Pinkie Pie's StoryView OnlinePinkie Pie Tells A StoryPinkie Pie's Story6 hours until the apocalypse… I woke up that morning in a daze, very confused as to why I was feeling the way I was. Every part of my body felt weird. My twitchy-twich tail, pinchety-pinch knee, and fluttering eyelids told me a forbidden tale. The very antithesis of our existence on Equestria. We would be erased. But, thinking nothing of it, I took stock of my room for the millionth time. There was Gummy on my bookshelf, still snoozing his cute alligator face off. All of my books rested in their particular places, not alphabetical mind you, but in the order I felt they should be in at the moment. The bookshelf rested against the corner to the front and left of my bed, slightly blocking the window I’d decided to create for myself. To call it a window would be a stretch though, seeing as I didn’t have any glass put in the hole yet, much less a window frame. Just a small project I’d started about a week earlier with a handsaw I borrowed from Handyman Joe. The door to the right of my bed was closed, locked safely and securely. Nothing beats cooping oneself at home after a crazy day outside where no pony can get to you. Well, besides the gaping window in my wall. All of my walls were still the same color. Pink. Although some of it had faded a bit due to the sun shining through the window. And the flies, the flies were really a problem at the moment. Making my own window seemed like less of a good thing now. They were really distracting. The flies. My floofy pillow looked as comfortable as it felt to sleep on it. Still, too much comfort is never a bad thing, so I decided to puff it up a bit more. My blankets were starting to smell since I’d washed them about a week ago. I always woke up caked in sweat for some reason and that didn't help too much. I could tell from the way the sun was shining through my window that it was still earlier in the morning, about one hour before my usual wake up time. It’s impossible to sleep when those random distress signals mess with your body. Still, waking up was a good thing today, because there was a big party I had to prepare for and I could do with about sixty minutes of relaxation before becoming the social twitterbug that I was. Sweeping sounds filtered under my door from where Ms. Cake was sweeping up the bakery floor. She always woke up early to set up shop. Nothing beats losing oneself to a mindless chore. She always enjoyed it when I spoke. Little Miss Muffet sat on a tuffet of old, slightly-congealed bread. I always liked to use this little limerick on Ms. Cake, mainly because of how much she complemented me the first time. Use the the word ‘the’ twice and nopony bats an eye, but use a doozy like ‘congealed’ and you’ve got yourself an impressed pony. I guess Twilight would know more about that than anypony. There was one part of the routine that I was forgetting, and I wasn’t about to leave the room until I remembered. Flies. Flies. Flies. Flies. Flies. Flies. Flies. Flies. Flies. Flies. Flies. Flies. Flies. Flies. Flies. Flies. Flies. Flies. Flies. Flies. Those things were really starting to annoy me. They were making it very hard for me to remember the last part of my routine and I couldn’t go out until I finished. What was it that I needed to remember? Flies. No, not that. Flies. Seriously, they’re not what’s important right now. Gummy. Already taken care of. Faceless Gummy. I didn’t mean what I said earlier literally. Handjob Man. For my information, Pinkie, it’s Handyman Joe. DON’T make that mistake in public. Ceiling. That’s what it was! Thanks me. I just needed to check out the six sides of the cube and I was done. I looked up at the ceiling first. Big gooey globs of pink, as expected. The wall opposite me looked alright. The wall with the huge gaping hole in it, for the door, looked okay as well. I looked at the wall with the window. It looked okay at first, but I noticed through my ugly window that Applejack was running through the streets. Which was unacceptable because if there were going to be any perturbations in the streets, I, Pinkamena Diane Pie, would have to be a part of them. So, I jumped through my window without really thinking about how high the second story of Sugarcube Corner was. It helped that Applejack broke my fall though, although she wasn’t too happy about it. Like seriously, she’s an earth pony for crying out loud. I’m just a common…oh. Alright, so, even though Applejack was mad at me, we made up and she told me what shenanigans she wanted to participate in. Turned out there was a huge Apple Reunion going on and I hadn’t been invited! She explained that although we were in the same family, Applejack wanted to have a special countryside-themed reunion with her side of the family, seeing as my family wasn’t too particular to that kind of thing. It made sense, but surely she knew that I didn’t mind. But all’s well that ends well. Applejack made an honest mistake, and all I had to do was force myself into the event. I asked if I could come, but she didn’t look too happy about it. She went on and on about how I wasn’t really invited, but if I wanted to come, she wasn’t going to stop me. Which just sounded like it was one of those secret invitations y’know? It was almost like she was telling me I could come, but that I couldn’t let anypony know that she had invited me. Who knew Applejack was such a sneaky pony? I made sure to tell her that I most definitely was not coming to the reunion and that I would most definitely not bring a cake and that I would most definitely not… Uh oh. She face-hoofed. Probably just to keep up the façade. I know you Applejack, I know your ways… So to prepare for Applejack’s reunion, I ran straight for Sugarcube Corner so that I could make a huge, hunky, hot, hearty cake for my friendly family members. But let me tell you, making a cake is a lot of work. The one I made for the Canterlot Wedding took a whole thirteen minutes! I mean yeah, it did go quicker than expected because of how used to baking I am, but still, I could’ve taken over the world in that time! I didn’t want to make anything too extravagant, mainly because of how hard it was to move the cake I made for the wedding, so I just made a five layer apple frosted, apple scented, apple topped, apple filled cake. I’m not sure if the description of the cake gave it away or not, but I wanted to go for a very subtle apple theme. This wasn’t just any apple cake though, for I had stored within it, a very special surprise. Still, I wasn’t about to reveal any secrets, so I took the cake to the reunion straightaway. When I got there, the Apple family was just about done with preparations. My Pinkie senses told me that the event would start in thirty minutes. It also helped that a huge banner, reading, Assemble at 8:00, hung right in front of me. And that right underneath it, on the stage it was hung, a clock read 7:30. I had to find the dessert stand quick. All of the food rested on a bunch of picnic tables, but the desserts were partitioned at their own table about three feet away from the rest. It was full of Apple-related confectionaries, but all very much lacking compared to my cake. These confectionaries had to give up some space and there was only one place for them to go. On the ground of course. If the Apple Family was anything like mine, they wouldn’t mind eating things off the ground. I mean like, my family literally eats the ground. I was careful to keep the desserts intact as I moved them, and when I’d finally finished creating my clever confectionary corral, I put my cake on the table with a resounding whump. This got the attention of the other ponies at the event. Some shouted out with joy, them being the younger ponies, while others looked at me and resigned themselves to their fate, the old geezers. I’d have to have a talk with them later. Who gave them the right to act so downtrodden in front of all of the young ones?! In my heart of hearts though, I felt like they actually liked me deep down, they were just acting that way because everpony expected them to. Applejack trotted up to me, her footsteps a teensy bit rushed and erratic. She said something about how I’d actually come to the event, but her voice was deadpan. Her secret invitation had gone perfectly! Why was she so snooty about it? From my one week of psychology classes I’d taken with Cheerilee, though, I think I knew the reason. She was just stressed out by the event. The preparations were about done though, so she didn’t have to worry for much longer. This looked like one of those events that ran themselves when set up. There weren’t any games, booths, or building projects in sight, so things would get better for her. And just like that, Granny Smith belched into her loudspeaker to start the event. Everypony gathered at the tables with a hunger developed by hard work. Whole cabbage heads ripped apart as ponies fought for first purchase of the food, but even by my standards, it looked savage. Like what pony in her right mind would throttle her own cousin over half a corn-cob? Something was afoot, and Pinkie Pie the Detective would figure who do dund it. But if I’d learned anything from my last encounter as a detective, it’s that I couldn’t just go around throwing accusations. Although Applejack’s family was known for its roughhousing, something had to be driving these ponies crazy. Poison joke, the mirror pool, a particularly bad rendition of ‘Equestria the Beautiful’? None of these seemed to be the source of extreme aggression. Perhaps Luna? She didn’t strike me as a pony that would do that sort of thing though. Enslave Equestria? Maybe, but toying with the emotions of ponies for no other purpose than one’s own personal enjoyment… Discord. Accusations. Accusations Pinkie. I couldn’t just go throwing accusations like that. Before locking up the perpetrator, it was important to have a nice, coltlike conversation about his innocence. I screamed for Discord, hoping to summon him like the ponies do in stories. Surprisingly, it worked. Right next to me, Discord greeted me with his best impression of Rarity, fluttering his eyelids along the way. But I wasn’t going to have any of that. The perpetrator of this injustice was going to pay, and Discord just had to be behind it. Along with a few other choice words, I decided to call him a conniving criminal. At first, he looked really angry, but went back to normal pretty quick. He explained that he was with Fluttershy the whole time, and that she’d suddenly gotten really abusive for no reason. My eyes gleamed with the byproducts of confirmation bias. The way he shifted from angry to neutral so quick, it had to mean he was guilty. He was even with Fluttershy when she first showed signs of aggression. So, under the jurisdiction granted to me by Celestia, I declared him under arrest, which turned out much easier than I’d prepared for. Not only did he summon the handcuffs, but he put them over his own wrists, and in a mocking tone, claimed his guilt like the villain he was. Applejack’s family was still going at it though, and Discord hadn’t done anything to stop them. I tried to give him a version of Fluttershy’s stare. Just like I’d expected him to, he snapped his fingers, but nothing happened. If anything, it made the family worse. I looked at Discord with an indicting glare, but his face was white. Frantically, he kept trying to snap his fingers, sweat pouring down over his face. He gave up after the tenth try, which made it pretty clear that his attempts were fruitless. I asked him if he could summon a key for the handcuffs, but he just shook his head no. Whatever had made Applejack’s family angry, was now interfering with Discord’s magic. Now that I knew Discord was innocent, which was quite a surprise, I could go back to my investigations. It didn’t take very long for me to find something odd. A smell quite unlike what I’ve experienced before wafted over the area. It reminded me of my mother when I was a child. She would always take me down to the darkest, stuffiest caves and rock me until I fell asleep. The dusty smell of her mane is something I would never forget, at least for what remained of my life. The most beautiful glowing blue particles drifted through the air above me, as well as the rest of the Apple family. As much I tried to avoid them, they clung to my fur, soothing each region of my tense muscles. I could still control myself, but I felt as though I’d just walked out of one of Rarity’s spa excursions. Applejack’s family was docile now. Everypony profusely apologized for their actions with lazy hoof gestures and nods. It was pretty clear that the mist held calming powers, but why the sudden burst of aggression from before? At this point though, I struggled to care. If it was possible to feel like this every day I would gladly take the sudden bursts of aggression every now and again. Just look how friendly everypony was now. Perhaps this was the end goal of Twilight’s castle. My fur practically glowed blue at this point, and I had the strange urge to eat one of the things, which I did. And just like I’d expected, it tasted exactly like cotton candy. Best of all, rock flavor. I tried to tell Discord about the fantastic tastes, but he was already way ahead of me. He was gobbling those specks by the mouthful. I heard him go on and on about chocolate flavored chaos, which did sound pretty good, but yet another thing caught my attention. Something that looked like the moon was expanding in the sky. It kept getting larger and larger until eventually, a small red border outlined the massive shape. It took me a moment to realize that the massive rock wasn’t expanding, but falling. Right towards me. So accurately in fact that I would probably get squished before getting incinerated by the impact. I wanted to run away, but there was no way I could escape in time and it was my sole duty to tell everypony of their doom. So like the brave pony I was, I stood on top of the family reunion picnic table and announced to the masses below, that we were all going to die! Still, afterwards I told them that nopony should panic. Like, no one wants to die screaming and scrambling for cover. My soothing words didn’t have the effect I intended. Everypony screamed and scrambled for cover, even though most of them knew it was fruitless. Seriously, what ponies waste the last seconds of their life filled with dread and sorrow? It’s such a bad way to go. Aaaaand boom! We all died. “What?!” a small runty foal named Little Pip exclaimed. “How is it you’re even telling this story?” “Telling what?” Pinkie Pie asked. “This story. If you died in your story, you wouldn’t be alive now.” She smiled at that. “Well, that goes to show you just how complicated it is finding your cutie mark.” Author's Note Thanks for reading!
Monsieur JalapenoView OnlinePinkie Pie Tells A StoryMonsieur Jalapeno"And now you're saying there's more?!" Little Pip exclaimed. "Yep! Right after the meteorite struck our planet and made it into a desolate wasteland..." Derpy, while trotting down outskirts of Ponville, felt the cravings for a muffin. She thought about it for a second. How convenient would it be if a muffin just appeared in front of me? However, she sighed and dismissed it. As much as she wanted it to happen, she’d wished for the same thing many times, often without an acceptable result. Once, she’d seen a pebble resting in the middle of the street, which was at least something. Although she wasn’t a picky eater, Derpy knew firsthand how her pegasus teeth wouldn’t be able to grind up that rock. Painful thoughts of a satisfied tummy, but chipped teeth came to mind. No more rocks… ************************** Weeks later, when she met Colgate to fix her chipped teeth, the fallout had been terrifying. The chewing out she’d received via the dentist pony’s white, pristine teeth still made her shiver. Colgate cared about her patients, but she could really turn into a conspiracy theorist. The world wasn’t going to end just because of Derpy’s chipped teeth, even if the stability of the elements of harmony had something to do with it. Although, now that she thought about it, the day she chipped her teeth had been the day Discord took over. It wasn’t anything she would fall for, though. All of the rumors pointed to three arguing fillies on a field trip. When did teeth affect anything anyways? (From far away, you hear a businessman yell, “Networking!” Do not mind him) It was a good thing she hadn’t eaten the pebble though. Shortly after contemplating the pebble’s future, a gray pony with a purple mane approached, mumbling something along the lines of “Found you.” Derpy had heard the next part clearly. “Now you go.” After which the strange pony left the rock where it was. She realized just now what the pony had been doing. The pony had been playing hide and seek with her best friend. She thought fondly of the time she’d spent with Mr. Mumble. He’d only lasted three weeks, but she could recall playing things like hide-and-seek, I spy, red rover, king’s cup… She’d injured herself playing red rover with Mr. Mumble once. Her mom had asked her why her nose was bleeding, and it was the only time she’d lied. Well, it was more like a half-truth. It was true that she’d run into a tree, but only because Mr. Mumble told her the tree was on his team. She didn’t want her mom to disapprove of Mr. Mumble. It had been for nothing, though. On the third week, she’d found her friend in the trash can, alone, left for dead, rotting, decaying, generally in a sour mood. She’d taken the thing to her mother, flakes of mold falling off of Mr. Mumble’s now-destitute body, weeping at her betrayal. “W-Why…why did you do this?” She’d only responded with, “Honey! Get that out of your mouth this instant!” And threw her friend into the trash a second time, this time pulling out the trash bag and throwing it into a rainbow factory deposit line. The sign off to the side read, Trash => New Friends Under Rainbows. Good thing it’s not the other way around! Ha Ha. She’d hoped with all her might that the pony responsible for that sign got fired. Even without the irony it was a sick sense of humor. Forced too. ********************** Present day. Present time. Incredibly, Derpy looked up from her reminiscing to see a muffin on the street. How convenient. Although, she had to be wary eating things like this out in the open. Who knows, a pony could’ve laced it with caffeine or something, just to see her whizz around and crash into everything. It could have Lupus. She’d heard stories of ponies eating things out in the open, just to get a mouthful of cat pee, balloon rubber, even cancer. That last story hadn’t turned out to be true. The doctors said that the poor foal already had the cancer before eating the muffin. Turns out, the foal wouldn’t have found out about the cancer without eating the muffin in the first place. He’d only gone to the hospital because he realized too late that he was eating a muffin off the ground. But, as far as Derpy was concerned, those were good odds, so she picked it up. Her reasoning was that since the muffin had been lifted up off the ground, it was now safe to eat. She’d only been instructed not to eat stuff on the ground, so this was a clever loophole. She ate it. It looked like a seagull trying to swallow a full size tuna fish, and succeeding. Spoilers, the muffin was indeed safe, but it had been thrown out for a reason. (Also, Gandalf dies to Snape in Season 3 of Game of Thrones) ********************** In the store right next to Derpy lived an aspiring pastry chef named Hollip Peño. He’d gotten his cutie mark, a picture of a jalapeno, while walking around his parents’ farm. The instant he saw the vegetable, he ran up and ate it. To this day, he remembered the pain his young taste buds felt while trying to deal with its zest. But after that first ordeal, it had become his mission to incorporate the vegetable into every meal his parents cooked so that he could build a tolerance to the forbidden fruit (this is an allusion I know jalapenos are vegetables). Rice? The adventurous foal added his own cubed jalapenos. Soup? He learned to cut the jalapenos into slices, so that they could be passed off as lettuce. Brownies? It took a bit of instruction from Tree Hugger, but Hollip learned to incorporate plants into his brownies soon enough. At last! One day, Hollip found that he could handle eating the jalapeno pepper without so much as a single grimace. It was on that day that Hollip got his cutie mark, and learned just what he wanted to do with his life. Put jalapenos in everything. At first, his parents were very supportive of his calling. He’d quickly made himself out to be a world class chef, his signature style being that of the jalapeno wielder, the only man capable of using the vegetable’s flavor in such intricate ways. The world bowed to his prowess as a jalapeno chef, for that was the gift given by his cutie mark. But soon, Hollip Peño grew bored. He’d done everything. Jalapenos with tuna, salmon, eggs, ham, bacon, cordon bleu, turkey, croissants, chocolate, even more jalapenos, all met with critical acclaim. It grew tiresome to win with the same worn out recipes. Day after day passed, and he resented his calling, falling deeper into his jalapeno infused whiskey every morning. He hadn’t come up with a new recipe for years, his passion was gone. One day, Hollip Peño chose to drink straight whiskey, without any of his special jalapeno infusions. It was then that he realized it was time to wake up. His profession was killing him, and it was time to try something new. His friend, Pinkie Pie (because let’s face it, Pinkie Pie is friends with everyone), gave him some connections to get started in the pastry industry. It was new, and Hollip was willing to give it a shot. He worked with his jalapeno cupcakes, cakes, pies, donuts, and cookies like a man who’d just gotten a loan of a million dollars. Once again, Hollip found his passion, and he no longer needed to drink his jalapeno infused whiskey as much. However, everyone else wasn’t happy. The chef they knew and loved disappeared on them, and many wanted him back, even if they had to insult his new calling. His store brand, JALAPENO pastries, was ridiculed, boycotted, even blacklisted. Society could not let go of the dying man he once was. Hollip Peño did not care, and continued life as a pastry pony. Nothing could stop him. Well, anything short of death at least. **************** The pastry Derpy had eaten was a throwaway of Hollip’s. There hadn’t been anything particularly wrong with the pastry, it’s just that Hollip had high standards, and even the slightly imperfect pastries wouldn’t do. So all in all, Derpy had eaten a slightly imperfect pastry made by master chef Hollip. Maybe a bit of dirt too, since the muffin had been on the ground. However, unlike Hollip and his followers, Derpy was not used to the powerful flavor of the jalapeno, and felt the pain of food that is much too spicy. Desperate, she searched for a nearby lake. Anything really, to quench the burning fire in her mouth. She saw a lake, but it was one mile away. Much too far. However, Hollip saw her struggle through his window, and jumped out to help her, as best as he could at least. He wanted to use his last batch of milk on his final set of cupcakes for the night, so he kinda just stood there, giving Derpy words of encouragement from the sidelines. Things like “Hang in there!” and “I send you my best thoughts!” It took a few minutes, but eventually the Scovilles subsided and Derpy managed to cough herself to victory. Hollip felt happy for her. His first time hadn’t been fun either. They kind of stood there for a moment. Derpy just looked at the ground, not too sure why her pain had attracted that much attention. Hollip looked at her the way a parent or grandparent might while reminiscing what they were like at that age. “Soooo…” Derpy said, trailing off. He just looked at her earnestly. Still reliving past versions of himself. And that was it. They walked away from each other. "Now," Little Pip asked, "Could you explain to me how you were involved in the story?" "I was the one that set up Hollip's connections!" "Yeah, but...what was the purpose? You set up Hollip's connections, great, but how does that apply to you in real life?" "Aren't you curious about Hollip and Derpy? They were the real main characters." "Sure, why not. What was the moral of their story?" It was hard to tell with Pinkie, but Pip swore she was enjoying this. "Pssh." "What?" he asked, incredulous. "That sound that just came out of your mouth was not an answer." "There wasn't one." "What do you mean there wasn't a moral? Why'd you even tell me the story?" Pinkie gave one of her pleasant, but slightly condescending laughs. "You listened didn't you?" "Yeah, 'cause I thought you were actually gonna end on something. Instead, both of the characters just walked away. Why'd you spend so much time going over Hollip Peño's backstory if you were just going to have him cheer for a bit, then walk away?" "If you didn't like my story, why didn't you just walk away?" she said matter-of-factly. "Because I'm confused! I want to know what's going on! The least you could do is provide a bit of closure." "Sure, that was a story about my midlife crisis." Tired, Little Pip squeaked out, "You don't even look like you're thirty." Author's Note Try not to take yourself so seriously reader. Don't let life get you down.
HoomanView OnlinePinkie Pie Tells A StoryHooman“Please stay,” Pinkie Pie pleaded. “You really need to hear this last part.” “Really.” “Yes! Just hear me out for this last story and I promise it’ll all come together.” Little Pip sat there for a while, relishing the fact that he’d gotten control of the conversation. It was very tempting for him to leave, but Pinkie’s hopeful face was irresistible. Maybe just one more story. As long as it made her happy. He opened his mouth, ready to say yes, but Pinkie interrupted him. “Great!” she said as she continued the story, Pip’s peeved face getting redder by the second. So you see, I wasn’t always a pony. In fact, I used to be something called a hooman. Chances are, you’ve never heard of hoomans before, but that’s because you haven’t opened your third eye yet. Not to worry, it’ll happen eventually. Regardless, in this wide wide multiverse known as Floob, named by me of course, there actually exists a universe in which there is no magic, no love, and no friendship. Only the strongest and most powerful creatures that exist in this realm were allowed to survive and create mini versions of themselves so that their bloodline could be continued. Eventually, one species rose above them all. The dolphins. However, they remained a docile race, and lived simple lives in the oceans, letting the other species flourish in their domain. Therefore, the second best species, the hoomans, grew to be terrifying creatures. Somehow, they managed to harness the powers of friendship from other dimensions, so that they could more easily work together and organize their efforts. Let me tell you, the things they achieved were incredible! I wish you could’ve seen the things I saw. Huge huge buildings! Flying metal birds! Magic mirrors in, I kid you not, every house. However, all of those don’t even compare to their greatest achievement. Easy Bake Ovens. Have you ever seen a portable oven? Ok, ok. I’ll stop geeking out now so that we can continue with the story. Oh. I see. I’m not sure what ‘geeking’ means either, Little Pip, it’s been too long and it’s just something I say. But forget that. I used to be a hooman that lived on a street called Times Square, which wasn’t exactly high class unfortunately. Smarts have never been my smart suit, so I spent most of my time pressing buttons over and over on keyboards for no real reason and acting like I knew what I was doing. Every now and then, though, a stupider hooman would tell me I was doing something wrong, of which the solution usually involved clicking the buttons faster, or more deliberately. I got really good at it. It also helped that I had fancy pieces of paper to show to the other hoomans so that they trusted me. I said lots of crazy stuff about buttons while brandishing my papers and it worked out pretty well. Lots of hoomans needed me because of it. However, I eventually got tired of pressing the buttons. They just didn’t give me the satisfaction I wanted anymore, and I found myself watching pre-recorded videos of us! Little Pip, this is the craziest part, so stay with me. Somehow, they know what we’re up to. They have these special hoomans that can look into other dimensions, and when they come back from their vision fugue states, they know. They know about me Pipsqueak, they know about you! You know what? I bet one is spying on us right now! How creepy is that huh? … No, Little Pip, don’t worry. They aren’t watching you all the time. It usually happens when ponies do the thing. Yes. Yeah. That’s what I mean by the thing. It means exactly what you think it means. Okay, on with the story. Some of these hoomans that can see into these alternate dimensions are called writers. The other ones are called animators. Animators focus more on what we look like, while the writers focus more on what we do. They all come together to make a perfect representation of some of our shenanigans in this universe. I’m not kidding. It is perfectly, one hundred percent accurate. How crazy is that huh? And what’s more, lots of hoomans come together and watch these representations. There’s even this big fan-club! I’m proud to say that I’m the most popular. Yes, Little Pip, you have your own fans too. Ooooh, yeah. They probably caught you kissing Diamond Tiara behind the school building. I hate to say it, but that’s the kind of stuff they’re interested in. Don’t worry about it though, y’know? They’re all super far away, and most of them wouldn’t imagine hurting you. You’re asking how I got here? Yeah, like I said, the hoomans are stuck where they are. I did something special to travel over. You remember my bit about the third eye right? I got it by sniffing the fumes of burning plants, but don’t try that at home. Why not? Let’s just say that the stuff here is a little more potent. Especially the poison joke. Either way, I opened my third eye and thought myself into existence here, leaving my previous body behind, and let me tell you, was my first day exciting. I got to run around scaring ponies away with my furless body, it freaked them out so bad. Yeah Pip. Didn’t I tell you before? Hoomans don’t have fur. I remember once I cornered one of them, and booped his nose. He became a hero in the city that he lived in. No pony had ever been brave enough to be touched by a hooman. Eventually though, Celestia turned me into a pony. I’d terrorized the other ponies for long enough it seemed, but hey, I’ve still got some tricks up my sleeve. I can make some pretty crazy faces. I get that you want to see them, but those are only for special occasions, okay? No more interruptions! I need to finish! So short story long, I ended up assimilating myself into the community. It took years to do, but I finally got all the mannerisms down…for the most part. I fully identify as pony nowadays, but every now and then I like to put a bit of a hooman spin into my conversations. It’s why so many other ponies find me interesting. Also why I’m the most popular in the hooman world. I’d have to say it’s really interesting that Celestia chose me to be one of the bearers of the elements. As a hooman turned pony, I’ve always lacked a pony’s normal ability to love others. A lot of my quirky mannerisms and smiles are what I use to cover it up. Like, what use would she have for me? It hit me a few years ago though. We hoomans knew how to laugh. I’m not sure if you’ve seen it around here, but a lot of the ponies are really stuck up. Like super duper stuck up. I make a joke, and they’re just like, what did you say to me? I’d say one of the things I have, that other ponies don’t, is the ability to look at how utterly hopeless your situation might be, how absolutely alone you are going to feel when you die, how isolated it feels to know that you are the only one that wants what you want, and just laugh at it all. To just say “buck it!” and forget about the pain. Back in my world, it was a necessity to be able to do that, because sometimes, every now and then, you didn’t want to keep fighting. You just wanted to be coddled, or worse, to just die. Back in my world, you had to keep looking at the things that hurt you and scarred you and marred you, and keep moving forward! You had to stare at those things and smile, laugh even, say things like “Bring it on motherbucker. I’ve got so much more where that came from!” You had to shake your fists at the sky, cursing whoever decided to bring this sick twisted world into existence and fight! And then on those days where you didn’t have much particularly going on, and you felt your soul eroding away, you had to fight some more! You had to keep telling yourself that everything was going to be okay, that the feelings you were feeling would pass. And if they didn’t you made them pass! You would get yourself a cup of coffee, laugh, take a sip, and laugh again! Every night before you went to sleep you had to put a grin on as you confronted your own existential dread about whether or not all that fighting ever mattered. You had to keep telling yourself that it did matter! That the whole reason the universe never chose to give you clear answers was so that you could create your own! You had to tell yourself that you were lucky to have such a large amount of freedom, because after all, without hopes and ambitions, who are we exactly? Bartledanians? No! We are humans dammit! And we will fight, laugh, and fight some more! And then, when it’s all said and done. And we hit the eye of the storm, we’re allowed to rest, because we deserve it. Even in these moments we laugh, because really, life is just kinda absurd. Little Pip stared at Pinkie’s legs, imagining what they might look like without fur. Author's Note I'm planning on adding another chapter. I think.
Genocide on Planet ZilchView OnlinePinkie Pie Tells A StoryGenocide on Planet ZilchLittle Pip sat there for a moment, a bit taken aback. Not surprised necessarily, but very disturbed. After taking a few moments to shiver, he found his voice again. “Could you tell me one more story? Something a bit more cheerful?” “I do have a few cheerful stories.” “I want to know how you saved Equestria.” She frowned, “That’s kind of vague. I’ve done that plenty of times.” “I just want to know about one of those times.” “Sure!” she said, smiling. This one world I visited on my crazy adventures had all of the juniper sprinkled muffins. But the natives didn’t take kindly to strangers just eating their holy vegetable, which I didn’t get because they always hung from the trees. Right there. For the taking. You expect me not to capitalize on that? I mean, I got away with it for a while. Well, that’s a lie. They never caught me in the act at all. The reason I had to run from them in a panic had more to do with political reasons. It’s not that their politics were xenophobic or anything. The first time I met them, they treated me like royalty, assumed that I was a diplomat from some far away tribe. They even tried to set up trade relations with me, no matter how hard I tried to tell them that I didn’t know anything about the stuff. Eventually, they believed me, and just considered me a scout for the other tribe, and made sure to treat me with their finest hospitality, so that they could be seen as friendly to the outsiders. And of course I obliged. I mean, they were helping me for the wrong reasons, but I’m sure you would’ve taken advantage of that too. But when I didn’t leave for more than a few months, it occurred to them that I might not have a tribe, that in fact, I may be the only pony of my kind, and thus, wouldn’t have anything to offer. That is when they started attacking. To this day I’m not sure if they wanted to see what cooked pony tasted like, if they felt betrayed helping a random stranger, or if they simply grew sick of me and my pony mannerisms. The natives were an enigma, but it wasn’t an enigma that they were throwing spears at me as I tried to book it out of their camp. I can’t imagine what would’ve happened if they’d caught me in the backside of the knee. Thankfully, I did not take spear to the knee and continued running until I was out of sight. For a bit of reference, the natives were very slow due to the fact that their alien body types had short stumpy legs, and that their long arms liked to get caught in the underbrush. If I’d taken a bit of time to look back while running, it would’ve been funny to see them trip over tree roots, clotheslining themselves with long arms caught in the bushes. What mattered more though, was the fact that as soon as I left earshot of their pounding footsteps, I found the motherload of juniper sprinkled muffins. Let me describe them to you. You know what muffins look like right? Well these were the holy juniper sprinkled muffins. And I bet you’re thinking. What do you mean by juniper sprinkled muffins? Did the natives just shred some trees and sprinkle them onto the muffins? Yes! That is exactly what happened! For some reason, the trees there tasted absolutely delightful, so the natives paired juniper tree seasonings with their next favorite food, muffins. And of course the muffins also grew on trees for whatever reason, so the natives would just throw some ladders up and sprinkle those guys. What didn’t make sense to me, though, was the fact that they climbed all the way up just to sprinkle the muffins with juniper. Why didn’t they just take the muffins down and sprinkle them with juniper there? Why did they leave the muffins on the trees for weeks at a time, just to come back later and pick them? It’s not like the muffins had to ripen or anything. As far as I knew from my few weeks of staying with the tribe, they just popped into existence. One day you’d see an empty tree, next thing, they’d be losing their branches to muffins. And juniper isn’t exactly something that soaks into food. It’s just shaved tree. I kept asking that question as I climbed up the muffin tree, more driven by curiosity than the actual want to eat it. I’d have to get to the bottom of their unique practices. And so, once I got to the top of the tree, I picked a medium-sized one and let it fall to the ground, climbing down after it. Once I reached the ground, I looked at it for a moment. This would be the first time I tried these muffins without the go ahead of the natives. In one second, I opened my mouth. The next, I took a bite, and then in the second after that, I heard an ear-piercing wail. “Aaaaaah!” it yelled. “Whahahaaaaaaah?!” I yelled. The muffin looked like a perfectly-normal partially-eaten muffin, but horrible sounds continued to come out of it. “What the hell were you thinking?!” “I, what?” I asked, confused. “The muffins here are actually alive?” “Darling, did you get this far with a brain like that? The fact that there are sounds waves coming from my body to greet your cochlea, not only means I am alive, but that I also know how to communicate with you.” I stomped my hoof on the ground in thought. “But, you could be one of those toys that just sprout canned phrases when you pull the string on their back.” “You bit me! I talked because you bit me!” I scratched my head, “You could be one of those novelty muffins that speak when you eat them…” It almost looked like the muffin wiggled in frustration. “You know what? I can’t prove it. How do you know you’re alive, huh? How about you prove it!” “I…uh. Well, for one, I can talk.” “I can too you daffodil!” “Okay, well, I can express my emotions.” “Are you serious, you don’t think I’m expressing emotions?” I put a hoof to my chin, deep in thought. “I’m not a muffin.” “And that’s xenophobic!” his voice rasped, tired from the yelling. “You’d think for a pony that likes to visit alien civilizations you’d be more broad minded.” “I am,” I drawled. “And quite frankly you’re starting to hurt my feelings.” If the muffin could’ve gasped, it would’ve. “And you’re trying to eat me!” “…you have a point.” It breathed a sigh of relief. “Okay, now that that’s cleared up-” “Wait.” “What?” I grinned deviously. “You’re assuming that I have morals about talking muffins. But back where I come from…” “No! Wait! Stop! I can get you out of here!” I took my hoof off the muffin. “I am lacking a method of…transportation.” “Okay, good, gooood. Now let me speak for a second so that I can explain the situation.” “Okay.” “What you need to understand is that we’re in control. Not those natives. We hang from those trees so that we can inhabit their brains and make them make more of us. And yes, we can read minds too.” “Wait a second…” I nodded my head in concentration. “You’re saying that the muffins are really the natives? You were the people that attacked me?” “Attacked you?! Please forgive me but I don’t know anything about this attacking.” “Sounds exactly like something a muffin would say.” “No! I really don’t! Believe it or not, the elder muffins don’t get their children involved in politics.” I nodded shrewdly. “Good point.” “So, what I need you to do is put me back up on that tree, exactly where you picked me off so that I can infect more native minds.” “Wait, wait,” I said, holding a hoof to my head. “What’s with all the juniper sprinklings then? And how does that get me off this planet?” “The juniper sprinklings are our version of painkillers. It’s not fun to get eaten you know. If we get seasoned for long enough, it doesn’t hurt anymore, and we can put more effort toward wresting mental control from the alien children.” I cocked my head. “The least you could do is describe the children by the name of their species.” “Trust me, you wouldn’t be able to comprehend their name.” “Try me.” The muffin paused for a second, and from deep within, came an awful guttural screeching noise. “See?” “I…definitely comprehended it.” It sighed. “The point is that it’s an ugly name, and that this planet is much better off with the muffins in control. We’re a lot more cultured.” “Okaaaaay, but you still haven’t answered my other question.” “If you would stop interrupting me-” “Okay, I’ll stop.” The muffin paused, trying to establish some form of control over the conversation. “Ok, so you-” “You’re going to answer the question about how I get off this planet, right?” “Yes! For the love of whatever god you worship, yes!” I frowned. “Only gods I worship are the gods of-” “We have a special plant okay?!” “Ooooooh.” My eyes rolled sarcastically. “And let me guess. The experience just takes you out of this world.” “It does…actually. How’d you know?” It seemed muffins were incapable of understanding sarcasm. I scratched my chin. “Back where I came from the poison joke literally does that.” “Okay. I don’t see what a Poisson Distribution of jokes has to do with this, but as long as you act like you understand, we’re clear. Are you going to put me back or not?” “First off,” I said, holding my hoof up. “You haven’t told me the name of this magical plant, nor the probabilistic distribution of their growing locations in the forest. As far as I’m concerned. I can’t trust you.” It whimpered for a moment. “Could you just? Good god, you’re going to give me an aneurysm. The plants literally grow right below the muffin tree. Once you hook me up again, you’re as good as gone in terms of this planet.” “So you’re saying I’m surrounded by them,” I said, grabbing him in my maw. “What reason do I have to help you now?” It squeaked, “Honor system?” “Good enough.” I dragged myself up the tree, muffin in tow. “…how am I supposed to reconnect you?” “I’ll reattach myself, don’t worry.” “By the way.” I continued to drag the muffin up the tree. “If those plants don’t work, I’m going to pluck you again.” It made a shrugging noise. “I know.” “And after I pluck you, I’ll eat you.” “Please,” it scoffed. “I’m not worried.” I winced as a piece of bark stabbed itself into my hoof. “You’re confident I’ll be able to figure it out?” “No, if I’m being honest, but it is what it is.” Higher and higher we went. “So you’re fine with the possibility that you will die as a wasted muffin?” “No, not really, but what choice do I have? I can’t just sit on the floor of the forest, and make sure you do it right. If you do it right, that means you’ve left this dimension. Who would re-attach me to this tree?” For a moment, my heart panged with sympathy. “For a child infecting muffin, you’ve taken this situation pretty well. Thanks for being patient with me.” “No problem. Just glad we could communicate clearly.” “Like, I feel like we could take this relationship further. As friends. Do you like to play golf?” “Not really,” it sighed. “It’s hard to hit those little white orbs.” I cocked my head, still climbing the tree with the muffin in my mouth. “That sounds like the attitude of a quitter.” “Sometimes, you need to know where to cut your losses. Do you really think I have the form to wield a golf club?” “Hey! You can do anything if you try hard enough!” It laughed grimly. “Bullshit!” The muffin still being toted along in my mouth. “Enough of that new age shit. You really expect me to believe that? With all of my ruffles?” I gasped and my mouth opened completely. The poor muffin fell from my mouth and sailed towards the ground. Acceleration’s tough love broke it into pieces. It occurred to me that I no longer had to climb the tree, because of how I’d accidentally committed muffin murder. After taking great care to climb down the tree, I once again had my hooves on the ground. Blue glowing flowers surrounded me. It became clear what I had to do. ********************************* The forest burned around me, and as the flames encroached on the flower field, I began to feel the first high of its vapors. I reveled in the destruction of the forest. It all just came together as one euphoric moment. The things the muffin said floated around in my mind, the screams of the native aliens assaulted my ears, all in a cacophony that spoke volumes to my soul. Supreme. Blissful. Arrogance. At the thought that goals could change. At the thought that I could give up. At the thought that it didn’t matter whether or not you could accomplish things. You just had to go with it. Measure the meter of space and time and put yourself on display. Embrace its time signature and shine how you can. I felt great as my body turned inside out, and sucked itself into a new dimension. Little Pip chuckled. “I feel kinda bad for the muffin, but, I don’t know. I’m starting to feel giddy.” Pinkie grinned. But the revelry was short-lived, and Little Pip frowned. “Wait, what does this have to do with Equestria?” “I don’t know,” she looked at Pip, eyes wide. “But it works.” Author's Note It's sure been a while.
Something NewView OnlinePinkie Pie Tells A StorySomething NewLittle Pip shivered from the cold, breath coming out in frosty whites. “C-could you stoke the fire for a bit? I think it’s started to die down.” “Sure!” she said, chipper as ever. “And give me something new. I want to hear a new story.” “What do you mean, new?” He shrugged. “I don’t know. Like, you’ve covered wacky stuff, sad stuff, happy-disturbing stuff. I want to feel something different.” She huffed, “I hate to say it buddy, but you’ve only got a certain range of emotions. Only so much I can do.” He tapped his hoof in the air, “What about...I’m not sure how to describe it. Like, you have a mystery, and you’re sure you have all the facts, you just can’t quite piece it tog-” “Intrigue?” “Yeah! Whatever that means. But it sounds like what I mean.” “Well,” Pinkie Pie said, “I can’t do that.” “Why?” He frowned, eyes watering. “You know what? Okay. Fine. Just don’t complain if you have no idea what’s going on.” She stoked the fire. “Why would I feel like-” The ponies on the planet Mantis hadn’t adapted well to their environment, and you could see from the lines on their faces, that it wasn’t doing much for their sanity. Death rate at fifty percent every year? What can you do? It certainly didn’t help that the atmosphere around them tried to kill them at every opportunity. And that every time they went to get a drink of water, it involved a fifteen step process that they had to get down perfectly, lest one mistake result in their immediate and untimely death. An atmosphere made of anti-pony. Let that sink into your mind. And I’m sure you’re probably wondering. How in the heck can an environment be anti-pony? Fifty percent sulfer, twenty percent cyanide, and thirty percent arsenic is my answer to you. To say that life on Mantis was complicated would be an understatement. Not to mention the fact that the only surviving alien race on that planet liked to eat anything and everything. Well, except for lasers. Hence, why the ponies had survived for this long The ponies that managed to keep their sanity survived, and they usually did that by putting the effort of their stress into long and complicated puzzles. Scavenger hunts mostly, and the occasional outing into the wild expanse of Mantis was certainly dangerous, but for the sake of everypony’s well-being, necessary. And what a fun time they had! Looking for clues, losing more lives to the natives… An epic quest for ponies in a particularly hopeless situation! But how did I fit into all of this! As the bright-eyed, bushy-tailed, totally-going-to-die-in-the-first-few-hours-on-this-planet kind of pony. And there had certainly been a bunch of close calls for me. I’d actually gotten pinned down by one of those Mantis creatures, serrated claw extended toward my neck, going for what it had learned as my vitals, ready to snap together! But a grizzled veteran, known for taking down Manti regularly, knew what to do. He drove a wooden stake deep into its right eye, hanging on as it whipped its head back at an unimaginable torque. The poor pony’s ankles cracked under the strain, but I could see from the fire in his eyes that his ankles were still functioning, only sprained, that nothing would stop him from killing this beast until he became incapacitated. A quick swipe left! Claw extended, shooting for the pony’s midsection, but he was ready. Putting immense pressure on his injured joints, he pushed himself off the stick, claw barely clipping him, shorn fur floating into the atmosphere as his body tumbled to the ground. A swipe right! But once again, the pony was ready. Jumping onto the bug’s thorax, digging his hooves into the soft joints separating the creature’s head and body. Ripping, tearing, desperately trying to find purchase. Out of plans and ingenuity. A last resort. And he did it! The bug fell and the pony rode it to the ground, doing everything in his power to hold the helmet keeping him alive in place. Not ready to die after such a powerful victory. He closed his eyes, and his body language spoke of wild hope. No cuts. Was probably what he’d been thinking. A single cut and the atmosphere would kill you. Keep the helmet and no cuts. All you had to do to stay alive. But covered in the green juice of the alien, how could you tell? How would you know? You just had to the hope that by the time you got back to base, you hadn’t dropped dead yet. And what does that do to a pony? What did it do to the grizzled veteran? As he tried to yank his helmet off, the other ponies stopping him, tying his hooves down, trying to comfort him in stressed out calm voices. He’d just wanted control. The basic urge of every living thing in existence. How the heck were they supposed to survive on this planet? But they did, they did, and in the traces of the wildly flailing veteran’s hooves, I saw three figures emerge in the murky atmosphere. 505. Even in his panicked moments, the stallion set me on the trail to one of his puzzles, as if there were two minds to him. Behind his uncontrollably overwhelmed emotional side, logical, calculating. ******************************** The second we walked into the airlock at Base Zero, we let the other ponies tend to the Veteran. We couldn’t bear to look at them all together, desperately trying to calm themselves down. It hurt too much. So Mr. Mystery and I hung out together. What could 505 possibly mean? Not enough clues is what it meant. Mr. Mystery and I needed a marriage counselor, if this was all he’d be willing to offer in the relationship. Perhaps if I had a way to access a large network of information, things would’ve worked out. But for now, I got a divorce with Mr. Mystery. I was not concerned about the hour or the minute of our divorce, except that when put together, it formed a three digit number. ******************************** After that fallout, I trotted back to the ponies fussing over their friend. It looked like he'd made it. Ragged cheers erupted from the attenders as the veteran stood up cautiously. Already coherent, he said, "Thanks, guys, really. Trust me, I'm all good. Just panicked for a bit back there. What's that make it, three unarmed kills now?" A pony with a nasally voice corrected him, "You used a stick remember? It doesn't count because you used a stick!" "Alright, alright. I'll keep it at two. But that means I can add it to my armed kills total right?" "Actually...no." The Veteran opened his mouth in frustration. "A stick is a weapon or it isn't. It's one or the other." "No. A stick is neither. You should add that to your environmental kill tally." "Just give it to him!" Somepony growled. "It's not like anypony cares." Before the heckler could speak again, the group of ponies closed in on the Veteran. One massive bear hug, 100% survivors. For once. And with a great deal of hope sparked by my misfortune and the brave pony's boldness, we all went to bed. ******************************** Mr. Mystery whispered into my ear as I tried to go to sleep that night. "You know you want me." "I don't!" I said, eyes wide and heart racing. "You're just leading me on all the time. This relationship isn't going to work if the only thing you're going to contribute are some unimportant numbers." "Oooh, touchy. You tried to divide that 505 number into two pieces didn't you?" "Well yeah, what did you expect me to do?" "Not that. This relationship thing goes both ways you know." "What is it then. What the hell am I supposed to do?" "Use your brain, and that vast network of information." I rolled over. And over. Again. And again. "I'm going back to 505. It's the only number I can think of!" No answer. As the tendrils of sleep deadened my brain, I let that information roil in my brain. Maybe I'd have a solution tomorrow. ******************************** Breakfast was surprisingly nice on the Planet Mantis that morning. Bug meat galore! Not after a good battering, seasoning, and frying, though. Tasted surprisingly like pork noodles. I squeezed in among the ponies surrounding the Veteran, voices hounding him for combat lessons. As if all of them weren't already highly trained ex-military officials. It occurred to me that I was the only unprepared pony on this planet. I'd have to get off as soon as possible. But not until I deepened my relationship with Mr. Mystery and asked that Veteran why it even occurred to him to wave his hooves in such a strange pattern. After about ten thousand, 'Sir!'s, I was able to get his attention. "Sir!" I said. "What?!" he yelled, a bit irritated after the first ten thousand times. "I must know, sir, why you waved your hooves in the shape of a 505, sir!" Wrinkles etched themselves into his brow. "Must've been a coincidence. I don't know what you're talking about." "I don't believe you!" "It doesn't change the fact that you're not getting any information now does it? What does it matter who seized Assyria? I don't care!" My shoulders tightened up, and in an angry hazy daze I walked from the table. Plopped my food tray sanctimoniously onto another table. Still, something niggled at the back of my mind. That had been an odd statement. But whatever, he'd been rude to me. I wasn't about to dwell on his poorly chosen words. It didn't do to let ponies under your skin. I picked at my food trying to get my appetite back, and eventually succeeded, but I could feel that his words had awakened Mr. Mystery. Analytical thoughts flitted through my brain and began talking to me. "You heard what he said right?" the Mystery asked. "The Veteran said something important." "What does it matter?" I said fiddling with the sides of my tray. "It's like he grew up sometime in the BC era, disregarding me like that." "Well yeah, but you heard what he said about Assyria right? I'll even give you a hint." "Dammit! It's always hints with you!" I slammed my hoof against the table. The ponies on the other table paused to look at me talking to myself, but went back to haranguing the Veteran. I whispered, "Well? Give it to me." "The person you're looking for, he's got different spellings for his name. You want to make sure you've got the four letter version." "You're serious? How the heck is that supposed to help me?" Mr. Mystery only sighed, and faded from my thoughts. Clack! I whipped my head to the right to see another metal tray, and a pony looking at me with her hoof over her mouth. "Oops, sorry." She chuckled nervously. "Ah!" I waved my hoof. "You're not one of those bug creatures." "You'd never know," she said, eyes wide. "I've heard some of them can shapeshift..." "Whatwhatwhat?!" My entire body shivered. "Don't even suggest something like that!" She snickered. "Where do you think we get those rumors about the mimics?" "You aren't being serious are you?" "No, but I swear, I wouldn't put anything past those bugs." I breathed a sigh of relief. "...why are you sitting next to me?" "I saw you talking to yourself. Last thing I want is somepony killing me in my sleep." "It's just...an invisible friend of mine." "Ha! Now I'm really worried." "It's not that! It's just that you ponies are weird." I motioned wildly in the air. "We're in a pretty sticky situation where we're at, and to de-stress, everypony just wants to do puzzles. What pony wants to do puzzles when they don't even know they'll survive to finish them!" She looked really, really angry for a second, before slipping back into her polite routine. "That's not why we do it." "Let me guess, the journey is better than the destination?" "No. I mean, it's nice to work on a puzzle, yeah, but that's not why we like it." "Then why?" "It feels constructive," she said patiently. "Keeps our minds sharp." "Wouldn't it be more constructive to work out?" "We already do that, and you should too, instead of just lying around in bed all day." She looked away in thought. "Have you ever been in what felt like an impossible situation?" "I think so. This one time I was working for Mrs. Cake and she needed me to make twenty different cakes for a party that was going to happen in a week, but because I like to procrastinate I waited until the last two hours to do it all, and whenever Ms. Cake asked me how things were going I'd just reply with great! But of course I was screwed! But with enough careful consideration, I was able to outsource some of the work to my helpful friends while also running around town gathering all the necessary ingredients." "That's...a good example." She sighed. "The point is, we have problems like that a lot at Base Zero. Whether it's like your cake fiasco, or something to do with the impending bug attack, our ability to solve puzzles keeps us alive. You'd be surprised how difficult it is to get along on the resources we have." I realized that I'd been disrespectful. "Sorry. You have a point." "Glad to see you understand! I didn't mean to jab at you earlier either. It's looks like you've seen your fair share of shit." "Yeah." The conversation hit an awkward pause. She broke the silence. "Sooooo, you do sports?" "Not really, but I'm thinking about getting into rugby. This specific player inspired me, but I can't seem to remember his last name." "Ok...I'm not really a rugby pony myself. To be honest, I don't even know what that is. Hoofball's where it's at." I smirked. "Please. You should see the Glandipangular races on planet Zorular, Dimension +2.361. Not only do they risk their lives racing in that circuit, but all other versions of themselves in different dimensions. It's exciting, and illegal everywhere else in the universe." "You're making that up." "I'm not, actually." She glared at me for a moment. "You're making it really hard to talk to you." "I'm a hard pony to talk to." "And you don't see anything wrong with that?" "It's just..." I shrugged. "Don't you get bored living the same life over and over again, running the same strands of conversation? It might sound like I'm trying to stifle conversation, but that's only to keep myself talking more often. Otherwise, it's always the same thing from ponies around me. The same damn words that get cycled around and eaten up as if they mean anything! Like holy shit! Do something new for once! Isn't there something else to learn beyond the fact that your favorite hoofball player got a sprained fetlock for the fourth season in a row?!" The mare sitting next to me winced. She had been hoping to push the conversation in that direction. "I'll take you! I'll take you if you want! I know how to travel to those other dimensions! Where the hoofball players don't get fetlock sprains, but ankle sprains! Where the sport is actually called football! Hell, if we go far enough, you'd find societies that run solely on sports! Money gained solely through competition. Whether it's clicking buttons in different flexible patterns, or running around with the skin of another animal between your arms. Societies that don't need to concern themselves with the rough and tumble worries that come along with survival because they're clever enough to transcend that with ingenious inventions that do all of that stuff for them! I could..." "Wait, you know how to get out of here!" Her eyes shone with hope. "How?! Tell me how!" Everypony in the cafeteria crowded around the table, eager to hear something from the pony that had joined them under mysterious circumstances. What was this about an escape?! I looked around at everypony, and something in my heart shifted. "So...I know you're all going to settle down and enjoy the rest of your lives to wherever you escape to, and I have every reason to let everypony go down in a blaze of glory on this god-forbidden planet so that you'd at least die like the interesting ponies you are, but..." "But what?!" they all yelled in slightly different variants. "I think I'm going to help." Silence, until the mare sitting next to me spoke. "But...how exactly are you going to help?" "For every inhabitable planet I've visited, each has a trait that remains consistent throughout my travel." "What?" They all whispered, enraptured. "That one plant always exists as a key method of travel." My cheeks went red for a second, ready the feel the humiliating jeers and guffaws. To see the smirking and disapproving faces that always looked at me whenever I revealed my secrets. This time though, the ponies continued to look at me with serious faces. "Well," the mare next to me said, "why don't you show us?" A pony in the group ran to get some of the planet Manti reserve plant, the only native photosynthesizing organism on the planet, but useless until now due to the fact that it provided less energy than a pony's stomach needed to digest it. As soon as they brought it back, I showed them, and found myself looking at things I didn't understand. The universe around me turned into a sliver of string, interwoven in an immaculate roughshod quilt. Only thing I could do was hang onto something I remembered from my hooman years. The first name of that rugby player, born in the year 1990, had been my first name too. Mr. Mystery invaded my mind again, but I think I understood now, how the breadcrumb trail worked... "What happened to the Veteran?" Little Pip asked. "Why did you even call him 'the Veteran'? Who is 'the Veteran'?" "Hollip Peño? I mean, yes, it's Hollip Peño." "What?! The guy from your second story?!" "Yeah haha. We go way back..." Little Pip frowned. "I think you're lying to me." "What? I don't know what you're talking about..." "If you were in a story, you'd have ellipses at the end of your dialogue." Pinkie Pie looked very stern all of a sudden. "Alright! Alright. You caught me." "So, who is it really?" "I'm not allowed to tell you. It would have been best for the timeline if you believed it was Hollip Peño." Her eyes bugged out in horror. "Oops." "I'm guessing I wasn't supposed to hear that." "Maybe..." She sighed. "But it doesn't matter too much. What matters is whether or not you understood my story." Little Pip thought about it for a moment, his face contorting into a bunch of thinking expressions. "Yeah...I'll be honest. The story about Mantis was cool, but all those little clues you left behind went over my head. I have no idea who Mr. Mystery was supposed to be in the first place." She facehooved. "It's...it's okay. To be honest, without a vast network of information, I shouldn't have expected you to get it in the first place." While Pinkie said that, her mind continued to follow a different string of thoughts. She had to be careful about the things she said in her stories. Overdo it just a bit, and the Veteran wouldn't have been there to save her. Author's Note So, what is Pinkie's first name? If you figured it out, you can post it, but be sure to black it out.
Basically There's Nothing LeftView OnlinePinkie Pie Tells A StoryBasically There's Nothing LeftLittle Pip stared into the fire deadpan, bored out of his mind from that last story. It hadn't made any sense whatsoever, and he suspected there wouldn't have been any real reward if he had understood. "I think I'm going to go home now." Pinkie Pie looked hurt, but understood she couldn't control other ponies. Still, a muse struck her, and she said, "I have another story. It will be better, I promise." Pip looked up with some skepticism. "As long as I get to leave when I want. Ponies always say I'm rude when I leave in the middle of their stories." She smiled. Mr. Mystery, Mr. Mumble. As time went on, I suspected they were the same person. Real in my head, and containing actual power, but not in any way that affected the real world in an obvious way. Existing more as social forces than randomly and spontaneously guide people in strange directions, mostly for the worse. I'd been travelling on the slipstreams across these moments, forced to watch the unfortunate downfall of each of these individuals. I'm not even sure if this is the real me, or if I'm just waiting for the downfall of the pony too. "What?" said Little Pip. Every day I live with dread at the thought about what new twist these unopposable forces have in store for me. I say unopposable because it's as changeable as the laws of nature. As controllable as entropy. It exists as inseparable from the exploits in our consciousness so that we're forced to go on rides diverging from safety and security. Trying to avoid going insane as we watch the quality of our lives decline into the primordial mires of criminality and lynchian violence. With open mouthed adulation all of my peers have historically welcomed this, after all this phenomenon wouldn't exist this way without a basis in the corrupted contents of our character. Lapping up propaganda without thinking about it. The epitome of docile cattle. People that try to bring up concerns about the degradation of their way of life shunned and scorned. One-sidedly ostracized with no chance for redemption, trying to maintain hope with the full knowledge that the very people shunning them are also exactly like them. You might be tempted to say it's a specific -ism that's to blame, but I've experienced all it's flavors. It's all rank. Rather I would say it's the force driving us to ignore reality. Repressing ourselves deep down until the only thing left is a twisted creature that has no way of defending itself, and gives a sickly laugh every time it experiences injustice. After all, there is no framework for which you can express your true feelings without the immediate scorn of your peers. Trapped in a society that only accept the personalities of those that have completely surrendered. Do you know how old I really am? "I don't know what you're talking about, but a million billion?" said Little Pip. I don't know teehee! But while you might not understand, I think you already get the gist from my tone of voice. It is haunting when you see a force for good suddenly inspire the reaction of some egregore whipping them seemingly birthed from nowhere. Autonomous reactions that while sometimes served to protect those in need, out of control and oppressing. Even worse yet, the types that internalize it without realizing it. Serving as the biggest and most psychophantic allies, hurting others like them, as a manifestation of their own self-hatred. Absolute neurotic fear and self-preservation. Hahaha! It's just like that "side"! Hahaha! No! You're exactly what I'm talking about! "I'm not bad." Little Pip said, frowning. You're not Little Pip, but the more I live my lives, the more I'm convinced we're going to lose everything. Every time I've lost everything. Little Pip wasn't crying, but it seemed like he was mildly disturbed. The sun wasn't yet peeking over the horizon, but the sky was getting brighter, and with a sinking heart realized he'd have to stay awake for the rest of the day. He gazed into the firepit. The wood at this point had gone fully black, broken into pieces of charcoal, fire on the verge of sputtering out. "As long as there are people like you, it'll be ok." He paused for a moment, but started walking away. "I need to go home though, you're scary." Pinkie didn't say anything, just waited until she was alone. Eventually the sun peeked over the horizon, and the dawn took some of the slack of the sputtering fire. Still it was not enough, and she shivered. She felt like she should be trying to do something, but wasn't sure what, how, or when. Fighting away feelings of impending doom, she breathed in the clear air, picking up on the light rushing of a river somewhere far way. It wasn't so bad out here. Maybe at some point forces would come rushing through the forest for her, intent on her extermination. Or trample her underfoot without realizing it. If that time came, she promised herself that she'd fight tooth and nail to stay alive. Until then, things were okay. Maybe her ancestors had always felt this way.
AutomatonView OnlinePinkie Pie Tells A StoryAutomatonAuthor's Note There's lots of violence and cutting and suicidey stuff in this chapter, so don't read it if that stuff bothers you. Either way, be forever optimistic. Automaton “Little Pip. Can I ask you a question?” “Sure.” “Why do you think I exist?” That made him snort. “A question like that, coming from you?” “Ha! You’re probably right. Wanna hear the rest of the story?” “These are separate stories,” he said, glaring at her. “You aren’t thinking hard enough silly.” You see, after living in Ponyville for about a year or so, I got really really bored. I bet you’re thinking, but Pinkie! Ponyville is full of life and friendship and magic and love and things to do and stuff to get drunk on and ponies to do and life to live and daisies to plant and laughs to be had and let me tell you, those are wonderful things! Wonderful, wonderful things! I didn’t even get to half of them! It just got so tiresome. All that smiling and waving and friend making and booping made me feel so whitewashed and soulless. I know you ponies don’t need to struggle to live happy lives, but I do! I act like I don’t want to struggle, but it’s almost as important as food! I actually like the ebb and flow of things, as much as I hate it! And you know, maybe it’s just stupid to be like that. To always live on the edge of your emotions, trying to scrounge by on a daily basis. Maybe I ought to make myself an automaton like the residents of Ponyville, and just live my life in bliss while I forgo the rest of my passions and dreams. But as a child, I wanted to do something grand! I wanted to be ruler of the world! No, not just the ruler of the world, but the ruler of the universe, the multi-verse, the all-encompassingverse! And I wanted to be an astronaut too! I wanted to be the world’s only astronaut ruler of the cosmos, the top dawg, the holiest of holies. I wanted everyone to worship me… Okay, that might be a little overkill, but you get the point. When you grow up and all the adults tell you the sky’s the limit, well, you dream big. And then you do grow up and it seems like you can still do it, so you tell your high school counselor that you want to be missus ruler of the world, space astronaut extraordinaire and they just scoff. They’re like, you’ll have to choose one of those sweety. You can’t be both. And you try your best to ignore her! But the more you live your life, the more get the inkling that she’s actually right. Like, every big business in the hooman and pony world has their own horde of factory workers, and if you’re anywhere near average intelligence, guess where you’re going to end up? Sure you can work your way up, but it only works so well. Some things aren’t attainable for ponies, no matter how hard they work, and I had to come to terms with that. You wanna guess how I did that? You wanna know how I reacted to the fact that I’d never accomplish my dreams? I didn’t! I just kept trying to accomplish them, even though it was clear I wasn’t getting anywhere near what I wanted to do. I kept trying and trying and trying and trying and trying and trying and then I became a druggie. Instead of trying to accomplish smaller things, I just gave up and let it all go. Isn’t it ironic that that’s what made my dreams possible? What was I talking about again? Oh yeah. Ponyville. Boring. Even after all this, I hadn’t given up on my dreams, so I decided to go to a different dimension, at random. Which was a mistake. But it was also interesting. I’d teleported to a world where everypony was actually secretly a robot. It seemed peaceful enough at first, and life chugged along at a quick and efficient pace. Crime was practically unheard of, and everypony smiled at each other like overly friendly businessmen. I quite liked this place because of how similar it was to the hooman world. Not very many buttons though. Life just kept going that way, day after day. Insincere smiles exchanged, deals made, jobs performed, favors given in discrete places, meals eaten, flowers planted. It was almost like they tried too hard to be normal. However, I noticed a sort of tension building up between the ponies. Smiles went from insincere to fake and handshakes became more mechanical. Their well-established facades began to fall apart, and soon, interactions went from unsettling to cringy. Frightened, unsettled laughter rang out among groups of ponies that day. I hadn’t known the ponies were robots at the time, so I did what I could to make the ponies I talked to more relaxed. It worked well! Ish. While there were ponies that refused to open up, some of them broke down in front of me, crying about how they’d never felt right inside. How they lived their entire lives feeling like they had to meet some kind of impossible standard. And that they’d tried their best to fit in, but no matter what they did, no matter how much time they spent dwelling over what they might be able to do every night, when it came to it, their words came stilted and jerky. So I went to work on these ponies. I organized socials and hangouts and all kinds of things to get these ponies to accept who they were, but it never worked. In fact, most of my attempts just made it worse for them. It wasn’t until the first pony injured himself that I realized what the problem was. While I was walking by several shingles workers putting together a roof, one of the workers lost his footing and fell off. He immediately scampered away from his working crew into a nearby alleyway, incredibly active for someone who’d just broken a bone. Worried, I followed him into the alleyway, cornering him into a dead end. “Don’t. Don’t look,” he said. “I’ll be ruined.” That was the first genuine sounding thing I’d heard from these ponies. “Why?” He laughed shortly. “Ha! Well, I guess it’s too late. Here.” A broken leg thrust itself in my direction. Wires and metal jutted out of his open skin. He continued, “You see, normal ponies bleed, but a long time ago, I found out that I wasn’t normal. The first time I fell down as a filly, I’d known it was a secret I had to keep, even from my parents.” “How did you hide your injuries?” “I didn’t. I just sent my parents a letter talking about how I’d visited a friend’s house for a few days. I hid in a trash can until it got better.” “Wait, but how did you eat?” He chuckled darkly. “I don’t need to eat. All this time, I’ve been burning it in my furnace, trying my best to act like the food did something to sate me.” The situation was tense, and although the robot pony seemed to be taking it pretty well, he’d gotten good at acting over the years. If I would survive the situation, I’d have to tread carefully. “Here,” I said, slicing my hoof on his metal wound. Blood dripped from my hoof into the wound, but I didn’t worry, blood diseases weren’t exactly a thing with robots. “I might be a real pony, but I still see you as an equal.” His eyes were wide. “What are you doing?” “I’m giving you the right to call yourself a real pony.” “It’s just going to stain my chassis.” “Yeah? Blood stains my veins every day.” He grimaced at that. “I don’t think so.” “Stop it! You’re ruining this whole metaphorical bullshit I’m trying to pull off right now.” “I…look,” he said, pulling his hoof back. “I appreciate the gesture, but it’s not going to get my leg fixed.” I gesticulated wildly. “But you’ve got it all wrong! I’m telling you that you can go to a normal hospital now! Your wires and electrodes make you, you, and nopony will judge you for that. I don’t know what kind of strange society you live in, but it seems that most ponies here try their hardest to please each other.” Glimmers of hope shined in his eyes, and for once, I felt like I was making progress. There didn’t exist a problem the element of Laughter couldn’t solve! I led the poor mecha-pony out to the other workers still shingling that rooftop. If I couldn’t help society, I would, at the very least, help this pony. The now exuberant pony called out to his coworkers. “Hey guys! I know it might be a bit surprising, but I’m hoping you take it well.” He held his leg toward them. “I’m a robot!” A moment of silence passed. Then four simultaneous wails of terror emanated from his coworkers, each of them fixated on the metallic wound. All of them jumped off the building and made quick pursuit of the revealed pony. The poor guy tried to run, but his broken leg made it impossible to move at anything close to escape velocity. He was overtaken in a matter of seconds. His coworkers formed a ring around him and pounded him into the ground, screeches of metal and pain filling the air around the city, drawing more ponies in to participate in the ruthless killing. Soon, his post-mortem twitches stopped, and all of them looked towards me. One of the shingles workers that started the attack asked, “What’s your affiliation with him?” I’ll say that at that moment, I wasn’t inclined to call my previously existing buddy so much as an acquaintance. “I…uh. I ousted him. Look,” I said, showing them the cut on my hoof. “I’m real.” The brown maned, grey pony gave me an approving nod. “Good.” There was a bit of an awkward silence, but most of the ponies had started milling about, so I breathed a little sigh of relief. No doubt I’d have to go to sleep thinking about what I’d done for the rest of my life. And then, out of nowhere, more screeching sprung up from the crowd. One of the ponies had gotten injured while mobbing, and had been revealed as yet another robot. This cycle continued for five or so more ponies, until miraculously, no more injuries occurred. *************************** My first instinct was to get away from this terrible place. I understood that cruelty existed in every dimension, but it didn’t occur to me that this species could be worse than hoomans. It was like one big game of mob justice. Everypony kept their head down, waiting for another to make a mistake. However, as much as I wanted to leave the place, the element of Laughter would not be deterred. I was the most well equipped to deal with things like this, and deal with them I would. Starting with a position of power. And Little Pip, you wouldn’t guess it, but, it was really easy to get power in this world. As a normal flesh and blood pony, I was treated like some kind of celebrity. Never before had a pony willingly taken the cut test, and passed. I can bleed is what I mean. The second word got out about my presence at the recent robot ousting, I grew in fame and power. The fact that I could bleed the red juice made me an expert on all things ‘normal’. Ponies asked me about how to deal with awkward situations, how to avoid being awkward, how to make genuine facial expressions, even how to perform sex acts with their wives. While I answered as best as I could, the most I could offer were a few simple anecdotes about actually feeling the emotions that you wanted to portray. It never helped them, but they kept asking away. Regardless, as the element of Laughter, I knew how to pull the strings of power, and I did so to become the ruler of the city. I’d like to branch off a little bit to say that the whole planet was just one big city. Not too large, mind you. The planet itself was very small, so the city really only rivaled the size of Canterlot. Little Pip, I have no idea how it all worked. If you’re not satisfied with the word ‘magic’, how about you just take wacky physics and impossible economic procedures as an answer? Back to what I was talking about. I became mayor of the city, thus, ruler of the world. And let me tell you, my idea for a new law was brilliant. *************************** On the summer solstice, everypony was required to perform a mandatory cutting of their hooves. They would walk into view of everypony, and show them their true nature. Nopony was permitted to move until the ceremony ended. It was my hope that they would realize the stupidity of their mobbing. If they each revealed themselves to be robots, they wouldn’t have it within themselves to hurt each other, because no pony would be able to call themselves ‘normal’. And on the day of the ceremony, I felt hopeful that the whole robot/pony dichotomy would be resolved. *************************** Let me tell you, the plan worked very well at the start. The other ponies managed to withhold their shrieks as each pony exposed their metallic hooves. I could tell that as the number of ponies who hadn’t exposed themselves dwindled down, tensions began to vanish. Soon enough, the last pony stood in front of the crowd with his hoof out. After a few seconds, he walked back to his place among the crowd. The whole exercise hadn’t been easy for them, and I could tell from the tired looks on their faces that their nerves had been absolutely fried. It was only out of sheer respect for me that they’d managed to go this far and keep themselves under control for this long. The residents of this city might be murderous, but they certainly knew their respect. In order to take advantage of the moment, I gave all the newly revealed ponies the best words of encouragement I could offer. It went along the lines of this. “Dear citizens of ‘Error: Void index referenced at…’” It was a very long name, so I won’t repeat all of it. “I know that right now, you might feel a little dismayed about all of this, but now is the time to rejoice! All this time, the root of your worry and insecurities have been embedded in your fear of being a robot. Now that you know about it, don’t you feel at least a little bit relieved?!” I waited for some kind of cheering or positive reinforcement, but received none. “Now that you see the truth behind your society, and all the ponies that run it, you no longer need to hide. For the first pony that would seek to hurt you, is also a robot, and thus, they have no greater right to harm you than they would themselves.” Silence. “Where is the excitement?! Where is your jubilation?! Can I hear a Hallelujah, citizens of Error?! Today is the day that you can breathe a big sigh of relief. Today marks the day that you no longer need to hide from your peers, in fear that they might turn on you and kill you. Today…you are liberated! Those that used to walk in fear, need not fear! What was once the valley of the shadow of death is now a land of harmony, friendship, and understanding. On this day forward, we will be known as the land of robots, because that is what you are, and that is what makes each and every one of you a life worth saving.” Once again the ponies looked at me with stoic expressions. I waited for a response, worried that my words meant nothing to their hollow ears. One pony finally piped up. Her voice was ragged, monotone. “Is this the end of the ceremony?” “Yes,” I said with bleary eyes. The ponies below me writhed in a group frenzy, killing each other as quickly as they could manage, and I could only watch. *************************** Eventually, a single pony stood where the crowd used to be, his carapace of a body shredded, and two of his legs mangled. He looked at me, and I had to avert my gaze. While I was sitting with my back to him, crying, he struggled to the nearest building. It was a two-story hotel, and I listened as he creaked and groaned up the stairs. The sounds were terrifying, and they went on forever as the robot struggled up each individual step of the building, parts of his metal body scraping the stairs underneath him. I knew what the robot was going to do, but I felt that I was no longer allowed to stop him. Hospitals didn’t exist in this world, and I had no idea how to fix metal creatures as complicated as him. What was I supposed to do, make him suffer for the few days he’d have left to live? From what I’d gathered, these guys had some regeneration abilities, but a quick glance at the pony told me he probably wasn’t going to make it out of this. It was useless to think about that though. Even if I’d known what to do to save this pony, I wouldn’t have helped him. My speech hadn’t done a thing, and I doubted any words could help. He eventually poked his head out from a second story window. Above all things, he smiled. In as loud a voice he could manage, he said, “Thank you.” Then jumped out of the window, and aimed his head towards the ground. Little Pip couldn’t find it within himself to be surprised. “So. He just…died?” “Yeah.”