Love Life (or Pinkie Pie's Heartbreak Repair Service)

“What’s wrong, dearie?” Mrs Cake asks Pinkie Pie over the dinner table, “You haven’t touched your tulip tortilla.”

The pink party pony pushes her food around the plate a little more, “My stomach just feels weird. It’s been like this for a few days now.”

“What sort of weird?”

“I dunno,” Pinkie shrugs, “I thought it was just a weird kinda hunger at first, that’d just go away if I ate a little. But it’s still here. It doesn’t hurt or anything, but it’s really strange. Like an empty part of me that needs filling up, and food isn’t working.”

Mrs Cake is quick to diagnose - she too had noticed Pinkie's stranger-than-usual behaviour. “I think I know what it is, dearie. Does it feel sort of like butterflies?”

“Yeah.”

“And it gets worse whenever you‘re around a certain somepony?”

“I- wha- ? Yes, exactly! How do you know all this?”

Mrs Cake turns her head towards her husband, Carrot, who is dutifully feeding the young twins spoonful by spoonful as they giggle and smile throughout the meal. A happy scene for a happy family, especially in the eyes of the small, blue baker-mare.

“Let’s just say I know the feeling.” she sighs with a smile.

“Oh my gosh.” Pinkie gasps. It all makes sense to her now.

“You work so hard to make other ponies happy, but I’ve never seen you make time for yourself.”

“I’m sure somepony in this town would love to date a cute girl like you.”

“Well, you are cute. And I think you should find a special somepony for yourself out there and make them happy.”

“He’s too scared to move on by himself! He needs a push in the right direction, and I’ve gotta be the one to… I gotta go!” she bolts up from her seat, “I think I know what to do!”

With that, she excuses herself from the table and makes a hasty exit from her home.

Then she makes a hasty return, flings her tulip tortilla into the air, catches it in her mouth, swallows it in a single gulp and makes another hasty exit.

*******

Your mind is still trying to unfreeze, as if it had seen a ghost. Trying to process the information sitting before you. She’s back. Your ex-lover is back.

You’re starting to wish you were really being robbed.

“Fleur! I- you- why are you here?”

“Well, why not?” she replies in her shrill voice that drips with aristocracy, “Can’t an old friend stop by for a visit?”

An old friend? After all the pain she’s caused you, after ditching you at the altar in favour of a bigger wallet, after a year of wallowing and weakening you to the point of you nearly taking your own life, she casually shows up out of nowhere and calls you an old friend!?

You can’t talk. Be it from horror, confusion, anger… you just can’t bring yourself to reply.

“Aristocrat got your tongue, honey?” she continues unabated, “If you’re wondering how I got here, well, you DID give me a spare key to this house before the wedding. This was supposed to be our little home, wasn’t it?”

“No.” you choke, “This is my home now. You lost your share in this when you ran away with that Fancy Slacks.”

“Fancy Pants, dear.”

“What does it matter? You’ve probably drained him of his bits, and now you’re crawling back to me. Is that it? Is that why you’re here!?”

“Fancy Pants won’t be running out of money for me in this lifetime, I assure you.” Fleur scoffs, “And you should know me well enough by now to know that I’m never the one to do the crawling. You, on the other hoof…”

“I begged you to take me back.” Your quivering, breaking voice can’t keep still. You ignore the hot tear rolling down your face, as it was shed for yourself, and not for her. “I begged you, and you said no every time. Get out. Get out and leave me alone. I’ve only just managed to stand myself back up, and I’m not letting you knock me back down again. Get out!”

“No.”

Despite everything you could say, she simply knocks you back with a single word. A word that stung you every time you begged for her return. And now it stings you as you beg for her to leave.

“Fancy Pants gave me enough bits for the best hotel in Ponyville while I browse some boutique here,” she explains, taking one step towards you after another, “but I’d rather keep those bits for myself as a little extra spending money. I suppose that means I’ll be sleeping here tonight, since this house was intended for me when you first bought it. I hope you don’t mind sleeping on the couch tonight, because I intend to stay right here, and there’s nothing you can do to stop me.”

By this point, she’s practically towering over you, showing the demanding dominance she always had. Even after she breaks you, she still finds it justifying to squeeze you of your assets. She didn’t become the manipulative mare she is today by taking refusal for an answer.

Bash-bash-bash!

“Hello?” a familiar voice calls through the front door, “Are you home? I really, really, really need to tell you something!”

Pinkie Pie?

To your horror, your ex pushes you aside and opens the door in a huff. She disdainfully eyes the pink disrupter up and down. You can actually feel her judging every inch your friend.

“Who’s this gormless peasant?” Fleur scrunches her snout.

“Pinkie!” you wave your hoof to draw her attention away from the lavishly-styled fiend, “Don’t mind her, she’s just leaving. Aren’t you, Fleur?”

“I said no such thing!” she refutes with a sneer, “But enough about me, darling, why don’t you introduce me to your latest wallflower?”

“I’m Pinkie Pie,” your friend jumps in before you can speak, “and I know who you are. I’ve been told about you a lot.”

“Of course! Who doesn’t want to talk about the stunning Fleur de Lis?” your ex waves her mane at the mention of herself, “You on the other hoof? You should count yourself lucky that you’re friends with somepony who once knew me as intimately as he knows you.”

“Beg your freakin’ pardon?” Wow, this must be the first time you’ve seen Pinkie Pie clench her teeth.

“Well, you are intimate with him, are you not? Which is a crying shame on his part. I mean look at yourself! No sense of expensive taste anywhere on you, poor thing; you can’t even afford hair-straighteners! Your special talent is… blowing up balloons, it seems! And not a hint of a royal horn on your head!” Fleur turns to you, ignoring Pinkie’s seething expression, “If this is who you convene with these days, honey, then oh, how the mighty have fallen.”

“We’re not dating, she’s a friend of mine!” you snap back, “Just a dear friend, nothing more! You know what a friend is, don’t you Fleur? Somepony who doesn’t put money above those she’s supposed to care about? It’s sad to know that while you’re in your own little world, where money is the only language you know, you’ll never find beauty in the things that really matter. I have, thanks to my friend. Just go, Fleur. Go and think about the life you ruined for personal gain, and the life you’re draining right now. Let me live in peace.”

“Alas, I believe you’re lost forever, dear.” Fleur sighs, “If you want to live your life with the peasants from this day forward, be my guest. I think I’d rather just skip the trouble of sleeping here and take the next train back to Canterlot.”

She shoves Pinkie Pie aside as she makes her exit onto Ponyville‘s street. You could swear that you could see steam coming out of Pinkie’s ears by this point.

“Anything you’d like to say to me before I leave you forever? I mean, before I leave you forever again?”

“I can think of something.” your pink friend pipes up. Fleur shows her usual distaste for having to talk to a lower pony than her, but she humours the idea nonetheless. She might be able to glean one final insult out of it.

“So do tell, my little nopony, what you would like to say.”

“Bitchgettinglaunchedoutofapartycannonsayswhat.”

“What?”