You lay in your bed, the warm, fresh sheets enveloping you in an unfamiliar scent. Yesterday, Pinkie took a day off from work and spent the entire afternoon helping you clean everything in your house. Well, it was more like she did all the work while you showered. Then she made you pancakes, which was strange, because you didn't have the ingredients for pancakes. Or a stove. At least they tasted nice.
You're supposed to be meeting her at Sugarcube Corner today, probably to discuss the details of the party. The one you still don't want, but Pinkie's still throwing. You aren't afraid of meeting new people—or ponies—but you don't really feel like putting in the effort of entertaining strangers you don't care about.
You glance at the clock on your wall; the only non-furniture thing in your house. Eleven-fifteen. Pinkie goes on break at eleven-thirty. You sigh and sink deeper into your sheets. Maybe she won't notice. You could just play sick and stay in bed for the rest of the day. Again.
Your stomach doesn't like that idea. There's food at Sugarcube Corner. Besides, Pinkie would just break in and drag you over there if you were late. Or she'd cry.
Wanting to avoid that disaster as much as possible, you halfheartedly fling the covers off and slide your feet to the floor. You grab the single shirt and pair of jeans from their pile near the bed and sluggishly get dressed. You could really use some coffee right now, but you ran out a few days ago, so it seems like today's the perfect opportunity to restock. If only ponies made bigger bags. Back on Earth, you could buy a single bag that would last months. Unfortunately, ponies don't drink coffee much, so they only sell enough to make a few cups at a time. They barely last you a week, even if you ration.
By the time you drag yourself out of your room, it's already eleven-forty. You almost trip on the edge of the couch as you walk by. You guess it moved a bit while Pinkie's Maid Service was cleaning.
knock
click
"Nonny~!"
Huh. Looks like you were right. Pinkie's here to drag you away.
"Yeah, yeah. I know I'm late," you interrupt before she can say anything else. "I'm leaving right now."
Pinkie giggles behind a hoof. "You're not late, silly! I set your clock to be fifteen minutes fast."
This should probably bother you, but you can't work up the energy to care at the moment.
"Whatever, let's just go. I need some caffeine."
"Kay!" Pinkie trots around you and leaps onto your back, loosely wrapping her front legs around your neck. "Onward!"
She's light enough to not be a burden, but it's still irritating.
"Pinkie, get off," you sigh.
"Aw, why?" You're glad you can't see her face, because you can hear the puppy-dog eyes in her voice. "You're strong enough, right?"
"I don't want to carry you. Besides, you can walk fine on your own."
"..."
"Pinkie."
"I'll make you an omelette for breakfast tomorrow."
"...Deal." The back of your neck is treated to a thorough nuzzling for that.
The ponies in the street give you more than a few odd looks as you pass. For one, they aren't used to seeing you at all, but it probably had more to do with the living pink backpack you were now sporting. Thankfully, the walk is short. You shuffle through the open door and immediately angle towards a corner booth.
"Wee!" Pinkie squeals when you pick her up by her front hooves and deposit her on the table. She quickly bounces off and onto your lap.
"Pinkie..."
She turns to look up at you with her bottom lip poking out.
Well, she is soft.
"Welcome back, Pinkie. And hello, Mister Anonymous. What can I get for you both?" The speaker is a yellow and orange stallion. He's apparently the owner of the place, but you never bothered learning his name. He seems unperturbed by Pinkie's position on your lap. He works with her, so he's probably used to it.
"I'll have a super-duper triple scoop of chocolate ice cream! With sprinkles!" The stallion writes it down without hesitation.
"I'll just have a coffee and a muffin." You don't want to spend too much money. Shortly after your arrival, you were given a supply of bits for a house and food, but it won't last much longer. You'll need to get a job soon.
"What kind of muffin would you like?"
"Uh... blueberry, I guess."
"One coffee, a blueberry muffin, and a Pinkie Special coming right up!" He walks off with a smile, leaving you wondering about Pinkie's eating habits if she has a dessert named after her.
"Are you really eating ice cream for lunch?" You nudge the mare to get her attention.
"Nope! I ate before I left."
"And you're still hungry? What did you eat?"
"A delicious apple pie!"
"...Like, an entire pie?"
"Yeppers!" She almost sounds proud of herself.
You prod her tummy with a finger, causing her to erupt into giggles. She doesn't look any bigger than a normal pony, so how the hell is she packing away food like that?
"Here you are! Enjoy," the yellow stallion chirps from behind you, making you jump. He sets the food down and trots off before you can calm your heart enough to respond.
Pinkie wastes no time digging in. She somehow manages to fling spoonfuls of ice cream into her open mouth without spilling a drop. You calmly sip your coffee, waiting for the liquid gold to kick in. The muffin could wait, caffeine is what you need right now. You remind yourself to pick up a bag before you leave. Maybe a couple, if you can afford it.
Setting your steaming cup down, you finally reach for the muffin. Before biting into it, you notice that Pinkie has stopped making noise. You glance down and almost drop your muffin. She's already managed to finish her ice cream and is now leaning back against you, rubbing her stomach with a goofy smile.
"Please stop doing that."
"Huh?" Pinkie opens her eyes and looks up at you in confusion. "Stop what?"
"That. Stop being so damn cute." Her smile widens. "You're making me lose my appetite."
Immediately, her smile drops. She hops off your lap looking worried, almost panicky.
"Oh! I'm so sorry! I'll... I'll sit over here, okay? Just please eat."
"...What?"
"You really need to start eating more. I didn't know I was making that difficult for you." Her mane is noticeably less poofy. "Sorry."
She was... Oh. You remember she mentioned how little you eat during her tear-filled speech last night. She wants to make sure you eat more healthily. And you just made her think she was partly responsible for your poor diet.
"Pinks, I was kidding. Look." You shove the entire muffin into your mouth and slowly choke it down with the rest of your coffee. "See? I ate it," you gasp once you finally swallow the last bit.
"You were joking?" Pinkie asks hopefully. "I didn't make you not hungry anymore?"
You nod your head, still out of breath. Her poof is back, but she still isn't smiling.
"That wasn't a very funny joke," she mumbles. "I'm really worried about you."
You pick up the fretful mare and place her back in you lap.
"Will you stop worrying if I promise to eat more?" So long as you can find a job soon.
"Do you Pinkie Promise?" she asks with dead seriousness.
"Yeah, sure." You hold your pinkie finger out to her before a realization hits you. Ponies don't have pinkies. So what does-
"You have to do the motions!" Pinkie interrupts your thoughts.
You're just plain confused, now. "What motions?"
"Cross my heart and hope to fly, stick a cupcake in my eye!" The chant is accompanied by some motions you are apparently supposed to do. She makes a crisscross over her heart, then flaps like a bird before pulling a cupcake out of nowhere and smashing it into her eyeball. Her tongue flicks out at an impossible length and wipes her face clean, leaving no trace of the pastry. You manage to stay calm and not try to perform an impromptu exorcism. Pinkie might be using black magic, but she's your friend, so you need to accept her. No matter how freaky that was.
"...I don't need to do it with an actual cupcake, right?"
"Only if you want to!"
You repeat the childish rhyme, going through the motions as you say it. "I Pinkie Promise to eat more." Maybe.
The smile is back in full force. "Thank you, Nonny!" she says while nuzzling under your chin. "And you better not be lying. Nopony breaks a Pinkie Promise."
For some reason, the thought of doing so sends chills down your spine.
Having completed the unholy ritual of selling your soul via Pinkie Promise, you remember why you came to Sugarcube Corner in the first place. You pick up Pinkie again and place her on the table so she's at eye level. She just blinks once with a confused smile on her face.
"So... About the party-"
Pinkie's front left leg shoots out and jams itself into your mouth, cutting you off. "Shhhhhhhhh! It's a surprise," she whispers.
You reach up and pull the surprisingly squishy hoof out. You briefly wonder why the hell it tastes like cotton candy.
"Wait, I thought that's why you wanted me here; to discuss the plans or whatever."
"No, silly!" She boops your nose with her other hoof. "I just wanted to hang out with you during my break! I mean, if you want to talk about the party, we can, but we'll have to do it in secret so it can be a surprise."
You can't tell if she's being serious. "It's not really a surprise if I already know about it," you slowly explain.
"That's what they all say," she chuckles evilly, twirling the fake mustache that you know wasn't there before. "Anyway," she throws the mustache over her shoulder, "I don't work on weekends, so we should totally go shopping in Canterlot tomorrow!"
"...For what? I don't-" You stop yourself from mentioning money. "I don't really need anything except food, and I can get that myself, so why bother going shopping?"
"Welllll, you might not need anything, but maybe you'll see something you like. After all, your house is so boriiiing. There's nothing but furniture in it. You need some knickknacks to make it feel more homey!"
"It's not boring," you mumble under your breath. There's plenty of things to do in your house. You can sit on the couch, lay in the bed, or sit at the table. When you're feeling especially adventurous, you sometimes stand in a corner and contemplate the futility of existence. Hell, just last week, you spent three hours staring at yourself in the mirror.
...Maybe going shopping isn't such a bad idea.
"Fine, but I'm not going to buy anything. I'm just going to look, okay?" You could get a feel for the prices of things and go back again once you make some money. Pinkie seems like the type that would just buy things for you if she knew you were short on cash, but you don't want charity.
"Suuuuure, Nonny. And I'm a unicorn."
Even normal unicorns can't do the things Pinkie does, so it wouldn't surprise you if she were some type of hornless one. Or maybe she does have a horn, but it's hidden somewhere in all that poof.
You reach out and pat her mane in various places, Pinkie giggling as if it tickles her. She lets out a small whine when you finish your inspection.
"Did you find a horn?" she asks eagerly.
"No."
"Awww."
That gets a chuckle out of you, and Pinkie's face lights up like a Christmas tree.
"You have a nice laugh, Nonny."
"Don't make it weird, Pinkie."
"Too late!" She springs into the air and lands on the ground butt first, bouncing off her tail and landing on her back hooves in a victorious pose. You clap politely as she takes a bow.
"Welp! I gotta get back to work, now. Bye, Nonny!" She then back flips over the blue mare at the counter and skips into the kitchen. None of the other ponies seem to have noticed her antics.
You get up with a sigh. Without Pinkie's distractions, you no longer have a reason to stay. Walking to the front counter, you consider asking the mare if there are any job openings at Sugarcube Corner, but you decide against it. You're already exhausted from just eating lunch with Pinkie. You can't imagine the amount of energy it would take to work alongside her for multiple hours nearly every day. Instead, you buy two bags of coffee and walk back to your house. You get much fewer stares without your backpack.
After dropping off the coffee and making sure you look halfway presentable, you head out in the direction of Town Hall. Luckily, it's only a block away. Sometimes, you really love having a house near the dead center of Ponyville.
Walking through the entrance, you see the front desk piled high with various files and stacks of paper. There's nobody behind it, so you walk up to the mayor's office and knock on the door a few times.
"Come in~!" a pleasant voice calls out.
Opening the door, you immediately notice that her desk is completely bare except for the nameplate. Mayor Mare is smiling at you with a small amount of surprise.
"Hello, Anonymous! What can I do for you?" She seems oddly cheery.
"Uh, I was wondering if there were any job openings around town. I kind of-"
"You're hired!" she interrupts, holding out a hoof to you.
"...What."
The mayor looks confused for a moment before laughing. "I said you're hired, Anonymous. You can start Monday." She is still holding out her hoof with an expectant look on her face.
You stare back blankly. You don't even know what job she is referring to.
"Thank... you?" You shake the outstretched hoof tentatively. She immediately hops out of her chair and trots out the door. Still confused, you have no choice but to follow her.
"Wonderful! My last secretary moved away to Manehattan two weeks ago, so you've got a lot of catching up to do." She gestures to the overflowing front desk. "This is your station. Let me know if you have any questions, alright?"
The pieces snap into place, but now you're even more confused.
"Wait, you had no secretary for two weeks and you just let all of this pile up?" you ask incredulously.
"Well, of course! My secretary was the one who told me which papers I needed to sign. Without her, I've had way too much free time on my hooves." She doesn't sound upset about that.
"...And you didn't think to sort through this stuff yourself?"
She laughs. "How silly, Anonymous! That's not my job, I'm the mayor," she cheerfully explains.
Oh, duh. That makes much more sense. How could you not see that before?
"Well... I'll see you Monday, Miss Mayor," you say while slowly backing away from the mountain of paper.
"Goodbye, Anonymous." Mayor Mare closes her office door behind her, presumably to fool herself into believing she is a good mayor and doesn't neglect her duties.
You really want to know how much you're getting paid to deal with this shit, but you can ask that question Monday. Hell, maybe she'll make you handle the employment papers and you can set your own salary.
Now that your nonexistent to-do list is complete, you start walking home. There's an existential crisis corner with your name on it.
