What do you do With a Pink Pony?

Chapters

Chapter 1 - It Cooks
Chapter 2 - Twenty Questions
Chapter 3 - Ride Along
Chapter 4 - Movie Night

Chapter 1 - It Cooks

It was a rainy night on the streets of New York city … I walked down the stone pathways … sounds of a woman crying.

She embraced me fully … I placed my hand on her back … attempt to relieve the tension and sadness … the tears slowed.

I began leading her to my apartment … I decided some warm drinks were in order … chocolate tea … hot cocoa … my silent mission to care for her until the time was right …

I gave her something better to cry about.

<>><<>

It was morning in the bustling city of New York. There’s not much more to say about it than that, not if the old adage was true. I could tell you the birds were chirping, and the sun was shining in through my wonderful view of the city. I could tell you about the grace that is the morning commute. I could regale you with tales of comradery throughout the city, but none of that would be true.

A passing tourist might see a post card depicting the glory of New York city. It would boast of crystal towers, accented with gold and silver; rolling hills of metal and glass, so steep that only the bravest cragsman would dare attempt to reach the peak. It would show rivers of gold and crimson light, flowing in opposite directions, heedless to the call of gravity. It would display a vast ocean of water so clear as to reflect the beauty of the night sky in all its splendid glory. All of this could be captured in a single photo, but only from the sky.

What the card won’t show the tourist, is what goes on down below. On the ground, the city is intimidating. No longer does it show off its gems and lights, now it towers over you, taunting and laughing at how small you are. It threatens you with the darkness of alleys and old roads, forcing you to stay on the traveled path that’s been beaten to stone.

All of these good and bad qualities combined make New York the great city that we’ve come to know. New York has been a focal point of many cultures, clashing and mixing to breed all new customs. It is one of few cities that have gained the honor of a household name; if anyone were to think of New York city, their minds would imagine the beauty of the post card, how it shines and shimmers, inviting all to come and indulge in its wonder. Only those that call this place ‘home’ could tell you the cost of living here.

Everyone has their opinions, and I believe they are entitled to them. However, I do not live in the post card. I live in the one bedroom, one bath apartment, with a small kitchen, and poor heating. I live in the apartment with a window with a view of an alley and the lovely brick building not 4 feet away.

I haven’t let it get to me though. I’m not one to look on the downside of things, an attribute that gets on the nerves of some of the few people that I truly call friends. As such I took to making this small apartment my home. A few posters and paintings, some shade plants in a window mounted flower bed, as well as regular maintenance and cleaning all keep my apartment livable with a happy atmosphere. That happy atmosphere, however, feels different today.

It wasn’t the rare bird searching my flowers for nesting materials or food. Nor was it the occasional child outside laughing and playing with their friends. Today was something new entirely; someone was singing… in my house.

The previous days exploits came back to me in a rush. For a moment I had the common sense to be bewildered with all that had happened. I wouldn’t have believed it if not for the cheerful singing coming from the kitchen. I could hear the stream of water running in the sink, a few cupboards opening and closing, as well as a few pots and pans drumming about. There was also the faint flowing stream of a gas-powered stove that was running.

Despite my optimistic nature, it seemed prudent to at least investigate this small issue. After all, there’s no point in losing one’s house for the sake of a few more minutes rest.

With that I pushed off my covers and stumbled out of bed. It’s one thing to be introspective and analytical in the morning, while lying in bed, it is an entirely different thing to remove oneself from said bed. Along with being an optimist, I was also a night owl. There’s nothing truly wrong with enjoying the night hours a bit more, in my opinion. However, it makes things difficult when the rest of the world is in a different time zone compared to you.

I opened the door only to be shoved back inside when I received a sucker punch to my nostrils. As a single man, and not much of a cook, it had been a very, very long time since I smelled the wonders of fresh home cooked pancakes that didn’t come frozen out of a box. Steeling my resolve, as well as my nose, I attempted a second push towards the door. Not quite ready to announce my presence, I observed my acquaintance from the other night as she worked. You could hardly consider it creepy, my curious gaze had taken on the character of a scientist attempting to learn how a musician plays so gracefully.

I watched from the short hallway that led to both my bedroom and bathroom. It was only now, after having a good night’s rest, and ample light, that I took the time to study what exactly I brought into my home (pink was the first word that came to mind). What was currently immersed in a complex dance of cooking in my kitchen appeared to be, for all intents and purposes, a small pink pony. Her fur was a subtle and cheerful bubblegum pink, while her hair, well, mane and tail I suppose, took on a slightly darker magenta. She came up to roughly my waist in terms of height, forcing her to stand on her hind legs to reach the counters effectively. This had the benefit of making her look absolutely and undeniably adorable as she danced about the kitchen.

Just so we have things straight, I am no slouch in the macho department, but let it be known today that anyone who should consider my descriptions of adorable quadrupeds emasculate will have my big manly boot to talk to. Being manly involves defending your rights to be the man you want to be, and I want to be the kind of man that can ogle at cute cats all day without getting judged for it.

She was currently turned away from me, hiding the eyes which I already knew to be a bright cyan, my personal favorite color. Exhausting all the normal, well, somewhat normal traits of any living creature, I then noticed that she had a tattoo, no two tattoos on each of her haunches. I suppose If you wanted to get into it she technically had six tattoos, evenly divided. The tattoo’s depicted three balloons on each side floating along her flanks, two of them blue, and one yellow. Err, four of them were blue, and two of them were yellow. This is confusing.

Regardless, she had a grand total of six balloons in two different colors on each of her flanks. Which lead me to wonder why anyone would have an assortment of balloons tattooed on them at all. Unfortunately, my musings were cut short as the pink pony seemed to have a short spasm, and turned to face me, realizing my presence for the first time.

We stared each other down, confirming that what had happened last night truly was real, and that each of us was in the presence of a living, breathing, thinking alien. My pink companion recovered shortly, after me, as I had the time to study her earlier. She gave me a bright morning smile and said, "Oh, you're awake ...and you exist... um, thanks for letting me stay the night!"

She said some of that under her breath and I couldn't make it out. It then occurred to both of us that we hadn't introduced ourselves at all, and so we both did so at the same time. That didn’t work out very well, as any words spoken were washed out by the others equally panicked introduction. Being clearly the more forward one, the pink pony reasserted control of the conversation, and introduced herself as Pinkie Pie.

Not one to be outdone, I introduced myself as Joshua Piers, along with my popular nickname Josh. Seeing as the more pressing formalities were dealt with, we were both at a loss for what to do next. Imagine yourself, if you will, in a room with an alien creature; what on earth (ha ha) would you say, or do for that matter, in such a situation?

The tension was finally broken when Pinkie Pie noticed the sound and smell of her pancakes burning; I shed a tear.

As she hurried to remedy the mess of burned breakfast, I tactfully started up a conversation, saying, “So, you cook?”

A jolt brought her back to my world, as she was lost in her baking, “Oh yes! I bake all kinds of things! Pancakes, cupcakes, sponge cakes, angel cakes, layer cakes, birthday cakes, wedding cakes, carrot cakes, chocolate cakes, fruit cakes, cheese cakes, upside-down cakes, shortcakes, coffee cakes!”

I was impressed, I hadn’t realized half as many cakes existed. I very nearly got a sugar rush from the sheer number of confectionaries she listed, as well as the sugary sweet voice she listed them in.

She continued, saying, “But that’s not all I bake! I make cookies too! Ooh there are just so many cookies to bake! Chocolate chip, peanut butter, snickerdoodles, macaroons…!”

As the list went on I had to interrupt the conversation, lest I put on a few pounds from the diabetic cuteness and sugary sweetness that radiated from the aptly named pinkie pie. With a short whistle, I said “That’s an impressive list, I wouldn’t call myself much of a cook, but I can fry a fine pork chop when I’m in the mood.”

At that remark her eyes widened, and she took on an introspective look. She then, quite suddenly, blurted out, “Knock knock!”

I was caught off guard, mostly from the suddenness of her statement; and partially because it was slowly registering in my mind that an alien was telling me a knock knock joke. “um, who’s there?” I replied.

She cheerfully replied with, “Doris!”

Following the motions, I replied with, “Doris who?”

Finally, Pinkie delivered the punchline, “Doris locked! That’s why I’m knocking!”, and subsequently fell over herself giggling, all the while keeping a careful eye on me.

Her reward was a deep chuckle from me, as well as a toothy grin, which she had secretly been hoping for, “I knew it! You have canines! I learned all about omnivores when I threw a ‘sorry-for-kicking-your-flanks-and-stealing-your-gems-even-though-you-kinda-deserved-it-for-foalnapping-Rarity’ party for the diamond dogs! Do you eat gems too? I know how to make a great ruby red velvet cake!”

Only half of the information she supplied me with made sense. However, it dawned on me that as Pinkie was equine, she would also an herbivore; and I had just told an intelligent herbivore that I was proficient at cooking up pig meat for consumption. I blubbered like a fish out of water, trying to get the right words to apologize for my faux pas. Pinkie simply giggled at my behavior, and so I gave up trying to find the right words to excuse myself.

Throughout our conversation Pinkie Pie was cooking up stacks of pancakes with all the grace and flow of a five-star restaurant, meaning I believe she could run a five-star restaurant single handedly, hoofedly? Eventually, she brought two plates stacked with pancakes to my modest dinette. Seeing the missing pieces of a delicious puzzle, I brought out some maple syrup and butter, along with a few forks and knives.

Each of us sat down, eyeing the stacks of pancakes with ravenous eyes. Neither of us wasted any time after we were both seated, immediately digging in to what our stomachs craved. As the first bite hit my tongue, I was immediately sent into a world of flavorful bliss. If this is what food comas were made of, then sign me into the vegetable patch. The sweet fluffiness of the pancakes before me set the bar so impossibly high that I was sure we’d reach mars through the power of pancakes.

My company clearly enjoyed her cooking as well, seemingly doing away with modesty for the sake of the best pancakes I’ve ever tasted. She took bites that almost seemed too large for her head, and at times I was sure she’d choke. I was too busy to correct her though, as I had my own plate of syrupy clouds to inhale.

Forget E.T. If I had to be stuck with an alien living in my apartment I am pleased to pick an alien that got cooking lessons from Edesia, the goddess of food. I’m sure it won’t be easy, integrating a fluffy, pink, talking pony into human society, whether hiding her or letting her roam free. It’s not like that’s my decision to make anyways, I can’t control her any more than I can make the president of the United States kiss my left boot.

Despite all that, I’ve decided that I will be there for her, I’ll provide any help I can to this lone pony. I wish I could say that it’s noble of me to take her in, or that it’s what I would have done without a second’s hesitation. But instead, I’m doing it because I must. If I were to turn her down outside my doorway then I would throw away everything I value, everything that makes me, me. I am being selfish by helping her, I’m fulfilling my wants and needs so that I can continue to feel good about myself. And dammit if that’s what it takes to give this pony something to lean on then I’m going to be the most selfish me that I can be.

Author's Note

Having recently posted my first story "Something Better to Cry About", I decided to roll with that premise, and so I bring you my second story! This one will be significantly longer, with a story that is meant to achieve more than just the minimum word cap.

This is very much a learning experience for me. I have very basic writing knowledge, but I hope to improve that in writing actual stories. This is still just a hobby for me, so unfortunately I cannot promise regular updates or high quality stories, but I do hope you can all enjoy reading these as much as I enjoy writing them (I mean, seriously, writing is the first thing to actually rob me of my sleep).

Another thing please! give a comment or a like down below, your opinion matters! A lot! As far as I know everything I'm doing right now is right, because I did it. If you don't tell me your feelings I can't improve. So please tell me your thoughts, how did my story make you feel? How well am I writing? Where could I improve? where do you think the story could go? I'm not scared of a little criticism, I'm a determined little guy and I refuse to give up writing based on a few negative comments.

Enjoy!

Edit: There has been some very minute editing to tone down the relationship between the two characters in this chapter. Looking back on it that scene was really out of place and as such I have... dealt with it.

Chapter 2 - Twenty Questions

Pinkie Pie ended up making more pancakes than either of us could eat, despite how amazing they were. With the addition of coffee for the both of us (Pinkie requested decaf) we retired to the living room couches to rest our chubby bellies. When both of us found comfortable sitting positions, we began to strike up a conversation.

Truth be told I didn’t know much about who or what was currently sitting with me in my apartment. My decision to take her in was a spur of the moment thing; and I didn’t have the heart to think of the potential consequences that welcoming a strange alien into my house would bring. However, despite my latest concerns, everything was going fine so far, so I decided to give her the benefit of the doubt.

“So,” I began, “aliens exist huh?”

“I guess so.” Pinkie replied.

“I guess the best thing to do now would be to introduce ourselves? You go first.”

“Okie Dokie!” She replied. “Well, as you already know my name is Pinkie Pie, and I was born and raised on a rock farm. I have three sisters- “.

“whoa wait, a rock farm? What’s a rock farm?” I asked, curious why someone would need to farm rocks.

“You’ve never heard of a rock farm? Well, we grew all kinds of minerals and stuff, like Sapphires, emeralds, rubies, gold, platinum, Olivine, gypsum, calcite, biotite and a whole bunch more! My families rock farm in Equestria supplies minerals to a lot of sciency ponies who use those minerals for their sciency stuff to make all kinds of construction materials and medicines so that ponies can have houses and not be sick!” Pinkie explained rapidly.

“So, your family farms diamonds and rubies?! How is that even possible?” I stated, baffled that anyone could simply grow precious gems.

Pinkie replied, saying “Well that’s easy! You just have to grow them in magically saturated fields. With a little earth pony magic you enchant some gem ‘seeds’ with the right key so that it grows into a beautiful gem! But it’s not that easy, growing rocks takes a lot of magic so we have to move the rocks to different fields, so other fields can recharge their magic and the rocks can get fresh magic! But that’s just the basics and everypony knows that.”

“Oooh,” I replied, seeing where this was going, “Haha, good joke, you had me going there, I mean honestly who could actually grow rubies?” It seemed preposterous that anyone could simply wave their hand, err, hoof and make gems grow. She sold it well, but it takes more than an improvised story to fool me!

Her ears bent back, and she looked at me with a slight frown, saying “what? But I’m not making it up. How have you not heard of rock farms? Everypony knows what a rock farm is.”

“Easy” I replied, “They don’t exist.” I spoke smugly, as if I had caught a rat that was stealing cheese.

“Oh, just like magic doesn’t exist, right?” She replied in a voice that dripped with smug sarcasm.

“Exactly!” I replied, with victory clear in my voice; however, she didn’t give me the happily defeated reaction I was expecting. Instead, she looked at me with a confused expression that soon morphed into contemplation. I soon found myself adopting those same features as she closed her eyes and looked focused.

When she finally opened her eyes she said, “Um, just so we’re clear, and I’m probably being silly by asking this, you can use magic right?”

Her sincerity filled me with a cautious dread, the kind of feeling that a scientist gets when his hypothesis is proven wrong. If what I was beginning to guess was true, then my world at the very least was going to get a whole lot more complicated. I said “No, magic has never existed here or anywhere else, and the people who do call themselves magicians don’t have real magic either.” I spoke that line with hope that what I was saying was actually true.

Pinkie began to look at me with a slightly sad, slightly horrified look, as if someone dropped the last piece of cake and I hadn’t received any, except multiplied by eleven. “But how?” She began, “how can you not have magic? Everypony has at least some magic! Magic is what makes life work! How do you get food? How do you build cities like this? How do you survive?”

Pinkie said all those things with the air that her entire world had come to an abrupt halt and was slowly trying to catch up. Little did she know that my world was doing the exact same thing, albeit for different reasons. Magic isn’t supposed to exist, we don’t channel it, we don’t cast it, heck even if it exists we can’t detect it! “What do you mean how do we survive? Magic is the stuff of fairy tales and legends, not reality.” I replied with what was left of my rapidly deteriorating sanity.

Pinkie was beginning to mirror my loss of sanity, as her mane was becoming disheveled and her expression was looking more and more like a fish out of water. For a time, we both sat there, staring at each other, trying to find some question or statement that might disprove the other’s lies. Finally, I found it and threw all my cards on the table, I simply said “prove it.”

Pinkie just stared at me, a hint of a smile appearing on her face as she realized that my statement could be her salvation. That didn’t last long, as she also realized that she wasn’t in her world at the moment, and the rules could be different. Seemingly with nothing left to lose, she nodded, got off the couch, and began to survey my apartment, searching for something.

Pinkie was away for a fair amount of time, as I simply sat on the couch, content to let her search for whatever it was she needed. In fact, I began my own search for a bunch of marbles I misplaced during our conversation.

When Pinkie finally arrived back in the living room, which wasn’t truly a living room, just a carpet surrounded by a couch and a lazy boy, she was carrying a bunch of items on her back. She carefully laid out her haul on the carpet in front of me; a sewing needle, without thread, I noted; a shiny crystal of quartz that I was gifted from a friend of mine who worked in geology; a wet cloth; and one of the leftover pancakes from breakfast.

Stuffing the pancake in her mouth, she started first by picking up the chunk of quartz, which I really didn’t mind her messing with, despite how it looked it didn’t fit with the rest of my décor, washing it down thoroughly with the cloth. After that she placed it down on the carpet and, grabbing the needle in her mouth she began carving a diagram into the quartz. The chunk of quartz was hidden from my view, so I couldn’t see what she was carving exactly, but she spent a good four or five minutes doing it.

When she was finished with her carving she stood up and placed her hoof on top of the quartz carving and closed her eyes. I didn’t notice it at first, as it began slowly, but the room began to get brighter, and the typically yellowish tint was being pushed back by a purer, white light. Soon Pinkie backed away from the chunk of quartz that was now radiating a cool white light that illuminated my entire apartment.

I was dumbstruck at what I was seeing. A small pink pony just made a block of quartz that was sitting on a shelf in my house start glowing brighter than my car’s high beams. She moved towards the quartz and placed her hoof on top of it again, which made the light slowly recede to a comfortable enough level, where it was more akin to a small flashlight. Pinkie flipped the quartz onto another one of its six sides and picked the pin up again, drawing another diagram on her chosen side.

When she finished drawing this latest diagram she repeated her previous motions, placing her hoof over the diagram and closing her eyes. Again, the effects were slow, but as the effects of this latest diagram took place, I was in pure awe at what I saw. Slowly, Pinkies hoof raised in the air, but despite what the law has to say about gravity, her hoof didn’t leave the quartz. Instead the quartz followed her hoof, all the way until she moved it away. The funny thing is, the quartz didn’t follow her hoof this time, instead it stayed in the air, unmoving, unaware of the call of gravity, a free spirit unchained from the petty laws of man.

At this point I didn’t know what to feel. There was a glowing, floating chunk of quartz in front of me. If there were words to say to this, then they were lost on me.

Pinkie shoved the crystal in my direction, and it floated smoothly over to me, like a football, on a slow-motion camera, that was glowing. Except this wasn’t a football, nor was it on a slow-motion camera; this was a block of quartz that was flying right in front of my eyes. So, I did the most logical thing I could think of and poked it.

When my finger neared the floating mineral, it felt like static electricity. When I held it in my hands, it felt as though a soothing current of electricity ran from the stone, through my body, and back out again in a loop. It also had the side effect of making my slightly overgrown hair stand on end.

Pinkie Pie giggled at how I looked with my hair standing up, and finally, I built up the nerve to say something, “How is this even possible? Rocks don’t glow no matter what they’re made of.”

“Well, no, rocks don’t normally get that bright, but I drew a light sigil on it. And they don’t normally float either, so I drew a gravity sigil to disconnect it from gravity. I’m no magician, but, when you live on a rock farm you tend to pick some stuff up.” Pinkie replied, ending in a nonchalant tone.

At this point my curiosity had piqued. Magic was being performed for the first time on earth, that I knew of, and it was happening in my living room. I could think of thousands, nay millions who would pay, well, millions to see something like this; and it was happening right in front of my eyes. “I suppose the million-dollar question is, how?” I questioned.

“Hehe Silly! A magician never reveals her secrets!” At my crushed expression she laughed hysterically and fell on her back. When she calmed down she said, “I’m just kidding Josh, don’t worry. Um, I guess I’d have to start at the basics. Magic is something that every creature in Equestria has, they just go about using it differently.”

At this point she began lecturing in a tone that I might’ve considered mocking, if it were clear that I was the intended target, “All the races in equestria are different in size, shape and features, but they all have one common element, and that is that everyone uses keratin to channel their magic. Keratin is the best magical conductor that ponies know of, which is great because it grows naturally on a lot of living creatures, which means we can all use it to channel magic! Unicorns have their keratin horns which are built to effectively channel magic outwards; Pegasi have their feathers which they use to channel magic around themselves; and Earth Ponies have hard keratin hoovsies that we use to push magic through us and into the ground.

“All three different ponies have different shapes of keratin, which means they channel magic differently, so they’re better at doing different jobs. Unicorns, because they can channel magic outward, are great artists and architects; Pegasi, because they can channel magic around themselves and fly, use their magic to fly super-duper fast and work with the weather; And finally, Earth Ponies, because we’re great at channeling magic in and under us, use our magic for strength and farming yummy food!

“I used my hoovsies to push magic into the sigils that I drew in the quartz to power them. And drawing sigils is as simple as learning how to write and using the right materials! Gems and minerals are naturally great magical conductors so they’re great for enchanting and drawing sigils on! Quartz wouldn’t be my first choice though, cause it’s not the best.” She finished, letting out a breath and letting her hair pop back into its natural bubbly shape, compared to the straight-lined cut it morphed into during her rant.

I decided not to dwell on the fact that a small talking pink pony was giving me magic lessons in my living room, and rather, to go with the flow and open my mind up a bit. Pinkie had given me a wealth of information that I was trying to process as quickly as I could.

What I had gathered so far was that there were three different kinds of ponies, all of which existed in current mythology, and each race used magic differently. Each different race used keratin, a common material found on living creatures, including myself, to perform magical feats of epic proportions; and the ponies used their magic to grow food, control weather, and create works of art. I definitely need to write this down somewhere.

At this point I was resigned to the fact that magic was now a thing that existed, and as such I would have to get used to it. Having regained some sense of control over my reality again, I spoke to Pinkie, saying, “That, is truly astonishing. I mean, before today magic didn’t even exist! And now I’m seeing it first hand in my living room?! On a rock that’s been sitting on my shelf collecting dust for years? I can’t even describe to you how amazed I am. What else can you do with a block of quartz, I wonder?”

“Ah ah ah,” Pinkie began, “I think it’s my turn to ask a couple questions, Josh.”

I blushed slightly, it was kind of hard to remember that the alien in front of me was just as intelligent as I was, and likely had the same emotions. I replied, sheepishly “Oh, yeah, of course, ask away! I’d be happy to tell you anything you want to know!”

“Ooh alrighty! First! What is your favorite color!” she asked.

I was puzzled by her choice of question, but nonetheless I replied, “Um, light blue.”

She stomped a hoof at that, saying “Darn, I thought for sure you’d be a red kinda guy! Oh oh oh! My second question is, are you a guy?”

I felt pretty dumb for not having asked that of her sooner; however, it made enough sense, not counting the fact that she was an alien, to assume that she was female, I said “yes, last time I checked I was a dude. And can I assume that you are, in fact, a female pony?”

She beamed at that and nodded, both of us having guessed correctly in our impromptu game of twenty questions. She continued, saying, “Alright! Third question, where in the hay are we?”

That’s an easy one, “Well, right now we’re in my apartment in New York city, in the United States, which is all situated on a big old chunk of rock that we like to call Earth.”

Pinkies ears splayed back at my mentioning what planet we were on. Both of us assumed that she came from extraterrestrial origins. Unfortunately, that didn’t lessen the pain that me telling her she was impossibly far from her home caused her.

I regretted my lack of tact when informing her of where she was, kicking myself mentally for not realizing that this might’ve been a sensitive moment for her. Not that it would’ve changed much, it still felt bad though.

Pinkie looked lost and alone once more, similar, though not as rain soaked, to the way I originally found her. I went to comfort her, not quite knowing how much, but being able to imagine how alone she must feel right now. Even if I couldn’t know the pain she felt, one thing I did know, was that you couldn’t be alone if you had friends beside you.

I moved over to where Pinkie was sitting, and embraced her in a hug. At my actions, the walls she had put up to prevent herself from openly crying broke. She was lost in a strange place, and up until now was surviving on the adrenaline-fueled barriers that helped her to keep her composure in the face of the unknown. It seemed that my actions gave her just enough comfort to finally give up the fight and let loose the tightly packed emotions that were caused by her losing her family and friends.

I didn’t quite know what I was going to do with a pink alien pony, but for the moment all I saw was a lonely soul, desperate for the companionship that she was torn away from. Pinkie likely had family and friends where she lived, just like I did, and she was pulled away from them. I couldn’t possibly relate to her situation, in fact I doubt anyone on this planet could know what she’d gone through last night. I didn’t know what to do in the long run, but what I did know, right now, was that there was a lost soul sitting on my couch, and she needed a friend to count on.

We sat together on the couch, comforted by the warmth of the others body. Pinkie didn’t cry for very long, as most of her tears had come out the night before. No longer struggling with the basic necessities, food, water, shelter, and companionship, she was able to better contemplate her situation, which went a long way towards stabilizing her emotions.

As we sat, my hand on Pinkies back, she smiled, and spoke softly, saying, “thank you, Josh, for everything.”

Author's Note

Phew! I'm happy with how this one turned out. Writing dialogue and writing a story through dialogue is a new thing (just like everything else about this story) for me, but I think I did alright! I did a bit of world building as well, it wasn't too thought out, but it made sense in my head!

Just like last time, please tell me your thoughts and opinions on this chapter! I can't just turn off my brain and read it, I had an idea writing this and it's hard to look past that when reading it. So the only way I can know if you guys picked up what I put down is if you tell me!

I've got some organization going for this story now. The first chapter I think did alright but I was basically free handing the entire thing, now I've got some outlines and character bios so at the very least it should be consistent! I've also got some basic story arc outlines going so there is planned content!

I hope you're all enjoying this so far, cause I know I'm having a blast writing it!

Chapter 3 - Ride Along

There was something about this pink pony that chased away any and all negative emotions, as quickly as possible. Sure, we had spent our time together, mourning the loss of her planet; but after we finished, it was just that, finished. We didn’t continue the negative atmosphere, neither of us moved sluggishly or looked down at all. We were simply okay with moving on and leaving the sad emotions behind.

It was an interesting phenomenon, but not one that I planned to invest much time or energy in, like the question of why apples fall; because they do.

I was now on my second cup of coffee. I didn’t typically get to the second cup until later in the day, but this Saturday morning was a special occasion. Special, in that I was enjoying a casual conversation with something that really shouldn’t exist in my living room.

We both decided that it was my turn to introduce myself, even though I only really got the first few years of Pinkie’s life. I began saying, “well, where do I begin? Hmm, well I guess my life began in Philadelphia where I…

“Wait, what did you say?” Pinkie interjected.

“Philadelphia” I replied.

“…Okay…” She said.

I continued, “as I was saying I was born and raised in Philadelphia.” I gave the word a bit of emphasis, confused by her curiosity over one word. “My family was never rich, but I had a pretty good life, a couple good friends and family nearby. I mostly enjoyed hanging out with friends and friends of friends at parks and stuff. We used to run and bike up and down the Delaware, just hanging out and talking.

Eventually I got into computers; my dad always said they were just a fad and wouldn’t go anywhere, but I stuck with it and got into making websites, I made a bit of cash over the summers making amateur websites for some friends. when the internet took off I got into web security and now I’m keeping large websites secure in a small company in New York.”

It seemed Pinkie was a bit more polite than I was, and only asked her question after I had finished with my short biography. She asked, “What’s ‘the internet’?”

“Oh, well hmm, it’s really tough to explain. I guess you could think of it as a really big library, or, a museum! Yeah, a really big museum with all the information in the entire world; and anyone who wants to can go onto something called a computer or a smart phone and ask for whatever they want to know, from anywhere in the world; and they can share what they know with other people across the world.” I replied, describing arguably the world’s biggest resource as quickly as I could.

“So, it’s like borrowing a book from the library? Or, well, teleporting a book from the library to you?” Pinkie asked.

I replied, “well yeah that’s the gist of it, wait, can you teleport?” I was suddenly very interested, remembering our discussion of magic from earlier.

She replied, saying, “No, but Twilight can! She’s the best at magic! She can do all kinds of different things! Like transforming oranges into frogs, and giving little baby dragons mustaches! Oh oh! she can also shoot really big lasers!”

Wow, so their magic goes a lot deeper than I originally anticipated. I decided to avoid breaking my head over the magic subject again, rather than asking about it more. I decided to start up our conversation again, saying, “well I guess I kinda cut off your introduction earlier, tell me a bit more about yourself.”

She jolted at that, forgetting how little she actually told me about her history. She said, “Oh, I guess I forgot about that. Um, we already went over the rock farm, oh! Right! I have three sisters, Maud Pie, Limestone Pie, and Marble Pie, and we all grew up on the rock farm with our parents, Igneous Rock and Cloudy Quartz.”

Pony names are weird.

She continued, “After I got my cutie mark I moved to Ponyville, and got a job at Sugar Cube Corner working for the Cakes. And then I made friends with everyone in Ponyville and I met Twilight Sparkle and Apple Jack and Fluttershy and Rarity and Rainbow Dash and then we went on a super duper adventure after the summer sun celebration and we got the elements of harmony and then we defeated Black Snooty and saved Princess Luna; and then we went to Canterlot and defeated Discord, the god of chaos; and then we went to the Crystal Empire and defeated King Sombra, who enslaved the Crystal Empire and made it disappear; and then we went back to Canterlot for a wedding and defeated Queen Chrysalis, who was the Queen of the changeling hive; and then we went to a small town in the middle of nowhere and defeated Starlight Glimmer, who lead a cult; and then we went to the crystal empire again and defeated Flurry Heart, no, wait, we didn’t defeat Princess Flurry Heart, we fixed the crystal heart after she broke it! And then we got captured by changelings, and then Starlight Glimmer, who we reformed, reformed the changelings and rescued us; and then I was helping my friend Fizzlepop Berrytwist who I just met. She wanted me to help her with her mirror, so I did, but then I fell through it after Fizzlepop bumped into me and now I’m here!

Although now that I’ve had time to think about it, she probably actually wanted to push me into it. But I can’t figure out why.”

I had a lot of information to sort through now. First of all, there was apparently either a national hero, a seal team member, or an alien Indiana Jones in my apartment. Second, there were apparently a lot of bad guys in her world with awesome bad guy names, leading me to envy Pinkie’s comic book world. And third, the poor pony on my couch was a very friendly girl who was betrayed by someone she thought she could trust, even if they only met a few moments prior to the betrayal.

Chief among my questions, was something she said earlier that had piqued my interest. I asked, “Pinkie, what’s a ‘cutie mark’?”

“Oh, you don’t have cutie marks here? Well I guess there have been more surprising things today. A cutie mark is the mark that all ponies get when they find their special talent.” She turned a little to show me her flank and pointed at the balloons that were tattooed on it, “My cutie mark shows my talent for parties and making ponies smile!”

“Huh,” I replied, “so someone just gives tattoos out to ponies who find out what they want to do with their lives?”

“Well, I dunno what a ‘tattoo’ is, but nopony gives out cutie marks… they just sort of, appear when ponies find their special talent.” Pinkie said.

“A tattoo is, kinda like body paint but permanent.” I explained, “So, what? destiny just decides to give you a mark on your butt when you find out what you’re good at?”

“I guess, yeah that about sums it up.” Pinkie said.

“You ponies are weird, you know that right?” I said

“I could say the same thing about you, you big monkey” She rebutted.

I gave her an exaggerated face full of offence, and then dropped it to say, “Touché, Pinkie, Touché.”

We both tried to hold straight faces, both trying to hold on and beat the other in a staring contest. However, we failed our mission, and we both succumbed to the absurdity of the situation, breaking down in a fit of giggles. As I tried to stop laughing, Pinkie would see my strained face and laugh harder. When Pinkie tried to stop, I saw her face and broke out in equally intense laughter. Neither of us could stop, and so that chain of events continued for a good long while.

Eventually we both ran out of giggles, chuckles, and guffaws and we simply sat in the afterglow of the intense laughter.

<>><<>

Later that day, I ended up giving Pinkie a tour of my home.

I showed her the bathroom, a simple white room with a standing shower, towel racks, a shelf, a toilet, and a counter and sink with a medicine cabinet above.

We made a quick stop by the hall closet on our way to my room to show her where I kept any extra towels, blankets, pillows, and a couple coats. My room wasn’t exactly what I would call clean, but it was far from filthy. Sure, I tend to leave a couple bits of clothing lying around, but the area was always kept clear enough that I could comfortably navigate it.

I had recently cleaned my bedroom, and by clean, I mean tidied up, so everything was more or less nice looking. There was a small bed off in one corner with a nightstand next to it that held my phone, sunglasses, wallet, and small pocket knife—because you never know when you’ll need one. Off on another wall was a humble bookshelf, which contained, half books, and the other half, my collection of Lego sets. Pinkie seemed to appreciate those when I showed her around.

The rest of the room was taken by a small desk and my hefty computer. The computer wasn’t much of a sight, but it held a secret power behind it that would make an anime villain look like an extra. The setup was a standard two monitors, with a mechanical keyboard and a nice little mouse, essentials for anyone in the field of computer programming.

Pinkie was surprised enough by my light switch, which I found weird considering that ponies could literally teleport and make rocks glow, so she was amazed when I turned on my computer. Of course, I had already mentioned computers before, but as was the case for me, seeing is believing. The first thing I thought of to show her, to really show off what technology could do, was google maps.

You can bet I spun that globe like a marble. It took a bit of convincing for her to actually believe that the big blue ball we were looking at was actually the planet we were on; one thing that helped was when I showed her the view through my window, and then zoomed in on my house on the computer.

We didn’t spend long playing with the computer, I showed her a couple more landmarks, the white house, the Eiffel tower, the empire state building, and then we moved on to other things. I figured that if she maybe felt like cooking some more, she might want to know where I kept everything; and that’s what I did, I showed her everything, the pots, the pans, the plates, the cups, the pantry, the spice cupboard, the knives, the silverware, the appliances. I showed her how everything worked, the toaster, microwave, especially the oven. If it wasn’t obvious by now, I really liked her cooking.

Which is not to say she didn’t enjoy the extended tour, it seemed like Pinkie’s happiest place on earth was inside of a kitchen. She was very excited to see all the conveniences that human technology brought to the kitchen, all the way from blenders to microwaves, even the dish washer.

Looking through the kitchen and noticing how empty it was reminded me that Saturday was shopping day. Remembering this fact reminded me of something else I forgot, I didn’t have a car at the moment. My car was fitted for a lovely boot yesterday, I’ll have to call to get that off and then walk a couple blocks to go and get it.

And so that’s what I did. After I explained to pinkie what I had to do, and what a car was—I decided against the horseless carriage analogy that many time travelers enjoy, considering the circumstances—I went on my walk, leaving Pinkie to her own devices.

The whole trip was fairly uneventful; walk to work, insert code to remove boot, take boot to collection facility, drive home. My 70s dodge charger purred as we cruised along the New York asphalt, enjoying the trip home as much as I could. The car itself used to belong to my dad, but after he and my mom retired and left for California, he left me the car, mostly because it would be too difficult to take with them. When I received the car, it was in pretty bad shape. Over the years, through plenty of tender loving care, it became a magnificent sight to behold; I had even taken it to a few car shows.

When I arrived back at my apartment, I invited Pinkie out to see my pride and joy. My neighbors were mostly secluded hermits, only ever leaving for work and errands; which suited me just fine, as I wasn’t much of a social person myself, although I tended to keep up with a group of friends from time to time. With that, I wasn’t too worried about anyone freaking out about a pink alien checking out my car, anyone who might see her would probably think I was just one of those crazy people that paint their dogs pink.

Pinkie didn’t react with as much enthusiasm as I was hoping for, which made sense considering she didn’t know what a car was. I planned to remedy that fact by getting her in the passenger seat. Of course, in the interest of safety I put a seatbelt on Pinkie as best I could. I moved around to the driver’s side and Pinkie jumped when I put the key in the ignition and the engine revved up.

Pinkie looked a little uneasy when the car started moving, but eventually when we got out on the road, she loosened up a bit. I think part of that was because I drove down the Hudson river for a while, it must’ve been a nice break from the towering buildings everywhere.

After a while, and after Pinkie looked more comfortable, I rolled the windows down to bring in some relatively fresh air, which Pinkie loved. She stuck her head out the window like a dog, and that drove the last of her discomfort away. She smiled, contentedly, as we drove down the streets of New York at lax speeds, closing her eyes and taking in the environment.

As Pinkie’s eyes scanned the roads, she asked, “How far does it go?”

“The roads, or my car?” I replied.

“Um, both?”

“Well, my car gets about twenty-two miles to the gallon, with a thirty-gallon tank, and seeing as how I can just refill it, I guess my car can go on forever. As for the roads, I suppose the entire continent has roads, you could drive straight from here to the other side of the continent.” I explained.

“This is a big world you live in Josh, no wonder you have such fast carriages. How does it work?” Pinkie said.

I said, “well I wouldn’t be an expert on the subject, but the basic principle is it uses gas to make explosions and push pistons which spin a little rod which makes the car go forward.”

Pinkie looked confused and said, “You’re right about one thing Josh, You’re not an expert.” She giggled, and even I had to share a chuckle at that remark.

After a while I turned the car towards home, it was a little after lunch time, so I stopped by a burger joint that I liked and ordered one burger and fries for myself, and a veggie burger with fries for Pinkie. This restaurant also sold cupcakes, so I got each of us a chocolate cupcake as well.

We ended up eating in the parking lot, I wasn’t too worried about making a mess inside, as I could always clean it up. I enjoyed my meal, and Pinkie described hers as “kinda like a hayburger but a bit more cooked, and with less hay” whatever a ‘hayburger’ was.

We later arrived back at my place, I hung up my keys and put away my wallet and phone. It had been a pretty good day, and it was only half over. Somehow, I made friends with an alien pony from another world, and on top of that, said pony was a national hero. Hopefully we could keep it that way, I enjoyed Pinkie’s company so far.

Maybe someday I can work out some better living arrangements, especially if I’ve got a new roommate.

Author's Note

There you go, chapter 3! This one was a little harder to write, I felt I had to get a little bit more introduction out of the way, but now I think we're getting closer to some plot!

As always I hope you enjoyed this chapter, and I would appreciate it so much if you left a comment down below, your input helps me learn, and improve my story. I really love writing and I also love improving, so let me know your opinions!

Chapter 4 - Movie Night

Pink fur. There was pink fur all over my shower; little strands dotted around the area. The tub almost appeared to be a light pink even. If that pony wasn’t pink enough already, and now she has to go and turn my bathtub pink?

I wasn’t really mad, but it was an unfortunate consequence that I overlooked. Ponies have fur, fur often sheds. It just meant that I’d have to clean out the drain more than once every few decades. That and I’d probably have to vacuum more often.

After Pinkie and I had our day out driving on the town, we came back to my apartment and we both felt dirty. It wasn’t that New York is a filthy place, well, not much more than most cities, but neither of us had cleaned ourselves the previous day, so a relaxing mid-day shower sounded nice to the both of us. Either luckily, or unfortunately for me, Pinkie went first. Lucky for the fact that I found out the fur issue early, and unfortunate because now I had to shower in it.

With the water running nice and hot, I stepped in and began to clean myself, allowing the water to run down my back, washing away the grease and fatigue. The nice thing about showers is that they’re a very easy chore, and as such they allow the mind to wander to places that the day’s stress prohibits. Did you realize that the two main characters of veggie tales are both fruits? What about how much money airports could make if they had movie theatres in them? I wonder if ponies have movie theatres? I wonder if ponies have movies?

It was then that I decided to give Pinkie a fine dose of human culture by hosting the very first human and pony movie night. At five o’ clock in the afternoon I felt as though we could fit a good handful of humanities best in before we both passed out on the couch.

Having been sufficiently cleaned through the automation of a wandering mind, I stepped out of the shower and dried myself off with a turquoise towel. I gave myself a quality check in the mirror as I donned my clothes and stepped out of the bathroom, freshly cleaned and cleanly refreshed.

I made my way to the living room, only to find Pinkie preparing us some dinner with the groceries that I bought while she was in the shower. I felt a little self-conscious having my guest cook dinner, so I said, “Hey, Pinkie, your cooking is absolutely amazing, and that’s going off only the pancakes from this morning, and while I appreciate it a lot, I think my parents would have me hung if I let my guests cook for me. So, just so you know, you don’t have to cook if you don’t want to.”

She looked at me graciously and said, “Oh, that’s okay! I really like cooking, that’s why it was my job in Ponyville. And anyways, it reminds me of home, a little, plus it also makes me feel a little better about accepting your hospitality.”

Yes! I secretly jumped for joy and cheered, honestly, this pony must have been sent from the gods. I was housing a six-star chef that loved to cook! I straightened my face and replied, “well, I don’t want you to think my generosity is conditional. You’re welcome in my house and you don’t have to work for it, however, it is very much appreciated.” I ended with a heartfelt smile.

“So, what’s cooking then?” I asked.

She giggled lightly, and took on the air of a waiter selling tonight’s special, “Well, I am preparing a delectable tomato and basil quiche. A personal favorite of renowned cellist Octavia Melody, it’s subtle tastes and fluffy texture make it a proper meal for any occasion.” She gave another giggle at the end, laughing at her own antics.

“That sounds wonderful! Who’s this Octavia Melody though?” I questioned.

“Oh! Octavia is the best cellist in equestria! Or, at least that I know of, which is saying something ‘cause I know everypony! Anyway, she lives in Ponyville with Vinyl Scratch, who makes really awesome thaumic music! For some reason they don’t get along the best, which is weird because whenever they play together they make the most awesome music ever!”

“Thaumic music?” I inquired, “would that be like pony’s equivalent of electronic music?”

“Well I dunno? It sounds right, can you play any? Do you have a stereo?”

“yes Pinkie, I have a stereo. Well actually it’s a bit better than a stereo, lemme turn it on real quick.”

One of my favorite things in life was entertainment media, and the best way to enjoy that media is by throwing money at the problem until you’re broke. Thus, brought forth my entertainment center, posted at the best viewing angle in the living room was the reason I couldn’t afford a better house. A full 5.1 surround sound speaker setup revolving around a fifty-five-inch HD TV hooked up to an amplifier, blue-ray player and gaming consoles. If I was going to enjoy media and entertainment, I was going to do it right.

While I enjoyed my entertainment system immensely, it did not earn the same favor from my neighbors, or my landlord. It was never so loud as to be illegal, but I could never resist getting the volume up to slightly annoying levels of music.

Of course, as I walked towards the system to turn it on, Pinkie knew nothing of what I was doing. I would assume she would have at least been curious about my display of modern art, however, there used to be more important things on both of our minds that distracted us from looking at novelties.

I loaded up spotify on my TV and searched for some of my favorite electronic music. An iconic song popped up through my rapid scrolling, Snowblind by Au5. I sat down on the couch, content to listen to the music and watch Pinkie’s reaction to it.

As the song slowly built up, with a calm melody, Pinkie seemed entranced by the music. Soon we reached the build, slowly creeping up on that ecstatic drop that so many music enthusiasts crave daily. Pinkie’s attention was solely on the music, and soon it poured over the edge, and the bass dropped, sending both of us into the pleasurable void between music and reality.

As the song eventually came to it’s inevitable end, Pinkie stared at my pit of money, bearing the same smile that I had when I first set it all up. She tried, and failed, to adopt a straight face, her speech tainted with glee she said, “yes, I do believe that that is similar to thaumic music, Joshua.”

She followed that up with puppy dog eyes, tears, and a pleading tone, “Can we listen to more? Please?”

I chuckled, wishing I could be in her shoes, to feel that wonder of a higher quality again. I turned the volume down to conversational levels (which is to say slightly above conversational levels) and put on an album from Monstercat. After completing Pinkie’s request I told her of my plans for the rest of the evening, and a little bit after midnight, “after dinner I was planning on a bit of a movie night, if you’re up for it. I figure a good way to show you a bit about Earth is through our media, right? You do have movies where you come from though right?”

Pinkie beamed from my suggestion, saying, “That sounds great! And yes, we have movies in Equestria. I’m gonna miss fifty shades of hay, Oh oh! I’ll make some popcorn too! It’ll be fun!”

“Oh, I didn’t know you were into that sort of stuff, but anyways I didn’t get any popcorn Pinkie, I haven’t had that in…” I trailed off as Pinkie grabbed some corn kernels out of the pantry.

“Sure, you do silly! It’s right here! And why wouldn’t I be into it? I mean I know I’m a grown mare, but the child inside me can’t resist the comedic stylings of Dr. Shuess” She said. I wonder how long that’s been in there, if I’ve forgotten about it til’ now.

“Well I guess that solves that problem then, who’s this Dr. Scheuss guy though? He sounds vaguely familiar, somehow” I said.

Pinkie replied, “Dr. Horse Schuess is a Germane-Equestrian author who writes poetry for children, and some of his books were made into awesome movies!”

Pinkie then went back to tending to her quiche, pulling it from the oven, allowing the delicious aromas to fill the apartment. The smells made my mouth water in anticipation. “Your skills in the kitchen may never cease to amaze me Pinkie, in fact it’s a little funny how an alien pony knows how to make common Earth meals” I said.

“Yeah that is pretty funny. Anyways it’s done!” Pinkie said.

I took that as my cue to get off my butt and help out, grabbing some plates from a cupboard and utensils from a drawer. I placed each item on the table in their proper place, I was after all representing Earth in the world's first extra-terrestrial dinner date. Setting a semi-formal table was a small thing, but it felt right to do, especially when your guest is cooking for you, although at this point I think she’s more of a roommate.

Pinkie impressed me a little by bringing a hot dish full of quiche out on her back straight from the oven, laying a potholder on the table, and moving the dish from her back to the potholder. It was revealed later, after she removed the dish from her back, that there was a potholder placed there as well. I did not expect that much balance from a pony. then again, she’s been living as a pony her whole life, so it makes sense she would get accustomed to it.

We both sat down and served ourselves, taking hearty portions, as there was plenty for the both of us. I stabbed a bite with my fork and brought it to my mouth, letting the fluffy quiche melt on my tongue and make its long journey towards its final resting place. I relished the flavor, attempting to prolong this moment as long as I could.

As time went on, and quiche disappeared, both of our stomachs began to take on a pudgy look. If not for the prime state of life I was in, I might have had to watch myself around Pinkie’s cooking.

When we finished with dinner I took all the dishes to the sink and stowed what little was left of the meal in the refrigerator, let none go to waste. Pinkie volunteered to go and cook up some popcorn while I went to pick out the first movie.

Hmm, let’s see, what movie would you choose to show an alien the best of Earth?

<>><<>

After a little bit of debate and regaling Pinkie with the best of my movie shelf, we ended up with what I feel was the best possible choice on short notice. Back to the Future, the full trilogy, I wasn’t leaving anything out. It was perfect, the movies covered the past, present, and farther past, even if the ‘present’ didn’t really come true. It also showed what humanity was capable of; the misunderstood genius of Doc. Brown, the heroism and redemption of Marty McFly, and the evil of Biff Tannen.

In the end it was a very easy decision, and it did not take long to convince Pinkie either.

With popcorn in hand, I pressed play on the remote.

Tick tock tick tock tick tock

If my calculations are correct, when this baby hits 88 miles per hour... you're gonna see some serious shit.

Whoa. Wait a minute, Doc. Are you trying to tell me that my mother has got the hots for me?

Hey, you! Get your damn hands off her!

What about all that talk about screwing up future events? The space-time continuum?

Well, I figured, what the hell?

Roads? Where we're going, we don't need roads.

Nobody calls me chicken.

I need to borrow your…hoverboard?

Go ahead, kid! Jump! A suicide will be nice and neat.

What if I don’t?

Lead Poisoning.

We gotta go back to 1985!

Burn it!

There's only one man who can help me.

Indians!

What idiot dressed you in that outfit?

You did.

Uh, just tell me one thing. Where’d you learn to shoot like that?

7-Eleven

Is this a holdup?

It's a science experiment! Stop the train just before you hit the switch track up ahead!

Hey, Doc! Where you goin’ now? Back to the future?

Nope. Already been there.

As the movie closed out, we were both passed out on the couch. I couldn’t tell you exactly where we each fell asleep, as I passed out first, somewhere around Doc. Brown’s apology to Clara. Pinkie later on told me her thoughts on the movie, how she enjoyed the chase scenes and how she thought Biff was a big bully.

Overall it went well, well enough that I was already planning movie night two. But what could you possibly follow up Back to the Future with?

Author's Note

This chapter took a bit longer to write, but it's here!

Thanks to all of you who've stuck around and read through my first attempt at a real story. Again this is very much a learning process for me. Today's chapter unfortunately does not bring the plot I had hoped to add, I needed to get one more thing off my list before that.

As always I hope you enjoyed this chapter, and I would appreciate it so much if you left a comment down below, your input helps me learn and improve my story. I really love writing and I also love improving, so let me know your opinions!