You Okay, Nonny?

by Stlat

Rating: everyone
Tags: Pinkie Pie, Slice of Life, Human, Anon, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Second Person, Berry Punch
Length: 2075

Pinkie, bless her heart, thinks you need a little more in life besides a bottle... something about "friendship".

Working a sixty-hour week with only Sunday as your relief is... well, it's less than an ideal life here in Equestria, especially considering how easy everyone else seems to have it.

It's only right that you're entitled to one day of rest and relaxation after a week of sweat and boredom, yes?

Pinkie thinks to seem otherwise, always pestering you about "friends", and all that nonsense. You thought a simple, "No, thank you," would have sufficed.

You abandoned that thought after the first month.

Published 2017-12-12 15:20:07 UTC
Last updated 2017-12-12 15:20:07 UTC

“Hiya, Nonny!”

It’s kind of aggravating, really.

“Hiya’, Nonny!” she says, bouncing her way to your side through the snow.

And by ‘kind of aggravating’, you mean it’s downright infuriating.

“Hey,” you say through clenched teeth, turning from the building and plotting a course for home.

“What’cha doin?” she says, pointing back at the Silver Stallion. “Waiting for the bar to open?”

You stuff your hands into their usual pockets and glance down at your watch. It reads 0843.

“Yes.”

She gives a giggle and snort before patting you on the shoulder between bounces.

“Silly Nonny, it’s not open today!”

“No, really?”

She shakes her head to the point of it becoming a near-blur, her smile present all the while.

“Yep!” she squeaks before jumping up on your shoulder like some parrot, her balance perfect as she sits on your shoulder.

“You—SQUAWK!—wanna’ know why—SQUAWK!—, cap’n?”

You offer her a deliberate and contemptuous glare, to which she squaks again.

You give your shoulder a violent shake…

And another…

Come on…

“Bad winds, cap’n!”

“Hell offa’ me!”

“Don’t—SQUAWK!—give up the ship!”

You reach around to try and grab her, but, much to your apparent anger and chagrin, she climbs begins to climb about you like a small rat. Before you know it, you’re twisting and turning, desperately trying to get ahold of the pink menace. She occasionally squawks or offers sayings like, “I have not yet begun to fight!”

After what feels like several minutes, you finally get ahold of Pinkie by the nape of her neck. Breathing somewhat heavy from the unexpected bout of stupidity, you hold her up and look her in the eyes.

“Wee! Hehehehe!” she says before giving another one of her trademark snorts.

Now, to be honest, you’d like nothing more than to slam her against a wall. But after a few moments of listening to her giggle, of which brings back distant memories of someone who sounded faintly familiar, you groan before dropping her in the snow.

“That was fun!” she says before scurrying up your back and onto your shoulder yet again. “Again, again!”

“I swear to God, guy.”

“Ye—SQUAWK!—best not swear aboard this—SQUAWK!—Celestia-fearin’ ship!”

“...”

She gives a gentle smile as you sneer and look off to the side. You can feel her gently pat your head after a moment.

“Hey.”

Her voice grows softer as you feet her curl around your neck somehow, like some sort of short and somewhat pudgy snake.

“Hey, Nonny.”

As much as you hate to admit it, this does actually feel kind of nice… Just because of the warmth, mind you.

You give a slight groan as she decides to ticke your face with her tail as a means to get attention.

“I hate you.”

She giggles.

“Happy Hearth Warming's Eve to you too, Nonny!”

You blink, for once turning to look at the pink menace with a look that’s devoid of malice.

“Oh, that’s today?”

“Mmmhmm!”

“Hmm, nice.”

There’s a lull in the conversation as you both take a moment to notice just how empty the streets are, now that you’ve gotten into the residential area.

The only soul in sight is one happy-looking parrot that sits in your peripherals, her head bobbing to some unsung song in her head.

“Any idea where I can grab a drink at, then?”

She thinks for a moment, even going so far as to tap her chin a few times and stick out a tongue.

“Noperino… sorry, Nonny.”

“It’s fine,” you grumble, offering a small shrug that Pinkie moves along with.

The wind catches up just a bit, a low whistle now coming out as the pink parrot tightens herself around your neck.

“Brrr!”

You spare her a glance.

“You’re warm.”

“Wearing a coat, among several other layers, usually yields such an effect.”

“Oh, quiet you.”

Arriving at your doorstep after another minute of silence, you fumble for the keys.

“Oh,” comes that squeaky voice from your shoulder, “is this your house?”

“Yep.”

Jimmying the rusty thing open a moment later, you open the door, of which you suspect is rotting at the edges. Taking a step inside, you offer Pinkie a glass.

You could pick her up and punt her out the door…

You’re halfway through grabbing her when you realize she’d just scramble all over you again.

God is dead.

Sighing in defeat, you close the door behind you. You don’t make a noise as you make way for your bed, the only noticeable piece of furniture in your poor excuse for a home.

You notice Pinkie jump off your shoulder a split-second before you land face first onto the bed, but you don’t really care.

All you care about is getting in bed at this point.

Going through the tedious process of undoing your boots, you try to ignore the gentle clopping as Pinkie begins to move about your shack.

You can hear her ‘Hmm’ and ‘Ah…’ at several points, but you don’t speak up. Don’t care enough to.

Tossing your blousing straps into the left boot and letting the things fall off limply to the side, you curl under the torn and poorly-kept thing that you like to call a blanket. In all honesty, it’s a bunch of little things you’d sown together after scavenging a needle and some thread, but that’s besides the point.

You call it a blanket, and, as such, it is so.

“This is cozy, me likey!”

You reach for the bedside and fumble around in the dark for something specific.

“Could do with some lighting… maybe a nice fire, or two?”

Grabbing a handful of dull red and warmth, you call out weakly.

“Catch.”

She hops up like a dog and catches it between her teeth with a ‘clink!’

“Oooh!” she says, bouncing her way to you. “Esh warmfh!”

You shake your head, silently grateful that you’d bought a spare.

“Firestone,” you say while giving your own a hard shake, “shake it hard and keep it close, should do the trick.”

Pinkie, eyes still wide, begins to shake her head like a dog with a squirrel in its mouth. A moment later does a small giggle leave her mouth as a dull red glow emanates from the crystal.

“Shich ish fun!”

Now having actual light beside her, Pinkie, tail wagging now, bounces around your shack, actually able to examine the place now.

Just as you open your journal and get your pencil ready, however, you hear a sad little “Aww.”

“You, uh,” Pinkie says, suddenly appearing at your side, “you could use some picker-uppers around the place.”

She rolls onto her back and begins to gesticulate with her hooves.

“You know, a little poster here, a dresser there, and this place would be good enough to have a proper Pinkie party.”

You give a low hum, raising a brow slightly.

“Nah.”

“Aw, c’mon, Nonny!”

“Nah.”

“Oooo, how about we redecorate your house? It’ll be my Hearth’s Warming Eve present!”

“Don’t you have more important things to do?”

“Mmmm, nope!”

You scrunch up your face, looking up from the book.

“Really? No parties to throw, no loving family to go back to?”

She shrugs, rolling up to your side and placing her head on your shoulder, eyes peering into your journal. You don’t pull away; couldn’t read English anyway.

“Eh, they’re too far away, would take a day’s train to get there.”

You stare until she returns the look.

“Should’a visited them,” you say, “never know when something bad’ll happen.”

She shrugs, trying to comfy into your shoulder before weaseling her way under the covers. You can’t be bothered to react or kick her to the deck, and your only response is to close the book and your eyes.

“Oooh, sounds like a story for your best friend Ponk!”

You scoff as she pokes her head through the covers, smile wide and eyes closed.

“You’re the only person that even talks to me.”

“Doesn’t mean I’m not your best friend.”

“...I hate you.”

There’s a moment of silence just before she rests her head on your chest.

“Mmmhmm, sure, Nonny.”

Silence soon gives you time to think about the pink enigma.

Her presence, while new in your home, isn’t entirely unwelcome.

...Well, of course it is, what with this being the first time anyone’s been in your shack, but you’re at least grateful it’s the one person that makes an effort to talk to you at least once a day.

Chuckling weakly, you place a hand on her head and give a small pat.

She smiles and leans into it.

“Hey, Pinkie?”

She opens an eye, smile growing slowly as she realizes the fact that you’d finally called her by her name. A small something she’d given up about two months ago, right after you’d met.

“Mmmhmm?”

“Why do you care?”

She giggles.

“You ask me that like it’s a hard question, Nonny.”

You shrug.

“Truth is, Nonny, I don’t know why you moved here, why you do a lot of the things you do, but I do know one thing…”

She smiles again, making sure to point at you.

“I know that you need a friend.”

You scoff at that before jokingly pressing her head away, to which she giggles and begins to move like a ferret again, moving around your grasp and making herself comfortable wherever she pleases.

“No, seriously, I see it in your eyes, silly.”

You raise a brow before raising a single finger.

“Sure, Pinkie, sure.”

The words come to an end, the warmth of the firestones soon fading in face of the mutual comfort from each other.

Just as she moves to stretch again, however, you hear a voice.

Her mouth is moving, but it’s not her voice.

“Anon… hey, Anon…”

You stare a moment longer, feeling… not right. Sluggish, tingly, and not yourself.

“Hey, c’mon now, hun…”

You move your mouth to speak, but all that comes out is a dull groan.

“Atta’ boy, up and at ‘em.”

The world disappears, your eyes opening anew to reveal a blurry and all-too bright world.

As fast as your eyes had opened, so they close with an indignant curse. You shield your eyes with your off-hand, grumbling all the while.

“Sorry, hun, would have woke you earlier, but you just looked so happy…” you look up to see the small smile on Berry Punch’s face. “Couldn’t force myself to tear you from it, ya’ know?”

You stare, wide eyed, for another moment, your bodily senses slowly coming back. The first thing you notice is a bottle in your hand, half full.

Soon as you can, you raise it and finish it off, slamming it down with a sigh.

“Whut timesh it?”

Stifling a giggle, Berry looks to the clock just above the door as you fumble for your coin purse.

“Eight twenty five.”

Setting down the appropriate payment, you pick up your cover from the countertop and a handful of pretzels.

“Shee ya’ tomorrow, Berry.”

With that do you begin to stumble your way out of the Silver Stallion, nearly falling down and crashing into tables all along the way.

When you reach the front door, however, there comes a small ‘Yoohoo!’ You turn and squint at Berry, not able to make out her form at this range.

“Sorry, hun, you just forgot your change.”

You dismiss her with a gesture before opening the door.

Of course you paid her three-times the amount owed, you think with a small snarl. You know what you’re doing… always have, always will.

You’d just paid her nearly a week’s worth of your wages, but you can only muster two words as you take the first step outside.

“Happy holidays.”

Standing there, amidst the harsh wind and snow, you look across the street.

There, among all the other shops and businesses that Ponyville has, stands tall a bakery.

Putting on your cover, you begin to crunch your way across the snow and towards Sugarcube Corner.

Just as you make your way onto the street, however, there comes a voice.

A voice laden in laughter and sugar.

“Hiya’, Nonny!”

Smiling, you slowly turn to your side.

Today’s going to be a good day.

Author's Note

Something I wrote up in a handful of hours. If any critiques, PM, otherwise it'll remain as is; far too many other stories and rewrites I've to attend to. Hope this wasn't too bad a read, and happy holidays.