Post Haste is an Oxymoron
Pinkie bit her lower lip, then shifted her weight from her left hooves to the right ones and back again. Today! It’s positively, absolutely, totally gonna be today! She reached for the mailbox’s door with a trembling hoof.
But what if it’s not? Pinkie’s hoof froze in midair. I thought yesterday was totally gonna be the day, too, but it wasn’t. I mean, it was a day, but not the day, even though I really, really wanted it to be. With a sigh, Pinkie slowly sank back onto her haunches and stared up at the mailbox. What if it’s just boring ol’ bills? Again.
She’d spoken with Twilight about it a few weeks ago, but somehow her friend didn’t seem all that convinced that there was a problem. It seemed pretty clear to Pinkie, though: Her mailbox was definitely cursed. The bills and coupons and stuff always showed up lightning fast, but when you were waiting for something—when it was something you really wanted—time slowed to a crawl.
Pinkie pursed her lips. Lazy time! I’m here waiting every day and it can’t get its act together. It just keeps on moving all super slow like it’s got all the time in the world! Pinkie paused, tapping a hoof against her cheek. Which I guess it does, but it’s still not very nice. But I don’t know time all that well. Maybe it’s just really busy. It probably needs a day planner or something.
Pinkie scooched closer to the mailbox. Okay, maybe I’ll just start slow. Tentatively reaching out, she tapped the metal pole with the tip of her hoof.
The shivers took her immediately. She always got them when something had an air of mystery and intrigue. Now the skin on her back rippled in waves that crested and broke at the base of her tail. Breathing heavily, Pinkie shook her head to clear the shiver fuzz. “Whoa! Strong one!”
Standing, she stretched out the last of the shivers. As strange as they made her feel, she always missed them when they were gone. Their appearance meant that she was doing something adventurous or mysterious or adventerious. It was like a surprise party. So much anticipation! But sometimes surprises went wrong, like when she got mad at her friends for their surprise party. That was the bad part of adventerious days: you just never knew what was going to come out of them. Right now, the mailbox was still closed, and as long as it remained that way, it was totally full of adventeriousness.
She took a deep breath and reached for the door, only to slowly retract her hoof once again. Moving straight to the door seemed like a big, shiver-inducing step. Swallowing hard, she decided to check the tiny rivets along the mailbox’s seams for stress instead. Well, it doesn’t look bulgy, or even bulge-ish. Oh, no! What if it is just bills? Pinkie’s eyes welled up, but she rubbed them vigorously. “No! No thinking like that.” She wiped her eyes hard with the back of a hoof. “It’s gonna be there!”
There was a time when none of this would have been so hard. Pinkie had discovered long ago that what she really wanted was to make ponies happy, and she’d done it in whatever way came naturally at the time. But things were different now. Ponies depended on her. Before, when the smiles maybe weren’t as big as she’d hoped, or the punch wasn’t quite fruity enough, or the balloons didn’t exactly float right and ended up all just laying on the floor, she’d just shrugged. She’d tried, and everypony always said that trying was what really mattered.
But they were coming to her now! She used to throw parties just because they were fun, but now ponies relied on her to make the perfect memories. Now the cake frosting needed to be the creamiest and the music had to be the tail-shakingiest. Somehow, without even realizing it, she’d become important, and it was kinda scary.
When she’d started planning parties all those years ago, she’d never really thought about how much pressure creating the most super-funnerific events anypony had ever seen could be. Each party needed to be uniquely tailored to suit the guest of honor. It had to be creative and memorable, but not so much so that the last pony to get a party thought that they’d gotten less than her best effort, or that the next pony’s expectations would be more than she could handle. The party had to be just right. And uppity mailboxes didn’t help at all.
Pinkie nestled the side of her head up against the mailbox’s cool exterior. Sticking her tongue out of the corner of her mouth, she poured all of her attention into her ears. Well, I don’t hear any— “Ow! Owowow!”
Pinkie leaned away and wrapped her hooves around the quivering pole. She’d been listening so hard that her whole head had been trembling. Picking up the vibration, the mailbox had amplified and returned it, hammering her several times before she could move away. She rubbed her smarting ear and glared at the mailbox. “Hey, you can’t just hit ponies!” she said, venting twin jets of steam from her nostrils. “I guess Twilight was right when she said that mails are just naturally more aggressive. Maybe I need a femail box.”
Squinting, she watched the mailbox for further signs of violence. It appeared calm once more. Maybe too calm. It’s probably gonna pounce! She leapt away, then crouched, ready for action.
Cool and inscrutable, the mailbox bided its time.
Pinkie’s brow furrowed, and she put a hoof to her chin. Huh. Well, maybe I just got too close. Applejack says I’m always invading somepony’s personal space, but I’m pretty sure you can’t invade anything if you don’t bring a flag. Maybe Twilight’s home. She’ll know.
Pinkie took four steps before pulling up short. Turning, she marched right back to the mailbox. “Mind games, huh? Thought you could distract me by bringing up Twilight?” she said, giving it a hard stare. “Well, this pony’s at least three times smarter than any mailbox, or femailbox even, so bring it!” Snarling, she flattened her nose against the small metal door.
The mailbox brought nothing, obviously cowed.
Taking care not to blink, Pinkie took a step backwards. “That’s what I thought! Now listen up, mailbox. I’ve got a party to plan, and I need some cooperation! Rarity’s going to have her fall line featured in Cosmarepolitan, and she’s gonna need the bash to end all bashes to celebrate!” Looking down at her hooves, Pinkie’s expression softened. “I-I’ve been waiting because I need something special. Something nopony has seen before. I really want Rarity to feel like I’m going the extra mile here, but I can’t until you help me out!” Kneeling, Pinkie closed her eyes and folded her hooves together. “So, pretty, pretty please with fudge and mint chocolate chips on top, let today be the day! I’m running out of time! I don't want to postpone because the post didn't pony up! I don't want to be a postpony!”
Cracking an eye open, Pinkie stole a glance at the mailbox. It stood unchanged.
Pinkie sighed and let her hooves fall to her sides with a thump. “Work with me here! You could at least put your little flag up or something.” Pinkie inhaled, filling her lungs, and then blew the air out slowly. Halfway through, she broke out into a fit of giggles as her lips vibrated together. “Okay, Pinkie. You’re just gonna have to do it!”
Clenching her jaw, Pinkie willed her hoof to grasp the mailbox door’s metal tab. She squeezed her eyes closed and pulled.
Silence.
Pinkie forced down the lump in her throat and tried to still her wildly beating heart. The adventeriousness was almost too much to bear. Screwing up her courage, she opened her eyes.
The mailbox was full. Very full.
Pinkie tore through the contents with badly shaking hooves. “Bill… Ad… Coupons... ’Nother bill—EEEEEEK!”
Pinkie leapt into the air, her mane standing on end. “Yesyesyesyesyes!” Squealing, she zoomed around and around the mailbox.
Shindig Soiree’s Super Celebration Selection party supply catalogue had finally arrived, and with it, all the newest, bestest, most funtastic-est stuff for the proclamation and amplification of any celebration! Thousands of pages, just cram-packed with the cutting edge of get-together gadgets and fiesta favorites. Leafing rapidly through the pages, ideas ignited, soaring and exploding like fireworks in her mind.
Pinkie’s hooves were a blur as she ran in place, squealing. After giving the book a quick hug, Pinkie pushed it into her voluminous mane and bounded for Sugarcube Corner’s kitchen. She wanted to run her first ten dozen or so ideas by Mr. and Mrs. Cake while they were still fresh.
Rarity’s party was going to be so off the hook!
Author's Note
I wrote this something like two years ago for a collab that never came together. The idea was that it needed to be an absolute slice of life. No character growth. No adventure. Nothing out of the ordinary. It had to be just strictly a slice of that character's life.
Given those parameters, I came up with this. Hopefully you found it entertaining, though I certainly understand that the stakes are very, very low.
Other stories that I know of that were to be in that collab are:
For The Birds - Pascoite
Persephone - PresentPerfect
