Pinkie's Opus

by Pair of Fickle Minds

Rating: mature
Tags: Random, Death, Twilight Sparkle, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Dark, Pinkie Pie
Length: 1380

The world of fiction. By Pinkie... yes, Pinkie Pie

Can the world cannot handle the literary powers of Pinkie Pie?

Can Twilight for that matter?

The answer is: No. No they cannot.

For all the people out there who think: My writing isn't good enough.

Published 2017-12-24 15:10:06 UTC
Last updated 2017-12-24 15:10:06 UTC

Beginning, Middle, then End

Pinkie Pie is dead.

The world stood still, while time crawled to a halt as the magnificent party planner, beloved by ponies far and wide across the entire realm was... yadda yadda yadda.

Twilight Sparkle blinked once, then twice. The puzzled look frozen in place. Surely a look was worth a thousand words, right? Because that blank stare effectively summarized her entire emotional spectrum. From the highest twitch of annoyance, to the lowest groan of inconvenience.

Pinkie's body lay broken, sprawled out in a jagged and rough pose across the floor. Cuts and bruises marked her body; the room suffered an equally obscene treatment. Blood decorated every surface. Pinkie's face - or what was left of it - was most certainly not a smiling. All in all, if Twilight had two words to describe this room it would be crime scene.

"Pinkieeee." she booped the corpse. No response.

"Yes, that's a body." Twilight spoke matter of factly. "Your best friend was just brutally murdered. Judging by the time of day and and lack of panic downstairs, you appear to have discovered the crime. I should close the door, head downstairs, and call the guards."

"Twilight, did you find what you needed?" a mare's voice, Mrs. Cake, carried from downstairs.

She didn't hesitate. "Uhmmmm, not quite." Twilight kept her temper of voice casual. Celestia forbid that Mrs. Cake come upstairs and find this. It would simply ruin her morning. Twilight felt her heart pound, took a deep breath, then came to a decision.

She simply cared too much about Mrs. Cake to inconvenience her with the news.

"Could you get Pinkie to come downstairs then? I could use her help."

Horseapples

Twilight grabbed the knob with a flush of magic, then backed out of the room, shutting the door. "I don't think she'll be downstairs for a good, long while."

"Well that's not like her. Does she need any help?"

"Oh Mrs. Cake...." Twilight turned while stifling a giggle, then started descending the stairs. "Pinkie Pie is far beyond anypony's help."

Twilight arrived at the base of the staircase, turning her head to find Mrs. Cake's pleasant smile. She beat batter in a bowl with a whisk. The air drifting with a pleasant aroma that reeked of bananas and sugar. Twilight smiles back.

Mrs. Cake spoke without slowing her whisk. "Sorry Pinkie couldn't help you Twilight. Stay for breakfast, my treat?"

She raised a hoof. "I couldn't intrude. I'll definitely be back this afternoon though. I'll bring some friend's too. Are you busy?"

"Well I don't think we have plans." She put the bowl down, turning to grab a tray with her teeth. "As long as you make it before the rush." she said through a mouthful of steel.

There weren't too many things beyond Twilight's understanding or empathy. (If you asked her at least). Certainly, she could sympathize with a popular baker during the lunch rush. Happy to be a of service, Twilight gave a wider grin and a wave to put the baker's worries to rest. "Can do. We'll make it with time to spare. Promise."

Mrs. Cake nodded, then turned back to her work. With a bright brinng Twilight stepped outside, bringing back to her senses the sights and sounds of a mid-morning Ponyville.

In a matter of minutes, Twilight threw open the door to Golden Oaks. Spike was thankfully out for the morning. Levitating this morning's already cold tea in conjunction a copy of 'Atomic String Thermodynamic States And YOU!' , she ascended her staircase. Reaching her loft, she rested the book on the nightstand, leaning over her bed, then took a nice long sip, taking special care to enjoy the sweetness roll across her tongue.

A few seconds tick by.

OH MY CELESTIA!!!

"I didn't tell her to stay downstairs!" Twilight throws herself down the staircase in a wide-eyed frenzy, her cup smashing on the steps when it collides with the floor. "Pleasedon'tpleasedon'tpleasedon't Oooooohhhhh, Mrs. Cake! Just once please don't be good to Pinkie!"

Twilight scampered, then burst out of the door in a purple explosion. She galloped, panic tingled down her spine, the traumatic images of Mrs. Cake screaming in fear, of having that unholy sight burned into her eyes, of being INCONVENIENCED were just too horrible to imagine. Twilight fought the urge vomit, biting back tears.

By all that was good and great in Equestria - by the grace of the Elements themselves - she would save Mrs. Cake.

Rounding the second to last corner, her momentum threw her into a wall. It must have been less then what - ten to fifteen minutes since she left. I'll just turn this corner, walk in the door, kindly remind her that Pinkie wanted to sleep in and handle this WHOLE situation during lunch. Anything to save Mrs. Cake!

Twilight trotted ahead, poking her head around the last turn, eyes piercing, surveying what lay beyond with the precision of cold daggers.

Pandemonium.

The whole area stood wrapped in a cordon of yellow tape. Stallions and mares in blue and black stripped uniforms spoke with surrounding ponies. Worst of all, absolutely worst of all; clear as day, she could see right through the display window. Mrs. Cake with her face in her hooves. She didn't need to be in the room to understand the rest.

Twilight's breath faltered, her legs giving out, leaning on the wall for support. And for the first time that morning, Twilight broke down, falling to the dirt and sobbed. She was too late. In some small part of her brain, she suspected that Mrs. Cake would tell the ponies she had been upstairs, and by some scheme she may even be the main suspect at this point. But all of it, all of it dwarfed the utter shame and shock of the single fact that she couldn't save one baker.

And as the Party Gods planned it, this would not be the worst part of Twilight's day, be...

-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-

"Wait, wait wait wait! Stop!" Twilight waved her hooves in front of her. "You told me this was a SHORT STORY Pinkie!"

The room - Pinkie's Room - was filled with sweets. Light broke from the window, where a banner reading 'Pinkie's First Murder Mystery/Sci-fi/Romance/Slice Of Life/Crossover Story Reading" was written in bold, pink letters. Her friends, for one reason or another, had failed to RSVP.

Twilight now wished she had been so fortuitous.

"What's wrong Twilight? Do you not like it?"

Twilight took in a shaky breath." Listen Pinkie..." Twilight mulled over her words, wanting to persevere her friendship after this next sentence was over. It didn't help that Pinkie's smile was growing ever larger on her face with every passing second. Twilight groaned.

"It was... unique. I think you have some real potential here. But I have a fe..."

Her eardrums were met with the sound of simultaneous party cannons delivering their payload.

"You know Maud always said I had potential to be a writer, but I was like 'nah uh' and she was always like 'Yes, you do' in that expressive monotone she always does. And we would argue back and forth like that but to hear it from somepony else really gets me going to read you the next chapter..."

"W-wait there's another...?"

Pinkie rolled her eyes. "Of course silly. This one introduces the aliens." she giggled "Opps, spoiler."

In that moment, Twilight knew there were several correct choices. Many of which would persevere her faith in Celestia's grace, and all that was good. If it was any other pony, Twilight knew in a heartbeat she'd take those options. But for Pinkie, there was only one response.

Twilight smacked her hoof into her snout.

Author's Note

This has been written. For better or worse, it has been written. Celestia help us all...

At first I was writing this as a joke, the prompt given to me at random. Didn't intend to make it anymore then that. But everyday, when I look across my Discord I see young, frighted writers fearing that what they're putting to paper doesn't hold up.

Well, I'm hoping this little tale will put a boost to that good ol' confidence.

Happy trails. And thank you for your time!