Twilight Sparkle sat at the kitchen table. In front of her were exactly two pre-peeled bananas. Not one, not three, and certainly not five. Just two bananas.
The reason that Twilight Sparkle had exactly two bananas in front of her was quite simple: her goal was to refute an old wives’ tale that specified that a pony should never eat two bananas without corroborating evidence, so she decided to test the hypothesis for herself.
And to do that, she had to eat two bananas. The two bananas that were in front of her. She alternately eyed each banana in turn and took long, protracted breaths.
This is it, she thought to herself, I’m going to eat exactly two bananas and nopony can stop me.
She took another deep breath, then grabbed a quill, a notepad, and one of the bananas. She sniffed the length of the banana, taking notes as to the aroma of the banana she was about to ingest. She then aimed the banana at her mouth as it wavered in her magic.
She exhaled and took a bite of the banana, the sweet flavor enchanting her tastebuds with their… flavor. She wrote down how sweet the flavor was. She then finished the banana because one does not generally start eating something sweet and not finish it, unless it’s really rich and it fills up your stomach instantly. Bananas are not rich, though, so it went down as smoothly as a foal on a water slide during summer. She deduced that it was tasty.
Twilight also adduced that the next banana would be just as tasty as she stared at it. She looked at the second of exactly two bananas, racking her brain in an attempt to figure out what would happen if she ate that second banana.
She then decided to eat the banana because that’s what she initially set out to do.
She shoved the second banana into her mouth because Sweet Celestia bananas are tasty, delicately chewing and swallowing the mass of fruit as she waited for whatever was going to happen.
It was this moment she felt the viscous, slippery rays of the sun dripping onto her flesh.
Wait a tick. Sunlight doesn’t drip.
She looked around the kitchen. She was most confused by what her eyes heard.
The counter… the counter exuded a most piquant taste of libertarianism that flooded her ears. She tried to cover her ears with her hooves, but they were pickles now and she didn’t want to get too salty—her hooves were already pickles. So she set them down and accepted that the music of scorpion peppers caressed her skin, slowly massaging the orange out of her muscles.
She certainly didn’t recall putting any orange in there. She usually kept it next to the screaming of innocents behind the flour.
Speaking of screaming innocents, she smelled singing oozing from the fridge. She stood up on her pretzel sticks and staggered around a bit, not being used to having to balance on bread. Also, it seemed she was getting saltier, what with pretzel stick legs and pickles for hooves.
Well time to smell what kind of music it is. It’s not coagulating close enough for me to make out what it is.
Her legs and hooves ambulated most precisely towards the fridge—one step, two step, red step, blue step—her body growing ever nearer as the fridge got smaller. When she finally combobulated to the fridge, she looked down at it, comparing it to her pickle-hoof and noticing how small it was. Twilight poked at it until she touched the handle and pulled the door open.
It was at this point that a carnation inside the fridge jammed a rod of death into her face hole.
Twilight lurched back, her mouth full of death.The smell of the music told her to swallow. She teared up and shook her head while clasping at her throat. The odorous melody kept compelling her to swallow, the scent of thyme comforting her, singing that everything would be better.
She wasn’t sure what to do. A chill shriveled down her spine, and she felt her heart slow down. She had death in her mouth and everything wasn’t what it used to be. She took a gulp and…
...it was a banana.
Twilight blinked. She looked around, the warm rays of the sun peeking through the window. The counter was once again just a marble counter, and her hooves were certainly not briny anymore. She glanced in the fridge, which was now its proper proportions and contained one Pinkie Pie, who giggled and hopped out of the fridge.
Pinkie winked at Twilight. “I just saved your celery right there.”
Twilight pursed her lips, sat down, and rubbed her forehead with her hooves. “What… what happened?”
“You don’t remember?” Pinkie said as her lips went ear to ear. “Oh, right, you ate two bananas.” She chortled. “Of course you don’t remember.”
“I… guess I did.” Twilight snorted. “I didn’t know what would happen, so I forged ahead and found out.” Twilight hummed. “I guess I was perturbed by the seeming illogic of an old wives’ tale and wanted to prove it wrong.”
“Eeyep!” Pinkie nodded, her mane bouncing along. “See, if you eat exactly two bananas, everything goes bananas, but it doesn’t happen if you eat one or three bananas, or one point two, or two point five, but it does happen if you eat one point nine repeating bananas because that’s mathematically two bananas—”
Twilight waved a hoof in the air. “So you gave me the antidote, which is more than two bananas.” Twilight looked up and smiled. “It’s times like this I remember why you’re such a good friend.”
Pinkie trotted over to Twilight and rumpled her mane. “Who knows what you would have done without me? You would have been lost in crazytown forever!”
“That’s right, Pin—”
“I mean, your left would have been orange and your right would have been potato!” Pinkie sat down and stroked her chin. “Or would your up have been cornbread and your down have been monarchy?”
“Pin—”
“Maybe smooth jazz would have been a battle and thatch would have been apples! Or maybe—”
Twilight held a hoof to Pinkie’s mouth and smiled. “Thank you.” Pinkie smiled and nodded.
