Andy and Pinkie Pie: Why Do You Smoke?
You couldn't wait for the day to end.
Working in Sugarcube Corner's kitchen as a baker alongside Pinkie Pie may be good for pay and such, but damn is she annoying!
As if the usual flour bombings weren't enough, now she's resorted to using actual dough! Somehow, it reminded you of a typical food fight in school. The only difference was that when you were with Pinkie, it wasn't fun like she thought it was. As a matter of fact, it was rather annoying, unlike the innocent and casual fights in the school cafeterias. Now, those were the days!
However, although it made you nostalgic to reminisce, having dough balls in your hair and sticking to your back was anything but a pleasant feeling.
Thankfully, it wasn't too bad of a bombardment, but your nerves were left tingling in annoyance from the experience.
Okay, it's almost over, Andy, it's almost over, You eagerly watched the clock tick by on the wall of the kitchen, counting down the last seconds with eager anticipation. Five, four, three, two...
''Dough ball!''
Splat!
The cheery voice was followed by a light impact against your chest, causing you to stumble out of surprise. Blinking and staring down at your chest, you saw that yet another sloppy glob of yellow-brownish dough had made itself comfortable over your work apron.
''Pinkie!'' You said, glaring over to the pink furball that was currently giggling in delight. ''I thought we were past this!''
''Oh, Andy, the look on your face!'' Pinkie said through fits of giggles. Eventually, upon seeing your scowl of disapproval, Pinkie Pie brought her laughing outburst to a halt and faced you with an innocent smile. ''What? It was just a joke!''
''Whatever,'' You said with a sigh as you undid the knot in the back of your apron before taking it in your hands and tossing it aimlessly onto the kitchen counter, knocking off a couple baking utensils and metal mixing bowls in the process, sending them crashing to the floor with a metallic bang and clang. ''I'm off outside for a moment.''
And then you left, the anger coursing throughout your body causing you to have quite a mighty-sounding step that created quite the echo around the interior of the bakery as you marched outside the front door and proceeded to plop yourself down onto the steps to the entrance of the building.
You sat with a slouch to your posture, a perfect emphasis to passerby's that you were in no mood for conversation or any of the warm-hearted small chit-chat that the citizens of Ponyville were accustomed to and notorious for. Christ, you can't remember one day where you've gone without somepony saying something on the lines of ''Hi, how are you?'' or ''What are you supposed to be, an alien?''.
It wasn't that you were cold-hearted and wanted nothing to do with them, but rather because you were not the type of guy that liked to make conversation with strangers. If it was one of your friends, however, then you'd obviously say hello and maybe stop for a small round of conversation, but today, especially after the typical flour bombings from the pink El Diablo of Sugarcube Corner, you really, really were not in any mood. Besides, all of the friends you had were mostly back on planet Earth, however far away it might be.
Everywhere you looked, it was all the same - happy here, happy there, happy mother f-ing everywhere! What was it with ponies and...ugh, pleasantries?
It seemed that no matter how hard you might try to figure out the secret to their happy-go-lucky chemistry, there was always a solid wall blocking off the truth to it. It was a working conspiracy, of course. It might even be a book that you'd write someday. Oh, you could picture it now - The Secret to Equine Happiness: Why the Hell is Everypony Happy?
One day soon, Andy. One day.
Anywho, snapping yourself out of your own prison of thoughts, you decided that you needed a distraction to get away from reality for a moment. With one hand, you reached into your left pocket to locate a small rectangular tin and you fished it out to set it down on your lap.
The tin itself was not without its dents that it had acquired over the years and the lid was designed with small, decorative slashes on the top to appear more art deco-ish, although it was more than obvious it was a cover-up for a knock-off product to appear like the real deal. Aligned to be in the middle of the lid, the brand name ZIG-ZAG was stamped into the metal.
Releasing a small metal tab with your thumbnail, you raised the lid to reveal a small amount of loose tobacco littering the interior of the tin. Laying in the tabacco were a few pre-rolled up cigarettes that you made not only a few weeks ago.
In all honesty, you wouldn't say you were a big smoker or much of a carer for it in general like all the other smokers from Earth that downed around forty packs in a day, but when you were only a few years younger, back in your late teenage years, the one thing you could say for sure was ''Once a stupid teenager, always a stupid teenager.''.
Instead of thinking of it as an addiction, you'd like to think of it more as a coping mechanism of sorts.
Add that in with one or more negative influences to get you riled up and BAM! Another idiot joins the herd and performs the sacred ritual of lighting a fag with his Lucifer while marching off with his old kit bag down to college every morning.
Reaching your hand back into the same pocket, you then pulled out your old Zippo lighter that still had at least one-third of its lighter fluid capacity still soaking the cotton. Sure, it was made out of steel and had a few dings and signs of wear on it, but it was one of the few items you still had that you cherished. Bequeathed from your dear old grandfather that was then given to you for your seventeenth birthday as a request from his will of final wishes.
Taking a hold of one of the pre-rolled cigarettes and placing it gingerly between your lips, you then flipped the lid of the lighter with that oh-so-sexy metallic clang and flicked the wheel, sparking to life an orange flame that you then brought up to your cigarette and lit it up, giving it a few puffs to get it started.
Once lit, you extinguished the flame by flicking the lid of the lighter closed and placing it back into your pocket along with the cigarette case.
Taking the now-lit cigarette between your thumb and index finger, you gave it a few short drags, allowing all of that nicotine-enriched goodness to flood your system and feed your cravings that were otherwise commonly referred to as addiction. It wasn't exactly something that you would openly admit, but when you searched deep inside of yourself for the true answer, you knew it was the gospel truth.
With that being said and all negatives aside about what you were pumping through your system and drowning your vital organs in slick tar and cyanide, it certainly helped take the dampener off of your mood and add some polish to it. One or two cigarettes later, and boom! Andy.exe has been rebooted and ready to roll once more!
You were sat outside for about as long as it took you to burn through just over half of the cigarette before your ears picked up the sound of the voice of Pinkie Pie again.
''A-Andy?'' She asked, her voice leaving her lips with a soft tone, unlike her usual chipper and vibrant voice that you were accustomed to. You couldn't really describe how she sounded, but if there was a word for it, you'd simply have to set on casual. ''Are you...alright?'' She continued to ask as you heard her hoofsteps leave the bakery and come beside you.
You didn't even bother to turn to face her until she sat herself down on her haunches beside you on the step. When she turned to face you, you could see that her ears were plopped down in an almost depressed-like manner. Actually, now that you were seeing her face-first, the word 'depressed' was painted over her features. It kinda just radiated off of her.
Looking away to take another puff from your cigarette, you exhaled a small puff of smoke into the air, the taste somewhat bitter yet tangy over your lips.
''I am now,'' You said, giving a small cough before turning to face her again. ''Why?'' You asked, your nerves enough at ease that you didn't feel agitated by Pinkie's presence. (For once...)
Pinkie Pie looked down for a moment. ''It's just that...you've seemed kinda down lately. I was wondering if you were feeling alright.''
''Well, I'm fine. Really.'' Pinkie stared at you for a moment, almost calculatingly as her eyes remained fixated upon your own. Her pupils were so large that they could rival a puppy's begging face. You could also see your reflection in them. Feeling a little weirded out by the stare you were being given by the bubbly mare, you raised a brow at her. ''What?'' You asked, confused.
''Andy, why do you smoke?'' She asked, plainly and simply. It was asked with such ease by the pink mare that it seemed almost unnatural for her to even breathe the words to form the question. You weren't sure why, but despite being a non-consenting and immigrant in Equestria that has resided in Ponyville for two years and a couple of months exactly, you got the distinct impression that Pinkie Pie didn't know that you smoked.
Even if she did, it seemed a little strange to you that she'd ask you now, of all the times in the past where she could have asked the same as she had just now.
It's not like you had a problem with people nosing in on your personal interests and activities out of curiosity, anyway.
''Because it calms my nerves and keeps me relaxed when I'm stressed.'' Is all you responded with, facing away from her to take yet another series of short-lived drags. Even from your position, you could catch Pinkie's ears twitch and slowly rise back up to their full points.
''It keeps you relaxed? Like when both Rarity and Fluttershy have those spa dates or whenever Rainbow Dash hangs out on clouds and takes naps all the time?'' Pinkie asked. You couldn't help but smile, somewhat amused. Man, Pinkie Pie sure doesn't miss a hint, does she?
''Yes, Pinkie. Just like that,'' You said. ''It's what you call being a stupid teenager that began during his early college years and got himself hooked because he hung out with even more stupid friends.'' With that being said, Pinkie tilted her head and you turned to face her again. ''Quit looking at me like that, you're kinda freakin' me out.''
''Sorry, Andy, but I'm...I'm not really understanding why you're so stressed. Do you...want to talk about it?'' She offered nicely, backing herself up with that warm smile of hers that you found utterly adorable even when you were in a sour mood that could rival a factory of lemons.
''No. No, not really,'' You said casually and quietly, taking the last drag of your cigarette before stubbing it onto the floor beside you and putting it out. ''Maybe later. I'm not ready to talk about it yet, but we'll see.''
''Oh,'' Pinkie said, half-disheartened at the response. ''Okay. But do you Pinkie Promise to tell me about it sometime later?'' She asked hopefully. Seeing that soft, friendly face of hers sent a sensation of warmth throughout your body and it made your heart feel all fluttery inside. Hopefully, she didn't really notice it, and that was a very strong 'hopefully'. Everypony in town knew that Pinkie Pie could sniff out a secret or hidden feelings from miles away.
As a matter of fact, it was such a strong part of her Pinkie Sense that the rumours around town say that there's a betting pool between ponies as to who's secrets she finds out first. For all you know, Pinkie has set up her own little con game and she's raking in the bits as you speak! Well, not right this second, but she will be!
There was something that was just so satisfying about imagining a criminal mastermind Pinkie Pie dressed in a dark coloured top hat and cape twiggling her long, curvy French moustache while going ''Mwahahaha!'' that had your mind twisted into a fit of giggles that made you nostalgic of the Austin Powers films back home. You could picture it now - Pinkie taking on the role of Doctor Evil as he's arming the nuclear warhead to plunge into the Earth's core for a ransom of one million dollars.
''Alright, Pinkie, I Pinkie Promise I'll tell you at some point in the future,'' You said, miming her signature movements, knowing full-well how sacred the Pinkie Promise was to her.
If you thought that making a deal with Satan was bad when you didn't live up to your end of the bargain, breaking the rules of a Pinkie Promise was the next worst thing. The last thing anypony on the face of Equestria wanted to see was an angry, stamping and raging cloud of pink, murderous El Diablo.
Until that time came to tell her your deepest insecurities that lead up to your stress and anger, you felt the start of what you could only describe as anxiety build up within the depths of your guts. Somehow, it felt like you were digging yourself deeper into the ever-expanding Hole of the Unwanted.
Author's Note
Seriously, people - don't smoke. It's not worth it and no good can come from it. Trust me on that one.
=============================
With love, from England,
