A wooden knock sounded on Pinkie's bedroom door. "Come in!" called Pinkie Pie, cheerfully.
Cup Cake opened the door. Upon entering the room, she immediately waved her hoof in front of her nose, wincing. "I think we need to talk, Pinkie," said Cup, her eyebrows pinched tightly together.
Pinkie looked up from where she sat on the floor. "Whaddya wanna talk about?" she asked, cocking her head cutely to one side. With one hoof she petted her little friend seated next to her.
With a heavy sigh, Mrs. Cake shut the door and sat down beside Pinkie. "Carrot Cake and I have had a long conversation about this, and, well... we both agree that it's time for you to move on," she said, very gently.
"Move on? W-what do you mean, Mrs. Cake?" A nervous smile spread across Pinkie's face as beads of perspiration began to dot her forehead.
Mrs. Cake reached over and took Pinkie's hoof in hers, pulling it away from the rotting, lifeless husk. "Pinkie, this has to stop. It's decaying. Badly."
Pinkie laughed out loud. "What? No, silly, he's fine!" she said, reaching over to jiggle her friend back to life. "I'm doing perfectly well, Mrs. Cake, thank you very much," she said, using a deeper pitch and speaking out of the far corner of her mouth.
Lines of sympathy tugged at the edges of Mrs. Cake's eyes. "Pinkie, please. We can't let you keep pretending like this," she said. "Of course I respect your feelings, but your bedroom is directly over our bakery. It's starting to draw flies, and although the odor is currently confined to your room..."
"He is not an 'it'!" said Pinkie with a momentary scowl, but then her eyes began to water. "I mean, he could still get better..."
"We both know that's not going to happen." Cup pulled Pinkie's hoof away again. "You're a grown mare now. You need to face facts, dear."
"But I don't want to lose him..." whispered Pinkie, closing her eyes as a tear rolled down one cheek. "This isn't fair! He's still alive to me. Can't you see that?"
Mrs. Cake inhaled deeply before speaking. "Pinkie, didn't you ever have to get rid of... say, a stuffed animal, as a foal?"
Pinkie shook her head. "No. Most of my toys were rocks, actually," she said.
"Oh, dear... Well, you had to get rid of your rocks sometimes, didn't you? When you moved to Ponyville, you didn't bring much with you," said Mrs. Cake. "Were there any special rocks you treated like dolls?"
"Oh, sure! But Dad wouldn't let me bring them here," she said. "He thought I was 'too attached' to them, or something. I dunno." Pinkie's mane began to droop.
"Can you tell me what happened to them?" asked Mrs. Cake, gently squeezing Pinkie's hoof in hers.
Pinkie closed her eyes. "I don't know. He probably sold them, or... maybe he ate them."
"Ate them? You... eat rocks?" said Cup, incredulous.
"Yeah," said Pinkie, pulling her hoof away as her mane and tail flattened out completely. "This is so painful! Why are you doing this to me?"
"I know this may be hard to understand, but it's because we care about you, Pinkie," said Mrs. Cake, reaching over to stroke Pinkie's cheek. "If you can't handle something this minor, how are you going to manage when somepony you love dies, like your parents?"
"My parents aren't that old!" Pinkie Pie defiantly growled, her muzzle scrunching up in anger. "I shouldn't have to think about horrible things like this!"
Cup Cake leaned away for a moment, then firmly clenched her jaw. "Someday in the near future your pet alligator Gummy will die," she stated in a matter-of-fact voice. "Alligators usually live a long time, but not the ones who share Gummy's special dwarfism condition. How are you going to manage then?"
"I have no idea," gasped Pinkie, and she began to sob.
Mrs. Cake pulled Pinkie into a close hug. "Fluttershy has pets who pass away all the time, and she's learned to deal with this kind of loss. You can do this, Pinkie. I know you can."
"Fluttershy is so much braver than I am," whimpered Pinkie. "And she's a year older..."
"She may be brave, but I'm sure she still cries," said Mrs. Cake. "Do you want me to ask her to help you with this? I'm sure she would be happy to help."
"No! I don't want any of my friends to know how hard this is for me," said Pinkie, her cheeks flush. "I'd feel... silly."
"I don't think it would be a bad idea to confide in your friends. Silly or not, this is clearly a serious thing to you," said Mrs. Cake. "But either way, you're a fully-grown pony, Pinkie Pie. You need to mare up."
Pinkie nodded solemnly. "Do you want me to dig his grave?" she asked, wiping away a tear with her knuckle.
Cup Cake shook her head. "Sweetie, no. If we gave him a grave, you'd visit it every day. We need you to be stronger than this. Fluttershy doesn't dig graves for most of her pets, does she?"
"N-no," said Pinkie, the word catching in her throat.
"It's the circle of life. Place him in the compost heap, and his body will nourish the garden and eventually contribute to new friends," said Mrs. Cake. "Do you need me to help you?"
Pinkie paused in silence. "No. I can do it by myself," she finally whispered. With that, Pinkie Pie stood up, picked up her friend in one hoof, and walked out of her room and down to the garden.
Standing in front of the compost heap, Pinkie shed a final tear. "I guess I'm a real mare now," she said, dumping her friend into the refuse with several loud thumps. Then she set the pail down and smiled a sickly smile.
"Goodbye, Mr. Turnip. I'll never forget you," she said. Then, with all the courage she could muster, Pinkie Pie turned and walked away.
