It’s all gone. Everything. Every last morsel that we had saved for every single shindig, party, and soiree in Equestria is gone. All of the delicious goodness, with drips of beautiful frosting and delectable, fluffy, perfectly baked sponge is history. Foals are crying, and mares are fainting. Stallions are running amok, trying desperately to send a sense of closure and reparation into the situation. But, alas, it is futile. I should know, because in the last three hours, my post office has been raided by no less than thirty stalwart steeds, hunting for anything to be used as a weapon against the monstrosity that has invaded our beloved town.
She’s merciless. Over 100 feet tall, weighing in at a solid thirty tons, and ruthless in her search for delicious cake to devour. She will stop at nothing, and I mean absolutely nothing, to find and pluck the most amazing confectionary slices of heaven. Her palette is striking and, in all honesty, envied by some of the best pastry chefs in the land. She knows cake. She needs cake. She will have her…cake. I have no doubt of these things, because I’ve seen what happens when a town refuses to give her a small dab of Devil’s Food, or a quick piece of Red Velvet. She goes nuts, and her personality, which becomes her only about as much as the frizz of her mane, turns rather nasty. She turns from a small party planning mare, into a merciless giant.
I am one of the surviving ponies, sent here by Princess Celestia herself to help contain the monster. However, in the years that I have lived in Ponyville, I have been unable to quell her in the correct manner. Somepony, or something, always hinders my objective. It is thus that I have had to put on a façade of weakness, sweetness, and dumbfounded idiocy the likes of which make me want to actively vomit. I’m so fucking saccharine, it’s made me ill. I’m seen as a ditzy, dumpy, and completely incompetent moron. However, it seems that the inhabitants of another universe make lots of cute pictures of me. I do not know whether or not to take this as a direct compliment, or a snide, subtle remark on my perceived ineptness.
Here’s what I do know: Pinkie Pie must be stopped. The giant, pink, cake devouring machine of Ponyville has to be defeated, once and for all. Our cake will never be our own until I make her my latest in a long line of villains that I’ve destroyed. My answer to the doubters? A simple, “neigh sayers never win.” I may have a goofy, consistently cross-eyed visage. I may purposely fail at every job I undertake just to remain unknown. I may drop giant pianos onto Princess Twilight’s head! (One of my more humiliating accomplishments, yet something that needed to be done! My boss was about to uncover my secret!)
But underneath that concrete façade of stupidity and inadequacy lies the heart and soul of an absolute hero, and I know it. My father always told me I was destined for greatness. My mother, on the other hoof, was incredibly fragile emotionally and when Pinkie came along and ate our cake, she suffered a terrible breakdown and was thenceforward imprisoned in the Canterlot Asylum for the Mentally Challenged. My siblings were disenchanted with life in Equestria and ran off to Saddle Arabia. It’s been five years since I heard anything from them. I only hope their cake…is safe. Because, as we all know, there are three major catalysts to life in Equestria: Celestia, Luna, and the almighty goodness of CAKE!
That is, until Pinkie discovered a sliver of chaotic magic when she was a filly and turned into this raging behemoth. Peace is now foreign to us, and especially our desserts. The traditional after-dinner round of sweetness has been replaced with fear. One slight whiff of that delicious aroma, and Pinkie crashes through homes with reckless abandon. We cannot even sleep, for fear that the leftover cake we keep in our refrigerators will attract the giant. Plump ponies are the ones at most risk, for they eat the most cake. In fact, Celestia has ordered all of the known cake lovers and pastry chefs to lock themselves into their homes. She’s panicking. I just know she is.
But I remain behind my post office desk, eating a rather amazing blueberry muffin and penning this first of what I hope are multiple journalistic entries on the subject. The ponies out there may not know my true identity, nor my true intelligence. But that is okay. I must continue to hoard and hold my secrets, for the good of my fellow pony. If I do not accomplish this mission, Equestria could be flattened. Oh, yes, nopony would ever be harmed or killed. But our cake…our delicious, life giving, amazing morsels…would be destroyed. We’d be without a spoke in the wheel of our society, thus causing mass panic. Things would be burned! Ponies would fight! Society would be thrown into a completely anarchistic wasteland hellbent on deriving one more bite of cake! This is how important it is to us…and I’ll fight to save it.
I’ll drive her out! I’ll make a mockery of that pink pain in our collective asses! I’ll fight to ensure that every stallion, mare, colt, and filly is guaranteed all of the cake that they deserve! No mountain will stand in my way, no ocean shall be too big for me to cross! I will follow this cake stealing monstrosity to the very edge of death if I have to! Nothing shall keep me from feeling the warm, sweet, soft, frosting coated bites that I have so long craved!
So, with that, I bid whomever finds this first entry a hearty adieu. Pinkie Pie is rampaging through Ponyville once again, and I must take myself to the task of stopping her. I am not the retarded, incompetent, moronic pony everyone thinks I am. One day, I might be able to stop the charade and show them all. But that shall happen only when Pinkie has fallen and the cake is safe once more. Until then, I don my mask and cape and fly through the air with the strength of thirty Pegasi my size!
When all is revealed, they shall know my name. It is not Ditzy Doo, nor is it Derpy Hooves. I am Grey Hoof of Canterlot…and the cake shall be saved.
