The Art of Speaking Like a Princess
Ponies often tell me I have trouble hiding my emotions. They’re right, of course; the Princess of Friendship is known for being neurotic and obsessive because, well, I am. I’m at least big enough to admit that those are flaws I suffer from. At the moment though, it is my most fervent wish that I was better at the practice. Celestia says that it takes time to learn, and I have a lot of that now. Approximately until I die of something like nuclear heat death, or a meteor strike, or something other than age. If either of those things could kill me, now would be a good time. Great. Opportune even.
But no, on the… music, if you could call it that, played. I think this is what torture feels like? An excruciating, unbearable pain that I have to sit here and endure because… because I’m a good pony? Sweet Celestia, that sounds like I’m full of myself. I’m not, I swear! This is a one time thing, and if you were in my situation, you’d probably want to die too. Or at least be deaf. Even then, the… visual accompaniment is just as bad, if not worse, than the sound assaulting my ears.
To be music, it has to be vocal or instrumental sounds, or both, combined in such a way as to produce beauty of form, harmony, and expression of emotion. Or so my dictionary says. My guest was rocking out to the track she’s making me suffer though, and I had time to look. This… this is none of those things. Or any combination of them.
Her dancing aside, which was, somehow, worse than mine, I had no choice but to focus on the music because it was the only sound I could hear. She managed to borrow some headphones from our local DJ, and now this awful thing was being directed into my poor ears against their wishes. Torture is an understatement. This is hell. Literal, inescapable, hell.
I could be dead, actually. Maybe this is all just made up, and some evil creature is giggling at my damnation by subjecting me to this because it took me six years to return that library book. I even bought a second copy before I remembered I had borrowed it in the first place. Why did I forget to return the book, oh, FOR THE LOVE OF THE GODDESS, WHY!?
Wait, no; the pinch worked, this isn’t me imagining things, and Pinkie really, really created this black horror. This just… doesn’t make any sense. I know Pinkie has good taste in music, I like most of the same stuff she does. How did she make this? It almost like she took the pained screams of foals burning alive and mixed them with large animal mating sounds. Or perhaps something less pleasant than those two things. I don’t know that my imagination is colorful enough to describe this.
Is this a prank? I’m being pranked. This has to be a prank… right? Please, oh please, let this be a prank. Don’t make me tell her I’d rather cut my ears off than listen to this. I wonder if there’s any alcohol in the castle? That would make it easier, sure, but Pinkie would notice if I got up and walked away. Would it be fast enough? No, there’s only a minute left in the run time. I can do this. I just have… suffer a little bit more… Sweet Celestia, it just. Goes. On.
I think it’s actually starting to make me sick. Like, physically nauseous. I’ve heard of music that makes you have lucid dreams, though I think Fluttershy’s friend told me about that, and she is not to be trusted on the good furniture. Never smelled a pony so dank in my life.
Oh, thank the Goddess, it’s finally over. Oh. Oh no. This is bad. This is actually worse. Pinkie is about to open her mouth. I know what comes next. Those big blue expectant eyes, so innocent and full of hope, waiting for me to tell her how much I liked it. I can’t tell her that, it would crush her. What can I say? Come on Twilight, think! If Celestia has taught you anything, it’s how to talk-no-jutsu your way out of a problem. She does it all the time, I’ve been watching her for most of my life! Please, please, please, don’t make me do this.
“Sooooo,” A long drawn out pause, “what’d ya think?” Pinkie asked. Oh goddess, she said it. She said the magic words that summon the eldritch horror and destroys the world. My world. Maybe not so catastrophically, but this is some mega-spell tier destruction. You can do this. Let the convoluted talking points Celestia taught you all these years flow out of your mouth like it’s your backside and speak. I cleared my throat. Twice. Three times. Four? No, she’s starting to look irritated, better start.
“W-well…” I began, drawing that out as long as possible. She leaned in a bit but that only made this so much worse. “It’s um… unique! Yes, it’s unique. It has an, um…” Come on Twilight, remember the speech about politicians. You only have to tell the truth if somepony forces it out of you. You can do this. Celestia believes in you, your friends believe in you… and you’re trying your hardest to avoid lying to one of them through your teeth.
“It has a…?” Pinkie repeated my phrase. Sweet Goddess, she’s hanging on my every word! Why? Why did you come to me and not Applejack!? Or Dash, or Rarity, or Fluttershy, or literally anypony else!? Gah! Wait! Talk about it in a way that doesn’t relate to music at all! If I avoid the sense of hearing, I can get through it!
“It… has a distinct flavor. An um… texture that merits something so… specific that it could only have possibly come from this.”
Pinkie’s brow furrowed, then she raised an eyebrow. “Does… that actually mean something? I can’t actually tell if you’re telling me it’s good or bad or not. Like, you remember that time we went to that summit with Celestia, and she just started talking…”
Crap! She can see through the deception! Twilight, you imbecile, this is Pinkie! She can always tell, she has a sixth sense! Literally! Ahh, she’s coming to a stop, what do I do, what do I do!?
“… and the dignitaries were just kinda… so amused that she could talk like that they didn’t even bother questioning what she said? ‘Cause that’s what this is sounding like. To me at least. Not that I’m accusing you of something like that, but… ya know.”
A bead of sweat rolled down the side of my head. Oh goddess, I’m beginning to feel light headed. That’s it! If I just… hold my breath long enough… maybe I’ll pass out.
“Twilight? You okay? You’re looking kinda… flushed.”
Condemn you Pinkie, stop being so concerned! Why are you a better pony than I am? How come you always get to be nice!? My hoof found my cheek itchy, and before I knew it, I was responding. “Oh, I’m fine, I’m just um… trying to… sort my feelings on the subject."
“Sort your feelings…? What does that mean? Come on, Twi, it’s not that hard, just tell me yes or no.”
Oh boy. “Y-yes or no to what?”
She scowled. Ooooh goddess, she’s scowling, why is she scowling? “Did you like it, was it good, do you think somepony else would like it? Any of ‘em, take your pick.”
“Uh… I uh…” The stammering came, but none of my words did. Where was the carefully practiced filibustering when I needed it!?
“Do you need time to think on it or something? I can just go ask somepony-”
“No!” I flew out of my desk chair and grabbed Pinkie’s shoulders. Nopony should be subject to this abomination. This is a work of evil and must not see the light of day ever again. I have to kill it. It must end with me.
Pinkie made a side glance away, pulling her face back from mine, then looked at me again, more concerned than anything. “You okay there? I’m sure somepony else can-”
“I’m fine! I’m fine, I’m fine, I’m perfectly fine, calm, cool, and collected,” I sputtered as fast as I could.
“Are you lying for my sake or yours?”
“Mine! Uh. Your song. What I think about your piece, it’s uh…”
Pinkie sat and held her hooves open. “It’s uh…?”
Finally, it came to me. The best way I could put this. The only way I could put this and get away with it. Only because it’s the truth.
“Well… Technically, it’s not terrible.” A smile started to form on Pinkie's face until finally, she broke. She was giggling like a mad mare now, and I wasn't sure what was going on. “I uh... what?”
She waved a hoof at me after she started to catch her breath. “Oh, oh Twilight, you- you really bent over backwards for that one! I thought it was awful!”
