Written in Stone: The Saga of Blank Slate
Pinkie Pie bounced back and forth along the train platform, as she did most mornings. Once the baking was done and Sugar Cube Corner had gotten through the breakfast rush, she trotted off to catch the 10:15 and greet the visitors and new residents of Ponyville. It was the best part of the day for her — the fresh new faces, the cheers of delight as she met and made new friends, and the excitement of what it may all mean. After all, not eight years ago, the one-day Princess Twilight Sparkle had stepped hoof off the 10:15, and Pinkie Pie’s life had been the first one the then-future Princess had changed.
As the train pulled up to the station Pinkie was positively vibrating with excitement. After all, she knew that, in addition to the regulars and potential new visitors, one very important pony was going to be on that train: the inspector from the Equestrian Office of Patents, Copyrights, and Trademarks (EOPCT for short). And he was here for a very special reason: the trademarking of Sugar Cube Corner’s very own DubbaTrippachokka Cupcakes, something she and the Cakes had been working on for months now. A delightful combination of cupcake, muffin, and chocolate chip cookie, it had taken a week just to get the mouth-feel right, and weeks more of rigorous product testing before the mixture of salty, sweet, bitter, and chocolate had come out right. Initial sales and tests proved promising, and the Cakes were eager to secure their intellectual property and begin licensing the cupcakes out across Equestria. After all, they had two foals to think of, both of whom would be applying to higher education all too soon.
This wasn’t the first time Pinkie had greeted (and sweet-talked) an EOPCT inspector, but in the past, it had always been the same old dottering-yet-kindly unicorn who did little more than rubber-stamp anything put in front of her. She should have retired years ago, and when she finally did, Pinkie was worried that the new inspector would be much harsher. Rumors told her that these fears were more than justified — apparently, bakers and inventors across the country had found themselves forced to pay much closer attention to their paperwork, and also to explain in greater detail the uniqueness of their new creations. Pinkie had heard that this was due to a rather embarrassing series of lawsuits where it turned out that multiple identical patents had been granted to the same spells, but still, she wanted to make sure every “i” was dotted and “t” was crossed. She’d even enlisted Twilight to help, the Princess of Friendship turning into the Princess of Paperwork the moment Pinkie had asked.
As such, she brought along a saddlebag full of documents in addition to her usual selection of baked goods and surprises. It hadn’t been easy to work backward and document the long process of developing the DubbaTrippachokka Cupcakes, but they were so unique and so delicious, that she knew it would be worth it. She’d even secreted a few away in her basket, although she knew that to optimize their taste they should be served warm. Maybe she could do that later. Even re-heating them quickly in the oven massively improved their flavor profile and mouth-feel.
Such small touches would have to come later, though, as Pinkie saw the regulars, and a few new visitors, stepping off the train first. She greeted them as best she could, making sure not to get in the way of any ponies who looked busy or late, handing out cupcakes and making sure each of them felt appreciated. Being a one-horse welcoming committee was exhausting, but it was good for Ponyville, good for Sugarcube Corner, and good for Pinkie. Ponies might come to town to see Princess Twilight, but it was Pinkie that they actually talked to.
As the train finally emptied its last passengers, Pinkie saw the inspector stepping off, his saddlebags emblazoned with the EOPCT logo, as well as his shirt. It was a simple, utilitarian uniform, but it was clean and crisp, with each fold and crease right where it was supposed to be. Rarity would be proud. The inspector was an earth pony dark gray fur, with an even darker mane, and green eyes. The color scheme reminded Pinkie of Maud’s rock collection, all dark colors and shades of gray, excepting his eyes. Had he not been of average height and a slightly portly build she might have been intimidated by his presence, but as it was she found herself only concerned with his authority. After all, it was him that she had to impress, since his evaluation generally made or broke an application, even if the judges had the final say.
“Welcome to Ponyville!” she said as she bounded in front of the inspector, causing him to halt with a start. “I’m so happy to see you that I could sing!” and sing she did, belting out a few improvised verses interspersed with a dance and the routine flourishing presentation of documents, baked goods, and at the conclusion, the DubbaTrippachokka Cupcake itself. She looked up to see his response, her mind quickly calculating how to respond to any response she could think to anticipate. Anger, surprise, happiness, joy, confusion, she was prepared for them all. She locked eyes with him, waiting for his face to tell her how to move.
But his response was the one thing she had not prepared for: no response at all. He stared through her and the cupcake as though neither were even there, his face showing nothing. He was not happy to be given such a display, nor irritated at being interrupted in his duties. If anything, Pinkie Pie could tell he was vaguely confused and annoyed, like a pony that found a set of baking instructions were poorly worded, or that a book they had picked up had poor print quality. He was puzzling something out, but Pinkie Pie had no idea what.
“You...Are Pinkie Pie?” His words were flat as a board, almost robotic. Pinkie Pie had never encountered such a response before, and it sent her reeling. Was this part of his tactics? To keep the inspected in the dark about what the outcome of their application was likely to be? That had to be it. Pinkie Pie had never met a pony before who was so unresponsive to her outlandish behavior. It had to be some kind of planned response.
“Yesindeedily! And I take it that you are Inspector Slate?” Maybe being formal was the way to go. This pony was a bureaucrat, after all. Formality was what they lived for. She bowed low and extended her hoof for a shake. “Pleased to meet ya, if you were a cupcake I’d eat ya!” She giggled a little at her response, unable to remain fully formal even when she tried.
Slate just stared at her hoof with the same inscrutable expression he had given the rest of her behavior. He then looked at her cupcake, leaning in to inspect it more closely. “Your application stated that the cupcake is to be sold warm, ideally hot, due to the rapid descent of its flavor profile over time. I take it you are presenting this model primarily for the sake of appearance and not for consumption? It has already begun to go stale.”
Pinkie Pie blinked. Had he memorized her application? Was he so expert with baked goods that he could tell it was stale just by looking at it? Clearly, the rumors had been true. Indeed, they were probably understating just how persnickety this particular inspector was. Well, two could play the persnickety game, and Pinkie Pie loved games! She would just have to roll out the red carpet for this inspector, and show him that her full name was Pinkamena Diane PerfectApplicationYou’llApproveRightAway Pie! Or something like that, anyway.
“They are indeed just for the sake of appearance, Inspector Slate! I wanted to make absolutely-dutely sure that it doesn’t look like anything else!” She stowed the cupcakes, knowing that, even cold, they would be much in demand. Even once they got a little stale there would be ponies eager to pay twice the normal price, in fact. They were so good it was worth paying extra just to not have to wait in line each morning!
She led Slate from the train station to Sugarcube Corner, pointing out various houses and landmarks as well as saying hi to various ponies that she met. All the while, she kept a careful eye on Slate, watching his eye movements and seeing how he reacted to her comments. He was astonishingly quiet, not even making any exclamations when she pointed out her favorite bits of architecture or gave passing introductions to the various ponies she knew especially well. It was kind of creepy like he was not a pony, but some creature pretending to be one, with no clear understanding of how a pony acted or felt. Maybe he was a changeling? Ever since the rise of Prince Thorax the changelings had begun to integrate into Pony society, and many chose to maintain a semi-permanent disguise rather than risk scaring those ponies still traumatized by Queen Chrysalis’s attacks. But Pinkie Pie had met many changelings, and none of them acted anything like Slate. If anything, they gave themselves away by acting “too” normal, their steadfast effort to imitate leading to them having none of the quirks or erratic behaviors common to most ponies.
“An Euhoofian Arch!” Slate’s exclamation was so sudden and out of nowhere that it caused Pinkie Pie to halt in her tracks. She stopped and turned around, trying to gauge what Slate was looking at.
“You mean the door?” Pinkie couldn’t figure out what he was so interested in. Yes, the local bank had a rather odd carving over the door, but she had never thought anything of it. Lots of buildings had weird accents on them, the result of many owners taking advantage of Equestria’s abundant unicorn craftsmen to add to their buildings. Plus what with all the monster attacks in the past eight years, why not take a chance and build differently? There was a good chance it would be destroyed and rebuilt within the next year anyway.
“No, no, the arch above the door.” Slate pointed with a hoof at the arch of stones. There wasn’t much in the way of significant carving on top, just some squiggles that Pinkie Pie didn’t understand. They didn’t even look like anything in particular. “It’s a modern copy, but still. Someone here studied the Euhoofians and chose to build in their style rather than the much later Hayonic or Roan Empire style. It’s very unusual.”
Pinkie Pie squinted but she still couldn’t understand what he saw in it. But there were a lot of things that ponies were into that she didn’t understand, from stamp collecting to bird watching. And it was more important to embrace their enthusiasm than the underlying passion.
“Yes! We have all sorts of super-duper cool architecture here in Ponyville! Maybe after you evaluate the DubbaTrippaChokka cupcakes you’ll have time to go on a tour!” Pinkie Pie wasn’t sure if anyone in Ponyville offered architecture tours, but if they did, Twilight Sparkle probably knew about it and could point her and Slate in the right direction. Indeed, maybe he would want to check out the architecture of the Castle of Friendship itself! So many Equestrian officials had after it magically appeared if only to study how it had manifested itself from the Chest of Harmony.
“I will have no time for that.” Slate’s tone was totally inexpressive, and it was not clear to Pinkie if he was upset, disappointed, or just not as interested as she had first thought. “Please continue to SugarCube Corner. We are already behind schedule.”
Pinkie Pie blinked, not aware that there was any sort of schedule, but it would make sense that Slate would be here for multiple appointments and far be it for her to impinge on any of them. She quickened her pace, greeting the ponies she met in an even faster and more breathless tone, but still missing none of them. She took pride in knowing and caring for everypony, after all!
Still, this meant she was quite out of breath when they finally reached Sugarcube Corner. A sign on the front stated they were “closed for a private party,” something which dismayed the occasional passers-by, but the Cakes were, rightly, worried that having to deal with a rush of customers or a sudden large order might interfere with the evaluation of their trademark application. At the very least, eager customers might come rushing in when they smelled the Dubbatrippachokka cupcakes cooking. They usually did, to the point where Ms. Cake had to issue tickets and pre-sales to prevent fights or disappointed ponies waiting in line for nothing.
And the smells coming from inside as Pinkie opened the door made it clear why they were so eager or upset. It was one thing to smell chocolate cupcakes. It was another entirely to smell Dubbatrippachokka cupcakes. They didn’t just smell like chocolate. They smelled like what you imagined chocolate to smell like after a three-month diet. Like what chocolate smelled like for the first time. They didn’t just evoke the scent of chocolate, they evoked its memory. And that kind of baking was what was going to make them famous.
Mr. and Ms. Cake were sitting behind the counter, their nervous chatter interrupted by the sound of the opening door. They smiled at her and Slate, their eyes sizing him up quickly. Pinkie was relieved to see that she was not the only one who couldn’t figure Slate out. Being masters of the service industry, the Cakes could usually determine what a pony was likely to want right away. Anticipating needs to the point of almost being able to read a customer’s mind was what separated the great customer service from the good. It was a skill they had taught Pinkie, and because it was not working for them, she knew it wasn’t just her who was unable to read this pony.
“I understand that the cupcakes to be evaluated are best served hot and fresh.” Slate sat down at one of the tables, pulling out a notebook and pencil from his saddlebags. “Are they prepared at this moment?”
Ms. Cake snapped into action. “We did prepare some earlier and gave them to Pinkie Pie, but because weren’t sure when you might arrive, we were holding off on a fresh batch. We’ve got the dough ready, though, and can prepare fresh ones for you in just a few minutes!”
“Okay.” Slate grabbed his pencil and began to make notes. Pinkie and the Cakes waited for a few moments to see if he had more to say, and once it was clear he did not, the Cakes both dashed into the back room to finish and bake the dough. This left Pinkie Pie alone with Slate, who seemed quite content to write in his notebook, pausing only to momentarily examine the room and make more notes.
Pinkie Pie smiled awkwardly, not sure what to do at this point. She hadn’t had to deal with a pony so mysterious and frustrating since Mudbriar walked into Maud’s life. And Slate was definitely not like Mudbriar. He had not corrected anypony, he had not interrupted anypony, he hadn’t even done anything more than walk, stand, point out something, walk some more, sit down, and start taking notes. But still, there was something off about him, and it made Pinkie Pie uneasy. He just didn’t act like other ponies. Or talk like them. Or sit like them. She still couldn’t quite shake the vague feeling that maybe he was a changeling. Or something. But was that even bad? Other than pointing out, correctly, that the Dubbatrippachokka cupcakes were best served fresh and hot, he hadn’t said anything that could be construed as negative. And even that could just be taken as unusual diligence in his duty, typical of any dedicated bureaucrat.
It was a great relief with the Cakes finally came out from the kitchen with the cupcakes. Rather than leave them in the tray, they had been taken out and placed on a plate. There were four, each one a perfect epitome of the Cakes’s mastery at baking. The results looked even better than usual, and the scent was making Pinkie Pie’s mouth water from half a room away.
But even with this Slate continued to be odd. Any other pony would have jammed the cupcakes into their mouth, pausing only to chew and gasp for air. Slate, on the other hand, retrieved a bread knife from his bag and began to cut them open, examining them and taking more and more notes, before eating one in a series of small bites, with notes taken after each bite. All in all, it took him half an hour to finish the cupcakes, and even then there remained various small crumbs and cut fragments that he continued to examine and make notes over. Pinkie Pie had seen snooty food critics with less bizarre eating habits. She wasn’t sure if she should get mad, happy, or just start asking questions. Or if Slate would even respond to any such behavior. He certainly seemed oblivious to how nervous she and the Cakes looked, and when they asked if he needed anything else, he just stared at them as though they spoke in a foreign language.
There was surprise and relief when he seemed to be finished with the cakes, even though he had only consumed one and the others were in various states of disassembly. He walked up to the cakes and stared blankly at them, as though he was speaking to someone standing behind them. “I need to see the process as well.”
Mr. Cake blanched. He had never had to show any of his trade secrets to previous examiners, and Pinkie knew how important those secrets were to him. But after a moment’s hesitation, he took Slate into the back, leaving Ms. Cake and Pinkie Pie alone. As soon as the door to the kitchen closed, she turned to Pinkie, her face wracked with worry.
“It’s not just me, right? That pony, he’s...Strange.” Ms. Cake leaned down on the counter, looking at the disassembled cupcakes. She gestured to Pinkie Pie and the both of them sat down, picking at and consuming the pieces. Nothing that good should go to such waste, after all.
“You said it, sister!” Pinkie Pie jammed an entire muffin top into her mouth, swallowing it in one gulp. “At first I was like, ‘is he a changeling?’ but then I was like ‘Nah, I’m not really getting a changeling vibe’ and then I was like ‘but what if that’s what he wants me to think’ and then he seemed really interested in some architecture at the bank and I was like ‘do changelings like architecture?’ because I’ve been to the hive and it is definitely NOTHING like the bank!” She paused for a moment, and then picked up the plate and consumed every last crumb. “Do you think maybe he’s a fraud? Come to think of it, he didn’t show me his badge. Maybe he isn’t the real inspector at all!”
Ms. Cake rubbed her temple, staring nervously at the kitchen door. “Well if he’s a fraud, he’s a fraud who left three cupcakes for you to eat.” Ms. Cake took the plate and carried it to a small recess for dirty dishes. “So he’s not here for the free food. What kind of pony would want to impersonate an EOPCT officer just so he can eat one cupcake?”
“They really need a better name.” Pinkie Pie began to pace nervously, her mind racing, but her mouth trying to form comforting words. “I mean ee-oop-ckt. It’s hard to say!” She rubbed her hooves incessantly, her anxiety unhidden.
“Pinkie, it’s an abbreviation, and besides, since when do government offices have decent names?” Ms. Cake sat back down again, her eyes locked firmly on the door. She tapped her hoof nervously, and let out a great sigh of relief the door opened again.
However, what came out was not what anypony expected. Slate did not come out as he had gone in, collected and taking notes. Instead, he took off like a shot, as though he was fleeing some sort of monster. Mr. Cake was standing in the door, confused, and Ms. Cake could do little but get out of the way as Slate dashed out the front and disappeared. Mr. Cake looked at Ms. Cake and Pinkie Pie, his face awash with confusion. “Did I do something wrong?”
Ms. Cake looked at her husband, then began making her way back to the kitchen. “What could you possibly have done that would evoke that kind of response?” Pinkie Pie followed Ms. Cake as they worked their way into the back. It was a mess, with batter and various ingredients half mixed and half-baked. Clearly, Slate had taken off before the process was complete.
“All I can think is that I bumped into him.” Mr. Cake began re-enacting his actions, miming what he had just done. “I was getting ready to start finalizing the batter before baking and then move on to the frosting. Then I backed into him.” Mr. Cake backed into Pinkie Pie, showing exactly how light the contact had been. “And then he took off like he’d seen a bugbear. I half expected to turn around and see a fire had broken out. You know how jumpy I am ever since we had that near-miss with the defective heating element.”
Ms. Cake nodded and looked around the kitchen. It was rather small, since the large, industrial baking racks were in their own room, with this small original kitchen limited to boutique pieces and small batches. Mr. and Ms. Cake were always getting in one another’s way back here, one of the reasons they tended not to use this kitchen, instead of allowing Pinkie Pie to work alone on special orders. With the three of them in there, it was quite crowded.
“Still, just backing into somepony is no reason for them to go running off like that…” Pinkie Pie tapped her hoof on her chin. “Do you think maybe we offended him in some way?”
“If we did, then he must take offense to something that nopony else has ever taken offense to.” Ms. Cake went back into the main room, the other two following. “I mean, we’ve served princesses here. And Yak dignitaries. And those various snooty ponies that Rarity needs to impress. We know how to handle touchy customers who are looking for a reason to be offended. I don’t think that anything we did or failed to do could get THAT kind of a response.”
“Well, I’m gonna find out the truth!” Pinkie Pie tapped her hoof on her chest, which she puffed out slightly. “I’m gonna go talk to him, and one way or another, I’m gonna get to the heart of this mystery!”
Mr. Cake rolled his eyes. “Like you did on that train a few years ago?” He sighed. “You sure this isn’t a job for Twilight?”
Pinkie Pie gave him the stink-eye. “Are you Princess Celestia in disguise? Not everything is a job to be delegated to Little Miss Purple Princess! Sometimes you gotta send a pink pony in for the job!” She trotted out the door, her head high in the air, even though, as she crossed the threshold, she realized she had absolutely no idea where Slate was or even what could possibly be wrong.
***
It had taken hours, but Pinkie Pie’s reputation preceded her, and everypony she met was quite willing to help her track down where Slate had gone. It wasn’t too hard, once a few of the stall vendors pointed out that he was heading towards the hospitality district, there was a limited number of hotels nice enough for somepony to want to stay in yet cheap enough to get full reimbursement from the EOPCT home office. From there it was just a matter of cashing in a little of the goodwill that endless cakes, parties, and kind cards had built up among the various concierges who ran such hotels. After all, the location of a government employee while he was on duty was a matter of public record, and he couldn’t reasonably expect not to be found.
Of course, that didn’t exactly mean he was eager to talk, either. Pinkie Pie banged on his door for a solid minute, stopping only when her hoof began to hurt and she became genuinely concerned that she was disturbing the other guests. She would have given up and gone home right then and there had she not heard him breathing and shuffling about through the door, indicating that he was certainly in there. And a brief blocking of the light through the eyepiece let her know that he had seen her. Twice, even. But the door remained closed. And asking for the key was a step too close to the “stalking” line even for her.
After a long moment, papers emerged from under the door, clearly from slate. On top of them was a quick note reading GO AWAY in shoddy hoofwriting. But underneath was a pile of documents, all expertly typed, and going into an excruciating detail that even Pinkie Pie had to pause and think about some of what was being described. The notes, and accompanying paperwork, didn’t just describe the way that Dubbatrippachokka cakes were made. It went into the depths of what made them unique, and described variations from standard methods and from other similar cupcakes, taking pains to describe how unique this particular recipe was. Despite a near lifetime of baking, Pinkie Pie struggled to understand some of the jargon and terminology, and as for the legal arguments, she hadn’t the slightest clue. But she knew it was nothing like the evaluations she had received for past applications. With the exception of the standardized page which read, in large font, PROVISIONALLY APPROVED.
“THANK YOU!” Pinkie Pie’s shout was loud enough for half the hotel to hear, but even that could not properly express her excitement. In the past, these evaluations had always taken weeks of waiting while the examiner made various research inquiries and did whatever it was that they did in order to approve or disapprove a trademark application, before coming back with either PROVISIONALLY APPROVED or INITIALLY DENIED along with a vague explanation and instructions on where to go from there. Pinkie had never even heard of an examiner doing their research in advance, much less typing it all up the same day. Heck, he must have typed up some of this in advance. No pony could shove out so much text in so much detail in only the few hours it took her to find him. Even if the last examiner had been a bit lazy, this was just too much.
Pinkie Pie continued to puzzle over the document as she walked down the street. Maybe Mr. Cake was right and this was a job for Twilight. After all, while she might be the Princess of Friendship, she was, in practice at least, also the Potentate of Paperwork. If anyone could figure out what was going on with these papers, it was Twilight. And within that answer, maybe there was also an answer about Slate. Something that could clue Pinkie in as to why he was so strange.
Twilight was at her school, in the library, of course, making herself available to teachers and students while she focused on her own reading and solving her own mysteries. Pinkie Pie put the papers down on the reading table and pushed then towards Twilight. “What do you make of these, Princess?”
Twilight glanced at the papers. “Provisional approval for a trademark for your cupcakes?” She blinked. “What’s wrong with them? To me, it looks like you’ve got just what you wanted. Congratulations!”
“I need you to REALLY look at them.” She pushed them closer, more insistent. “Look at the dates. He came this morning. This. Morning! And already I’m approved. Since when do the wheels of Equestrian bureaucracy run this fast or smoothly?”
“Your local government official thanks you.” Twilight rolled her eyes. “You know, Celestia has been doing a lot of hiring lately, to try and prepare for all the new trade we’re going to get from the non-pony nations. Maybe you just benefitted from the fact that they’re not so busy yet.”
Pinkie was getting increasingly exasperated. “Look at all these words, Twilight! It goes into three pages just to describe how we cook cupcakes differently from everypony else. Even I didn’t know this much!” She tapped her hoof on the top of the application. “Plus what pony delivers ten typed pages in an afternoon? He must have been preparing this in advance!”
Twilight smirked. “Sounds like a pony after my own heart.” She put her hoof on top of Pinkie Pie’s. “I think there’s something going on above and beyond your cupcake trademark application. What’s actually going on here? What are you actually trying to know?”
Pinkie Pie let out a deep sigh. “It’s not the application it’s the inspector. He’s weird. Like, really weird. I thought I knew weird, I mean…” she rolled her eyes a bit. “I think we can all agree that Maud and her coltfriend are a bit...Nonstandard.” She waited for Twilight to finish suppressing a laugh. “But you know, I mean...I GET them. They make sense. Maud might not be the most enthusiastic about surprise parties but she loves seeing everypony having a good time. She might be serious about rocks, but it’s not like she doesn’t know how to talk to ponies or freaks out when somepony touches her.
Twilight raised her eyebrow. “Freaks out when somepony touches her? Pinkie, I think there’s a lot you aren’t telling me here. Can you start at the beginning?” Twilight closed her book and pushed it aside, then retrieved and sipped a lukewarm cup of coffee.
Pinkie relayed, in her usual fast and over-performed fashion, everything that had occurred that day. Twilight listened with relish, even going so far as to bring over a quill and fresh notebook to begin recording key points, using her magic to move the quill with astounding speed as she recorded in her personal shorthand.
Once Pinkie was done, Twilight began to pour over her findings. Pinkie was practically vibrating with excitement as Twilight retrieved some books and began to take even more notes, the neat piles of paper soon spreading out across the desk as Twilight sorted them and put the most relevant pieces of information on top. After a little more than an hour’s worth of work, Pinkie couldn’t hold it in any longer. “So what’s going on with this stallion anyway?”
Twilight smiled brightly. “I have absolutely no idea!”
Pinkie blinked. “Why are you so excited about that?”
Twilight grinned even bigger, her eyes wide, her quill twitching and flicking like the tail of a cat about to pounce. “Because this is an opportunity to learn something I never knew before! What you’re talking about sounds like some sort of nonstandard neurocognitive condition. You know, similar to Maud, but completely unique. Although I guess that makes it more like whatever’s going on with Maud.”
Pinkie huffed. “There’s nothing wrong with Maud!” She kept herself from stating as much about her coltfriend, though. The jury was still out on that as far as Pinkie was concerned.
“Exactly. So I don’t there is anything ‘wrong’ per se with Slate.” Twilight began to hurriedly pack her saddlebags, jamming in books, quills, and paper until both were over-stuffed. She sagged visibly as she put them on her back. “I say we go meet this pony, and learn all we can from him. This is going to be so much fun! I’ve never really gotten to spend time with a pony who has a nonstandard neurocognitive state. It’s going to be as exciting as meeting a new race of beings or a nation I’d never heard of before!”
Pinkie Pie rolled her eyes. “Based on past experience, I find your confidence misplaced.”
Twilight laughed. “Yeah, I...Suppose you’d better tag along, just in case. Besides, he knows you and doesn't seem THAT put off by you. Maybe you can be our way in.”
“Well, he doesn’t like cupcakes...Or at least he wasn’t as enthusiastic about them as everypony else…” Pinkie tapped her hoof on her chin. “But let’s detour by Sugarcube Corner. The shortest route to any pony’s heart is through baked goods. I’ll just have to try everything until something works!” Pinkie grinned, walking out of the School of Friendship with a bounce in every step. With a friend like Twilight, this mystery would be easy to solve. And even if it wasn’t, well, she had some very good news for the Cakes!
Author's Note
The first of what will hopefully be many chapters for this story, covering Slate.