“Pinkie!”

“Oops! Sorry!” Pinkie Pie leapt delicately over Mr. Cake’s head—as well as the stove he was attending— and grabbed Pound Cake mid-flight. Her weight forced them both to glide downward, until Pinkie had successfully grounded him.

Mr. Cake grunted exasperatedly. “Can you please keep your activities with the twins upstairs? I know the twins can be a hoofful sometimes, but I’d rather they not become everypony’s hoofful right now.”

Pinkie giggled as Pound pushed his hooves against her face, mushing her cheeks. “I’m sorry Mr. Cake! The twins were getting hungry upstairs, so I took them both into the kitchen to get some food!”

Mr. Cake froze. “Pumpkin’s in here too?”

“Yeah, why?”

“Where is she?!” Mr. Cake opened the stove, checking inside before frantically glancing around and under everything in the kitchen.

“Oh, you know, she’s around,” Pinkie said, winking.

“Pinkie, I don’t have time for games!” Mr. Cake shouted. “Where is she?!”

Pinkie wilted and pointed up behind him. Mr. Cake followed her hoof to see Pumpkin peering down from where she’d been sitting in the circular window’s sill, watching everypony’s antics.

Mr. Cake snatched her up, breathing a relieved sigh. “Pinkie, take the twins upstairs, now. I’ll be up shortly.”

“O-OK, Mr. Cake.” She took Pumpkin from Mr. Cake, scooped up Pound, and made her way back up to Sugarcube Corner’s second floor. After a few moments, Mr. Cake entered Pinkie’s room, shutting the door behind him.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Cake—” Pinkie began, but he cut her off.

“Pinkie, I know you enjoy helping Cup and me with the twins, but they are foals, not toys. They do not belong in the kitchen, let alone during business hours. Pumpkin could have gotten seriously injured, or worse, if she’d gotten into anything dangerous. And the kitchen is dangerous, especially for very young ponies who don’t know any better. Part of being responsible is taking dangerous situations seriously, which you did not do.”

Pinkie deflated. “I-I understand, Mr. Cake.”

Mr. Cake sighed. “You know I hate reprimanding you, but I can’t stress enough how important it is for you to understand that you have to be able to stop yourself from having fun when it creates a safety risk. Your negligence could have gotten Pumpkin or Pound hurt, and the consequences would be a lot more severe than a slight disruption. OK?”

“OK, Mr. Cake.”

“Alright then. Why don’t you take a bit of a walk? Cup said she’d be back soon, and I’m sure Sugarcube Corner will survive the afternoon without you.”

Pinkie nodded, and glumly followed Mr. Cake downstairs after he’d secured the twins within their safety fence. Waving farewell, she exited Sugarcube Corner and meandered through Ponyville, offering a token smile and wave to ponies who greeted her but not stopping to talk.

She looked up to see she’d taken the path up toward Sweet Apple Acres. Applejack and Big Macintosh were at the market, and Apple Bloom was still in school, so there wouldn’t be much point in visiting, but her quiet and still surroundings helped her calm down a bit. She allowed herself a wistful sigh, taking a deep breath through her nose and smelling the crisp air drifting downhill from Sweet Apple Acres’ apple fields.

“Oh dear, you seem down in the dumps,” a gentle male voice said behind her. Pinkie turned around to see a squat green minotaur-like creature looking down at her.

“Who are you?” Pinkie said, perking up. “Are you new to Ponyville?”

“Oh no, just visiting,” Ifrit answered, inclining his head in greeting. “But I couldn’t help but notice you looking sad. I’ve heard about you from a friend. Pinkie Pie, am I right?”

“Yessirree, sir!” Pinkie exclaimed. “I’m Ponyville’s premier party planner!”

“Yes, he made regular note of your enthusiasm and exuberance,” Ifrit said. “But you didn’t seem very happy when I first saw you.”

“Oh, yeah,” Pinkie said in a disappointed tone. “It’s just me being silly.”

“Silly? My pony friend, if it’s something that makes such a joyful character as yourself sad, I’d say it’s quite serious.” Ifrit took a knee, staring into Pinkie with his deep blue eyes.

“Well...” Pinkie decided there wasn’t any harm to explaining things a bit. “I guess I’m just not always sure when to draw the line. I got in trouble for taking some games too far, and it’s not the first time it’s happened either.”

“Ah, so it’s a matter of self-improvement?”

“Yeah, I guess you could say that. But it’s OK! It’s just something I have to work on!”

“Well, my chipper pony friend,” Ifrit said, smiling kindly, “what if I told you I could help make you that pony?”

“Huh? What do you mean?” Pinkie tilted her head.

“Pinkie Pie, I am a genie.” Ifrit rose back to his full height. “Should you wish it, I can make your journey to become a more responsible pony the easiest journey in the world.”

Pinkie Pie’s eyes widened as her smile crept all the way up her cheeks. “Wowee! A wish?! I get a wish?!”

“You do,” Ifrit said. “All you need do is wish for what you want.”

“OK! Then I wish, with aaaaaall my heart, I was more responsible about not playing when it’s inappropriate, so I can help take better care of foals!”

Ifrit nodded, smiling widely himself. “May your wish be granted.” He clapped his hands before quickly opening them as if gesturing toward Pinkie Pie.

Pinkie Pie bounced up and down, screwing her eyes together in joy. Eeeeeeeee! I can’t believe I found a genie and got a wish! Wait until Mr. Cake hears how—

A chill swept through Pinkie, causing her to stop bouncing and open her eyes. The genie had vanished.

“Oooh, I don’t feel so good...” Pinkie murmured, clutching her tummy as her insides curdled. “Um, mister genie, is your magic supposed to feel like this? Where’d you go?” Shortly after she spoke, her stomachache subsided, and she took a few breaths to get over her shock.

“A-Am I just gonna get chills every time I go to far, or...?” Pinkie trailed off, keeping a hoof wrapped around her torso as she felt a pit of ice lodge itself in her chest, shooting out with her every heartbeat into her body. She shivered. “It’s really c-c-cold, mister genie!” Underneath her, Pinkie’s fur had discolored, giving her gray patches on her coat.

Pinkie stumbled over to a tree, leaning on it as she trembled with chills. “I-I’m r-r-really cold now... m-m-mister genie? Anyp-p-pony?” Her entire chest felt numb, and it was getting hard to breathe. The gray patches had spread to her sides, leaching all the color out her bright pink coat hairs.

“G-G-G-G-G—”

Pinkie’s legs gave out, and she slipped off the tree’s bark and smacked against its roots, curling up and shivering incessantly. Her gray patches had become a single patch completely covering her midsection, leaving her flanks balloon cutie mark-free, and were now marching down her legs.

Pinkie Pie was completely numb; it was all she could do just to keep breathing past her chattering teeth as her chest and stomach fought against every inhale. Her irises’ color darkened from their bright and bubbly cerulean shade to a dimmer crystal blue as she struggled to keep her eyes open. Can’t fall asleep, can’t fall asleep...

Her mane began to uncurl from its cotton candy-like appearance, unraveling strand by strand until her mane was as limp as the time she’d believed her friends didn’t like her parties anymore. They fell over her eyes, blinding her with pink. Her tail had begun the same process, drooping and straightening until every hair was parallel to the next.

Something clicked in Pinkie, and she began to feel sensation again, even if she still felt deathly cold. She watched in shock as a wave of smoky coloration swept across her mane, leaving it an iron gray.

Pinkie Pie braced herself against the tree she was under, lifting herself into a sitting position against its trunk. She brought her trembling gray hooves up to her face, tilting her head to the side to shift her mane out of her eyes. “Wh-What happened...?”

Pinkie slowly got back on all fours. She stared ahead for a moment, not wanting to look back at her cutie mark, but eventually twisted her head back to see a dark, unmarked, rectangular monolith on her flank. Aside from her dim blue eyes, she was completely monochrome.

The sight of her cutie mark brought with it a flood of memories, and Pinkie fell back on her hindquarters against her flat tail as she started remembering things she’d never recalled experiencing before.

Pinkie stared down at her hooves again. What color did she think they were before? They were always gray, right? Just like her sisters’ coats. She was never sure why they’d decided to name her “Pinkamena,” but...

Wait, that isn’t right. Pinkie brushed her mane aside as it shortened only down to her jawline, her tail shortening as well underneath where she sat. My name isn’t... whatever I thought it was. She shook her head, confused. It’s Slate Pie. Why did I think it was something else?

Slate’s brow furrowed as she got up again, dusting herself off. I hope I’m not going bonkers. She looked around, seeing a satchel beneath the tree she’d been leaning against. Feeling a curiously strong urge to open it, she riffled through things she felt belonged to her, going through a mental checklist forming in her head and finding clues to her identity at the same time.

Lifting out an old family photo she had always kept with her—all gray coats, except for her father’s of course—Slate Pie’s eyes watered. Normally seeing my family makes me happy... so why do I still feel so sad? Slipping the picture back where she’d tucked it away in a pocket, she pulled out a thick black binder.

The freezing feeling she felt inside plummeted to absolute zero.

Slate had left her family’s farm shortly after earning her cutie mark. She’d never been good at growing rocks, and her cutie mark’s appearance confirmed it. A colt had gotten lost on their farm, and while most of the Pie family (Limestone notwithstanding) had been somewhat sympathetic, Slate had traveled with him to the nearby town, gotten the word out about a missing colt, and watched with a measured smile as he reunited with his tearful parents.

Slate opened the binder, leafing through papers containing profiles and notes. She, and her family, knew she couldn’t stay at the farm, not when it meant she couldn’t follow her calling. She wanted to help ponies, other ponies. Thankfully, her sister Maud was already pursuing her degree in rock studies, and had helped get her the connections she needed to enter college to study for her social work degree.

She blinked as her vision grew fuzzy. She dabbed at her eyes. Am I crying? She realized she didn’t have her glasses on, and took her glasses case out her satchel, opening them and settling her square wire frames on her nose. The world around her became clear again, and she turned her attention back to her case files.

Earning her degree, license, and putting in fieldwork hours on top of it all had been repetitive and grueling, but she was quite used to repetitive and grueling tasks from her time on the rock farm, and soon she’d landed herself a job in Ponyville under the local mayorship. Thankfully, once she’d settled into her role, it seemed all her dedication had paid off, as she finally felt she was having a meaningfully positive impact on others' lives. Ever since she’d helped that colt find his parents, seeing good ponies suffer bad situations hurt her deeply, and helping them find their way again was the least she could do for them.

The chilliness inside her reached out and permeated every fiber of her being, holding her in its icy grip for a final purifying moment before releasing her. Slate blinked at the phantom sensation of warmth reentering her body before shaking off the odd feeling and checking her watch.

Nodding, Slate Pie slipped her binder back into her satchel and stood, wondering what to fill her time with. She had a love-hate relationship with her work hours; some days, like today, she had long stretches between clients. Slinging her satchel around her neck, Slate began walking back toward town.

She frowned. She usually didn’t take time to look through all her cases at once, but doing so just then gave her a strange twinge of warmth in her heart she didn’t usually feel. Slate was pretty much the opposite of upbeat, and she freely admitted it—she never laughed, and despite conversation being a necessity on the job was surprisingly silent when she was alone—but every so often she’d develop an odd craving for something, or someone, to give her life some brightness and excitement.

Slate grimaced. It’s unfortunate there’s no place for frivolity when you’re helping ponies work through rough times in their lives. How can you be happy-go-lucky when your clients have sometimes suffered abuse and neglect?

Slate Pie stopped at Ponyville’s outskirts, having followed the trail from Sweet Apple Acres back to town. Exhaling through her nostrils, she stood still for a moment before heading down a specific street. Oh well. Even if it’s not the most exciting detour, I suppose stopping by Sugarcube Corner can’t hurt before I make Snips’s appointment...

Author's Note

Next Up: Shades of Success, featuring Rainbow Dash and her parents