Magic, Maretinis, and the Meaning of Life

by Silent Whisper

Rating: everyone
Tags: Pinkie Pie, Twilight Sparkle, Slice of Life, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Comedy
Length: 1450

Twilight finds that it's easiest to work through what's bothering her while she's working through her third maretini. Pinkie is there too.

Sometimes, the easiest way to get through the toughest situations is through alcohol.

Okay, that's not really accurate. But sometimes it helps. Especially when Twilight's got something to think through and it's been a long day and really, isn't it okay to puzzle through things at a bar at like 1am if you've got a friend there? It's better than drinking alone, and it isn't like she's drinking to forget her problems if she's trying to solve her problems instead?

Pinkie doesn't really care one way or the other. She's there for the cider.

Thanks to my girlfriend, my girlfriend, my girlfriends' boyfriend, my girlfriend's crush, and this dude I know for helping with editing and being supportive. You're all nerds.

Published 2019-09-08 03:20:01 UTC
Last updated 2019-09-08 03:20:01 UTC

One drink, two drinks, three drinks, floor!

“It’s like this,” began Twilight, her horn flashing as she levitated the last muffin from the basket. It made its unsteady way towards her mouth, trailing crumbs across the bar counter. “I try. I try as hard as I can. Sometimes, ponies notice what I do. They tell me, oh, Good Job Twilight, and things like that. But most of the time, they don’t. And then I am alone, and wonder why I bother. When that happens, I mostly feel empty inside, and it feels like nothing even has a purpose anymore. You know what I mean?”

Pinkie stared hollowly into her empty tankard and didn’t say a word. There wasn’t cider in her tankard any more. It was kind of sad, and a few drinks ago she’d feel sad about it, but mostly she felt empty. Just like her tankard. Empty. How sad. Maybe if she stared at it more, it’d refill itself.

“I’m sure you do. I’m sure a lot of ponies feel this way. But it just doesn’t feel like they do, you know? It’s just… it’s the feeling of being alone in a room full of friends, you know? If I’m feeling lonesome surrounded by all these ponies I care about, then is there any hope for me not feeling alone? What’s the point of trying if nopony even… oh for Celestia’s sake, not again.”

Twilight huffed and picked up Pinkie’s tankard. It wobbled unsteadily in her magic -- levitation was harder while tipsy -- before clanking to the counter and scooting towards the barista. A few seconds later, Pinkie batted a hoof at where it used to be tiredly. The mystery of the disappearing tankard had begun, but Pinkie didn’t feel like being bothered to figure out where it had vanished to. She just hugged the empty space where it used to be.

“And just think,” continued Twilight, tossing a few bits at the haggard-looking bartender. “I’m a Princess. A Princess of Friendship, no less! If I’m feeling this lonesome when I am alone-some, wouldn’t somepony else?” She smiled, pleased with her indubitably clever wordplay, and glanced over at Pinkie to check if she was as impressed as she should have been.

Pinkie was, unfortunately, far more impressed with the condensation ring her tankard had left on the table, but she flicked an ear to show that at least a few of her higher brain processes were still working. Drunk off their asses, perhaps, but still technically functional.

“So what I’m saying is that if we all feel alone like this, even with friends there with us, why are none of us talking about this? Is there a way we can fix this? Or are we doomed to be alone and together at the same time? Wait,” Twilight bit her lip and looked down into her muffin wrapper. “Is that what I’m saying? Pinkie, what was I saying?”

Pinkie shrugged noncommittally and poked at the little beads of water on the bar. One dot, then another next to it, and then a downward arc underneath it. It was art, and the sort of art that Pinkie’s tipsy little brain cells felt immensely proud of. The sort of art that her brain would tape to her brain-fridge, to show off to all the little brain guests that arrived. Brains, grains, sad face made of condensed water that was slowly evaporating since Pinkie was breathing on it. Wasn’t there a tankard of cider there a moment ago? Pinkie didn’t know. All things were impermanent, eventually.

The frowny-face pouted at Twilight. She gave it a scowl before reaching for her maretini. “Well, I think my point was that sometimes, you can talk and talk and talk and nopony will listen. And sometimes, they’re listening but it doesn’t show so it doesn’t feel like they’re listening, and other times, it looks like they’re listening but they aren’t. You know what I’m saying? I’m saying there’s no way to know if somepony’s listening or not, and that’s pretty awful.” She thoughtfully licked the sugar around her glass, then licked it less thoughtfully. Mmm, sugar.

Pinkie’s head bobbed in what could have been a nod, and what could have been her nodding off for a moment. Twilight chose to interpret this as an understanding gesture. She slid the filled tankard of cider back to Pinkie, who immediately dunked her muzzle into it, splashing a drizzle of cider onto her condensation art. Some would say she ruined it, but others would say she made it even more profound. Sadly, none of those others were at the bar to witness it.

“Sometimes, I even get the feeling that I’m being ignored. Not -- well, hopefully not -- maliciously ignored, but sometimes I just get worried that nopony really wants to hear whatever it is I’m talking about. And I get it. I mean, I’m not interested in every single one of every other pony’s interests, but it’s important to at least fake it sometimes. Even if you don’t actually care about whatever it is that’s going on in another pony’s life.”

A few bubbles wobbled up to the surface of Pinkie’s tankard, her muzzle still submerged. “Uhh… Pinkie? Drowning your troubles in cider doesn’t mean literally drowning. At least,” Twilight hummed pensively. “Not usually… but in your case, I guess it might. You okay in there?” One of Pinkie’s ears drooped towards her, then an eye sluggishly opened, struggling to focus on the alicorn in front of her. A gurgle fizzled its way to the surface of the cider a few seconds later, much to Twilight’s relief.

“Right, so. It’s like, nopony notices. Because they don’t care, or because they aren’t interested, or whatever. And I know it isn’t because they hate me but sometimes it just feels like it and I wonder why I bother.” She took a sip of her maretini, swirling it around the rim. Sugar soaked in sweet sweet alcohol. Hypothetically delicious. Twilight decided to test the hypothesis, and found she was right. Another victory for the scientific method. “And since everypony must feel similarly, since we all get alone-some sometimes, we all must secretly be wondering why we bother, right?”

Pinkie burbled in absolute agreement. What she was agreeing to was a bit ambiguous, but the level of cider slowly dipped down the inside of the tankard. She was most definitely drinking in absolute agreement too.

Twilight bit her lip and stared into the dregs of her maretini. “Why do we all bother? Is it because we hope that somewhere, somepony actually and truly cares about our efforts? Why do we think they’ll care when we ourselves don’t often care? Maybe the secret to getting others to care about what we do is to look past our own obsessions. Maybe we just need to start truly caring about other pony’s lives so that we can be cared about in return. And maybe I’d order less alcoholic drinks if they weren’t so expensive here.”

Pinkie’s muzzle slid out of her tankard with a desolate pop. She smacked her lips together, vaguely wondering where the cider went. Maybe she’d ask the tankard. She tilted it back to converse with it, gulping noisily, as is proper when asking cider about cider’s location.

“Or…” Twilight said slowly, finishing off her drink and hoofing her saddlebag for her remaining bits. “Maybe, we all just need to stop measuring the value of our efforts by the recognition we get from ponies. It’s entirely possible that we could be satisfied by the quality work we’ve done without the praise of others. We just need to change how we look at things. Like, what we do is worth what we put into it, not what others get out of it. You know? It’s not always the best idea to expect praise from everything. And by appreciating our own achievements for what they’re really worth to us, we can appreciate others’ efforts too, and maybe feel less alone. Right, Pinkie?”

Twilight tucked the receipt from their tab into her saddlebag and flicked her ear. There was no answer. “Pinkie?” She turned. Pinkie was asleep, hugging the once-again empty tankard of cider against her cheek.

The alicorn sighed and gently peeled away the slightly-sticky mug from Pinkie’s face, and wondered, for the millionth time, why she even bothered.

Author's Note

Will Twilight find the alicorn-strength hangover cure in time? Will Pinkie win an award for Best Improvised Art? Will I ever actually remember to post the stories I write?

Find out none of this and more in the next story... whenever it comes. As always, thanks for reading!