A Most Statistically Average Day
The complex structure of the multinational corporation known as PonyJP stood high in Manehattan as Pinkie gave out her cupcakes to the stock market traders. Today's weather: Sunny with a few clouds, 3.29 Celsius, wind speed 3.28 m/s, chance of rain: 11%, chance of snow: 75%. Through the well designed floor, many corporate managers and associates were gathered together, wearing formal clothing and established the utmost highest decorum. But though the employees were satisfied, Pinkie was slowly losing her patience as she could not join any of the conversations.
"The PonyJP stock is rising by 2%... looking bullish," one trader remarked.
"Bullish? Looks like you need a ... matador, am I right?" Pinkie tried, nudging the trader. But there was no response, as she was responded with a blank stare. As Pinkie slid away from the conversation, she looked for some pony else.
"The brand new policy of Twilight is quite beneficial," another trader praised, with Pinkie's ears perking at the sound of her friend's name, "the endorsement of federal government equities definitely cause substantial impact on housing policies."
As the responder was about to say something, Pinkie interrupted: "Hey! I know Twilight! I'm friends with her! She's smart and she likes books! I bet you like Twilight too, huh?"
"That's..." the stallion trailed on, confused, "That's a bit of appeal to authority, Twilight herself is not necessarily supportive of the conservative party. Her poll is trailing behind in votes and I suspect that she's trying to appeal to the other side a bit more."
Pinkie was now the one to blink uncomprehendingly, before bursting out in laughter. "Oh! You silly, advanced stock jokes that I can't understand at all. That's fine, if you're having fun then everything's alright." But of course, Pinkie did not think it was fine at all. Neither side understanding each other was the worst possible scenario. As the stock traders looked at each other uncertainly, then continued their jargon, Pinkie embarrassedly went to the restroom to take a break.
"UGGHHH." Pinkie said, deflated, washing her face and trying to block out the boring thoughts of finance and politics. "WHY DID I EVEN JOIN THIS PARTY. IF IT CAN EVEN BE CALLED A PARTY."
She recalled Rarity' recommendation of the higher class. Exposing yourself to more formal situations and making friends with different people. She felt like she would be better off with her marshmallow friend, but unfortunately no pony else was here to help her. As she squished her face into the sink, water dropped over her mane for quite a few minutes. One mare walked in and scoffed at this absurd sight. Another just looked wide-eyed and left without doing anything.
"It's as if I'm stuck in The Most Boring Story Ever Written: A Most Statistically Average Day..." she mumbled, looking straight at you. "Just what can I do to get out of here? Oh, I know! If you can't beat 'em, join them!" She then twirled around, instantly switching to a more formal outfit. "I'll get the stock market ponies to write an official complaint to the author of this story to get me out of here. It would be impolite to simply walk away. Yes, this is the way!"
And so Pinkamena Diane Pie smoothed her hair down, with a slightly unnervingly smooth expression on her face as she tried to rejoin the conversation.
"Greetings fellow ponies. I like the stock today. It must be quite similar to a 'bull'," she struggled, remembering the keyword that she had previously heard. But the traders were confused and the topic had moved on far past the own company's stocks. "LETS SIGN A CONTRACT. LET ME GET AWAY FROM HERE." Her eyes pierced through, while the traders scooted further away, now thoroughly weirded out by Pinkie's act. And so she was forced to try to fit the calm discussion while she desperately looking for a venue of entertainment. One minute passed. The clock ticked on. Two minutes passed. The clock ticked on. Three minutes passed. Five minutes passed. Thirty minutes passed. Tick tock tick tock. Hour upon hour passed while Pinkie lost more and more of her sanity listening to the formal topics and stuck within her belief that she made a pinkie promise and that she had to uphold it.
As the final words were exchanged among the ponies, they left, with Pinkie standing outdoors, blinking blankly into the opposite street. "Stock market... trade now.. ubiquitous... investments... hah..." As the ponies walked by, with absolutely nothing interesting happening and her creativity drained, Pinkie sat down, thoroughly defeated.
Pinkie had rarely had forgotten anything, but this was One Forgotten Night for sure. As snow lightly fell down, she watched the cars go by fast, U-turn after U-turn. Perhaps it represented her own regrets and the monotony of the party she went to. But at the same time, the same normal life calmed her down, and reassured her. She was best at normal pony related activities. There was no need to keep on trying to fit in with the crowd. And so backed by her usual demeanor, and regaining her bounce, she found the energy to write a letter to Princess Celestia, even though the practice had ended long ago. As she wandered her way into Twilight's home, she was already complaining about how annoying the meeting was and how Rarity must've been really exclusive to be able to talk to those types of people. Twilight laughed in response. She hadn't expected Pinkie to even try in the first place; after all, it was the opposite of fun, and even she got tired of politics from time to time. As Pinkie handed over the letter, Twilight was wide eyed at the riveting story, and how Pinkie tried to become one of the business ponies but didn't have the experience to do so.
"Ah well," Twilight reassured, "maybe next time they'll understand your jokes better. I'll try to go there myself to help you if I can."