Pinkie Pie

Pinkie Pie loves pillows. She is particularly fond of fluffy bed pillows with the frilly edges and soft interiors. They are great for stuffing one's face in to muffle the screams of despair and to soak up the lonely tears of disappointment. They are also good for blocking one's view of unwanted guests who have made it a mission to interrupt the mourning period.

“Pinkie, you can't stay cooped up like this,” says Twilight. “It isn't healthy. Plus, we got work to do.”

“I've only been here for three days,” says Pinkie Pie, her face still in the pillow.

“Three days staring at your pillow and playing the fiddle horribly.”

Twilight levitates a stack of rough, used notebooks and places them on a table cluttered with dead plants, doodles and an old fiddle. She then pulls the chair next to Pinkie Pie and sits down with a stack of mail floating next to her.

“Look, we have a list of clients growing very fast,” says Twilight. “Your popularity has really taken off ever since you captured Color Wheel-”

“Uh huh,” mumbles Pinkie Pie.

“-And now ponies want you to help them. This will help us out a lot for rent. Which, for your information, we are behind on.”

“How much?”

“One month.”

“Oh, that's not bad.”

“Pinkie, that's bad.”

“But not bad-bad.”

“Its eviction bad. Honestly, what have you been doing with all the money?”

Pinkie Pie lifts her head up so her wet, puffy eyes just barely peek over the pillow.

“Do you want the truth or a lie?” asks Pinkie Pie.

“I said honestly for a reason,” replies Twilight.

Pinkie Pie sighs and sits up, wiping her face of tears. “Okay, since you asked.”

=======╣EARLIER IN THE COLOR WHEEL CASE╠=======

Pinkie Pie slams her hoof on the polished counter, grabs a light blue unicorn mare by the back of her neck and brings her close so that her nose is squished against hers and her blue and white mane meshes with her dark pink mane.

“How much do I have to pay you to bring that dessert to me?” says Pinkie Pie, pointing her hoof towards a titan of a stallion whose shiny yellow fur ripples like majestic waves from his bulging muscles.

“You can save your money and just talk to him,” says the unicorn, Minuette. She pulls away and walks towards a mess of dirty dishes and crumpled napkins at the other end of the bar. “The minute-dating hasn't started yet and there are no rule of mingling before the event starts.”

Pinkie Pie scrambles after Minuette, having to weave her way around a stallion licking a block of salt at the counter, and when she catches up she once again slams her hoofs on the counter. This time her eyes are wide with panic and she grabs Minuette's cheeks and brings their noses together again.

“Do you remember what happened last time I talked to a stallion by my own free will?” says Pinkie Pie hysterically.

With the help of her magic prying Pinkie Pie's hoofs away, Minuette is able to step away from the counter.

“The tomato incident?” asks Minuette.

“No,” says Pinkie Pie.

“The mud monster?”

“No.”

“The allergic reaction to garlic?”

“No!”

“The cannon?”

“Yes!”

“Oh, yeah, I remember. He slapped the restraining order on you.”

“But it wasn't my fault. He started it.”

“And you shot him with a cannon. Where did you even get a cannon?”

“Family secret. So, will you help out a loyal customer?”

Minuette shrugs. “Eh, why not. A hundred bits.”

Pinkie Pie slams a bag of bits on the counter. “Done.”

Minuette uses her magic to slip the bag under her counter, and Pinkie Pie does a quick look around before she leans close in a whisper that is completely not suspicious to anyone.

“I also got extra if you got the stuff,” says Pinkie Pie.

Minuette mirrors Pinkie Pie's motions, then whispers in her ear: “I got some good words. But honestly, I think you should drop the Color Wheel case. This guy is not like the others.”

Pinkie Pie smirks and coolly inspects her hoof. “That's what they all say, but when have they ever lived up to the hype?”

"Pinkie, I'm being genuine. There is something not right with Color Wheel. He's-"

Pinkie Pie shakes a bag of bits in front of Minuette's face, and her worry dissolves into a lust for cash.

"All yours. Follow me to the back. We got some time before the event starts."

Pinkie Pie smirks and trots around the counter. "Thanks, Minuette. I knew you'd see things my way."

Some Minutes Later

Pinkie Pie got what she needed from Minuette and is now sitting in front of the Olympian stallion, knowing that she has finally found him. The perfect mate. The one to take her off of her hoofs and carry her to a wonderful land of exotic joy. A place of eternal sunshine and rainbows. The one who will eat the moon for her and give twelve great kids (two of which she will be sure to name George and Ambercrombie) and build her a house with a fence and a dog. He is the one to-

“Hai~” says the stallion in a high pitched, squeaky voice.

Pinkie Pie's eye twitches, and her jaw drops with a horrified gag, and the stallion giggles and sips a fruity drink from a coconut cup with an umbrella on top. Her eyes then roll to the back of her head and she flops out of her chair, blacking out when she hits her head on the adjacent table.

=======╣AND NOW BACK TO THE PRESENT╠=======

“Really?” says Twilight. “You blew all of our rent money bribing a shady dating place to bring you a date?”

“Don't be silly. I didn't spend it all on bribing for a date. Which, a little F-Y-I, the table I landed on was Pinprick's which got me a date with him, but he probably thinks I'm a freak so I can safely scratch off a second date and just sit in this room for another fifty years wondering why nopony likes me,” says Pinkie Pie.

“Aren't you overreacting?”

“I'm under-reacting.”

“Right, well you can mope about how you blew yet another date after you get through this pile of requests.”

With a little filly whine, Pinkie Pie grabs one of the letters from Twilight's levitation aura, skims it, then tosses it away.

“The butler did it,” says Pinkie Pie

“You can't possibly know that from reading it,” says Twilight.

“I actually read it, though.”

Twilight's lips hook to a large frown, and her ears and lids droop as Pinkie tosses yet another letter in the trash.

“That was an insurance scam,” says Pinkie Pie shortly after reading it and throwing it away.

Twilight reads the letter Pinkie Pie threw away. “I'm reading this, too, and I am not seeing where you are getting your information.”

“That is because you're seeing the words, but you aren't reading them. You aren't seeing how they all connect.” Pinkie Pie throws another letter to the floor.

“That doesn't make sense.”

“Yes it does. Just think of these letters like pictures. You can name every color in the picture but you don't know what the actual picture is because you aren't actually looking at the picture, just the colors.” Her eyes slide along the newest letter. “Check the coltfriend's brother's friend's cousin's marefriend's house for this one.”

Twilight grabs the letter and scribbles down what Pinkie Pie said in a notebook she produces from her pocket, saying: “Words are not colors, though, so your analogy is still flimsy.”

“And that, Twilight, is why you are a wet carrot.” Pinkie Pie cups Twilight's cheek and flashes a toothy smile, albeit weighed down with self inflicted burden and uncaring of the annoyed glare she is recieving. “But don't you worry, my magical grape, I still love you.”

She then winks and clicks her tongue, and after she pats Twilight's cheek she grabs the last letter and lays on her bed, placing the note on her pillow and reading it in silence. Seconds late she turns the letter over, skims it, turns it back, then she stretches her spine on her bed, raising her hindquarters and pressing her front hoofs against her headboard like a stretching cat.

“This one will be fun,” says Pinkie Pie.

“Which one is it?” asks Twilight.

Pinkie Pie slaps the letter to Twilight's chest and moves towards her closet while her companion looks it over.

“Missing pony. Phillipa Driver, a-k-a Screwloose, as the Asylum calls her,” says Pinkie Pie, her hoof flicking through her collection of ill kept vests, jackets and shirts, which are all hung up together in sets. “She disappeared from her cell three days ago, and the Asylum wants to keep this quiet, but her cousin is asking us for help since the ever so talented cops of our fair and quaint little town have not been all that great. I'm thinking pink will do, today.”

“You always wear pink,” quips Twilight, now folding up the letter and stuffing it in her pocket. “What do you want to do about the coltfriend's brother's friend's cousin's marefriend's house?”

“Toss it. We got better cakes to bake.”

Twilight blinks and hesitantly throws the letter away while Pinkie Pie puts on her vest. When the pink pony turns around she flashes an eager smile.

“Ready to go?” says Pinkie Pie.

Twilight sighs and uses her magic to adjust the buttons on Pinkie Pie's vest and straighten out her collar. When she is done with those, the magical aura brushes the wrinkles off of Pinkie Pie's shirt and she takes a step back and eyes Pinkie Pie with a satisfied smirk.

“Yes, I think I am now that you actually look presentable,” says Twilight.

Pinkie Pie and Twilight quickly head down the stairs, with Twilight actually using the steps and Pinkie Pie sliding down the railing. When Pinkie Pie reaches the bottom she hops off the rail and rolls back to her hoofs in front of Spike, who is carrying a box in his little claws.

“Pinkie, you got mail,” says Spike. “It just came in.”

“Ooh, goody! Lemme see! Lemme see!” Pinkie Pie hops to Spike, yanks the package away and tears open the box, only for her eager smile to disappear under the frown of confusion, for in it is a square piece of cloth resting on a cushion of fleece. She cocks her head and gently takes out the cloth and slides out a blank small vinyl record disc.

“A record?” says Twilight as she takes a spot next to Twilight. “Spike, what's the return address?”

Spike picks up the box and gives it a quick inspection. “2009 Notes Street. Apartment Twelve.”

Pinkie Pie puts the disc on the record player, adjusts the device the appropriate spots and cranks it up. When the music starts playing a familiar symphony flows through the messy home, and as each note seeps into her ears, the pink color fades from Pinkie Pie's face. It is an all too familiar Beethoofen String Quartet Number 14 in C-Sharp Minor.

“Pinkie?” asks Twilight. “Pinkie, are you all right?”

Pinkie Pie doesn't answer. Her tongue and throat are too stiff to do anything.

“Pinkie?”

Twilight places her hoof on Pinkie Pie's back and the earth pony snaps into motion. Starting with slapping Twilight's hoof away and rushing out the door.

“Gottaamysterytosolvekaybye!” says Pinkie Pie.

The door slams shut behind her, bringing her roommates to flinch. Seconds later Spike slowly looks at Twilight and scratches his head.

“That was weird,” says Spike.

“Spike, investigate that address. I'm going to catch up with Pinkie Pie,” says Twilight.

“Anything in particular I should be looking for?”

Twilight disappears in a burst of light, leaving Spike alone in the room with the music that now gives the atmosphere and unpleasant feel. And so with a heavy, dejected sigh, he grabs his coat and heads out.

“Sure, Spike, here's what to look for. Why thank you, Twilight, you're the best,” grumbles Spike.

Then he exits the abode, leaving the music to play without an audience.