Though she wouldn’t admit it, Pumpkin Munch the bat pony wished the food in her fridge was normal.
Fennel. Olive loaf. Stone carrots. Dragonfruit. Ugh. Dragonfruit sounded awesome, and looked awesome too (the rind had spikes pointed upwards, making it look like a flaming fireball!) but Pumpkin had no idea how to peel it, or eat it, or whether it was still ripe.
Pumpkin groaned. This probably meant a trip to the market now to get some normal food, more than just eggs. Perhaps some orange juice. Orange juice was normal, and definitely edible.
She yawned and peeked through the blinds of her window, squinting from the sun. Nopony was outside, as usual. She released the blinds and grumbled. Buying a house on the edge of town was the worst decision she’d ever made. Stupid reasonable home prices for remote locations. What a scam.
She passed by the scrambled eggs cooling on the stove. Right, those were there. She slid the eggs on a plate and carried them to the table. After adding a small dash of salt, she ate her eggs quietly.
The four walls of her dining room watched her eat. Pumpkin Munch stared back at the walls, plain and white and… empty. She rested her chin on a hoof. The eggshell paint was so bland. Perhaps her walls would look better in a red, or an orange. A fluorescent green, perhaps. Something that didn’t make the kitchen seem so lifeless.
That’d be a stop on today’s errands, then: Second Coat’s. They tended to keep at least a few gaudy colours. It might raise an eyebrow or two. Perhaps she’d get to show it off, and impress the masses with such a daring shade. Perhaps she’d buy two fluorescent colours instead of one! That’d certainly get ponies talking. Townsponies would be all over her left and right, flocking to find out why she’d dare to try such an odd and unusual colour combination. Purple and brown? Unthinkable! Red and black? What, is she mad?
However, red and black may have been a bit much together. Red for the kitchen and black for the bedroom, maybe. Anything but eggshell for the bedroom, at least. Eggshell practically put her to sleep.
That was her afternoon, then. Groceries and paint. That’d keep her busy until the evening, what with all the ponies she’d have to fend off over her outrageous paint choices. She piled her plate on the heap of dishes on her counter and trotted to the front door.
She swung open the door, her bold first step almost crushing the package on her doorstep.
She retracted her hoof and inspected the package. It was small and wrapped in white cloth, a highly unusual way of wrapping a package. Pumpkin Munch noticed one end was open to air, so she turned it over.
It was no ordinary package, she realized. It was a baby-filled package, a cloth cocoon with a tiny pony peeking its head out from inside. The little pony looked up at her, with big, shining blue eyes.
No, not a little pony. A little changeling.
A changeling! That’s not just any baby. That’s something nopony sees at all in Ponyville. It was a rare subcategory of baby in this part of the world, an extraordinary discovery indeed. Why would a changeling gift a baby in such an anonymous way? Why would they leave it here, on the doorstep of a house close to the outskirts of town? Were changelings shy or something?
Pumpkin Munch stared at the baby bundle, then looked around. If nopony else was around to claim it, and it had been left on her doorstep, then surely this meant it was hers.
Pumpkin squealed. Her very own baby! Ponies would swarm it for a chance to pinch its squishy little cheeks, or simply to look at it and cherish the sight of. If there was one thing ponies doted on more than puppies and kittens, it was tiny version of themselves. This was a tiny changeling and not a tiny pony, but it certainly resembled one. No doubt they’d still love it. Nopony could resist an adorable little baby.
Pumpkin pulled the cloth back. The baby had tiny little black hooves, with even tinier holes in them. She rubbed the baby’s belly to test its response.
The baby squirmed, sticking out its tongue, its big blue eyes transfixed on Pumpkin’s hoof. It tried to grasp the hoof with its own hooves, making a quaint, soft baby sound as it did so.
Yes. The baby was adequately adorable.
Pumpkin kissed the baby on its forehead and wrapped her up again in the cloth. This baby was the luckiest thing to happen to her in a month. What were the odds of somepony leaving a perfectly abnormal baby on her doorstep? This couldn’t be mere coincidence. This baby was a blessing, a gift from the powers that be, a stroke of fate.
“That’s it! Stroke!” She booped the baby on the nose. “I’ll call you Stroke.”
Pumpkin held Stroke close to her chest and snuggled it, earning a gleeful little laugh. Pumpkin grinned. Nopony could resist. Nopony.
~ ~ ~
“Rarity!” Pumpkin burst into Rarity’s workroom, nearly toppling over a ponnequin by the door. “Rarity! Look! I had a Stroke!”
Rarity dropped everything, whirling on Pumpkin. “What? What? When? Are you okay? Did you see a doctor? Do you need one now?”
Pumpkin shook her head, holding up the baby in her hooves. “No, look!”
Rarity hyperventilated, ready to scoop up Pumpkin in her magic and barrel down the street at top speed to the hospital, for a real emergency this time, when the words “no” and “look” fully registered in her head. She noticed the baby in Pumpkin’s hooves and melted at the sight. “Oh, my.”
Pumpkin beamed. She puffed up her chest. “It’s my baby.”
Rarity approached the baby, captivated by its big blue eyes and tiny little hooves. “Dear me, that’s the most precious little thing I’ve ever seen.” She covered her mouth with a hoof, asking for permission with her eyes.
“Of course,” Pumpkin said, offering the baby.
Rarity accepted it, cradling the baby’s head in her elbow. Sweetie Belle was just as small not long ago, and just as wide-eyed and curious about the world. Tears welled up in her eyes to see such a beautiful and innocent stage in this little pony’s life. Little changeling, that is, but who was she to judge? She tickled its nose with the tip of her hoof. “What’s your name, you little angel?”
“I need it back, now,” Pumpkin said, pulling her baby back. She flew out the door.
“Well, Pumpkin, I…” Rarity said. She harrumphed, already missing the little darling. Pumpkin was certainly a free spirit. “Oh, before you leave, Pumpkin!”
Pumpkin poked her head through the door. “Yes?”
“I’ve been debating which colour to paint this room,” she said, picking her paint swatches up off the floor and holding them up for Pumpkin to see. “Lilac pink is a strong candidate, but I think purple hyacinth or amethyst cream would look just as lovely. Which colour would you pick?”
“I dunno, purple? Look, I have to go, ponies to see, babies to flaunt, all that. Bye!” She zipped down the staircase.
“But they’re all purple, dear, that’s—” However, the front door slammed before she had the chance to place the burden of choosing on somepony else. No matter. She’d already spent hours deliberating in her head—what were two or three or seven more?
~ ~ ~
“Look, Twilight, I had a Stroke!”
Twilight frowned. Pumpkin Munch was at it again. She looked up at the bat pony, who presented a changeling baby wrapped in cloth. “You say you had a stroke, and then you show me a baby.” She sighed. “Is your baby’s name Stroke?”
“Yes! Yes it is.” She offered the baby to Twilight, adorable face-first. “Don’t you want to pinch its cheeks?”
Twilight closed her book. Her daily allotment of reading would have to wait. “There are so many things wrong with that,” she said. “First thing: ‘Stroke’? I can’t say I’ve named many babies in my lifetime—and I am the sister of someone who named their baby after a disaster the baby caused—but even I can recognize that ‘Stroke’ is a terrible name.”
Pumpkin took her baby back, covering its ears. “The nerve! How could a princess, of all ponies, insult my baby’s name like that? Look! Look at its sad little face!” Pumpkin said, pointing to the baby’s curious little face. “Also would you like to pinch its cheeks?”
“ ‘Its’?”
Pumpkin paused, glancing at the baby. “Her?”
Twilight rubbed the bridge of her nose, pushing aside the stacks of books in front of her. “Second thing: Did you name this baby ‘Stroke’ just so you could run around and show everypony your baby and claim, ‘I had a Stroke’?”
“Well, I did have that baby, didn’t I? So I had a Stroke.”
“Did you have that baby, though? Did you give birth to it?”
“Well, no, but…”
Twilight raised an eyebrow, tapping her hoof on the floor.
Pumpkin pouted. “…I was hoping you’d cut me off there so I wouldn’t have to explain myself. Look, do you want to pinch its cheeks or not? This is a limited time offer.”
Twilight shook her head. “The phrasing is just so odd. It sounds convoluted on purpose, like you’re trying to cause a misunderstanding that you had a stroke. Why wouldn’t you say something less unnatural-sounding, like, ‘Have you seen my new baby, Stroke?’ or ‘This is Stroke, my new baby,’ or when someone asks what your baby’s name is, just say, ‘Stroke.’ Are you trying to alarm everypony?”
“You know what, fine!” Pumpkin huffed and marched back to the library door. “If you didn’t want the privilege of pinching Stroke’s cheeks, you should’ve just said so. Stroke is a gift. She deserves better than to have her loving mommy be bullied over petty syntax.”
“Semantics, actually.”
“It’s bullying, is what it is, and I won’t stand for it! She doesn’t deserve it—she’s just like everypony else. And if there’s one thing I know about Stroke, it’s that she’s special.” She slammed the door behind her.
Twilight snorted. Pumpkin Munch was certainly a free spirit. She’d only ever seen her when she wanted to show off something new about herself, but never stayed long enough to have something that resembled a normal conversation.
Twilight made a mental note; she’d be a good pony to teach a friendship lesson or two. Perhaps Pinkie Pie could be a good mentor—no, no she wouldn’t. Rarity or Fluttershy would be better, more levelheaded role models.
Pumpkin popped in again. “I also know she’s a girl. And I know her cheeks are so very pinchable.” She disappeared.
The lesson could wait for another day, though. Now was reading time. Twilight considered locking the door.
“And her name is Fluffy now, by the way. I changed my mind.”
She no longer had to consider it.
~ ~ ~
“Thank you for coming to fix my broken light bulb, Applejack.”
“Not a problem, Fluttershy,” Applejack said, whipping out the hammer from her tool belt. She tipped her hat. “Anything for a good friend. I’m happy to help. Now where’s the little rascal at?”
“Over by the window,” Fluttershy said, walking to the kitchen. “I’ll make us some tea.”
Applejack picked up the lamp and laid it down gently on the ground. She glanced out the window, sighing. “Fluttershy? Pumpkin Munch is comin’ down the road.”
Fluttershy nodded, pouring more water in the tea kettle. “I’ll make tea for three, then.”
Applejack slid the hammer back into her tool belt. “Do you have to let her in? I mean, we could hide upstairs or somethin’ and she’d never have to know we’re here.”
Fluttershy frowned. “Applejack, that’s rude. Pumpkin is a free spirit. We just have to be a little patient around her,” she said, trotting over to the front door. “Besides, she can fly. She could see us upstairs. Pumpkin, hello!” Fluttershy opened the door. “It’s so wonderful to see you.”
“Hey guys, have you seen my new baby, Fluffy?” Pumpkin said, shoving the baby in Fluttershy’s face. “This is Fluffy, my new baby. I’m her mom.”
Fluttershy’s heart melted at the sight of the little changeling, her bright blue eyes, her stubby little hooves, and a smile so bright and innocent and utterly adorable as her own name. “Hi, Fluffy!” she said, waving at the baby, rounding her mouth as she spoke. “Who’s a precious little angel? You are! Yes you are.”
“Congratulations,” Applejack said.
Fluttershy detected the sarcasm and shot Applejack a look. She turned back to Pumpkin, smiling sincerely. “That’s wonderful, Pumpkin. You must be so proud.”
“I am,” she said, holding the baby up to Fluttershy’s chest. “Here, take it. Pinch its cheeks. Let the adorableness consume you.”
Applejack sat down on the couch, folding her arms. “So, Pumpkin… you’re a bat pony, and Fluffy’s a changeling?”
Fluttershy shot Applejack another look. Pumpkin lightly tossed Applejack a look. “She’s special,” Pumpkin said. “Nopony can explain a miracle, and that’s what Fluffy is—unexplainable.”
Applejack walked up to Fluttershy and whispered, “Stop. We’re just encouraging her.”
Fluttershy brushed Applejack away and lightly bounced the baby in her hooves, smiling as it giggled. “She seems so healthy. I’m sure you’ve been giving her lots of love.” She rubbed its tummy. “Does she eat love only, or pony food as well?”
“What? Eat love?”
Fluttershy looked up at Pumpkin. “Didn’t you know that? Changelings feed on love.”
“Oh, um,” Pumpkin said, scratching the back of her head. “Yeah, I knew that.” She twiddled her hooves, watching as Fluttershy nuzzled the little changeling. “She, um,” Pumpkin said. “She needs more love.” She grabbed Fluffy back from Fluttershy. “We have to go. She needs a lot of love.”
Fluttershy frowned. “If she needs more love, I’d be able to give her more than enough—”
“She can’t get too much love at once.” Pumpkin said. “Yeah. She needs different kinds of love or else she gets upset.”
“Well, if you say so,” Fluttershy said before Pumpkin fled and slammed the front door behind her.
Applejack nodded. “Well, that was somethin’.”
“Yes, it was,” Fluttershy said, trotting back to the kitchen stove. “I’m delighted that Pumpkin has a daughter. She’s probably just flustered or anxious about it. I can only imagine how overwhelming being a new parent can be.” Fluttershy poured hot water into a mug. “She was such a cute baby, though.”
Applejack took her hammer out again. She smirked. “Yeah, and so was Fluffy.”
Fluttershy frowned at Applejack.
Applejack winked at Fluttershy. “Ya get it? ‘Cause I just called Pumpkin a baby.”
“I’m making tea for one, now.”
~ ~ ~
Pumpkin knocked for the fourth time on the door to Rainbow Dash’s cloud house, but it seemed she wasn’t home, so Pumpkin was forced to react instead.
“Darn it!” she said.
Then Fluffy did something that Pumpkin had not planned for at all. Fluffy’s face fell, contorting as if she had to sneeze. She let out a groan, then a moan, then a full-fledged, high-pitched wail. Pumpkin watched, still as a statue.
Even after the fifth time knocking, Rainbow Dash still wasn’t home, or after the sixth, or the seventh…
~ ~ ~
“Minuette, meet Lyra and Bon Bon,” Dr. Doctor Hooves said, presenting the two ponies in his living room. “Lyra and Bon Bon, a dental assistant at my office, Minuette.”
Minuette shook Lyra’s hoof. “Lyra, hello. I’ve heard so much about you.” She proceeded to shake Bon Bon’s hoof as well, smirking. “I’m sorry, have we met?”
“Hardy har,” Bon Bon said. “Have a seat, wise guy.”
Dr. Doctor left to the kitchen to grab a glass of orange soda. Upon returning, he gave the glass to Minuette and helped himself to a seat on the couch next to Lyra. He wrapped a hoof around her, and she did the same. “Well yes, as you can see, we know how to live it up in the Hooves household. The digs are sweet and the party is, uh…” He looked to Lyra. “What do the kids say these days, honey? Jammin’?”
Lyra tilted her head. “Hoppin’, I think.”
Minuette raised a hoof. “Yeah, I’ve personally heard hoppin’.”
Bon Bon shook her head, setting her glass of water down on the living room table.
“You dare to doubt us, Bon Bon?” Doctor said, sliding a coaster across the table to Minuette. “Do you disagree? If you’re so ‘hip to it’, then what do the kids say these days, hmm?”
Bon Bon shrugged. “I’ve heard wharfin’.”
Minuette almost spat out her soda. “Wharfin’? Where on Earth did that come from?”
“My older sister heard that from her Manehattan friends,” Bon Bon said. “Their kids hang out after school down by the wharfs—loading docks for the ships that come and go on the south side of the city. Hence, wharfin’.”
Doctor shook his head. “It should be goofin’, I’m telling ya.”
“Goofin’?” Lyra snickered.
Doctor poked Lyra in the ribs. “Yes, goofin’. All these kids are a bunch of goofs anyway. It’s totally apt.”
Minuette raised an eyebrow. “How about frumpin’?”
Lyra laughed. “Frumpin’? Minuette, you’re as bad as Doctor.”
Bon Bon shook her head. “What does frumpin’ even mean?”
“It doesn’t need an origin,” Doctor said. “Nopony knows these slang words’ true origins, anyway.” He raised a thoughtful hoof in the air. “Riddle me this: what’s the origin of hoppin’? Or jammin’?”
“Fair point.” Bon Bon took a sip of water. “But seriously, where did frumpin’ come from?”
Everypony looked to Minuette, who simply shrugged. “I dunno, I made it up.”
Doctor raised a glass. “That takes frumpin’ talent, lemme tell ya.”
Lyra laughed. Bon Bon rolled her eyes. “You’re using that as an adjective now, where before you were using it as a present participle.”
“Quit dorkin’, Bon Bon,” Minuette said.
Doctor nodded. He got up, seeing Pumpkin Munch outside shouting and waving her arms as she ran through the streets of Ponyville. He drew the blinds. “Yeah, you’re definitely dorkin’ right now,” he said.
Lyra wiped a tear away from laughing so hard. “Stop, you two, oh my gosh.”
~ ~ ~
Pinkie’s tail curled, interrupting her final clean-up of Sugar Cube Corner for the night. She set the broom down and listened to her Pinkie sense. A curly tail meant a mopey pony was nearby. She scratched her chin to think, then paused. A curly tail then an itchy chin? This was a special case of mopey—a mopey plus a fussy. How could somepony be mopey and fussy at the same time?
She opened the front door and peeked out. Pumpkin Munch dragged her hooves through the street, a baby wailing in her arms.
This made much more sense. One case of mopey and one case of fussy. And even from twenty feet away, she could smell why one of them was fussy.
“Hey, Pumpkin!” Pinkie said, waving. “Does somepony need a diaper change?”
Pumpkin looked up, looking way tired than she normally would be at this hour. The bags under her eyes looked heavier than Rarity’s luggage on a day trip to Canterlot. She was holding the baby as far away from her face as possible. “I think so, yeah,” she said.
Pinkie trotted over, accepting the wailing baby from Pumpkin. “Then you’re in luck. I’m the fastest diaper-changer in the world! See?” Pinkie said, holding up a newly-changed Fluffy.
Pumpkin blinked, taking Fluffy from Pinkie. “Wow, um.”
Even Fluffy seemed impressed, looking down at the new diaper that wasn’t there ten milliseconds prior. Her crying died down.
“Yup, she’s all fixed. Look at how happy she is now that’s she’s not sad!” Pinkie tickled the baby. “She’s adorable now! I just want to pinch her widdle cheeks!” Which, of course, she did.
Pinkie hoped Pumpkin would smile, but instead, Pumpkin looked more tired than she did before, her eye-bags reaching critical Rarity-Crystal-Empire-overnight-trip capacity. “Thanks,” she said.
“Is this baby yours?” Pinkie said. “What’s her name?”
Pumpkin rubbed her arm, looking past Pinkie. “Yeah. Her name’s Fluffy.”
Pinkie looked around the empty street. Evening was ready to fall, and everypony was ready to fall into their beds, herself included, even though she’d never admit she was tired, because she was never tired, she only needed to sharpen her sleeping skills once in a while—but she was getting off track, because Pumpkin was the tired one, and it wasn’t even close to her bedtime. “Soooooo who’s going to look after Fluffy while you’re at work?” Pinkie said.
Pumpkin took a deep breath. “I’ll take her to work with me,” she said, nodding. “We’re both nocturnal, creatures of the night, all that.”
“Looks like she’s ready to noc-turn in,” Pinke said, pointing to the more-chubby-than-fluffy Fluffy, the baby’s eyelids already halfway down and plummeting further by the second.
Pumpkin examined Fluffy. “It’s, uh… She can sleep while I work. That’s fine.”
“And who’ll look after her when you’re asleep?”
Pumpkin opened her mouth to reply, then closed it. She sat down. “I, uh, I don’t know.” She tried to widen her sleepy eyes.
Pinkie waved a dismissive hoof. “Speechless? Me too. I’m the one with a logical argument? What has the world come to?”
“Heh,” Pumpkin said, shuffling her hooves as she cradled the sleeping Fluffy.
Pinkie wondered if Pumpkin wanted to come inside. “Do you want to come inside?”
“No, thanks.”
Pinkie no longer had to wonder. However, she did wonder why Pumpkin was just standing there in front of the door, staring at little Fluffy. She didn’t want to come inside, nor did she turn around to go home. Perhaps Pumpkin was busy thinking. Pinkie could understand that. She thought all the time, including right now!
Pumpkin rocked Fluffy back and forth. “Babies need a lot, don’t they?”
“You betcha. All they do is need. It’s like their favourite thing to do. You name it, they need it! Food, sleep, diaper changes…” Pinkie craned her neck forward. “…attention…”
Pumpkin’s eyes darted sideways as she leaned away from Pinkie’s head. “Why did you pause there. What’s with the pause.”
“Trust me, Pumpkin, when I say I have a lot of experience taking care of babies. Exactly this much experience!” Pinkie said, spreading her arms wide. She put her hoof on Pumpkin’s shoulder. “And trust me when I say this: even though it’s a ton of work to care for a baby—like a literal kiloton of work,” she said, smiling, “I think what they need most of all is just one pony to love them.”
Pumpkin nodded, putting her hoof on Pinkie’s. She was quiet for a minute, staring down at her baby. “Yeah, they do, don’t they,” she finally said.
Pumpkin flapped her wings and hovered. “I need to get a day shift.” She looked up at Pinkie, then looked down and landed. “Is there, um… Would it be okay if, well…” She furrowed her brow, still looking down. “Could you do me a really big favour?”
“Of course! Whatcha need?”
She relaxed, looking over Fluffy as she slept. “Could you look after her for tonight? But like, maybe not just tonight? I need to ask for a day shift, and I don’t know how long—”
“Not a problem!” Pinkie said, opening her arms, ready to receive the sleepy bundle of changeling joy. “I’ve sitted babies a heck of a lot. I can do it until you get a new shift, that’s totally fine.”
Pumpkin raised her eyebrows. “Are you sure?”
Pinkie flashed her most responsible smile. “Anything to get you up to your lively, free-spirited self!”
It took some encouragement, but Pumpkin passed Fluffy over to Pinkie, both mares taking care not to awaken the baby. Pinkie tried to contain her giddy excitement. Fluffy was a Pie now! Fluffy Pie! Or was she a cake? She was under Pinkie’s care, so she’d essentially be a Pie, but she was residing in the Cake household, so that’d technically make her a cake. Perhaps she was both? A pie-cake hybrid? A whoopee pie, possibly? A moon pie? A macaroon?
Pumpkin turned to leave, stopping like she was forgetting something. “Thank you,” she said.
“Anytime!” Pinkie said.
Pumpkin nodded, then walked down the street.
Pinkie smiled, watching Pumpkin plod away. Fluffy could be a Munch instead of a Pie. That’d be acceptable.
