again. “That’s ok, Pinkie. It just startled me, that’s all. And…I still get a real present, right?” “Of course!” Pinkie quivered with excitement and plunged a hoof into her mane. “What I really meant to give you was…” She paused while searching for the right item. “This!” Pinkie triumphantly pulled a dustpan out of her mane and presented it to Spike. Spike paused. “A dustpan? Seriously?” “Oh, um, that wasn’t it either.” Pinkie hurriedly stuffed the dustpan back in her mane and rummaged around for the thing she was actually looking for. “No, no, no,” she mused as she extracted, in quick succession, a bowling ball, a scepter, and a mailbox. “Where did I put that?” Pinkie began to search more frantically, the occasional random object falling out of her mane as she hastily sifted through her entire inventory. Spike waited as a pile of assorted items formed in front of Pinkie Pie. But when what looked like a parasprite emerged from her mane, Spike decided he had seen enough. “You know what, never mind. You can just give me your present the next time I stop by Sugarcube Corner.” “Aw…” Pinkie moaned. “I really picked out a good one, too. I just can’t seem to find it, for some reason.” “No big deal,” Spike replied. “I’m sure it will be worth the wait. Now, who has my next gift?” Dejected, Pinkie began returning her heap of miscellaneous objects to its proper place. She filed them away in silence as Spike turned his attention to the next present in line: a curiously rectangular package from Twilight. Pinkie never was able to find the gift she had picked out for him. UnbreakableWith a smile and a wave, Pinkie turned to exit the castle. After a long evening of running a party, it was finally time to head home and rest. Ordinarily, going home to sleep wound have been the last thing on Pinkie Pie’s mind. Celebrating with her friends usually filled her with so much energy that she would stay up half the night bouncing off the walls (a tricky thing to do silently so as to not wake the Cake twins). But this evening, she just felt…weary. Like a balloon that had lost most of its air, but still retained just enough to keep its shape. If she had to continue to be Pinkie Pie for one more minute, she would fall apart. So with a drooping neck and a slightly deflated mane, Pinkie descended the front steps of Twilight’s castle. Slowly, she began the trek back to Sugarcube Corner and her waiting bed. Only to be stopped three steps later by the gentle but firm request of the Princess of Friendship. “Pinkie Pie, wait a minute please.” Twilight glided down from the entryway and landed next to Pinkie. “I was wondering if I could talk to you.” “Sure thing, Twilight,” Pinkie said cheerfully. “What do you want to talk about? Ooh! I know! You want to discuss why the only ancient magician whose spells ever seem to impact our lives is Starswirl the Beard! Is that it?” “Well, not exactly, Pinkie,” Twilight matched Pinkie’s slow pace as they meandered toward the heart of Ponyville. “Actually, I just wanted to check to see if you’re doing alright.” “Of course I’m doing fine! I’m always fine!” Pinkie punctuated her exuberant declaration with a miniature explosion of streamers and confetti. She gave Twilight a wide smile, but then quickly turned away to stare off into the distance. Twilight said nothing. She craned her neck to stare at the rising moon as the two ponies walked in peaceful silence. After nearly a minute of contemplating the subdued majesty of the celestial orb, Twilight looked again at her oddly silent friend. “Really?” she asked. Pinkie tried to hold Twilight’s gaze. She tried to smile, to bounce into the air, to dismiss Twilight’s concerns with an easy laugh. But the muscles around her mouth simply would not cooperate. The smile that normally came so easily to her suddenly felt out of place on her lips; the boisterous expression that she usually wore felt as foreign as a dragon’s greedy snarl. Eventually, Pinkie could bear it no longer. Her eyes dropped toward the ground, and her hoofsteps slowed. A sound that almost never came from her escaped into the still night air: a short, fatigued sigh. “Actually, Twilight, I’m not alright. I don’t feel like myself today.” Twilight tipped her head in curiosity, but otherwise said nothing. Pinkie paused for a second to gather her thoughts, and then continued. “I don’t know what it is. I woke up this morning feeling a bit depressed. I couldn’t get excited about anything. Not about baking, not about parties, not about making other ponies smile. I was able to go through the motions, but I didn’t want to.” “You seemed lively enough at the party this evening,” Twilight observed. Pinkie snorted. It was a tired, lonely sound. “I pretended be myself. I knew the kind of things I would normally do, and I spent the party perfectly imitating my usual crazy Pinkie-ness. Well, almost perfectly.” “The mix-up with your present for Spike.” It was not a question. Pinkie gave a small nod. “I hadn’t been paying attention when I wrapped his gift. I was still trying to figure out what had gone wrong with cheering up Fluttershy, and I accidently mistook a party cannon for a set of cooking supplies. And when Spike opened the wrong gift, it threw me off. My Pinkie-ness slipped for a minute.” “What happened with Fluttershy? I was able to get some of the details from her, but I wanted to hear about what happened from you.” Twilight’s voice was gentle, but the pointedness in her tone betrayed a trace of the keen analysis behind the simple question. “I heard her crying in the forest, and I went to cheer her up. I tried everything: a surprise ambush, a cake, an impromptu song…but all it did was make her mad. Well, mad for Fluttershy, which is still a really frightening thing.” A cool breeze fluttered by. It rustled through Pinkie’s mane, blowing a few loose strands into her eyes. As she brushed them away, Pinkie noted that the strands had straightened out. The usual chaotic curl of her mane had disappeared. Just as well. Everything else that defined her seemed to be gone as well. Pinkie stopped walking completely. She turned to completely face Twilight, staring directly at her friend with an unwavering plea in her eyes. “What’s wrong with me?” Pinkie’s voice trembled. “I’m the element of laughter. My destiny is to make others smile. Why can’t I seem to do that? And why do I not even feel like I want to?” Pinkie fell silent. After a few agonizing seconds, she looked away, staring off into the nothingness in front of her. She stood there, somewhere between crying and screaming. Pinkie waited for Twilight’s condemnation, her detailed explanation of why Pinkie was an inadequate friend and a horrible pony for abandoning that one true part of herself that made her who she was. Pinkie tensed in anticipation of Twilight’s thorough assessment of the precise chain of events that led to this point, all of the bad choices she had made that had caused her to stray from the correct path. And worst of all, Pinkie dreaded Twilight’s inevitable conclusion that she could no longer associate with such a disappointment of a mare. Near silence. The only sound came from the gentle murmur of the wind. Neither pony spoke; neither pony moved. Pinkie dared not glance in Twilight’s direction. She doubted she could handle seeing the disappointment in Twilight’s gaze. Pinkie closed her eyes in solemn resignation. Then Pinkie felt a wing lightly brush against her back. It was a gentle touch, neither a firm strike nor a crushing hug. Rather, it was a humble gesture that simply conveyed Twilight’s presence. “Pinkie,” said Twilight, “nothing is wrong with you. You’re still the same great pony I’ve come to know and love over all the years since I first moved to Ponyville.” “But…” Pinkie opened her eyes to the sight of Twilight’s gentle smile. “I don’t feel the same. I feel like a mess.” “Nopony can be happy all the time,” Twilight replied. “Not even you,” she added quickly as Pinkie opened her mouth to interrupt. “Emotions come and go, and sometimes it’s just more appropriate to be sad. Look at Fluttershy. When one of her animal friends was injured, she naturally wanted to cry. It showed that she cared. Acting cheerful would have just been fake.” “So…you’re saying that all I ever do is make ponies into hypocrites by trying to make them happy?” Pinkie’s voice quivered with worry. “No!” Twilight response came abruptly, but it conveyed surprise more than anger. “Every day, I see you offer something far greater than a momentary laugh: you give ponies hope. You show them that the world is never as bad as they think, and there is always something to worth being glad about. Your joy is so infectious that other ponies can’t help but realize that they too can face life’s difficulties with a smile.” “Except today. Today I don’t have any joy to contaminate other ponies with,” Pinkie said with a slight frown. “We all need to be reminded at times about those things that are truest about us. I know that I routinely forget what it means to be a good friend, and I’m supposed to be Equestria’s leading expert on the subject. And sometimes, it’s when we struggle to remember these things that we come to truly understand them.” “But what if I never stop feeling this way? What if I never go back to my bubbly, crazy, make-every-pony-in-town-smile self?” “In that case,” said Twilight thoughtfully, “I suppose you continue on as you always have: you spread that joy of yours that runs deeper than what you feel. Not faking a cheerful attitude, but giving an optimistic confidence that goes beyond your current mood. And maybe you can reach out to other ponies that really some hope right now.” “Like Fluttershy,” Pinkie said somberly. Twilight nodded. “I think you’re the only pony who can cheer her up. You just need to try a different approach from this afternoon. As long as you’re sincere, I know you’ll do great.” Pinkie Pie opened her eyes. A dull, grey light coming in from the windows illuminated the familiar sights of her bedroom. There were the same pink lollipops; there stood the same ice cream cone. Her perpetually impassive pet stared out the window at the same lifeless image of a town frozen in the pre-dawn glow. And once again, one of the balloons on her bed had sunk down to the floor during the night. With a contented yawn, Pinkie climbed out of bed and set her hooves on the cold floor. She stood there for a moment, contemplating the leaking balloon floating in front of her. Then, after a second’s hesitation, Pinkie gripped the balloon and detached it from its string. Putting it up to her mouth, she re-inflated the shrinking party favor with helium, restoring it to the proper sizes and buoyancy. Then she retied the balloon to her bed, making the knot just a bit tighter than before to keep the air from leaking out. Nodding in satisfaction at the completion of this task, Pinkie turned to greet her gloriously stoic pet alligator. Gummy responded to her sincere “Good morning!” by briefly licking her face. It was a simple, almost indifferent gesture, but Pinkie appreciated it all the same. Before heading downstairs to begin the day, Pinkie took a few seconds to peer out the window and enjoy the peaceful sight of Ponyville laid out before her. There were no ponies out and about to break the stillness with their chatter and bustle, but Pinkie knew that would soon change. Soon, she would be the most exuberant pony out there, disseminating her energy throughout the entire town. Soon, pegasi would clear away the gloomy layer of clouds, and the sun would shine brightly across Ponyville. Soon, the town would light with all the colors and noises and smells of a typical, lively day. Pinkie blinked slowly a couple of times. Then, with a slow sigh, she turned her back on the window and bounced toward the stairs. It was time to bring life to an otherwise dreary morning. Fluttershy tenderly placed a hoof on the sleeping head of Mr. Beaverteeth. The creature was resting uneasily, still racked by pain from the injuries he had sustained the previous day. As much as she hated to admit it, there was little else Fluttershy could do for the poor beaver. He would need time to heal, and all she could do was be there to help him through the pain. “Um, Fluttershy?” asked a timid voice behind her. Fluttershy turned around. Standing in the entrance to her cottage stood a familiar pink pony. “Hello.” While her voice was as soft as always, Fluttershy felt some of her sorrow and disappointment trickle into her voice. “Are you here to throw another wild party?” “Well, um, actually…” Pinkie Pie fidgeted uncertainly as she attempted to respond. In fact, Fluttershy noted that her friend was not bouncing off the walls like she usual did. Today, she seemed more…contained. “I wanted to apologize for yesterday. I shouldn’t have tried to force a party on you the way I did.” Fluttershy gave a nearly inaudible gasp of astonishment. Then her face softened into a gentle smile. “It’s alright, Pinkie. I know you were just trying to help.” “Well, for once my helping didn’t seem to go so well.” Pinkie swallowed before continuing. “And I wanted to make it up to you. You’d said you couldn’t find Mr. Beaverteeth’s family, so I went out in my Pinkie-copter this morning and let them know what had happened. They’ll be coming over in about two thousand seconds or so.” “Thanks, Pinkie,” said Fluttershy gratefully, rather surprised by her friend’s behavior. “I know it means a lot to Mr. Beaverteeth. And, it means a lot to me, too.” “In the meantime, I thought that maybe I could, well, help you keep Mr. Beaverteeth company.” Pinkie Pie slowly walked over to Fluttershy. “I Pinkie-promise I won’t go all happy-crazy like I normally do. I just figured, well—I figured it might cheer you up to have somepony sit with you.” Without another word, Pinkie calmly sat down next to Fluttershy. “Thank you,” Fluttershy whispered. “I really could use a friend right now.” Fluttershy wrapped a wing around Pinkie and pulled her close. Pinkie responded by putting a hoof around Fluttershy’s shoulder. The two ponies sat there quietly, gazing somberly at the sleeping Beaver in front of them. Pinkie Pie did not squirm; she did not bounce around; she did not even burst into song. But her presence meant more to Fluttershy in that moment than any jubilant celebration ever could. Next to her, Pinkie Pie smiled.
UnhappyPinkie Pie opened her eyes. A dull, grey light coming in from the windows illuminated the familiar sights of her bedroom. In one corner were the pink lollipops, their intricate swirls hidden in shadow. In another stood an ice cream cone, resolutely denying access to Pinkie’s secret party-planning chamber. On the windowsill, a morosely immobile alligator sat contemplating the mysteries of life. And behind Pinkie, one of the balloons tied to the bedframe sagged as it leaked helium. With a bound, Pinkie launched herself out of bed and onto the floor. She immediately began hopping around the room as she prepared for her day. She snagged a donut from a nearby hidden stash and swallowed it in a single gulp. Then she zipped over to her closet and picked out an outfit for her not to wear that day. Lastly, she pulled a balloon out of her mane, inflated it with a single, mighty breath, and swapped it for the sinking balloon on her bedpost. These vital tasks complete, Pinkie paused to greet her favorite toothless pet alligator. Gummy responded to her cheerful “Good morning!” with an intently vacant look out the window. Curious, Pinkie turned her own gaze to follow that of her pet. Outside, Ponyville lay quiet in the cool stillness of dawn. Not a pony stirred on the streets below; not a flicker of light could be seen through the windows of nearby buildings. The brilliance of Celestia’s sun was hidden behind a thick layer of clouds. Only a weak, diffuse glow penetrated the veil to wash Ponyville in the colorless rays of a dreary morning. Pinkie blinked slowly a couple of times, enraptured with the scene before her. Then, with a quick shiver, she pried herself away from the window and hopped toward the staircase to begin another fun, exciting day. It would not do to dwell on the lackluster image of a lifeless morning. Knead, press, roll, cut. Knead, press, roll, cut. Pinkie stood in the kitchen of Sugarcube Corner, diligently baking cookies to sell throughout the rest of the day. She reached across the sea of flour that covered the table in front of her to extract another glob of dough from a bowl on the other side of the room. Her hoofs quickly worked the sticky mess into a host of bizarre shapes as she mixed in the flour. In quick succession, Pinkie molded a yo-yo, a castle, and a detailed, three-dimensional map of the Manehattan subway system. Then she squashed the architectural marvel into a blob and rolled it into a flat pancake that spread across the entire table. Pinkie tossed two-dozen cookie cutters into the air and watched them land in perfect tessellation on the dough below. A few moments of scurried movement later, and Pinkie had turned the amebic mess into another batch of cookies ready to put in the oven. And then the process began again. Knead, press, roll, cut. Knead, press, roll, cut. Pinkie had been doing this so long she could do it in her sleep. In fact, she had done just that on one memorable day, when she had spent the entire morning going about her daily routine without ever waking up. Only after baking seven cakes, delivering five orders of donuts, and running the cash register for three hours (customers had marveled at how quiet Pinkie was being) had Pinkie finally woken up. Fluttershy had stood waiting for twenty minutes for Pinkie to hand her the change from her order when Rainbow Dash had finally gotten tired of waiting in line and tackled the oblivious Pinkie Pie into consciousness. That had been a pity; Pinkie had really been enjoying her dream. She had just conquered Griffonstone with her own personal army of teenage zombies, giving her free rein to unleash her thousand-year reign of chocolate rain. But just as she was preparing to unleash a flood of rock chickens upon the city of Cloudsdale, she suddenly found herself lying on the floor of Sugarcube Corner with a very frustrated pegasus standing over her. Pinkie had tried to apologize for her diabolical plan, but for whatever reason Rainbow Dash had been more interested in buying a cupcake than in Pinkie’s attempts at world domination. Dash had told Pinkie to give Fluttershy her change so that the line could move again. And then it had been back to work for Pinkie. Knead, press, roll, cut. Pinkie churned out another batch of delicious treats. This time, all of the cookies were cut into the shapes of famous sculptures in Canterlot, and interlocking them like puzzle pieces formed a perfect, life-sized replica of Discord’s old stone prison. Same old, same old. Pinkie looked around. Maybe there was something else in the kitchen that could keep her entertained. But the Cakes had already banned her from juggling plates after she had gotten three of them stuck to the ceiling. It had taken an entire afternoon to get them unstuck. And she dared not go near the new sink after what she had done to the previous one. Although she had forgotten the exact details, she was pretty sure it involved putting the sink in the mail and sending it to one of her friends. She could not remember exactly which one. So now she was left with nothing to distract her from the task at hoof. There was nothing left to do but bake more cookies. Knead, press, roll, cut. Pinkie’s head drooped for a second. Her hoofs ceased their frantic activity and remained motionless for the briefest moment. Her eyes dulled imperceptibly and her perpetual smile faltered. “Hi, Pinkie!” Twilight Sparkle strolled into the kitchen and glanced around. She saw Pinkie Pie hard at work turning a lump of dough into another masterpiece of delicious treats. Pinkie zoomed around the kitchen with such frenzied excitement that Twilight could not help but grin at her friend’s boundless energy. After sliding another tray of newly cut cookies into the oven, Pinkie turned to greet Twilight with wide grin. “Hiya, Twilight. What brings you here? Ooh, do you want to try out my new recipe for cheeseless quesadillas? I made it especially for you.” Pinkie hopped over to the refrigerator and rummaged around inside of it. “Uh, not now, Pinkie,” Twilight replied before her friend could pull out her latest ridiculous concoction. “I’m sure they taste great, but I’m in a hurry this morning.” “Okie-dokie-lokie. Maybe you can try them tonight at the party.” A timer rang from inside Pinkie’s mane. She immediately dashed over to the oven to remove a batch of cookies that had just finished baking. Flipping the tray sideways at an angle, she added it to the top of what appeared to be an elaborate card-castle-like structure made completely out of baking trays. Twilight noted that all of the trays still had cookies on them. “Actually, that’s what I wanted to talk to you about. The party, I mean, not the quesadillas.” Twilight suppressed a small shudder at the word. “I wanted to check that you were going to have everything ready for Spike’s birthday party this evening.” “Of course!” Pinkie exclaimed. “There would never be any reason for me give to anything less than one of my bestest, most super-exciting-awesome-amazing birthday parties to celebrate one of my friends. No, siree. No reason whatsoever.” Her grin stretched even further than before. “I know that, Pinkie, and I greatly appreciate it,” Twilight said. “I just wanted to make sure that you had done everything on the list I gave you last week.” “Let’s see.” Pinkie reached into the freezer and pulled out a clipboard. “Streamers? Check. Gem cake? Check. Photographs of Spike being generous to remind him what a nice dragon he is just in case he gets greedy and turns into a giant monster bent on destroying all of Ponyville?” “You can never be too careful,” Twilight pointed out. “Check,” confirmed Pinkie. “Wow, Twilight, you’ve thought of everything. Maybe you should go into the party-planning business.” “Don’t be ridiculous, Pinkie Pie.” Twilight shook her head. “I could never do half as good a job as you.” “Sure you could, Twilight,” Pinkie replied. “You just need to be super-duper organized and keep track of what everypony likes to have at their parties. Surely the princess of checklists could keep up with that.” “I suppose,” mused Twilight, “but I don’t have your joyful personality. What really makes your parties special, beyond the simple logistics, is the energy and enthusiasm you put into making sure each pony feels appreciated and celebrated.” “Well, anypony could do that,” countered Pinkie, while cutting a series of cookies into the shape of the Trottingham skyline. “That’s just a part of being a really good friend.” “I don’t know, Pinkie,” said Twilight, watching her friend transfer more trays into and out of the oven. “I’ve never seen anypony as perpetually happy as you. Your joy is so infectious that other ponies can’t help but have a good time at your parties. And that is why you will always be the best party planner in Equestria.” For a brief fraction of a second, Pinkie seemed to pause in her frenzied baking efforts. But then Twilight blinked, and Pinkie was once again stacking trays atop the precarious tower. Maybe Twilight had just imagined that Pinkie had stopped moving. After all, Twilight was not sure if it was even possible for Pinkie Pie to stand still. “Thanks, Twilight.” Pinkie grinned broadly, pulled a rolling pin out of her mane, and turned toward the next batch of dough. “Yeah, I’m the craziest, happiest pony around. Now if you’ll excuse me, I still have, like, a bunch of cookies left to bake before tonight, not to mention checking on the supply of eye patches around the town. I’m super busy.” “Ok, Pinkie, I’ll see you tonight. Thanks again for all of your hard work.” With a cheerful wave, Twilight turned and walked out of the kitchen. Twilight strolled through the front room of Sugarcube Corner, went out the front door, and took flight for her castle. Pinkie Pie listened intently for ring of the front bell followed by the swoosh of wings that indicated Twilight’s departure. Once Pinkie was sure her friend had left, she dropped her smile.
UnsuccessfulPinkie strolled along the outskirts of Ponyville. Yes, she actually strolled for once. Rather than hopping, or bouncing, or inexplicably teleporting from one location to the next, the normally boisterous pony walked like a normal pony at a rather relaxed pace. In fact, at times she even moved more slowly than the average pony. And occasionally, in the few brief moments when she was sure nopony was watching her, Pinkie would halt, droop her neck, and stare blankly at the dirt beneath her. But then, she would immediately straighten up, check that her mane was puffy and her smile was broad, and quickly trot for several paces before slowing down again. Pinkie reached her hoof into another secret hiding spot in another nondescript tree. She felt around for a few seconds until she had located the eye patch concealed within. With a satisfied nod, Pinkie withdrew her hoof and turned in the direction of the next clandestine repository of piratic therapeutic eyewear. She paused for a moment when she heard a quiet noise. Amid the rustling of leaves and the gentle song of a nearby bird, Pinkie listened again for the soft whisper. It had almost sounded like a sniffle, like somepony was crying. Forcing herself to remain perfectly still, Pinkie strained her ears to pick out the low sound. After a few seconds, the sound came again: the unmistakable whimper of a weeping pony. Pinkie wavered for a moment with indecision. On the one hoof, it was her solemn duty to make sure every pony she came across was unequivocally joyful. But on the other hoof, she was not sure if she was in the appropriately boisterous mood she needed to be in so as to cheer somepony up. On the other, other hoof, here was a chance for Pinkie to break out of her own depressed state, by cheering up somepony else. But on the other, other, other hoof, Pinkie found that raising all four hoofs up in the air caused her to fall to the ground with a sudden splat. As she bounced back upright, Pinkie reached her decision. With a quick leap, she bounded in the direction of the crying pony. Weaving in and out of trees as she followed the source of the low whimpers, Pinkie acquired the necessary items for cheering a pony up: a delicious cake oozing with frosting, a bundle of vibrantly colored helium balloons, seventeen streamers, and a tuba. Frowning at the large brass instrument, Pinkie quickly swapped it out for the far more appropriate kazoo. Her target was directly ahead, just beyond a clump of bushes. With a mighty spring, Pinkie hurtled the shrubbery and tossed confetti in every direction. Streamers unfurled behind her as she landed, the cake held triumphantly before her. Pinkie held her pose proudly, until she noticed the pony cowering in front of her. Fluttershy lay curled up on the ground. Startled by the sudden arrival of Pinkie Pie, she had ducked down and hidden her face behind her hooves, only slowly peeking her head up as she realized it was only Pinkie. Her startled gaze began to soften, but even her frightened look could not hide the puffiness around her eyes. “Oh, um, hi, Pinkie Pie,” Fluttershy mumbled. “Hi, Fluttershy!” Pinkie responded with a massive grin. She forced energy into her voice as she continued. “It sounds to me like you need somepony to help cheer you up!” “Um, well, actually,” Fluttershy began as she turned away from Pinkie, “I’m not sure if this is exactly the best time for…” “Don’t be silly!” Pinkie exclaimed, drowning out Fluttershy’s subdued declaration. “Everypony deserves to be cheery and glad. If there’s one thing that makes me happy…” “Please don’t start singing,” whispered Fluttershy. But it was too late; her exuberant friend had already launched into an impromptu musical routine, complete with colorful backgrounds and random ponies appearing to provide harmony. For the next several minutes, Fluttershy lay silently as Pinkie Pie belted out her joyous melody. Finally, after an extra chorus, a key change, and the inexplicable appearance of Cheese Sandwich among the backup singers, the song reached its conclusion. Then it was just Fluttershy and Pinkie again, the latter staring with an expectant smile straight into the mournful eyes of the former. “That was, um, that was nice,” Fluttershy murmured, with little conviction in her voice. Pinkie’s face fell. “Come on, Fluttershy! You should be happy! What reason could you possibly have for being sad?” At this, Fluttershy’s face hardened. She stood up, turned directly toward Pinkie, and took a step forward. “Do you want to know what’s bothering me?” Fluttershy said with quiet firmness. “I’ll tell you what the matter is. This morning I found that Mr. Beaverteeth had been seriously injured when a tree fell on him. I’ve spent all day tending to him, but he’s been getting weaker every minute. I’m not sure if he’ll recover, I can’t find his family to let them know what’s going on, and the last thing I need is somepony to come skipping by and tell me I should be happy!” Fluttershy raised her voice as she took another step toward Pinkie. “Maybe life consists only of sunshine and parties for you, Pinkie Pie, but the rest of us have real problems to deal with. Now if you’re done be frivolous, I must be going!” Fluttershy turned her back on Pinkie Pie. Spreading her wings, the Fluttershy took flight and soared away from her dumbstruck friend. A single tear trailed behind the pegasus as she departed. Pinkie Pie sat there a minute, not moving a muscle. She just stared into space, even as the balloons she held sank to the ground and a stray breeze blew out the candles on the cake. The kazoo fell from her gaping mouth and landed in the dirt. A passing squirrel picked up the instrument and excitedly carried it off, but still the pony did not stir. She sat, she stared, and she pondered as her mane slowly deflated. Today was not going well. “This party is great!” With eager excitement, Spike plucked another gift off of the table and quickly tore open the wrapping paper. His eyes gleamed at the sight of the rich assortment of gemstones that fell from the package. Spike immediately snatched up the loose gems before any of them could fall to the floor. From her seat on the throne opposite Spike’s, Pinkie surveyed the scene. To Spike’s left, Twilight fidgeted nervously, unconsciously reaching one hoof under the table for the photos of Spike she had kept nearby. Twilight seemed concerned that Spike might show signs of greed again, and she was ready to step in at a moment’s notice. When she and Pinkie had met the previous week to begin preparations for the party, they had agreed that a series of photographs that showed Spike being helpful and generous would probably be enough to keep him from succumbing to draconic envy. If they could remind Spike of his true nature before he grew out of control, then they could avert another crisis. Still, Pinkie knew that as a precautionary measure, Twilight had also researched large-scale freezing spells, capable of incapacitating a full-sized dragon. But she need not have worried. As Spike earnestly thanked Rarity for the gift, Pinkie saw they had no reason to fear him. Spike would not let greed get the better of him again. He was far too kind a dragon to let such evil tendencies take control of him again. No, Spike would always be himself, and that would never change. The thought almost brought a smile to Pinkie’s face. Well, it would have, had she not already been grinning ear to ear. “Ooh! Ooh! You should open mine next!” Pinkie leaned to the side and reached for a gift that was somehow hidden just barely out of sight from all her friends. Stretching across the table, she dropped the large, colorful box in front of Spike in a brief flurry of confetti. Pinkie returned to her seat as Spike began to rip open the present. She wondered for a moment what it was she had gotten him. Then Pinkie remembered that she had been the one to pick out the gift. She could just ask herself what she had bought for Spike. Pinkie Pie was in the process of doing just that when the sound of a small explosion interrupted her. Pinkie leapt into the air, hooves flailing every which way. Eventually she managed to grab onto one of the roots of the tree chandelier. Dangling high above the party, Pinkie surveyed the chaos below her. A brightly colored piece of heavy artillery protruded from an equally vibrant—but far less tactically valuable—box. Waves of confetti and streamers surrounded this epicenter that had vomited its cheerful contents across the entire room. Five ponies cautiously poked their heads above the table under which they had taken momentary cover. And lying in a daze on the floor next to the surprise present was one dragon too shocked to move. Twilight recovered first. Her gaze turned from the twitching dragon on the floor, to the party cannon gift resting on the table, and finally up to the sheepishly grinning pony hanging above her. With the all the calm reserve and elegant demeanor befitting royalty, Twilight succinctly expressed her assessment of the situation with a single word. “PINKIE!” The pony in question grinned sheepishly. Letting go of the decorative tree root, she quickly dropped back down to her throne. Pinkie halted her fall immediately before landing, so she returned to her seat with a barely a sound. Silence reigned for a few more seconds as all eyes turned toward the party pony. Spike sat up with a groan and fixed Pinkie with as questioning a look as he could manage in his befuddled state. “What was that supposed to be?” Pinkie swallowed slowly without dropping her smile. Then she answered, “Sorry, I may have possibly accidently made a slight mistake in wrapping your present. There’s a distinct chance that instead of wrapping the hoof-picked masterpiece that I had carefully selected to ensure you were satisfied with your gift and pleased with your party and generally happy enough that you would look back on this evening with fond memories that most certainly would not include being temporarily paralyzed by the shock of an unexpected explosion…instead-I-accidently-wrapped-a-party-cannon-instead,” Pinkie Pie finished in a rush. Spike blinked, stared at Pinkie, and blinked again. “That’s ok, Pinkie. It just startled me, that’s all. And…I still get a real present, right?” “Of course!” Pinkie quivered with excitement and plunged a hoof into her mane. “What I really meant to give you was…” She paused while searching for the right item. “This!” Pinkie triumphantly pulled a dustpan out of her mane and presented it to Spike. Spike paused. “A dustpan? Seriously?” “Oh, um, that wasn’t it either.” Pinkie hurriedly stuffed the dustpan back in her mane and rummaged around for the thing she was actually looking for. “No, no, no,” she mused as she extracted, in quick succession, a bowling ball, a scepter, and a mailbox. “Where did I put that?” Pinkie began to search more frantically, the occasional random object falling out of her mane as she hastily sifted through her entire inventory. Spike waited as a pile of assorted items formed in front of Pinkie Pie. But when what looked like a parasprite emerged from her mane, Spike decided he had seen enough. “You know what, never mind. You can just give me your present the next time I stop by Sugarcube Corner.” “Aw…” Pinkie moaned. “I really picked out a good one, too. I just can’t seem to find it, for some reason.” “No big deal,” Spike replied. “I’m sure it will be worth the wait. Now, who has my next gift?” Dejected, Pinkie began returning her heap of miscellaneous objects to its proper place. She filed them away in silence as Spike turned his attention to the next present in line: a curiously rectangular package from Twilight. Pinkie never was able to find the gift she had picked out for him.
UnbreakableWith a smile and a wave, Pinkie turned to exit the castle. After a long evening of running a party, it was finally time to head home and rest. Ordinarily, going home to sleep wound have been the last thing on Pinkie Pie’s mind. Celebrating with her friends usually filled her with so much energy that she would stay up half the night bouncing off the walls (a tricky thing to do silently so as to not wake the Cake twins). But this evening, she just felt…weary. Like a balloon that had lost most of its air, but still retained just enough to keep its shape. If she had to continue to be Pinkie Pie for one more minute, she would fall apart. So with a drooping neck and a slightly deflated mane, Pinkie descended the front steps of Twilight’s castle. Slowly, she began the trek back to Sugarcube Corner and her waiting bed. Only to be stopped three steps later by the gentle but firm request of the Princess of Friendship. “Pinkie Pie, wait a minute please.” Twilight glided down from the entryway and landed next to Pinkie. “I was wondering if I could talk to you.” “Sure thing, Twilight,” Pinkie said cheerfully. “What do you want to talk about? Ooh! I know! You want to discuss why the only ancient magician whose spells ever seem to impact our lives is Starswirl the Beard! Is that it?” “Well, not exactly, Pinkie,” Twilight matched Pinkie’s slow pace as they meandered toward the heart of Ponyville. “Actually, I just wanted to check to see if you’re doing alright.” “Of course I’m doing fine! I’m always fine!” Pinkie punctuated her exuberant declaration with a miniature explosion of streamers and confetti. She gave Twilight a wide smile, but then quickly turned away to stare off into the distance. Twilight said nothing. She craned her neck to stare at the rising moon as the two ponies walked in peaceful silence. After nearly a minute of contemplating the subdued majesty of the celestial orb, Twilight looked again at her oddly silent friend. “Really?” she asked. Pinkie tried to hold Twilight’s gaze. She tried to smile, to bounce into the air, to dismiss Twilight’s concerns with an easy laugh. But the muscles around her mouth simply would not cooperate. The smile that normally came so easily to her suddenly felt out of place on her lips; the boisterous expression that she usually wore felt as foreign as a dragon’s greedy snarl. Eventually, Pinkie could bear it no longer. Her eyes dropped toward the ground, and her hoofsteps slowed. A sound that almost never came from her escaped into the still night air: a short, fatigued sigh. “Actually, Twilight, I’m not alright. I don’t feel like myself today.” Twilight tipped her head in curiosity, but otherwise said nothing. Pinkie paused for a second to gather her thoughts, and then continued. “I don’t know what it is. I woke up this morning feeling a bit depressed. I couldn’t get excited about anything. Not about baking, not about parties, not about making other ponies smile. I was able to go through the motions, but I didn’t want to.” “You seemed lively enough at the party this evening,” Twilight observed. Pinkie snorted. It was a tired, lonely sound. “I pretended be myself. I knew the kind of things I would normally do, and I spent the party perfectly imitating my usual crazy Pinkie-ness. Well, almost perfectly.” “The mix-up with your present for Spike.” It was not a question. Pinkie gave a small nod. “I hadn’t been paying attention when I wrapped his gift. I was still trying to figure out what had gone wrong with cheering up Fluttershy, and I accidently mistook a party cannon for a set of cooking supplies. And when Spike opened the wrong gift, it threw me off. My Pinkie-ness slipped for a minute.” “What happened with Fluttershy? I was able to get some of the details from her, but I wanted to hear about what happened from you.” Twilight’s voice was gentle, but the pointedness in her tone betrayed a trace of the keen analysis behind the simple question. “I heard her crying in the forest, and I went to cheer her up. I tried everything: a surprise ambush, a cake, an impromptu song…but all it did was make her mad. Well, mad for Fluttershy, which is still a really frightening thing.” A cool breeze fluttered by. It rustled through Pinkie’s mane, blowing a few loose strands into her eyes. As she brushed them away, Pinkie noted that the strands had straightened out. The usual chaotic curl of her mane had disappeared. Just as well. Everything else that defined her seemed to be gone as well. Pinkie stopped walking completely. She turned to completely face Twilight, staring directly at her friend with an unwavering plea in her eyes. “What’s wrong with me?” Pinkie’s voice trembled. “I’m the element of laughter. My destiny is to make others smile. Why can’t I seem to do that? And why do I not even feel like I want to?” Pinkie fell silent. After a few agonizing seconds, she looked away, staring off into the nothingness in front of her. She stood there, somewhere between crying and screaming. Pinkie waited for Twilight’s condemnation, her detailed explanation of why Pinkie was an inadequate friend and a horrible pony for abandoning that one true part of herself that made her who she was. Pinkie tensed in anticipation of Twilight’s thorough assessment of the precise chain of events that led to this point, all of the bad choices she had made that had caused her to stray from the correct path. And worst of all, Pinkie dreaded Twilight’s inevitable conclusion that she could no longer associate with such a disappointment of a mare. Near silence. The only sound came from the gentle murmur of the wind. Neither pony spoke; neither pony moved. Pinkie dared not glance in Twilight’s direction. She doubted she could handle seeing the disappointment in Twilight’s gaze. Pinkie closed her eyes in solemn resignation. Then Pinkie felt a wing lightly brush against her back. It was a gentle touch, neither a firm strike nor a crushing hug. Rather, it was a humble gesture that simply conveyed Twilight’s presence. “Pinkie,” said Twilight, “nothing is wrong with you. You’re still the same great pony I’ve come to know and love over all the years since I first moved to Ponyville.” “But…” Pinkie opened her eyes to the sight of Twilight’s gentle smile. “I don’t feel the same. I feel like a mess.” “Nopony can be happy all the time,” Twilight replied. “Not even you,” she added quickly as Pinkie opened her mouth to interrupt. “Emotions come and go, and sometimes it’s just more appropriate to be sad. Look at Fluttershy. When one of her animal friends was injured, she naturally wanted to cry. It showed that she cared. Acting cheerful would have just been fake.” “So…you’re saying that all I ever do is make ponies into hypocrites by trying to make them happy?” Pinkie’s voice quivered with worry. “No!” Twilight response came abruptly, but it conveyed surprise more than anger. “Every day, I see you offer something far greater than a momentary laugh: you give ponies hope. You show them that the world is never as bad as they think, and there is always something to worth being glad about. Your joy is so infectious that other ponies can’t help but realize that they too can face life’s difficulties with a smile.” “Except today. Today I don’t have any joy to contaminate other ponies with,” Pinkie said with a slight frown. “We all need to be reminded at times about those things that are truest about us. I know that I routinely forget what it means to be a good friend, and I’m supposed to be Equestria’s leading expert on the subject. And sometimes, it’s when we struggle to remember these things that we come to truly understand them.” “But what if I never stop feeling this way? What if I never go back to my bubbly, crazy, make-every-pony-in-town-smile self?” “In that case,” said Twilight thoughtfully, “I suppose you continue on as you always have: you spread that joy of yours that runs deeper than what you feel. Not faking a cheerful attitude, but giving an optimistic confidence that goes beyond your current mood. And maybe you can reach out to other ponies that really some hope right now.” “Like Fluttershy,” Pinkie said somberly. Twilight nodded. “I think you’re the only pony who can cheer her up. You just need to try a different approach from this afternoon. As long as you’re sincere, I know you’ll do great.” Pinkie Pie opened her eyes. A dull, grey light coming in from the windows illuminated the familiar sights of her bedroom. There were the same pink lollipops; there stood the same ice cream cone. Her perpetually impassive pet stared out the window at the same lifeless image of a town frozen in the pre-dawn glow. And once again, one of the balloons on her bed had sunk down to the floor during the night. With a contented yawn, Pinkie climbed out of bed and set her hooves on the cold floor. She stood there for a moment, contemplating the leaking balloon floating in front of her. Then, after a second’s hesitation, Pinkie gripped the balloon and detached it from its string. Putting it up to her mouth, she re-inflated the shrinking party favor with helium, restoring it to the proper sizes and buoyancy. Then she retied the balloon to her bed, making the knot just a bit tighter than before to keep the air from leaking out. Nodding in satisfaction at the completion of this task, Pinkie turned to greet her gloriously stoic pet alligator. Gummy responded to her sincere “Good morning!” by briefly licking her face. It was a simple, almost indifferent gesture, but Pinkie appreciated it all the same. Before heading downstairs to begin the day, Pinkie took a few seconds to peer out the window and enjoy the peaceful sight of Ponyville laid out before her. There were no ponies out and about to break the stillness with their chatter and bustle, but Pinkie knew that would soon change. Soon, she would be the most exuberant pony out there, disseminating her energy throughout the entire town. Soon, pegasi would clear away the gloomy layer of clouds, and the sun would shine brightly across Ponyville. Soon, the town would light with all the colors and noises and smells of a typical, lively day. Pinkie blinked slowly a couple of times. Then, with a slow sigh, she turned her back on the window and bounced toward the stairs. It was time to bring life to an otherwise dreary morning. Fluttershy tenderly placed a hoof on the sleeping head of Mr. Beaverteeth. The creature was resting uneasily, still racked by pain from the injuries he had sustained the previous day. As much as she hated to admit it, there was little else Fluttershy could do for the poor beaver. He would need time to heal, and all she could do was be there to help him through the pain. “Um, Fluttershy?” asked a timid voice behind her. Fluttershy turned around. Standing in the entrance to her cottage stood a familiar pink pony. “Hello.” While her voice was as soft as always, Fluttershy felt some of her sorrow and disappointment trickle into her voice. “Are you here to throw another wild party?” “Well, um, actually…” Pinkie Pie fidgeted uncertainly as she attempted to respond. In fact, Fluttershy noted that her friend was not bouncing off the walls like she usual did. Today, she seemed more…contained. “I wanted to apologize for yesterday. I shouldn’t have tried to force a party on you the way I did.” Fluttershy gave a nearly inaudible gasp of astonishment. Then her face softened into a gentle smile. “It’s alright, Pinkie. I know you were just trying to help.” “Well, for once my helping didn’t seem to go so well.” Pinkie swallowed before continuing. “And I wanted to make it up to you. You’d said you couldn’t find Mr. Beaverteeth’s family, so I went out in my Pinkie-copter this morning and let them know what had happened. They’ll be coming over in about two thousand seconds or so.” “Thanks, Pinkie,” said Fluttershy gratefully, rather surprised by her friend’s behavior. “I know it means a lot to Mr. Beaverteeth. And, it means a lot to me, too.” “In the meantime, I thought that maybe I could, well, help you keep Mr. Beaverteeth company.” Pinkie Pie slowly walked over to Fluttershy. “I Pinkie-promise I won’t go all happy-crazy like I normally do. I just figured, well—I figured it might cheer you up to have somepony sit with you.” Without another word, Pinkie calmly sat down next to Fluttershy. “Thank you,” Fluttershy whispered. “I really could use a friend right now.” Fluttershy wrapped a wing around Pinkie and pulled her close. Pinkie responded by putting a hoof around Fluttershy’s shoulder. The two ponies sat there quietly, gazing somberly at the sleeping Beaver in front of them. Pinkie Pie did not squirm; she did not bounce around; she did not even burst into song. But her presence meant more to Fluttershy in that moment than any jubilant celebration ever could. Next to her, Pinkie Pie smiled.
