Author's Note
By reading this dreadful tale of terror, you take your own life into your hands... you have been warned, turn back now.
Enter at your own risk.
SPA
Spending time with Pinkie Pie at the spa was a rare treat, and one that Rarity treasured. It was difficult to get the sugar-loving pink party pony to sit still long enough and enjoy a day at the spa. As was Rarity’s good fortune, Pinkie Pie, the party pony, was now party pooped. The outrageous pink mare looked exhausted and she lay slumped over in the jacuzzi.
“Come on in, the water’s fine,” Pinkie Pie said in a weary, worn down whine, inviting Rarity in.
“Oh, darling, I don’t mind if I do,” she replied.
The water was just how Rarity liked it; hot and full of bubbles. As she eased herself in, hissing as the hot water made her frogs sting, she could feel the bubbles rising all around her, tickling her, floating up in the water, hitting her ribs, and clinging to her pelt in a most delightful way. The sensation was divine, as Rarity was fond of saying.
“Pinkie, darling…” Rarity hesitated, not wishing to be rude or impolite. She chose her next few words with great care and caution. “Pinkie, you look as though you have had a very busy week. I haven’t seen nor heard from you. Are you alright?”
“Forty eight cute-ceañeras in seven days.” Pinkie Pie struggled to lift her head up out of the water, but her waterlogged mane prevented her from doing so. She splashed a hoof around and a fatigued smile crept over her muzzle. “They said it couldn’t be done. They said it wasn’t possible. Mister Cake said I was biting off more than I could chew. Well, I showed him.”
Oh dear, Rarity thought to herself as she did a little math.
“Rarity?”
“Yes, Pinkie?”
“I don’t want to party ever again,” Pinkie Pie confessed in a voice that was a lot like taffy, stretched thin and to the point of breaking. “I mean it this time. I know I’ve said it before, but I’m done. Retiring. It’s over, Rarity. Too much of a good thing.”
Sniffing, Rarity was certain that she could smell… bubble gum? Frosting? Perhaps chocolate? Pinkie always smelled like sugary treats, but in the jacuzzi of all places, the spa had a fragrance all of its own and Pinkie Pie had somehow overpowered it. The sweet tang of cucumbers, essential oils, fine soaps, conditioners to die for, and hoof polish, that was the smell of the spa. It was the finest smell that Rarity knew of, except for success, perhaps.
“The Cakes told me not to do it, they warned me, they warned me, but I didn’t listen. I told them I’d take care of it on my own, that I didn’t need them. Why did I do that, Rarity? Why am I so stupid?” Pinkie Pie shifted in the water, drifting in the current of endless bubbles that rose up all around her. She let heave a Pinkie Pie Sigh, complete with much lip flapping.
“Pinkie, darling, do try to relax.” Rarity, who wanted to be helpful, who wanted to make her friend feel better, didn’t know what else to say, but she understood the cost of success, the toll upon the mind, how it could drain a body.
“For the first time in my life, I’m worried that I’ll get diabetes.” Pinkie Pie shook her head. “Diabetes, Rarity, diabetes. I did nothing but eat sweets for a week, it was all cute-ceañera, all the time, from before sunrise to past sundown. If I even look at cake now, I feel like tossing my cookies.” The pink party pony gagged. “Blech, cookies!”
Relaxing, Rarity began to look at the art upon the walls as she lay back in the soothing, bubbling water. She felt buoyant, almost weightless, suspended in the gentle, bubbling warmth that surrounded her. She looked at paintings of sawmills, green pastures, and old photographs of Ponyville landmarks.
“Oh, and at one cute-ceañera, the little colt, he loved black licorice. He absolutely loved it! His parents requested that I make black licorice frosting, black licorice ice cream, and all kinds of black licorice treats, and I very politely tried to tell them that this wasn’t the best idea, but they didn’t listen to me, even though I am clearly the party professional and they were both chartered airship aviation accountants, the most boring sorts of ponies that could possibly exist, and the guests, guess what, they hated the food, because everything was black licorice and nopony wanted to eat it, and then they had the nerve to blame me, even though I tried to warn them, and this whole party turned into a real downer and there was a whole bunch of food left over, all of it black licorice themed that they didn’t want and I couldn’t throw it away, and nopony wanted to eat it, so I was forced to eat everything so it wouldn’t go to waste, and it turned my teeth and my tongue black and all super-gross, but I was stuck eating it.” Pinkie Pie stuck out her tongue, and, sure enough, it was a vile black and green colour.
“Pinkie, dear, that sounds dreadful,” Rarity said as she slipped into a deeper state of relaxation. “Some ponies, some ponies think they know how to do your job better than you do, and there isn’t much you can do for them, except to give them exactly what they wanted. After they pay upfront, of course.”
The pink party pony sucked in her tongue with a wet slurp. “Yep.”
Rarity’s half opened eyes wandered over the walls as she floated next to Pinkie Pie. The water was especially warm today, much hotter than usual, and it felt good. She read over a service award for Aloe and Lotus, who ranked number one in customer satisfaction. Of course they did. The spa was the second best business in Ponyville, at least, in Rarity’s own opinion.
“Black licorice is positively dreadful… you poor dear, how we suffer for our craft.” Rarity’s words were theatrical, but her sympathy was sincere. She understood, yes she did. Out of all of them, Rarity understood, perhaps more than anypony, just how much an artist had to suffer for their craft, and Pinkie Pie was an artist.
“My tummy hurts.” Pinkie Pie’s face contorted. “I was hoping the jacuzzi would help, but it doesn’t seem to be doing anything to make it stop.”
Yawning, Rarity kept looking at everything on the walls, and that was when she noticed the piece of canary yellow paper. She squinted, unable to see the writing, and lifted her head a little. Her muzzle scrunched, wrinkling, and she wished that she had her reading glasses.
The sign said, “Jacuzzi out of order.”
Laying in the water, Rarity thought about the sign for a moment, then she thought about Pinkie, then she thought about everything that Pinkie had been eating, and then she thought about the bubbles roiling all around her in the water. Rarity thought about these things far too much, for far too long, and her conclusion was one most unpleasant—Pinkie Pie’s balloon knot had loosened.
She began screaming. She screamed for all she was worth, she screamed like a horror movie scream queen, she screamed, and she just couldn’t stop. When she ran out of air, she inhaled as much as she could, and then, Rarity would scream some more, horrified by the terrible truth she longed to deny.
Epilogue.
“I just don’t know what went wrong.” Pinkie Pie sniffled and watched as Rarity was taken away by the nice ponies in clean white coats, still screaming. She leaned upon Aloe and shook her head. “What do you think did this to her?”
“I don’t know,” Aloe replied in a low voice that had a thick accent. “It is, how you say, dreadful?”
“It sure is. I wonder if she’ll be okay. I don’t think I was a very good friend. I just sort of babbled and ran my mouth a bunch and I really didn’t listen to her. I think she might’ve had a bad week. I guess the stress got to her. And I thought that I had a bad week.”
Aloe nodded.
“At least my tummy feels better. Whew, that bloating sensation was getting out of control.”
