The Sweet Meet and Greetby MrNumbersChaptersA Generous HelpingAn Honest OpinionCookin' Up a StormPop Rock and Pop RocksPresently, the pre-after partyAuthors NotesA Generous HelpingClunk. Clunk. Clunk. Squeak. Clunk. Clunk. Clunk. Squeak. It was on this day, with not a cloud in the gorgeous Summer sky, that one pony trotted into town with a different season entirely in her mannerisms. With a Spring in her step, in her bounce and in the gentle warmth that radiated from from her smile. The mare created an aura of 'No sad zone. Please.' It was on this Summer day that Pinkamena Diane Pie pulled her ludicrously over-packed, creaky old farm-cart down the cobblestones of Ponyville. Ponyville... Her new home. Or so she hoped, of course. Just because somepony really, really wanted to belong doesn't automatically mean others want her to, too. She learned that the hard way when she tried to make friends with those bull ants. Who knew they could be such bull-headed bullies? Well, sure, hindsight's twenty-twenty, but you should always give everypony, and every-non-pony too, the benefit of the doubt. If only other ponies would feel the same way... Pinkie faltered, hovering mid bounce with a thoughtful frown. 'No!' Pinkie shook her head, dismissing the bad, mean, grumpy thoughts.The usual spring in her step, defying all laws of conservation of momentum, returned with her chipper smile as she took in the sight of Ponyville. She was here, finally. Ponyville was a far way to bounce but it was still the closest town to their little rock farm. There were some trading posts, but Pinkie didn't much care for those tiny little isolated gulp-n-go, anti-social Ooh, big words! rest stops. To be perfectly fair, though, they didn't much care for her either. Those ponies just don't know what they really want. Pinkie grumbled internally. What everypony should want is fun, not stuffy table service or not having their mane set on fire by total accident, I swear! But now, now she was in a proper town, one full of vibrant colours, buildings, neighbours. A town full of other ponies she could laugh and play and talk to! I'm sorry, Inky, I love you all so, so much, I promise, and I'll remember to write! I think we all just know that, deep, deep, deep, not-really-all-that-deep-it's-pretty-flower-bloomin'-obvious that the old family farm just wasn't the place for me. Pinkie paused, the horrendous pile of knick-knacks, toys and miscellaneous bric-a-brac lurching dangerously behind her. Man, wouldn't it be pretty super embarrassing if none of this works out? I mean... Would they take me back? Of course they'd take me back! All I did was walk out on hundreds of years of stuffy old family tradition for reasons even I don't understand! Of course, being totally oblivious to the irony of her own internal monologue, Pinkie's continued to bound along, also totally oblivious to the lurching Everest of paraphanalia behind her. Look, this cart is loaded, okay? The groaning wood is cracking under the pressure and this was a cart designed to move friggin' boulders. There is no possible way you could have lifted, hoisted or even fit this pile of... This pile of Pink into even a barn door. Somehow Pinkie carried it as effortlessly as if it had been made of marshmallow. Again, in all due fairness, a sizable portion of it probably was. Pinkie's only concern was that her rock collection hadn't squished anything. Of course, that wouldn't be an issue! See, if you put the heavy stuff at the top and the light stuff at the bottom, the light stuff cushions the heavy stuff! It's not pocket-science! Seriously, how do ponies sew the pants around the pocket? Maybe they looped it, so tha- Ooh! Look! A dress-makery shop! Maybe I could ask them! Bored. So bored. So dreadfully, horribly bored. *Snip* Bored-bored-boredboredboredBOREDboredbored *Ka-Snip Rarity pouted, pointedly snipping at some cheap fabric she kept around to cut when she had nothing to do. It made her look busy. It was dreadfully bad business for ponies to think you had nothing to do. It made it look like no-pony wanted your business. No matter how true that was. Just because this town of horseapple-sucking nudists didn't have any sense of fashion or modesty... And boredom does put such a damper on the creative process. It's hard to feel inspired when all I really want to do right now is curl up in bed with a glass of Berry Punches finest and read a trashy novel. Maybe two glasses of wine. Would three be overdoing it? *Ka-snip-ker-snick-ka-snip At this rate I might even resort to eating a box of- she shuddered, hayfries, just to have something to do. Ding-a-ling! Oh, thank goodness, a customer! Finally, a sophisticated pony with whom I can discuss an order with, create for, get paid by. That last one's not nearly as important, of course, as helping a client be their most fabulous... But as much as I enjoy this thin, gorgeous figure eating is sort of nice, too. The smiling mare trotted slowly, doing her best to suppress her eagerness, calmly entering the store's front room and display area. With a wide, genuine smile she greeted her new, excited customer. "Welcome to Carousel Boutique, where everything is unique, chic, and magnifique!" Pinkie, meanwhile, had stopped listening past the word 'Carousel'. "Did you say... Carousel?" "Why, yes, Carousel Boutique is-" Pinkie immediately jumped onto one of the dress horses, sailing in a graceful arc into a not-at-all graceful mounted position on the dummy, which wobbled slightly in protest. "Where do I put the money, then?" Pinkie looked around, genuinely confused. "Well, I'm flattered and all, dear, but that dress-horse is not for sale. If you wish to buy a dress-" "Of course! You're a dress-maker-pony, aren't you?" Pinkie immediately forgot the giant carousel for a moment. She was on a mission. "Err... Tailor. I'm a tailor, yes." Rarity stammered, a little nervously. As much as she was wasn't bored at all anymore, this was not a client who she could exactly relate to. Thank Celestia for that, at least. "Then you must make pockets." Pinkie nodded sagely. "Teach me the mysteries of your craft!" "Err... Pockets? Don't you need, well, pants for that first? Or a shirt? Or, well, any clothes at all, dear?" Pinkie bobbed her head in agreement before diving into her tower of possessions. This was, startlingly, the first time Rarity had noticed that the cart was in her store. Rarity wasn't sure which worried her more: The fact that she hadn't noticed it, or the thought that this strange mare had managed to fit it through the front door. The mound rustled precariously, perused by the peculiar pink pony as she spelunked its depths. "Nope!" She threw out a large mallet. "Not this, either!" She threw out a small anvil. "Why did I even pack this?" She asked. "Here, you can have this, I don't want it!" She carelessly tossed a dusty bottle from the pile at Rarity who snapped out of her reverie just in time to catch it with her magic before it smashed against her horn. It hovered inches away from her eyes. "Ah! This might help!" Pinkie surfaced at the top of the pile for a few seconds wearing a miners helmet, which she punched with a hoof. This, along with the side effect of making a worryingly hollow 'clonk' sound, turned on the rather powerful torch nestled in the light's brim. She dove back under and her rustling commenced once more, allowing Rarity a brief respite to read the label. She daintily put on her favourite reading glasses for this room. The lavender ones, of course, they matched the foyers colour scheme the best. The red ones matched the upstairs curtains and the teal ones were for her bubble-baths. "Hrmm, 'Chateau LeFeet-Wrathschild', now where have I heard of this before?" Rarity glanced at the cart. On the one hoof she had a feeling that this mare could cause untold amounts of damage if left alone, unoccupied. On the other hoof she just saw a rubber chicken whiz past her head and everything might become clearer when seen through the bottom of a bottle. Rather, a fluted glass, she wasn't a common drunkard. Whizz-Splat. Wiping the fake, she hoped, vomit off her face with a hoof Rarity amended her last thought. She wasn't a common drunkard usually. This was not a common situation. "Thank you, for the wine, dear, I'll be back in a moment." "Oh, no worries, I don't like that stuff anyway. Soda pop fizzes, that stuff just burns. I'd much rather some hot-cocoa any day of the week! Even Friday!" "Hmm, yes, indeed. I'll be back soon." Rarity trotted into the Boutique's basement to peruse the hard-cider and wine collection. With a little patience and planning anyone could age a ten bit bottle to a hundred bit bottle or more. Turning a cheap bit to opulent luxury was Rarity's specialty, after all. For this she had a rather extensive wine collectors guide. "Hrm, Chateu LeTour, Flick, Chateu LeEtranger, Flick, Chateu De Torte Flick, ah, here we are. Chateau LeFeet-Wrathschild'" I wonder what the vintage on this is, anyway. She blew away a smudge of dust from the label of the dark red bottle. "Why, this bottle is over twenty-two years old! This must be wor- hang on, what's this?" She blew away some more dust. She had been sorely mistaken. The bottle was not twenty-two years old. It was two hunded and twenty years old. According to the guide this made it worth about one hundred and sixty bits. "Well, that's a bit underwhelming. It's- why, hang on again, some of the dust from the bottle must have gotten onto the guide." She blew on the guide once more revealing another three digits and a comma. "One hundred and sixty thousand bits?! Everything went black and she collapsed on the dusty floor. Wait! Just before she succumbed to gravity she oh-so-carefully rested the bottle onto a silk pillow cushion, lest it shatter when she fell. Okay, ready. She finally fell to the filthy cellar floor. It speaks to the volume of her overwhelmed state that it didn't even strike her to get her fainting couch. "Here it is!" Pinkie cried triumphantly, launching a large treasure chest, even by usual treasure chest size standards, skidding across the boutique floor. It's shiny gold trim shined, if it were actually gold. See, it wasn't a pirate chest, those things were expensive. Nah, it was just a pyrite chest, which sounded exactly the same and confused pirates. Now, as a bedraggled Rarity climbed the stairs back into the foyer, she came across Pinkie digging through the large chest deposited on the floor. "Err... My wonderful client, may I ask your name, perchance?" "Pinkamena Diane Pie, but all my friends call me Pinkie! You're my friend, right?" "I should hope so, that was a very generous gift to have given me just now. You do realize how much it was worth, right?" Pinkie stuck her tongue out in thought. Thinking wasn't fun, she tried to do it as little as possible. "Well, considering how old it was, that I couldn't understand the fancy name and the fact that they came from the grapes of Wrathschild," She put on a theatrical flair to her voice, "fabled to have smashed all but three bottles in a drunken rage," She dropped the serious pose and went back to her rummaging, giggling "pfft, I prefer drunken partying but that's just me I guess, I'd say..." Pinkie tapped rythmically with a hoof, the pony equivalent of counting on a hand what with the lack of fingers and all. It's rumoured that male ponies can count in binary, though. "About 200,000 bits, I think." "No, it's worth-" Rarity stared. "Excuse me? You knew how valuable that fine vintage was? Are you sure you still want moi to have it?" "Yep!" "Well, surely, I must compensate you for it!" "I already have some pens, and I don't need your bits either, really!" "Do you not realize how much you could purchase with that much money, Pinkamena?" Pinkie stopped rifling through the chest and rose up from its depths to look Rarity dead in the eye, wearing her serious face. "Just Pinkie, silly, we're friends, right, Rarity?" She went back to smiling innocently, as if the notion of serious Pinkie was totally impossible. "Of cou- Wait. How did you know my name?" Pinkie went back to rummaging through the wooden chest absently pointing a hoof to the door. The door bore a sign with Rarity's name on it. Oh. Hrm, it seems my latest diet includes eating my own words. "Well, then. Anything you want, anything at all," Rarity took a stiff curtsy, "I am at your service, miss Pinkie." "Oh, sure! First of all, lighten up! You seem all tense!" Pinkie rummaged in the cart again with a hoof, fishing out a marshmallow. It wasn't squished at all, the small fridge above it had kept it firmly in place. "Lighten up? Pinkie, it does nothing for a mare of sophistication to not show a little po-" She was cut off as a marshmallow careened across the room, perfectly into her open mouth. She chewed on it appreciatively. "Second of all! I have a super important question for you!" Pinkie pulled a simple grey dress from the chest and threw it to Rarity who proceeded to not catch it in her mouth, but with her horn instead. With magic of course. Her reflexes seemed to be improving each time she had something lobbed at her face. Somehow, she didn't mind a bit. In fact, despite Rarity's better judgement, she couldn't help but smile at the bizarre harlequin before her, holding her tatty dress. "I want you to show me how pockets are made!" Rarity chuckled. "Of course, Pinkie. Follow me, and I'll show you." "There! You see, it's simply a square of fabric sewn on three out of four of its edges, neatly fitted into the cloth. Pinkie nodded, hoof under her chin. "Of course, it's all so clear now. You sew the pockets in after you've already made the pants!" Rarity just stared in response. What do you even say to that? That wasn't rhetorical. Seriously, what do you say? Well, at least this was a profitable endeavor...Rarity mused. She grudgingly added And, despite her... Quirks, a bit of fun too. *Gurgggle* Pinkie looked at Rarity sheepishly. "Sorry, I haven't had anything to eat since I left the farm... Ooh! Are there any good not-rock farms here? Or pop-rock farms? I'm starving!" "Well, Sweet-Apple acres is just over yonder," She indicated vaguely with a hoof, "If you really want to eat at a farm as opposed to, say, a cafe?" "Well, I don't know who Cathy is, so I guess I'll go to that first place!" Pinkie beamed, re-tying the cart to her shoulders. "Wait! Pinkie! Are you certain you don't want that Chateu LeFeet-Wrathschild back?" "Nah, you'd appreciate it more, you're into all that fancy stuff I guess. Besides, if it's worth so much and I don't drink it it means I've got something that will make other ponies jealous. Why? It's just a dumb drink. The reason it's so expensive is because somepony would pay that much to have it, and if they can afford to spend that much on a dumb bottle, well, I don't think they'd appreciate it nearly as much as sharing it with a good friend. I mean, it obviously means a lot to you, but you still feel guilty for accepting it. Well, I think you're nice, and you deserve it. To me, it's just a silly little thing that will make ponies feel bad around me for." "How... Oddly deep and philosophical, Pinkie." Rarity said, a single tear dropping from her eye. Her eyes darted side to side momentarily, misting over slightly. When she was sure no pony could see them she wrapped Pinkie in a big hug. "Oh, thank you, thank you so much" She whispered weakly into Pinkie's ear. "Pfft, don't get mushy, I just think you're really generous to me is all, thought I'd return the favour a little!" And with that Pinkie turned and pulled her cart out the door, the pyrite-chest perched impossibly on the top where Pinkie had thrown it when Rarity wasn't looking. Rarity turned, not wanting to see how Pinkie could pull that through her feeble doorframe again, and went back to her room upstairs. She pulled out a bolt of purple fabric, some black lace, some ribbon... The sign on the door flipped from cheery-green Open to authoritatively-red Closed as the sewing machines whirred to life upstairs. An Honest OpinionGosh, I'm so hungry. So very hungry... I wonder if- CHOMP! Ptuii! Nope, my tail is still not cotton candy. I think I need to try harder... Oh, Why didn't I pack any food? Back on the farm I could be eating pound-cake, hard-tack, chewy- Oh. Right, I remember now! Pinkie's thoughts flew hither and yonder as she trotted up the dirt road to Sweet-Apple Acres. Or, what she thought was Sweet-Apple Acres, based on the sign saying "Sweet-Apple Acres." Loudest of gasps! Maybe this is just a normal, not Sweet just-an-apple-farm slash orchard slash barn museum! Maybe some pony stole their sign and put it here to fool unsuspecting ponies into buying their brand! It's a sham! "Ho, there!" a lilting voice called from further down the property. "And what are you doing this fine Summers' mornin', li'l missie? Pinkie Pie pouted in the direction she had heard the voice. "I'm h-hu-hungry. Got a bite to eat around here? Ha! That's silly! I don't want to eat a bite, I want a bite of something to eat!" "Err, 'kay? Well, ah've got some fresh-picked Red Delicious, fresh outta the orchard, if you can't wait 'til market tomorrow!" Pinkie galloped over to the mare calling to her, dropping the cart. Pausing, she turned and ran up to the cart, giving it a solid kick. Blip-Blip! Satisfied that the cart was now locked and safe from any potential thieves, what with all the sign-stealing going on around here, she continued her mad dash to the orange farmer with the barrel of juicy delicious food. Pinkie dove in and started devouring her quarry. Not apple was safe from her ravenous grasp! A sticky, juicy explosion enveloped Applejack who started to open her mouth to protest, but thought better of it. Ain't my place to stand between a pony that hungry and a bucket of our finest apples. Nopony deserves to be deprived of a Sweet Apples harvest! In fact, I should sit back and take some pride in mah produce... In fact, I might have one mahself- When this lovely lady is finished, o'course. Might lose a hoof otherwise, that's fer sure. "Hey, li'l dahlin', think you could hoof me an apple? I don't think ya need 'em all, heh." A particularly large, juicy apple was thrown carelessly from the depths of the barrel, accompanied by many a loud munch. "Hey, I can too eat all these apples!" Applejack's eyes narrowed as she took a measured bite of the Oh, dear Celestia, I now completely understand, admittedly amazing apple. "Oh yeah? Prove it." Pinkie's head poked out of the world's most hardcore session of apple-bobbing. Her mane was sticky, but this was not a purely recent development. Pinkie had the propensity to attract stickiness, get your mind out of the gutter, that can only elsewhere be found on toddlers hands. "It. Is. On!" Pinkie decreed. Pinkie literally dove back into her veritable feast, counting the days she wouldn't need to see a doctor. Unless dentists counted as doctors, that is. Munch munch munch munch, MMMM! Juicy!, Munch munch munch UuUuUuRP! "All done! What's for dessert, strange talking scarecrow?" Pinkie cried triumphantly to an equal parts amazed and bewildered Applejack. Well, ah'll be, she did g- Wait, talkin' what now? Pinkie, still grinning like a lunatic, felt the world spin, spin, spiiin. Applejack, meanwhile, had the privilege of watching Pinkie's eyes cross and then criss and then cross againas the mare toppled over the edge, landing on the ground with a soft, squishy Thud, Heh. Figures. Apple-Overdose. Blur. Bluur, bl- Ooh sparkly lights! Aww, Sparkly lights, why do you always run away when I try to look at you... Maybe... Hmm. Applejack stared in fascination at the pink mare in her bed, mind out of the gutter, I said, who seemed to have her tongue stuck out in furious concentration. Her eyes would settle on one point before rushing to another part of the room entirely. Each time would be accompanied by a triumphant Ha! before a disappointed little sigh. "Ha! Aww... Ha! Aww... Ha-HA! Wait, no, nevermind." "Seems yer awake, sleepy head. Was afraid I'd have ta hoof the bill to yer next o' kin and what not. That ain't exactly mah thoughts of a fun time. 'Dear mister and misses strange pink puffball, seems yer daughter dun gone kick the bucket. Also, you seem to owe me a few dozen bits for all the apples she dun' ate before hoof." "Yeah, well, do you really think they'd pay if you told them it was the apples that 'dun gone' kill me?" Pinkie giggled. "Wah- bu- Ooh, ah yer got me there, pardner, so we better both be glad that yer a-okie-dokie and what-not. Name's Applejack, and I never thought I'd see the day when a mare would eat a barrel of apples in front of me and live to tell the tale. What's your name, oh mighty bottomless-pit?" "Pinkie! Pinkie Pie, to be exact!" "Well, Pinkie, I'm charmed to meet your aquaintance and what not, but whilst those apples may grow on trees bits don't. So, I'll be lenient, what with my dare almost killin' you and what-not, make it two-and-a-hundred bits for the barrel." "Done! That's totally what I'd say if I had two hundred bits! I'm sorta broke, though. I'm really sorry I didn't say that before but I really was hungry." Applejack paused from her chuckling. Did she just... "Did you say, 'broke'?" "Eeyup!" "Ah...Err...Well, I can't exactly get you to return the apples, now, can ah?" "Well, I don't think you'd want them back..." "So!" Applejack chuckled, "Guess that means you'll have to work 'em off." "Ooh, you're right, all that sugar will go right to my thighs-" "Sweetie, I'm tryin' to decide whether to laugh or to break your neck here, humour me fer a moment." "Okie-dokie-lokie" Pinkie nodded in agreement. She liked making ponies laugh! She didn't want Applejack to be sad because of her though... "So, any plans on how, exactly, you might accomplish that?" Pinkie got a manic gleam in her eye. Her baking sense were tingling. "Applejack, how many Jonagolds do you have?" "Just finished harvesting them all last week, but no, to answer your next question, you cannot work off your debt by eatin' more apples." "Damn, well, there goes plan A. Don't worry your pretty head about it, though, Plan B was probably a lot better anyway!" "Purdy? You flatter me, miss, but words are cheap. How are you planning to make two hundred bits with mah Jonagolds, hmm?" "Why, that's easy!" A positively evil smile sparkled in the dim light filtering through the farmhouse window, a matching gleam in her devilish eyes, "Ah'm, er, 'I'm' going to make pockets. A whole lot of pockets." "Ehh, what's that? Whippersnappers!" "N'aww, Granny, you gotta come see this!" "AJ? Whatcha talkin' about, why you gotta wake me from mah nap?" The elderly green mare muttered. She was havin' the best dream about hunky young farmhands... "Just come on, Granny!" "Oh, fine, quit yer yammerin', I'm up, I'm up!" Shakily trotting after her, Applejack led Granny Smith to the kitchen. What she saw plum near gave her a heart attack. What she saw was a whirlwind of activity. The farms usual humble kitchen was filled with clouds of flour. The room was a good ten degrees hotter than the hall as the old wood-fire oven blazed away. In the middle of this maelstrom of applewood-smoke and various white powders was a pink blur, rushing across the impromptu stations she had constructed for herself. "Wha- Wha' the heck is goin' on here?" "Here, Granny, bite into this! It's from the first batch!" "It's...Mm! It's dog-gone delicious! Did you make this?" "No, Granny, look! I'd like you to meet Pinkie Pie. She's paying us back for eating a barrel of our apples." "Well, how didjer not notice a barrel missin' before s-" Granny cried indignantly. "In one sittin' Granny." Applejack interrupted lamely, though not without a dash of 'It was pretty darn impressive' for taste. "Hiya, miss Applejack's mum, m'am!" Pinkie greeted, not even looking up from the dough she was currently rolling at lightning speed and precision. "Ma'? Nah, dear, I'm her grandma!" "Grandma! But, Miss Smith, you look so young!" Pinkie gasped in shock. Granny Smith turned to Applejack with a neutral expression. "Applejack." "Err, yes Granny?" came the nervous response. Ooh, she's mad isn't she, I knew- "This mare is a keeper. A downright treasure. Heck, she's welcome to stay anytime, as long as she don't eat us out of house and home." And with those parting words of wisdom Granny Smith nodded solemnly and cantered back off to her rocking chair to catch some more sleep in the warm summer sunset. "Err... Okay then?" Applejack muttered, unsure. She glanced back at Pinkie, now folding another two dozen apple-turnovers ready to be baked. "Okay then." Applejack nodded confidently. It's simple really, Pinkie thought, dashing some cinnamon into the latest batch of filling, the apples are already scrum-diddly-umptious, and unless I was a tree, and I don't want to be a tree, I can't grow more. So how do I make bits? Easy! I make the apples worth more! Ding! Just slide this batch out with my front hoof, slip the next batch in with my rear hoof, dust the cooked batch with double-dee-licious icing sugar with my other front hoof and balance on my other rear hoof. She paused for a tic. And that's what it's all about! Yeah! She giggled. Pinkie Pie 'sampled' one of the latest batch, making sure to break it in half for Applejack too. "Needs a little bit of vanilla, I think, and maybe some brown sugar in the pastry. The filling would do wonders with some nutmeg! You got any nutmeg?" "Top shelf, to your right, brown glass jar, ah think." Applejack mumbled through a mouthful of pastry. "I don't know why it needs all that, though, this is already the most amazing thing ah've ever tasted. Seriously, Pinkie, teach me how you did this and consider us square." Pinkie studied Applejack up and down before slamming the nutmeg jar gingerly onto the table. How does one slam something down gingerly, you ask? Personally, I have no idea myself, I only write what happens, doesn't mean I have to understand it. "Applejack, firstly I consider you far, far too curvy to be square. Your brother looked kinda hunky-angly though, but that's irrelephant!" "Er, 'irrelevant'?" "Exactly!" Pinkie nodded fiercely with agreement, "You get it, but secondly, this pastry is super fantabulawesome, but it's not perfect. We are looking for perfection, Applejack!" "Well, alright, if you say you can make these even better, no pony in Equestria could make me stop you." "Sweet!" Pinkie squealed as she dusted the latest batch with a little more sugary goodness, "How much do you know about baking?" "Well, shucks, I don't want to brag 'er nuthin', but we're the only real caterin' competition the Cakes have this side of Canterlot, really." Pinkie paused. The powder in the air seemed to hang still, lifeless, as if eagerly waiting her next words. "The Cakes, you say?" "Oh, sure, they're the local bakers. Cute couple, too, even if they are a bit mushy-gushy-lovey-dovey. They're the sweet to our savoury. Even though we're also pretty sweet, I guess." "Hrm... No, I think it's best your not that sweet on your brother, too, even if he is totally cute." Applejack nodded in agreement for a moment before the realization hit her like a freight train of bricks wrapped in a lemon hit her square in the brain- "Err, why do you keep talkin' about mah broth-" "IRREGARDLESS!" Pinkie cried. "After the next few batches, I shall promptly journey forth into Ponyville, whereupon-" "Pinkie, I don't mean to interrupt your spiel, there, but how long does a batch take to cook?" "Oh, about 20 minutes each, why?" "And, well, how many batches do you plan on making?" "Ooh, at least another dozen!" "It's already sunset Pinkie." "Oh. Oooh..." Pinkie Pie did the math. "So, I'll just take like, 32 minutes, then?" "That's addin' Pinks. Yer lookin' at a good-" Applejack tried to work it out in her head, "-Well, at least way past sundown. Why don't you stay here the night, huh? Leave early tomorrow, nice and refreshed. It's the least I can do fer y'all, you've gone way above and beyond here, Pinks." Pinkie nodded, but she didn't exactly look convinced. "I'm not convinced, I reckon I could totally stay awake and chipper long enough to take my cart all the way back!" "If'n you say so." Snore! Snore. Snore! Applejack smirked at the exhausted pink puffball curled up by the stove. Three neat crates, the fruit of her labours, were brimming with layers of crisp, warm turnovers ready for selling in the morning. The heat of the fire would keep them fresh as the night would let them stew and marinate in their juices. In other words: Cha-ching. "Sleep tight, ya crazy varmit." Applejack murmured. "Ya earned it." Cock-a-Doodle-Doo~ "Eugh... Mornin', Mr Sun, time for a big 'ol bowl of apple pancakes, applejuice, apple syrup and apple buckin' already is it? Ya reckin' you'd have seen me get sick of apples by now, huh, but I still say ya never will. Huh? What in the world-" Dear Applejack By the time you read this, I will have learned how to write. Also I'll be gone. Yeah, I guess that's more important anyway. Well, thank you so much for being so kind! I really appreciate the hospitality, even though I wasn't sick! Just really, really hungry! Well, as a thanks, I went down to Rarity's and got you a little somethin-somethin'! Toodle-oo! I hope we meet again soon! Really! I promise I'll be less hungry next time, though! Pinkie "Well, who else would it be from," Applejack murmured, "what other crazy mare rights a farewell note in pink crayon?" She looked down at the gift wrapped box at the foot of her bed with growing apprehension. Please don't be fru-fru, please don't be fru-fru, I don't want a dress or nothin'... Eager to get the experience over with Applejack tore open the box and found- A Stetson. A gorgeous, beautiful handmade Stetson hat. It was just her size, too. P.S I hope this fits, I thought measuring your head in your sleep would be way too creepy. No matter how fun it was. Well, don't that just beat all, huh? Cookin' Up a Storm"Yaaaaa-hoooooooo!" "Gwah!" "Bwah?!" "ARGH!" "Oh, mother-bucker, not again!" Congratulations, you are now exactly as confused as the ponies that Pinkie may or may not have run over as she rode her cart, barreling down main-street. If Twilight Sparkle were here she would have been able to tell you that, assuming negligible friction because how else was Pinkie lugging all this around otherwise, the cart had descended about 100 feet since Sweet Apple Acres. Assuming that gravity was a constant about equal to earth's at around 32 feet per second per second this meant that, by the time she had reached the flat main street, Pinkie Pie was travelling at about fifty miles per hour on a cart that weighed slightly more than a large elephant but slightly less than a morbidly obese elephant. This gave her the equivalent force of about, Twilight Sparkle would have hypothetically told you, a particularly powerful tornado. She could not tell you this, however, as she was currently knocking back her eighteenth cup of coffee at Pony Joe's cramming for her third doctorate. That didn't leave her with much time to do such trivial mathematics when the answer should have been immediate to any pony with common sense; Pinkie was, for all intents and purposes, an unstoppable force of nature. You should really, really get out of her way. As always the young pink mare was completely oblivious to the panic and chaos she was wreaking. She was having too much fun! N'aww! That pony is screaming in joy too! N'aww, is that her baby? What a cute baby! Wait a second- They aren't getting away! Move baby, move! Pinkie stared in horror at the toddler which had seemed to stumble into her cart's path. "Stop!" Pinkie ordered the cart. It screeched in protest, kicking up dust all they way. When the air had cleared Pinkie was holding the baby by the scruff, looking very annoyed at the mother, the cart at a standstill inches away. "You oughta be more careful, lady! Somepony could get hurt!" Pinkie shook her head sadly, in disappointment at the obviously inattentive mother. Sheesh, some ponies can be so careless! Pinkie bounced back onto the cart, grabbing the reins as she perched carefully on top of the shifting heap. "Hya! Mush! Scram! Skedaddle!" Pinkie cried, cracking the reins. With that the cart zoomed back off at its earlier neck breaking speed, onwards to Sugar Cube Corner. "Hrmm..." "Is something wrong, cinnamon scroll?" "Oh, no, no honey bun, everythings fine!" "Oh, okay then," Mr Cakes stammered, "It just sounded like-" "Ehhh-Hrmmmmmm..." "-You had something on your mind." He finished lamely, staring at his not-at-all-subtle wife. Oh, dear, she mused, I love you dearly, I really do, but if I had to be any more blunt I would probably need something big and heavy... Like a mallet. "Business has been slow, hasn't it, dear?" "Oh, now, that can't be all that's on your mind, cherry-pie! Now, what's the real problem?" He cooed, wrapping a lanky leg around his wife's shoulders. He is learning, then! She smiled a small, private smile. "Well, whenever business gets slow, I just feel the store feels so empty with just us two around, peach-creme." Mrs Cake rested her chin in a hoof, then added another sigh in for good measure. Her dear husband just looked on in confusion, bless his heart. "But, sweet-pea, whatever do you mean?" "Well, sugarcube, I've got love in my heart for more." There was silence. The air hung still with tension. Of course, it also hung with the smell of dusting sugar and freshly baked cookies, but mostly tension. "You're cheating on me?!" he wailed. Or, maybe he isn't... "Who is it? It's that Caramel, fellow, isn't it! You always loved his toffees! Tell me!" He fell to his knees sobbing. Aww... He's so cute when he's- Oh, dear... She leaned down and planted a soft peck on her beloved not-being-cheated-on husbands forehead. "Dear... I want foals." "If you want foals then why are you cheating on me?!" He cried, falling to the floor crying anew. "I'm not cheating on you, lemon-tart, now get up." She grabbed her husband by the scruff and jerked him up off the floor. He was still staring at the ground, sniffling, in embarrassment. He really is adorable... Tilting his head up, pressing lightly against his chin with her hoof, she met his watery eyes. "If our foals are even half as cute as you are, butterscotch, I would be the happiest mare in Ponyville." "But, pudding-pop, it's-" He threw his hooves over his mouth, his darting back and forth, "It's not like we've been trying!" He whispered. "Well, rather, you've been trying," he muttered. "I'm so sore... So very, very sore..." "Well, sticky-date, maybe if you took the initiative once in a while." "I'm not even on top anymore, though." he mumbled. "You wouldn't stop crying, canola-oil," She gently chided. "I-I think we might need a safe word, cupcake..." Her lanky love sighed. "That baby won't make itself!" "You have made that painfully clear, honey-bun" he moaned, "Very, very painfully clear." "You keep talking like that and I'll spend a week, trying, chocolate-freckle." She chastised firmly, a tight little frown crossing her face. His eyes darted down to some obscure part of the floor. "I would be so lucky" he moaned, barely audible, but still too loud. "What's that supposed to mean?" "Sugar-plum, I love you dearly, but sometimes-" -CRUN-K-ASH- "That must be it!" Pinkie cried from the cart's crows nest, which I assure you it has had all along, it just wasn't important until now. The cart was screaming along towards a rather nondescript little shop with smoke rising from its chimney. The dead giveaway was the shiny shop window displaying the shops wares, visible through the spyglass. It helped that Pinkie happened to be downwind of the bakery and travelling at her present velocity made it rather easy to smell as much of the breeze as ponily possible. "It's a good thing I have this eyepatch!" Pinkie said to nopony in particular, "Or else using this telescope would be a lot harder! When it comes to peripheral vision, eyepatches are the perfect periphery for Pinkie!" Now! How do I stop this, again? Pinkie's carefree grin melted off her face as the realization struck her. Uhh... Huh. "Uh-oh" she mumbled. Sometimes, I wonder where I'm going in life, she mused, And then it just hits me. Seconds later it wasn't just the realization that struck her. -CRUN-K-ASH- Mrs Cake squealed as a huge, runaway cart came crashing through the store front sending sugar-coated shrapnel flying all around her as conservation of momentum finally, finally, decided to apply itself to a situation involving Pinkie Pie. Mr Cake simply looked calm. He had just been through the shock of his life, believing his dear wife had cheated on him. Thus, already having come down from that adrenal peak, it allowed him some brief respite: In that single instant, as his store exploded around him, he was the eye of the store. And, in the very next instant, his eye rolled into the back of his head and he fainted, crumpling into a heap on the floor. "Oops... My bad, I guess." A strange pink mare called from the top of the wagon of mass destruction. "Welcome to Sugar Cube Corner." Mrs Cake mumbled. "This is Sugarcube Corner? Oh, good, if this wasn't the right place that would be really awkward!" Pinkie yelled back. "Hi, I'm Pinkie Pie!" Mrs Cake stared at the mare in the crows nest. Eyepatch, Spyglass, Crows-Nest, destruction...All that's missing is- A falling collection of Teddy Bears revealed the barrel of Pinkie's Party CannonbetaTM- A cannon. Ah, a land pirate. And, in the very next instant, Mrs Cake joined her husband in a slightly larger heap on the floor. "Err, Miss? Miss cake-shop-owner lady? I'm really sorry for destroying everything and scaring you and your husband guy?" N'aww, that would be so sweet- Mr Cake's eyes fluttered open. -If she weren't talking to me. "Hello, strange pink pony." Carrot Cake murmured from the floor, addressing the pony looming over him. She has such a caring look, he mused, If only she wasn't standing over me, staring at me like that. "Cup? Cup Cake?" He moaned, "I think we have a customer." "Why do we get all the weird ones, dear?" Came her shaky reply. "Oh, that's not true" Pinkie chirped, "I'm the only pony here! Also that would mean that the Apples get all the not-weird ones, and I went there first!" She nodded knowingly. "Oh, good," Carrot Cake sighed, "So our quaint little bakery was just destroyed for no reason by the runaway, err, thing, of a perfectly ordinary pony, then?" "It was an accident!" Pinkie yelled, hurt, jumping back off of Mr Cake, finally allowing him to stand. "No, it wasn't!" Cup Cake jumped to her hooves."She's a pirate! She's here for our bits, and our stallions- She'll do unspeakable things to you!" Carrot's eyes widened in horror. "No! Only my wife is allowed to do unspeakable things to me against my will!" Mrs Cake sighed deeply again, rubbing the bridge of her snout with a hoof. "No!" Pinkie wailed, her rump slamming onto the floor in misery, "No! I just... I want a job!" "Welcome to the interview, then" Mrs Cake said bitterly. "I would show you the door, but it appears as though-" She indicated where the giant, gaping hole in the wall was, "-It isn't there anymore." "I put it back and fixed everything whilst you were asleep, though, see!" Pinkie said hopefully. Mr and Mrs Cake finally turned to assess the damage they'd been too afraid to look at until now and found- Nothing. When they saw where the giant, gaping hole in the wall was before was now sparkling, clean, fixed. Even the stock was back, fresh. "I saw, and smelled, you had just finished baking a super-yummy cake," Pinkie added helpfully, "So I decorated it and put it in the window to replace all that stuff I sort of smooshed!" She also added, looking at the floor bashfully. "I'm really, really sorry, though! Can we start over, pretending like that never happened? Hi! I'm Pinkie Pie!" She extended a hoof and gave a weak smile. "But, er, Pink Pie... How'd you fix the wall?" "Oh, that was easy! I couldn't find any wood, but you had plenty of flour and sugar, so I just used all the broken bits of old wall to make a big bonfire and cooked up a lot of ginger bread! It's my own special-super-secret recipe, it goes stale as soon as you finish baking it, but that makes it super-strong and it's also really, really delicious." "And the window?" Mrs Cake asked suspiciously. "Sugar Glass!" Pinkie beamed with pride. "How long were we out for?" Mr Caked asked incredulously. "Oh, you were all sleepy for over an hour! You must have been really sleepy." Cup Cake blinked, looking at the wall. Back to Pinkie. Back to the window. Back to Pinkie. At the roof, then Pinkie. "You did all this in an hour?" Pinkie could barely hear her, her voice sounded frail to her ears. "Err, yeah... It takes ages to cook that much gingerbread." Mr and Mrs Cake decided that consciousness around this mare was far, far too exhausting and embraced the brief comfort that its counterpart offered. Everything went black. "Wow, you two mustn't have slept for ages. I err- I guess..." Pinkie glanced around the store nervously. "I have no idea what I'm doing." She finished lamely. Pop Rock and Pop Rocks*Poof!* "There, nice fluffy pillows for the sleep heads!" Now what? At least there aren't any customers, or else- *Ding-a-ling-a-ling - Oh, now, come on. "Oh, wow, I love what you've done with the place!" A sweet-smelling cream-coated mare with a colourful curly mane looked around whilst making no effort to conceal how impressed she was. "Mrs Cake, I must say you-" The mare stared at Pinkie, as if for the first time. "You're not Cup Cake." She accused. Neither broke eye contact. Neither blinked. The room chilled several degrees. This wasn't really an issue, the ovens had already made it uncomfortably warm, so all it did was bring the room temperature back down to room temperature, but it was still pretty intense to be caught up in. Pinkie grinned sheepishly and shrugged. The other mare seemed to complete her internal assessment and smiled, nodding to herself. "You must be the new interior designer then! Pleased to meet you, I'm Bon-Bon." "Err... What?" Pinkie's relief was profound but unintelligible. "You are the one responsible for the new decor, right?" She tilted her head questioningly. "Oh? Yeah, the decor! That's the thing what with which that I done did do!" Pinkie sighed, the pent up tension melting away like an icecream sandwhich on an engine block. "Hi, I'm Pinkie Pie, and I'm really pleased to meet you!" "Well, Pinkie Pie," Bon-Bon glanced around to make sure no-one was there to listen in on them. Pinkie knew there wasn't but she understood the need for drama in a situation like this, so she leaned in conspiratorially cupping a hoof to her ear and grinning, "We're throwing a surprise party for Octavia, Bon-Bon whispered fiercely, eyes darting around the room, "she just got a part as a cellist for a Canterlot Quartet group! She's going to play for all the nobles, even the princesses!" the whisper became the excited hissing that inevitably happens when gossip gets juicy for the gossiper, Pinkie just smiled and nodded, "So we're throwing her a big bash to celebrate, yeah? But she can not, I repeat, can not find out about this! The darling is a little bit, well, refined, she'd never agree to a party if she knew!" Her voice reached its climax, a sort of half shout by this point. "You obviously know your way around festive decorating, do you know anything about throwing parties? I'll pay! " She hastily offered some bits, "We just need Octavia to lighten up, celebrate a little!" She finished, no longer half shouting, more 'whole shouting and rearing on her back hooves dramatically'. Pinkie gasped, and not just because her ear was ringing. A pony who doesn't want a party? We must draw upon our deepest reserves of boogie-oogie-oogie for this bish-bosh-bash! Many years later Pinkie Pie would be named a bacchant, a patron saint of Dionysus, God of Wine and Partying, for her services to the cause. Every great hero, every great quest, starts with one call to action. "Madame Bon-Bon!" Pinkie proclaimed, "Keep your bits. This is a party emergency! I must help this pony appreciate parties, pronto! She will have the bestest time in her life if it kills me! Or, at least, mortally wounds me!" She jumped up onto the counter and struck a dramatic pose. "But, Miss Pie-" "Wherever there is a pony who is frowning, I'll be there. Wherever there is a pony that is lonely, I'll be there. Wherever there is an achievement not given proper recognition? You better believe Pinkamena Diane Pie will be there with all your bestest biffle buddies!" She proclaimed, keeping her grip on the glass beneath her rear hooves, "Keep your bits, Lady Bon-Bon,-" 'Wasn't I a madame a few seconds ago?' Bon-Bon mused. "For making a pony in need smile enough is payment enough!" Pinkie finished triumphantly. "But won't you at least need bits for party supplies?" "Well, of course silly," Pinkie giggled, still not accepting the offered coins, "But not nearly as much as you need them for presents!" Bon-Bon smiled warmly and slid the bits back into her saddlebags. "You know what, Miss Pie, I like you, I really do." "Thanks, Bonnie, but call me Pinkie. All my friends do!" "Sorry, Mr and Mrs Cake, I'm going to use your bakery, I hope you don't mind!" "Eughh-ugu-ehh" Cup Cake murmured. GREAT! "All you have to do is take a cup of flour Add it to the mix I just hope this pony's sweet, not sour, Pull this off without a hitch... Baking for the Cakes is such a cinch Throwing a party for Octavia The Cakes are asleep on the floor So I'm out the door - to be this parties savior! Cupcakes! For lots of ponies! Parties! With songs and dancing! Candy! And punch and cakes and- Party, party, partAY!" "Hey, I'm going to have to remember that," Pinkie said to a snoring Mr Cake, "never know when you could use a song! Well, I do, and it's all the time!" Mr Cake nodded in what Pinkie took for as agreement, although it was probably just a particularly strong snore. Pinkie liked to give ponies the benefit of the doubt, though. "Well, I'll leave a note, just in case." Pinkie pie scribbled a hurried not as furiously fast as she could. It still came out calligraphy-perfect, with swirls usually found only the fanciest of garden gates. Huh, it feels so weird doing all that invitation-writing practice and only writing it once... So Pinkie wrote the note four more times, because hey, why not? Lyra and Bon-Bon were enjoying a delicious lemon-custard tart together in the gorgeous summer sun. Whirrrrrrr-CHUNK "Oh, what in the-" Were being the operative word in that last sentence. Embedded in the table before them, sunken about a quarter inch into the wood, was a laminated card. Please come at midday Surprise Party at the park Enjoy the haiku "Huh, well would you look at that... I hired a bright pink ninja. A bright pink ninja who's a fan of poetry?" "There's more to being a ninja than simply looking awesome." Lyra nodded, "You have to think awesome too." "It says something on the back too!" She said, holding up the improvised shrunken. It's a super secret surprise party for a special VIP. Be there or be an equilateral quadrilateral "Lyra?" Lyra just casually sipped her chocolate milkshake, barely glancing up. "She means be there or be square." She slurped the last of the chocolatey foam at the bottom, "Or, possibly, rhomboid, but that's a bit of a skewed perception of it." "That was a maths joke, wasn't it." "You're a maths joke!" Lyra wittily retorted, poking her tongue out now that it was no longer occupied with her milkshake. "Yeah, well you're a mass joke. Lay off the pie before your circumference exceeds your-" Lyra stared. "Sorry, too far?" "I have never been more turned on in my life than I am right now." "Cheque, please?" Bon-Bon urgently called the waiter as a thin bead of drool escaped Lyra's lower lip. 'Be like the wind.' Pinkie leapt from rooftop to rooftop, a candy wrapper floating in the breeze. 'One does not grow up on a rock farm without having a rock garden. *Kchunk* *Kchunk* she sent two more invitations flying. One does not have a rock garden without aligning their ki She was a blur leaving nothing but invitations as evidence she'd ever been. One does not align their ki and then not horribly abuse it. *Kchunk* *Kchunk* 'Well, I suppose plenty of serious ponies are all serious about being zen and stuff, but lets face it, when it came to philosophical schools I went to the party school' *Kchunk* *Kchunk* 'Totally worth it.' *Kchunk* *Kchunk* The park was abuzz with ponies. Young and old, entire families, summoned by the mysteriously poetic invitation. All there for Octavia, Pinkie liked to think. More realistically the prospect of free food, sure, but benefit of the doubt and all that. 'What is all this?" A panicked voice echoed over the crowd. "This can't possibly be all for me?" 'That must be Octavia!' "You're right!" Pinkie swooped down from a nearby treetop. It wasn't the treetop she was initially in, sure, but it was the only one Octavia saw her coming from. The crowd, drawn by the possibility of some free entertainment, gravitated slowly around the flustered grey musician. "This isn't all for you!" Pinkie proclaimed, pulling a small detonator from the park's gazebo. "This isn't?" Octavia seemed to sigh before catching herself. You're not allowed to want this sort of thing, it's silly, it's foalish, it's- "There's a whole bunch more than this!" Pinkie slammed the plunger down. Pops and bangs echoed around the park, spiralling. Balloons inflated and rose, streamers and confetti exploded from the treetops, buffet tables sprung open, food dropped onto brightly decorated mats. Octavia was overwhelmed, everypony was cheering... But not just for the extravagant display... They were cheering for her. "Oh, and I got you a special present! I heard you're a cellist, and I got one of your records, and it was eargasmic!" "Err... Thank you?" Octavia weakly offered, blushing, failing to hide behind her bowtie. Not for lack of trying. "So I'd like to introduce another up-and-coming around ponyville, Vinyl Scratch." A fog machine burst into life obscuring the gazebo that had contained the detonator. Silhouetted amongst the dry ice clouds was a turntable. A white unicorn wearing shades as black as coal, as night, as Twilight Sparkle's cooking revealed herself behind the table. "A... Disc Jockey?!" Octavia spluttered in horror. "Octavia, it's a party, and no party is complete without wicked-sweet beats. But, it's a party for you, and I know electronica might not be your thing-" Octavia bit back a biting remark. "-so I organized something a little special that me and Vinyl came up with your stuff. Vinyl, will you do the honours?" Vinyl stared, Octavia assumed, directly into her eyes. The DJ gave a devilish grin and put the needle on the record. [youtube= "Okay." Octavia muttered, "I have to admit, that is pretty cool." "I know right?!" Pinkie bounced in place. "So, do you like it? Huh? Bon-Bon told me you didn't like parties and I thought you just haven't had a good enough party before to really judge!" Octavia tried to retain her composure, truly she did. She looked around at all the happy ponies, all the delicious food, she listened to the great music, all her friends... All here for her. A soft smile crossed her quivering lips and, strange, she could have sworn her tear ducts were full a few seconds ago. Pinkie gasped. "So, you do like it? Oh, I'm so happy! Really!" Octavia wrapped Pinkie in a massive bear hug. A refined bear hug, of course, as if a bear wore a monocle and a dignified top hat and drank its brandy from a snifter, but a bear hug nonetheless. "Hey!" The DJ shouted over the thumping classical mix, "Can I have some, eh?" Octavia shot her a glare which only seemed to bolster Vinyl. She sauntered over to them, proudly buckling her swash,, leaving the table unattended for a few minutes. "So, headin' to Canterlot are you?" She drawled. "Well, yes, I am, what is it of concern to you?" The pony ignored her. "Have you got a place yet?" "Well, no-" "And you only just got the gig?" "Of course, but it's very well pai-" "So you have no place to go and no way could you afford a place of your own there at the moment, no?" "I have a few bits saved up..." "Five digits?" "Well, barely-" "That would last you a month, tops. Add in food, electricals-" Octavia turned from a pale grey to a pale white. "Oh..." Octavia considered the situation very, very carefully. "Well, buck." Vinyl just giggled, not chuckled, a girlish giggle. "Hey, Tavi, don't sweat it. I got a few gigs up at Canterlot too and I'm hardly what you'd call loaded. I was just thinking we could be roomates, you know? Pool our bits, share the load." Vinyl said with a genuine smile. "'Sides, too many stuffy uncool ponies in Canterlot, you know? I mean, not like you, you're a stuffy cool pony. You're like... My acclimatisation. I'd probably get lonely without somepony cool to hang out with." "You... You think I'm cool?" Octavia sniffled. "Duh. I mean, grow me some horse-apples and deep-fry 'em, how the heck do you hold the bow with your hoof?" "Well, it takes a lot of practice and-" Octavia started until she realized Vinyl was rolling on the floor laughing. "Oh, get your mind out of the gutter." Octavia hissed. The effect was ruined entirely by the fact that all the colour that had drained earlier had now re-materialized as blush hot enough to give nearby ponies sunburns. "I have no idea what you're talking about!" Pinkie bounced happily. Ignorance is bliss. "So, you up for it?" Vinyl asked, still on her back. "Well, I shall consider it, there is a lot of considerations to ta-" "So, that's a yes. Awesome, I'll pack my stuff." Octavia trailed after her new room mate, blabbering half-hearted objections. "Well, that turned out better than expected!" Pinkie chirped. "Eughh... My head..." "Shh, Carrot, don't move!" "Bwuh, wha?" Carrot replied whilst raising a hoof to rub his dizzy head. As he was taking his hoof away he saw what his wife was staring at so intently. On the sole of his hoof was a message: 'Dear Mr and Mrs Cake I'm really, really, really, really sorry. Also I used your kitchen a lot, I hope you don't mind. If you do mind you can yell at me after the party. I'll pay you back for all the ingredients I used, I swear! ~Pinkie Pie "It's on all your feet dear." "How perfectly normal." Carrot moaned. "Why are you still reading them?" "Because, scone-muffin, I'm hoping if I read it enough times it might start making sense!" Mr Cake waited for a few seconds, considering his reply. All he could come up with was this: "Well, has it?" "Err... No. No it has not." Mrs Cake hung her head in defeat. "Well, I guess all we have to do is find the party?" "Ponyville's a big town, scrummy-scroll!" Mr Cake whined, "How will we ever find a little party in the middle of it?" "Hey, everypony!" Pinkie called through a megaphone over the crowd demanding attention. People didn't pay attention to Pinkie Pie at their own peril, really. "Who's ready for some fireworks?! Presently, the pre-after party"Ah. That would do it." Mrs Cake sighed. "Err, lollipop-tart, you know how that strange girl said she had used our ingredients?" Mr Cake backed slowly away from the pantry, eyes as wide as serving platters. "It appears to be that way, peach-crumble." "She used all of them." Carrot Cake whispered. "When do we get our next shipment?" Cup Cake cried. "Thursday." "It's-"Cup Cake closed her eyes and tapped a hoof in thought. One-two-three- "Yes dear. Sunday." "Sun-" her eyes rolled into the back of her head and she passed out. "Oh good, it's not just me then?" Carrot swiftly followed suit. Both dreamed of elaborate revenge fantasies involving confections. Pinkie Pie bounced amongst the dying embers of the party. The last of the food had been devoured, the party favours packed prudently into her precarious pile and the cups were completely devoid of their previous cake occupants. As fun as after-parties were Pinkie didn't feel one was in order here: The guests of honour had started discussing, in various degrees of enthusiasm, their departure to Canterlot and Pinkie didn't really have friends here in Ponyville, not enough for a Very Important Ponies click, anyway. I mean, every pony is a very-important-pony, but some ponies are more important than other ponies, just to me though, I mean, they're all important to somepony, and they're all special, sort of like that one pony there whose wings on fire, I mean, how silly is tha- Omigosh! A rainbow streak plowed into the soft pink pony, breaking its fall. "War paint?" Carrot cake handed his wife the red icing. "Check." "Battle Cry?" Carrot did his best, but it came out more as a battle shriek. "I have to admit, that did scare me." Carrot, not understanding the subtext, beamed. "Check!" "Sword?" "Sword?" "Yes, dear, we need weapons, don't we?" Cup patiently explained. Carrot scrabbled around, finally deciding on a sturdy rolling pin. "I'm afraid this is the best I could do, scrumptious." "Then it will have to do!" Cup took the rolling pin firmly in her mouth and tested its weight, tapping it against her hoof. Carrot let out his scary battle squeal. "Omigosh, I'm so, so sorry." were the first words Pinkie said after regaining lucidity, or whatever could pass for lucidity in Pinkie world. "You shot me!" an indignant, yet muffled, voice shrilled, "I can't believe you shot me!" "I didn't mean to!" Pinkie scrabbled off the pegasus's face, just now realizing she had been sitting on it. It didn't take nearly as long for the pegasus to realize she was being sat on, of course. "How many times do I have to tell you people," the mare growled, "I do not, not, like being shot at." She pointedly spat out some of Pinkie's tail, Pinkie giggled despite herself. "For a moment there, I thought you were gunna say you don't like filly flank" The pegasus flushed furiously, fixing an angry glare at Pinkie. Its effect was mostly diluted by virtue of her glaring at Pinkie through her plump posterior. "Just what are you implying." she growled, her voice cracking only twice. Okay, fine, three times. "Well, you're like... I dunno?" Pinkie gulped, scooting away. "Rainbow Dash. I'm Rainbow Dash. I'm like awesome. I'm like radical. I'm not like, like-" "Lesbian?" Pinkie supplied helpfully. Rainbow blushed and chose to glare at the ground even harder. "Don't say that." "Say what? That you're lesbian?" Pinkie asked in confusion, oblivious to the small crowd that had gathered around the singed pegasus. "If my feathers hadn't just burnt off I would so be flying away by now." Dash whimpered as she hauled herself to her feet. "This is so not cool." "I dunno, I don't think I could choose between one gender..." Pinkie trailed off thoughtfully, giving Dash a meaningful look. Rainbow Dash's wings flared open, surprising Pinkie. Why hadn't she taken off yet? "Look, I'm sorry, forget about the firework, okay, just- Just leave me alone!" "I'm so sorry about that! I would have booked this flight path, really, but it was a surprise party." "Oh, that makes everything okay then." The flustered pegasus rolled her eyes, voice dripping sarcasm that would have made even Twilight proud, were she not still several hundred miles away. "Oh, yay!" Pinkie Pie crash tackle hugged Rainbow, squeezing her tight, oblivious to the meaning of the word 'Sarcasm'. She could spell kumquat correctly, though, so Pinkie had no further use of studying language. "P-please get off me..." Rainbow fiercely whispered. The crowd around them giggled even more. Pinkie, however, remained blissfully ignorant. "Gargh! You're so- So annoying!" Rainbow took off, screaming, even her rainbow trail seemed to be blushing as the red streak spilled into the rest. Pinkie simply attributed it to the Doppler effect, what with Rainbow Dash attempting to escape her at an appreciable fraction of the speed of light. "N'aww... She seemed ni-" Poomf! "Eat Flour Pour, Sugar-Bandit!" "You get her, honey-bun!" Carrot cheered as Cup Cake unloaded a bakers dozen of pain upon Pinkie Pirate. "I'm sorry!" Pinkie squealed, alternating between shielding herself and catching the delicious barrage in her mouth. "You ate into our profit margins!" Carrot cried, throwing a chocolate-coated pastry himself, "now eat profiteroles!" "Ooh!" Pinkie snapped it out of the air, spraying high-pressure cream filling everywhere, "Scrummy!" Bon-Bon dragged Lyra into the crossfire between the Cakes and the Pie. "What exactly is going on here, hmm?" "This ruffian," Cup Cake accentuated her point by making a wild swing with her rolling pin, which Pinkie effortlessly dodged in the process of catching another pastry lobbed by Carrot, "Just stole all our ingredients! We won't have anything left until next week!" "This 'Ruffian'," Bon-Bon fumed, "Provided catering and party organization on behalf of Sugar Cube Corner. Why would you-" "No," Pinkie sighed, "They're right. I did take their ingredients..." She gazed at the Cakes with watery eyes. "But I promise to pay you back for them, really!" "Yes, dear," Cup patiently explained, still hefting her rolling-in menacingly, "but the cost of the ingredients isn't nearly as much as the cost of what we could have made with the- Wait, hold on a tic-" Cup whirled round to stare at Bon-Bon, "Did you say she did all this?" "Err, yes?" The pony tried to hide her confusion. "In one day?!" "Apparently so." Bon-Bon nodded cautiously. "Even hired a pretty sick DJ" Lyra grinned, earning her a hoof to the ribs. "Well, I'll be..." Carrot mused. "If you need more than bits, though," Pinkie jumped onto the train of thought before anyone could derail it,"I can replace most of it by tomorrow afternoon. Pinkie Promise." "You do realize how much flour, sugar, eggs-" "Eeyup!" "-Butter, milk, cocoa, vanilla-" "I really do!" "-You'll need to get... by tomorrow?" "Duh!" "How are you planning on-" Carrot managed to say before a pink blur whizzed him around. "I better get started!" it shouted. Sitting on the doorstep of Sugar Cube corner was the exact amount of goodies that had gone missing the day before. She had done it. The Cakes couldn't believe it, they didn't know how, but she had done it. Three o'clock the next day they gawped, they gaped, they inspected the load. Everything was back, down to the last egg, as if it had never been cooked at all, it had simply taken a stroll from the back room to the front door for some sunlight. Sitting proudly beside it was none other than Pinkie Pie herself wearing nothing but a grin the size of a watermelon. heck, she had even brought a watermelon for comparison, and they didn't even need it. "Please, please don't tell me you plundered all this?" "Only the chocolate coins, and that was for authenticity. Yargh." "How..." Was all that Carrot could bring himself to ask. "Oh, it was really easy; I just went to everypony in town who came to the party yesterday and asked if I could borrow a cup of flour." "What? A cup of-" "Yuppie duppers! A cup of flour! Everypony was so friendly, and happy to oblige, one eensy bit of flour or sugar or an egg isn't that big a deal right? It adds up though!" "You... Everypony in town gave you-" "They're all so nice, aren't they?" "Even... Rarity?" "Oh, she gave me a whole thingo of milk, she was so generous." "Surely, the Apples, they're not the type to give anything away for-" "Oh! That reminds me!" Pinkie pulled a bushel of apples from the pile. "Apples?" "Yeah, they gave me all the stuff needed to make scrumptious apple-pockets! I really like apple-pockets!" "Fluttershy?" Carrot was grasping at straws, but surely a pony as... Extroverted as the Pink Pirate would have scared Fluttershy off?! "Hey! Can I borrow a cup of flour? Maybe some su-" "Eep!" Slam! "Hey, are we playing hide and seek? That's awesome! Here, you hide, I promise not to peak!" Clash, pow, crack, clatter, pekew, clash! "Twenty-two-" "Gah!" "Twenty-three-" "Pl-Please don't try to-" "Twenty-four-" "B-b-b-but- "Schfifty-five!" Pinkie announced to the world at large, "Ready or not, here I come!" Pinkie ignored the house completely, too obvious, and chose to instead bounce around the side of the house. Fluttershy stared at her from between shut blinds until Pinkie found- "Oh my Celestia, Chickies!" "Stay away from my precious little babies!" Fluttershy screamed, slamming the back door open. "Haha, no, no, hahaha, too much, I'm too ticklish!" "Wha- Huh?" Pinkie rolled on the grass inside the chicken coop, shut carefully behind her, the chickens having a field day brushing against her with their tingly feathers. "Help me!" Pinkie Pie laughed a little too loud, even by her standards. "Oh, oh dear..." It took a bit of wrangling, slowed considerably by how nervous Fluttershy was around the strange new mare, but finally Pinkie was rescued from her tickle prison. "I'm so, so sorry! Is there anyway I can make it up to you? Please?" Fluttershy pressed tight into the still shivering Pinkamena. "Eggs." "Eggs?" "Yes. Eggs." "Oh... Oh, okay, I don't really eat them anyway, they're mostly for the animals that aren't vegetarian and-" "Wait-" Pinkie's Poultry Traumatic Stress Disorientation cleared up, along with the poof in her hair, "other animals?" "Oh, yes! I'm caretaker for almost all of Ponyville's animals, pets or otherwise. They're so much easier to talk to than, err.... other ponies..." "Oh, hey, you should totally meet my new friend Rarity!" Pinkie proclaimed, "She'd absolutely love you!" "R-really?" "Oh, yeah, I think that pony really just needs somepony to just listen, you know?" "N-Not really, no..." "Well, I'm sure you'll find out, really and- Holy bejeezus, is that a crocodile?!" Pinkie gasped. "Actually, it's an alligator... She's very old, so be careful around her, or else you might-" "Hi! I'm Pinkie Pie! What's your name?" The crocodile yawned a toothless yawn in response. "Smiley's a bit... Under the weather." "Smiley? Awesome! But isn't everypony, except pegasii of course, under the weather? I mean, it's really high, and-" "Oh, no, she's just very sick. I think that might be the last batch of eggs she'll lay before... Before..." Fluttershy teared up, completely unable to finish. The problem was that the alligator wasn't. "Hey, I promise not to take her eggs." Pinkie reassured her. "No, I just..." Fluttershy bawled, burying her tearstained face in Pinkie's neck. "Err... Do you... Do you want me to adopt one of the babies? I could totally look after it!" "You'd... You'd really want to look after an alligator?" "Yeah! it'd be sweet!" "Well... You seem pretty responsible to me..." Fluttershy sniffed, "I'd hate to leave a baby alligator in the hooves of somepony who wasn't... Not that anypony responsible would want an alligator..." Pinkie nodded solemnly. "it... It really does make me feel better knowing that her babies might go to a good home..." Fluttershy considered. "I already have so much work to do as it is without raising some babies without... without their mu-mu-mummy-y-y-y" Fluttershy started crying again, holding Pinkie tight. "Pinkie. Promise." "She seemed really nice! She gave me the eggs!" "Oh..." "Don't worry, everypony was so happy to get free food yesterday, they were more than happy to help out!" "Is that so?" Cup mused. "Eeyupper ducky!" "Pinkie... Do you live nearby? I'd love to hire you as Sugar Cube Corner's professional party planner, and host," "Oh, that's no problem, I don't live anywhere!" "I beg your pardon, dear? I must have misheard, you sounded like-" "I'm totally homeless!" Pinkie declared triumphantly. "Why, dear, where did you sleep last night?!" "I didn't!" Indeed, the bags under her eyes, the tremble in her step... The poor girl mustn't have slept since yesterday morning at least! "Pinkie, we have a spare loft upstairs... Would you be happy if we garnished your salary to pay rent? You could live in the loft above the bakery, plenty of room!" Carrot declared in a rare moment of initiative, and an even rarer one in that his wife actually agreed with him on it. "That sounds great. Really!" Pinkie yawned, swaying on the spot. "The bed's already made, sweetie." Cup smiled softly, motherly. Pinkie nodded slowly, almost imperceptibly. "Home.,," And with that Pinkie Pie passed out on her feet, hitting the ground with a loud snore. "Cup! Cup! She's waking up!" "Oh, dear, are you alright?" "Where... Where am I?" Pinkie murmurred groggily. "You're in bed, sweetie, in your new room. Your new home." "Oh..." Pinkie smiled. It wasn't a big, broad grin, or a toothy chuckle. It was a simple smile, small one, a private smile. The warm and fuzzies died pretty quick, however, when a stray thought entered her mind. "How am I going to get all my stuff up here?" Downstairs the cart finally succumbed to gravity, toppled by the errant breeze of a pegasus flight-testing her healed wings, teetering right into the window of the loft. The top heavy cart overbalanced and, pulled by the new anchor point, seemed to spill upwards, sliding into the upstairs room like some sort of perverse slinky. As the cart finally crashed back, empty of its load, a small orange foal found it, grinned, and raced off in it as fast as her tiny wings would allow her to. Finally Pinkie pulled both the awe-struck Cakes into a tight hug from her bed and sighed a happy sigh. Home. Authors NotesThis story is dedicated, heart mind and body, to Courtney Southwell, one of the greatest human beings I have had, and ever will have, the chance to know. Now, some of you might think that a dedication in a free online story is a bit cheap. ... Anyway, if you enjoyed this story, feel free to Watch or check out my other stories. Specter Shift is being updated, slowly but surely, as are two yet-to-be-released fics. I graduate in 10 days, which should free up an awful lot of time, and I'm also planning on writing an actual full length novel about zombies and hobos, to be finished before February. Because of these budding authorial aspirations I need a lot of practice writing in a place where I can get unbiased feedback and have a lot of fun writing, notably here. I love you all, I read all your comments and I thank you, for the kind and the critical, they both mean an awful lot. Coming Soon to a MrNumbers Story List Near You: Twilight Goes Back to Magic Kindergarten A Dash, a Glimmer, A Sparkle: A TwiDash ship written in, hopefully, a fresh, new way, if such of one exists. Check in soon, same bat-time, same bat channel.
A Generous HelpingClunk. Clunk. Clunk. Squeak. Clunk. Clunk. Clunk. Squeak. It was on this day, with not a cloud in the gorgeous Summer sky, that one pony trotted into town with a different season entirely in her mannerisms. With a Spring in her step, in her bounce and in the gentle warmth that radiated from from her smile. The mare created an aura of 'No sad zone. Please.' It was on this Summer day that Pinkamena Diane Pie pulled her ludicrously over-packed, creaky old farm-cart down the cobblestones of Ponyville. Ponyville... Her new home. Or so she hoped, of course. Just because somepony really, really wanted to belong doesn't automatically mean others want her to, too. She learned that the hard way when she tried to make friends with those bull ants. Who knew they could be such bull-headed bullies? Well, sure, hindsight's twenty-twenty, but you should always give everypony, and every-non-pony too, the benefit of the doubt. If only other ponies would feel the same way... Pinkie faltered, hovering mid bounce with a thoughtful frown. 'No!' Pinkie shook her head, dismissing the bad, mean, grumpy thoughts.The usual spring in her step, defying all laws of conservation of momentum, returned with her chipper smile as she took in the sight of Ponyville. She was here, finally. Ponyville was a far way to bounce but it was still the closest town to their little rock farm. There were some trading posts, but Pinkie didn't much care for those tiny little isolated gulp-n-go, anti-social Ooh, big words! rest stops. To be perfectly fair, though, they didn't much care for her either. Those ponies just don't know what they really want. Pinkie grumbled internally. What everypony should want is fun, not stuffy table service or not having their mane set on fire by total accident, I swear! But now, now she was in a proper town, one full of vibrant colours, buildings, neighbours. A town full of other ponies she could laugh and play and talk to! I'm sorry, Inky, I love you all so, so much, I promise, and I'll remember to write! I think we all just know that, deep, deep, deep, not-really-all-that-deep-it's-pretty-flower-bloomin'-obvious that the old family farm just wasn't the place for me. Pinkie paused, the horrendous pile of knick-knacks, toys and miscellaneous bric-a-brac lurching dangerously behind her. Man, wouldn't it be pretty super embarrassing if none of this works out? I mean... Would they take me back? Of course they'd take me back! All I did was walk out on hundreds of years of stuffy old family tradition for reasons even I don't understand! Of course, being totally oblivious to the irony of her own internal monologue, Pinkie's continued to bound along, also totally oblivious to the lurching Everest of paraphanalia behind her. Look, this cart is loaded, okay? The groaning wood is cracking under the pressure and this was a cart designed to move friggin' boulders. There is no possible way you could have lifted, hoisted or even fit this pile of... This pile of Pink into even a barn door. Somehow Pinkie carried it as effortlessly as if it had been made of marshmallow. Again, in all due fairness, a sizable portion of it probably was. Pinkie's only concern was that her rock collection hadn't squished anything. Of course, that wouldn't be an issue! See, if you put the heavy stuff at the top and the light stuff at the bottom, the light stuff cushions the heavy stuff! It's not pocket-science! Seriously, how do ponies sew the pants around the pocket? Maybe they looped it, so tha- Ooh! Look! A dress-makery shop! Maybe I could ask them! Bored. So bored. So dreadfully, horribly bored. *Snip* Bored-bored-boredboredboredBOREDboredbored *Ka-Snip Rarity pouted, pointedly snipping at some cheap fabric she kept around to cut when she had nothing to do. It made her look busy. It was dreadfully bad business for ponies to think you had nothing to do. It made it look like no-pony wanted your business. No matter how true that was. Just because this town of horseapple-sucking nudists didn't have any sense of fashion or modesty... And boredom does put such a damper on the creative process. It's hard to feel inspired when all I really want to do right now is curl up in bed with a glass of Berry Punches finest and read a trashy novel. Maybe two glasses of wine. Would three be overdoing it? *Ka-snip-ker-snick-ka-snip At this rate I might even resort to eating a box of- she shuddered, hayfries, just to have something to do. Ding-a-ling! Oh, thank goodness, a customer! Finally, a sophisticated pony with whom I can discuss an order with, create for, get paid by. That last one's not nearly as important, of course, as helping a client be their most fabulous... But as much as I enjoy this thin, gorgeous figure eating is sort of nice, too. The smiling mare trotted slowly, doing her best to suppress her eagerness, calmly entering the store's front room and display area. With a wide, genuine smile she greeted her new, excited customer. "Welcome to Carousel Boutique, where everything is unique, chic, and magnifique!" Pinkie, meanwhile, had stopped listening past the word 'Carousel'. "Did you say... Carousel?" "Why, yes, Carousel Boutique is-" Pinkie immediately jumped onto one of the dress horses, sailing in a graceful arc into a not-at-all graceful mounted position on the dummy, which wobbled slightly in protest. "Where do I put the money, then?" Pinkie looked around, genuinely confused. "Well, I'm flattered and all, dear, but that dress-horse is not for sale. If you wish to buy a dress-" "Of course! You're a dress-maker-pony, aren't you?" Pinkie immediately forgot the giant carousel for a moment. She was on a mission. "Err... Tailor. I'm a tailor, yes." Rarity stammered, a little nervously. As much as she was wasn't bored at all anymore, this was not a client who she could exactly relate to. Thank Celestia for that, at least. "Then you must make pockets." Pinkie nodded sagely. "Teach me the mysteries of your craft!" "Err... Pockets? Don't you need, well, pants for that first? Or a shirt? Or, well, any clothes at all, dear?" Pinkie bobbed her head in agreement before diving into her tower of possessions. This was, startlingly, the first time Rarity had noticed that the cart was in her store. Rarity wasn't sure which worried her more: The fact that she hadn't noticed it, or the thought that this strange mare had managed to fit it through the front door. The mound rustled precariously, perused by the peculiar pink pony as she spelunked its depths. "Nope!" She threw out a large mallet. "Not this, either!" She threw out a small anvil. "Why did I even pack this?" She asked. "Here, you can have this, I don't want it!" She carelessly tossed a dusty bottle from the pile at Rarity who snapped out of her reverie just in time to catch it with her magic before it smashed against her horn. It hovered inches away from her eyes. "Ah! This might help!" Pinkie surfaced at the top of the pile for a few seconds wearing a miners helmet, which she punched with a hoof. This, along with the side effect of making a worryingly hollow 'clonk' sound, turned on the rather powerful torch nestled in the light's brim. She dove back under and her rustling commenced once more, allowing Rarity a brief respite to read the label. She daintily put on her favourite reading glasses for this room. The lavender ones, of course, they matched the foyers colour scheme the best. The red ones matched the upstairs curtains and the teal ones were for her bubble-baths. "Hrmm, 'Chateau LeFeet-Wrathschild', now where have I heard of this before?" Rarity glanced at the cart. On the one hoof she had a feeling that this mare could cause untold amounts of damage if left alone, unoccupied. On the other hoof she just saw a rubber chicken whiz past her head and everything might become clearer when seen through the bottom of a bottle. Rather, a fluted glass, she wasn't a common drunkard. Whizz-Splat. Wiping the fake, she hoped, vomit off her face with a hoof Rarity amended her last thought. She wasn't a common drunkard usually. This was not a common situation. "Thank you, for the wine, dear, I'll be back in a moment." "Oh, no worries, I don't like that stuff anyway. Soda pop fizzes, that stuff just burns. I'd much rather some hot-cocoa any day of the week! Even Friday!" "Hmm, yes, indeed. I'll be back soon." Rarity trotted into the Boutique's basement to peruse the hard-cider and wine collection. With a little patience and planning anyone could age a ten bit bottle to a hundred bit bottle or more. Turning a cheap bit to opulent luxury was Rarity's specialty, after all. For this she had a rather extensive wine collectors guide. "Hrm, Chateu LeTour, Flick, Chateu LeEtranger, Flick, Chateu De Torte Flick, ah, here we are. Chateau LeFeet-Wrathschild'" I wonder what the vintage on this is, anyway. She blew away a smudge of dust from the label of the dark red bottle. "Why, this bottle is over twenty-two years old! This must be wor- hang on, what's this?" She blew away some more dust. She had been sorely mistaken. The bottle was not twenty-two years old. It was two hunded and twenty years old. According to the guide this made it worth about one hundred and sixty bits. "Well, that's a bit underwhelming. It's- why, hang on again, some of the dust from the bottle must have gotten onto the guide." She blew on the guide once more revealing another three digits and a comma. "One hundred and sixty thousand bits?! Everything went black and she collapsed on the dusty floor. Wait! Just before she succumbed to gravity she oh-so-carefully rested the bottle onto a silk pillow cushion, lest it shatter when she fell. Okay, ready. She finally fell to the filthy cellar floor. It speaks to the volume of her overwhelmed state that it didn't even strike her to get her fainting couch. "Here it is!" Pinkie cried triumphantly, launching a large treasure chest, even by usual treasure chest size standards, skidding across the boutique floor. It's shiny gold trim shined, if it were actually gold. See, it wasn't a pirate chest, those things were expensive. Nah, it was just a pyrite chest, which sounded exactly the same and confused pirates. Now, as a bedraggled Rarity climbed the stairs back into the foyer, she came across Pinkie digging through the large chest deposited on the floor. "Err... My wonderful client, may I ask your name, perchance?" "Pinkamena Diane Pie, but all my friends call me Pinkie! You're my friend, right?" "I should hope so, that was a very generous gift to have given me just now. You do realize how much it was worth, right?" Pinkie stuck her tongue out in thought. Thinking wasn't fun, she tried to do it as little as possible. "Well, considering how old it was, that I couldn't understand the fancy name and the fact that they came from the grapes of Wrathschild," She put on a theatrical flair to her voice, "fabled to have smashed all but three bottles in a drunken rage," She dropped the serious pose and went back to her rummaging, giggling "pfft, I prefer drunken partying but that's just me I guess, I'd say..." Pinkie tapped rythmically with a hoof, the pony equivalent of counting on a hand what with the lack of fingers and all. It's rumoured that male ponies can count in binary, though. "About 200,000 bits, I think." "No, it's worth-" Rarity stared. "Excuse me? You knew how valuable that fine vintage was? Are you sure you still want moi to have it?" "Yep!" "Well, surely, I must compensate you for it!" "I already have some pens, and I don't need your bits either, really!" "Do you not realize how much you could purchase with that much money, Pinkamena?" Pinkie stopped rifling through the chest and rose up from its depths to look Rarity dead in the eye, wearing her serious face. "Just Pinkie, silly, we're friends, right, Rarity?" She went back to smiling innocently, as if the notion of serious Pinkie was totally impossible. "Of cou- Wait. How did you know my name?" Pinkie went back to rummaging through the wooden chest absently pointing a hoof to the door. The door bore a sign with Rarity's name on it. Oh. Hrm, it seems my latest diet includes eating my own words. "Well, then. Anything you want, anything at all," Rarity took a stiff curtsy, "I am at your service, miss Pinkie." "Oh, sure! First of all, lighten up! You seem all tense!" Pinkie rummaged in the cart again with a hoof, fishing out a marshmallow. It wasn't squished at all, the small fridge above it had kept it firmly in place. "Lighten up? Pinkie, it does nothing for a mare of sophistication to not show a little po-" She was cut off as a marshmallow careened across the room, perfectly into her open mouth. She chewed on it appreciatively. "Second of all! I have a super important question for you!" Pinkie pulled a simple grey dress from the chest and threw it to Rarity who proceeded to not catch it in her mouth, but with her horn instead. With magic of course. Her reflexes seemed to be improving each time she had something lobbed at her face. Somehow, she didn't mind a bit. In fact, despite Rarity's better judgement, she couldn't help but smile at the bizarre harlequin before her, holding her tatty dress. "I want you to show me how pockets are made!" Rarity chuckled. "Of course, Pinkie. Follow me, and I'll show you." "There! You see, it's simply a square of fabric sewn on three out of four of its edges, neatly fitted into the cloth. Pinkie nodded, hoof under her chin. "Of course, it's all so clear now. You sew the pockets in after you've already made the pants!" Rarity just stared in response. What do you even say to that? That wasn't rhetorical. Seriously, what do you say? Well, at least this was a profitable endeavor...Rarity mused. She grudgingly added And, despite her... Quirks, a bit of fun too. *Gurgggle* Pinkie looked at Rarity sheepishly. "Sorry, I haven't had anything to eat since I left the farm... Ooh! Are there any good not-rock farms here? Or pop-rock farms? I'm starving!" "Well, Sweet-Apple acres is just over yonder," She indicated vaguely with a hoof, "If you really want to eat at a farm as opposed to, say, a cafe?" "Well, I don't know who Cathy is, so I guess I'll go to that first place!" Pinkie beamed, re-tying the cart to her shoulders. "Wait! Pinkie! Are you certain you don't want that Chateu LeFeet-Wrathschild back?" "Nah, you'd appreciate it more, you're into all that fancy stuff I guess. Besides, if it's worth so much and I don't drink it it means I've got something that will make other ponies jealous. Why? It's just a dumb drink. The reason it's so expensive is because somepony would pay that much to have it, and if they can afford to spend that much on a dumb bottle, well, I don't think they'd appreciate it nearly as much as sharing it with a good friend. I mean, it obviously means a lot to you, but you still feel guilty for accepting it. Well, I think you're nice, and you deserve it. To me, it's just a silly little thing that will make ponies feel bad around me for." "How... Oddly deep and philosophical, Pinkie." Rarity said, a single tear dropping from her eye. Her eyes darted side to side momentarily, misting over slightly. When she was sure no pony could see them she wrapped Pinkie in a big hug. "Oh, thank you, thank you so much" She whispered weakly into Pinkie's ear. "Pfft, don't get mushy, I just think you're really generous to me is all, thought I'd return the favour a little!" And with that Pinkie turned and pulled her cart out the door, the pyrite-chest perched impossibly on the top where Pinkie had thrown it when Rarity wasn't looking. Rarity turned, not wanting to see how Pinkie could pull that through her feeble doorframe again, and went back to her room upstairs. She pulled out a bolt of purple fabric, some black lace, some ribbon... The sign on the door flipped from cheery-green Open to authoritatively-red Closed as the sewing machines whirred to life upstairs.
An Honest OpinionGosh, I'm so hungry. So very hungry... I wonder if- CHOMP! Ptuii! Nope, my tail is still not cotton candy. I think I need to try harder... Oh, Why didn't I pack any food? Back on the farm I could be eating pound-cake, hard-tack, chewy- Oh. Right, I remember now! Pinkie's thoughts flew hither and yonder as she trotted up the dirt road to Sweet-Apple Acres. Or, what she thought was Sweet-Apple Acres, based on the sign saying "Sweet-Apple Acres." Loudest of gasps! Maybe this is just a normal, not Sweet just-an-apple-farm slash orchard slash barn museum! Maybe some pony stole their sign and put it here to fool unsuspecting ponies into buying their brand! It's a sham! "Ho, there!" a lilting voice called from further down the property. "And what are you doing this fine Summers' mornin', li'l missie? Pinkie Pie pouted in the direction she had heard the voice. "I'm h-hu-hungry. Got a bite to eat around here? Ha! That's silly! I don't want to eat a bite, I want a bite of something to eat!" "Err, 'kay? Well, ah've got some fresh-picked Red Delicious, fresh outta the orchard, if you can't wait 'til market tomorrow!" Pinkie galloped over to the mare calling to her, dropping the cart. Pausing, she turned and ran up to the cart, giving it a solid kick. Blip-Blip! Satisfied that the cart was now locked and safe from any potential thieves, what with all the sign-stealing going on around here, she continued her mad dash to the orange farmer with the barrel of juicy delicious food. Pinkie dove in and started devouring her quarry. Not apple was safe from her ravenous grasp! A sticky, juicy explosion enveloped Applejack who started to open her mouth to protest, but thought better of it. Ain't my place to stand between a pony that hungry and a bucket of our finest apples. Nopony deserves to be deprived of a Sweet Apples harvest! In fact, I should sit back and take some pride in mah produce... In fact, I might have one mahself- When this lovely lady is finished, o'course. Might lose a hoof otherwise, that's fer sure. "Hey, li'l dahlin', think you could hoof me an apple? I don't think ya need 'em all, heh." A particularly large, juicy apple was thrown carelessly from the depths of the barrel, accompanied by many a loud munch. "Hey, I can too eat all these apples!" Applejack's eyes narrowed as she took a measured bite of the Oh, dear Celestia, I now completely understand, admittedly amazing apple. "Oh yeah? Prove it." Pinkie's head poked out of the world's most hardcore session of apple-bobbing. Her mane was sticky, but this was not a purely recent development. Pinkie had the propensity to attract stickiness, get your mind out of the gutter, that can only elsewhere be found on toddlers hands. "It. Is. On!" Pinkie decreed. Pinkie literally dove back into her veritable feast, counting the days she wouldn't need to see a doctor. Unless dentists counted as doctors, that is. Munch munch munch munch, MMMM! Juicy!, Munch munch munch UuUuUuRP! "All done! What's for dessert, strange talking scarecrow?" Pinkie cried triumphantly to an equal parts amazed and bewildered Applejack. Well, ah'll be, she did g- Wait, talkin' what now? Pinkie, still grinning like a lunatic, felt the world spin, spin, spiiin. Applejack, meanwhile, had the privilege of watching Pinkie's eyes cross and then criss and then cross againas the mare toppled over the edge, landing on the ground with a soft, squishy Thud, Heh. Figures. Apple-Overdose. Blur. Bluur, bl- Ooh sparkly lights! Aww, Sparkly lights, why do you always run away when I try to look at you... Maybe... Hmm. Applejack stared in fascination at the pink mare in her bed, mind out of the gutter, I said, who seemed to have her tongue stuck out in furious concentration. Her eyes would settle on one point before rushing to another part of the room entirely. Each time would be accompanied by a triumphant Ha! before a disappointed little sigh. "Ha! Aww... Ha! Aww... Ha-HA! Wait, no, nevermind." "Seems yer awake, sleepy head. Was afraid I'd have ta hoof the bill to yer next o' kin and what not. That ain't exactly mah thoughts of a fun time. 'Dear mister and misses strange pink puffball, seems yer daughter dun gone kick the bucket. Also, you seem to owe me a few dozen bits for all the apples she dun' ate before hoof." "Yeah, well, do you really think they'd pay if you told them it was the apples that 'dun gone' kill me?" Pinkie giggled. "Wah- bu- Ooh, ah yer got me there, pardner, so we better both be glad that yer a-okie-dokie and what-not. Name's Applejack, and I never thought I'd see the day when a mare would eat a barrel of apples in front of me and live to tell the tale. What's your name, oh mighty bottomless-pit?" "Pinkie! Pinkie Pie, to be exact!" "Well, Pinkie, I'm charmed to meet your aquaintance and what not, but whilst those apples may grow on trees bits don't. So, I'll be lenient, what with my dare almost killin' you and what-not, make it two-and-a-hundred bits for the barrel." "Done! That's totally what I'd say if I had two hundred bits! I'm sorta broke, though. I'm really sorry I didn't say that before but I really was hungry." Applejack paused from her chuckling. Did she just... "Did you say, 'broke'?" "Eeyup!" "Ah...Err...Well, I can't exactly get you to return the apples, now, can ah?" "Well, I don't think you'd want them back..." "So!" Applejack chuckled, "Guess that means you'll have to work 'em off." "Ooh, you're right, all that sugar will go right to my thighs-" "Sweetie, I'm tryin' to decide whether to laugh or to break your neck here, humour me fer a moment." "Okie-dokie-lokie" Pinkie nodded in agreement. She liked making ponies laugh! She didn't want Applejack to be sad because of her though... "So, any plans on how, exactly, you might accomplish that?" Pinkie got a manic gleam in her eye. Her baking sense were tingling. "Applejack, how many Jonagolds do you have?" "Just finished harvesting them all last week, but no, to answer your next question, you cannot work off your debt by eatin' more apples." "Damn, well, there goes plan A. Don't worry your pretty head about it, though, Plan B was probably a lot better anyway!" "Purdy? You flatter me, miss, but words are cheap. How are you planning to make two hundred bits with mah Jonagolds, hmm?" "Why, that's easy!" A positively evil smile sparkled in the dim light filtering through the farmhouse window, a matching gleam in her devilish eyes, "Ah'm, er, 'I'm' going to make pockets. A whole lot of pockets." "Ehh, what's that? Whippersnappers!" "N'aww, Granny, you gotta come see this!" "AJ? Whatcha talkin' about, why you gotta wake me from mah nap?" The elderly green mare muttered. She was havin' the best dream about hunky young farmhands... "Just come on, Granny!" "Oh, fine, quit yer yammerin', I'm up, I'm up!" Shakily trotting after her, Applejack led Granny Smith to the kitchen. What she saw plum near gave her a heart attack. What she saw was a whirlwind of activity. The farms usual humble kitchen was filled with clouds of flour. The room was a good ten degrees hotter than the hall as the old wood-fire oven blazed away. In the middle of this maelstrom of applewood-smoke and various white powders was a pink blur, rushing across the impromptu stations she had constructed for herself. "Wha- Wha' the heck is goin' on here?" "Here, Granny, bite into this! It's from the first batch!" "It's...Mm! It's dog-gone delicious! Did you make this?" "No, Granny, look! I'd like you to meet Pinkie Pie. She's paying us back for eating a barrel of our apples." "Well, how didjer not notice a barrel missin' before s-" Granny cried indignantly. "In one sittin' Granny." Applejack interrupted lamely, though not without a dash of 'It was pretty darn impressive' for taste. "Hiya, miss Applejack's mum, m'am!" Pinkie greeted, not even looking up from the dough she was currently rolling at lightning speed and precision. "Ma'? Nah, dear, I'm her grandma!" "Grandma! But, Miss Smith, you look so young!" Pinkie gasped in shock. Granny Smith turned to Applejack with a neutral expression. "Applejack." "Err, yes Granny?" came the nervous response. Ooh, she's mad isn't she, I knew- "This mare is a keeper. A downright treasure. Heck, she's welcome to stay anytime, as long as she don't eat us out of house and home." And with those parting words of wisdom Granny Smith nodded solemnly and cantered back off to her rocking chair to catch some more sleep in the warm summer sunset. "Err... Okay then?" Applejack muttered, unsure. She glanced back at Pinkie, now folding another two dozen apple-turnovers ready to be baked. "Okay then." Applejack nodded confidently. It's simple really, Pinkie thought, dashing some cinnamon into the latest batch of filling, the apples are already scrum-diddly-umptious, and unless I was a tree, and I don't want to be a tree, I can't grow more. So how do I make bits? Easy! I make the apples worth more! Ding! Just slide this batch out with my front hoof, slip the next batch in with my rear hoof, dust the cooked batch with double-dee-licious icing sugar with my other front hoof and balance on my other rear hoof. She paused for a tic. And that's what it's all about! Yeah! She giggled. Pinkie Pie 'sampled' one of the latest batch, making sure to break it in half for Applejack too. "Needs a little bit of vanilla, I think, and maybe some brown sugar in the pastry. The filling would do wonders with some nutmeg! You got any nutmeg?" "Top shelf, to your right, brown glass jar, ah think." Applejack mumbled through a mouthful of pastry. "I don't know why it needs all that, though, this is already the most amazing thing ah've ever tasted. Seriously, Pinkie, teach me how you did this and consider us square." Pinkie studied Applejack up and down before slamming the nutmeg jar gingerly onto the table. How does one slam something down gingerly, you ask? Personally, I have no idea myself, I only write what happens, doesn't mean I have to understand it. "Applejack, firstly I consider you far, far too curvy to be square. Your brother looked kinda hunky-angly though, but that's irrelephant!" "Er, 'irrelevant'?" "Exactly!" Pinkie nodded fiercely with agreement, "You get it, but secondly, this pastry is super fantabulawesome, but it's not perfect. We are looking for perfection, Applejack!" "Well, alright, if you say you can make these even better, no pony in Equestria could make me stop you." "Sweet!" Pinkie squealed as she dusted the latest batch with a little more sugary goodness, "How much do you know about baking?" "Well, shucks, I don't want to brag 'er nuthin', but we're the only real caterin' competition the Cakes have this side of Canterlot, really." Pinkie paused. The powder in the air seemed to hang still, lifeless, as if eagerly waiting her next words. "The Cakes, you say?" "Oh, sure, they're the local bakers. Cute couple, too, even if they are a bit mushy-gushy-lovey-dovey. They're the sweet to our savoury. Even though we're also pretty sweet, I guess." "Hrm... No, I think it's best your not that sweet on your brother, too, even if he is totally cute." Applejack nodded in agreement for a moment before the realization hit her like a freight train of bricks wrapped in a lemon hit her square in the brain- "Err, why do you keep talkin' about mah broth-" "IRREGARDLESS!" Pinkie cried. "After the next few batches, I shall promptly journey forth into Ponyville, whereupon-" "Pinkie, I don't mean to interrupt your spiel, there, but how long does a batch take to cook?" "Oh, about 20 minutes each, why?" "And, well, how many batches do you plan on making?" "Ooh, at least another dozen!" "It's already sunset Pinkie." "Oh. Oooh..." Pinkie Pie did the math. "So, I'll just take like, 32 minutes, then?" "That's addin' Pinks. Yer lookin' at a good-" Applejack tried to work it out in her head, "-Well, at least way past sundown. Why don't you stay here the night, huh? Leave early tomorrow, nice and refreshed. It's the least I can do fer y'all, you've gone way above and beyond here, Pinks." Pinkie nodded, but she didn't exactly look convinced. "I'm not convinced, I reckon I could totally stay awake and chipper long enough to take my cart all the way back!" "If'n you say so." Snore! Snore. Snore! Applejack smirked at the exhausted pink puffball curled up by the stove. Three neat crates, the fruit of her labours, were brimming with layers of crisp, warm turnovers ready for selling in the morning. The heat of the fire would keep them fresh as the night would let them stew and marinate in their juices. In other words: Cha-ching. "Sleep tight, ya crazy varmit." Applejack murmured. "Ya earned it." Cock-a-Doodle-Doo~ "Eugh... Mornin', Mr Sun, time for a big 'ol bowl of apple pancakes, applejuice, apple syrup and apple buckin' already is it? Ya reckin' you'd have seen me get sick of apples by now, huh, but I still say ya never will. Huh? What in the world-" Dear Applejack By the time you read this, I will have learned how to write. Also I'll be gone. Yeah, I guess that's more important anyway. Well, thank you so much for being so kind! I really appreciate the hospitality, even though I wasn't sick! Just really, really hungry! Well, as a thanks, I went down to Rarity's and got you a little somethin-somethin'! Toodle-oo! I hope we meet again soon! Really! I promise I'll be less hungry next time, though! Pinkie "Well, who else would it be from," Applejack murmured, "what other crazy mare rights a farewell note in pink crayon?" She looked down at the gift wrapped box at the foot of her bed with growing apprehension. Please don't be fru-fru, please don't be fru-fru, I don't want a dress or nothin'... Eager to get the experience over with Applejack tore open the box and found- A Stetson. A gorgeous, beautiful handmade Stetson hat. It was just her size, too. P.S I hope this fits, I thought measuring your head in your sleep would be way too creepy. No matter how fun it was. Well, don't that just beat all, huh?
Cookin' Up a Storm"Yaaaaa-hoooooooo!" "Gwah!" "Bwah?!" "ARGH!" "Oh, mother-bucker, not again!" Congratulations, you are now exactly as confused as the ponies that Pinkie may or may not have run over as she rode her cart, barreling down main-street. If Twilight Sparkle were here she would have been able to tell you that, assuming negligible friction because how else was Pinkie lugging all this around otherwise, the cart had descended about 100 feet since Sweet Apple Acres. Assuming that gravity was a constant about equal to earth's at around 32 feet per second per second this meant that, by the time she had reached the flat main street, Pinkie Pie was travelling at about fifty miles per hour on a cart that weighed slightly more than a large elephant but slightly less than a morbidly obese elephant. This gave her the equivalent force of about, Twilight Sparkle would have hypothetically told you, a particularly powerful tornado. She could not tell you this, however, as she was currently knocking back her eighteenth cup of coffee at Pony Joe's cramming for her third doctorate. That didn't leave her with much time to do such trivial mathematics when the answer should have been immediate to any pony with common sense; Pinkie was, for all intents and purposes, an unstoppable force of nature. You should really, really get out of her way. As always the young pink mare was completely oblivious to the panic and chaos she was wreaking. She was having too much fun! N'aww! That pony is screaming in joy too! N'aww, is that her baby? What a cute baby! Wait a second- They aren't getting away! Move baby, move! Pinkie stared in horror at the toddler which had seemed to stumble into her cart's path. "Stop!" Pinkie ordered the cart. It screeched in protest, kicking up dust all they way. When the air had cleared Pinkie was holding the baby by the scruff, looking very annoyed at the mother, the cart at a standstill inches away. "You oughta be more careful, lady! Somepony could get hurt!" Pinkie shook her head sadly, in disappointment at the obviously inattentive mother. Sheesh, some ponies can be so careless! Pinkie bounced back onto the cart, grabbing the reins as she perched carefully on top of the shifting heap. "Hya! Mush! Scram! Skedaddle!" Pinkie cried, cracking the reins. With that the cart zoomed back off at its earlier neck breaking speed, onwards to Sugar Cube Corner. "Hrmm..." "Is something wrong, cinnamon scroll?" "Oh, no, no honey bun, everythings fine!" "Oh, okay then," Mr Cakes stammered, "It just sounded like-" "Ehhh-Hrmmmmmm..." "-You had something on your mind." He finished lamely, staring at his not-at-all-subtle wife. Oh, dear, she mused, I love you dearly, I really do, but if I had to be any more blunt I would probably need something big and heavy... Like a mallet. "Business has been slow, hasn't it, dear?" "Oh, now, that can't be all that's on your mind, cherry-pie! Now, what's the real problem?" He cooed, wrapping a lanky leg around his wife's shoulders. He is learning, then! She smiled a small, private smile. "Well, whenever business gets slow, I just feel the store feels so empty with just us two around, peach-creme." Mrs Cake rested her chin in a hoof, then added another sigh in for good measure. Her dear husband just looked on in confusion, bless his heart. "But, sweet-pea, whatever do you mean?" "Well, sugarcube, I've got love in my heart for more." There was silence. The air hung still with tension. Of course, it also hung with the smell of dusting sugar and freshly baked cookies, but mostly tension. "You're cheating on me?!" he wailed. Or, maybe he isn't... "Who is it? It's that Caramel, fellow, isn't it! You always loved his toffees! Tell me!" He fell to his knees sobbing. Aww... He's so cute when he's- Oh, dear... She leaned down and planted a soft peck on her beloved not-being-cheated-on husbands forehead. "Dear... I want foals." "If you want foals then why are you cheating on me?!" He cried, falling to the floor crying anew. "I'm not cheating on you, lemon-tart, now get up." She grabbed her husband by the scruff and jerked him up off the floor. He was still staring at the ground, sniffling, in embarrassment. He really is adorable... Tilting his head up, pressing lightly against his chin with her hoof, she met his watery eyes. "If our foals are even half as cute as you are, butterscotch, I would be the happiest mare in Ponyville." "But, pudding-pop, it's-" He threw his hooves over his mouth, his darting back and forth, "It's not like we've been trying!" He whispered. "Well, rather, you've been trying," he muttered. "I'm so sore... So very, very sore..." "Well, sticky-date, maybe if you took the initiative once in a while." "I'm not even on top anymore, though." he mumbled. "You wouldn't stop crying, canola-oil," She gently chided. "I-I think we might need a safe word, cupcake..." Her lanky love sighed. "That baby won't make itself!" "You have made that painfully clear, honey-bun" he moaned, "Very, very painfully clear." "You keep talking like that and I'll spend a week, trying, chocolate-freckle." She chastised firmly, a tight little frown crossing her face. His eyes darted down to some obscure part of the floor. "I would be so lucky" he moaned, barely audible, but still too loud. "What's that supposed to mean?" "Sugar-plum, I love you dearly, but sometimes-" -CRUN-K-ASH- "That must be it!" Pinkie cried from the cart's crows nest, which I assure you it has had all along, it just wasn't important until now. The cart was screaming along towards a rather nondescript little shop with smoke rising from its chimney. The dead giveaway was the shiny shop window displaying the shops wares, visible through the spyglass. It helped that Pinkie happened to be downwind of the bakery and travelling at her present velocity made it rather easy to smell as much of the breeze as ponily possible. "It's a good thing I have this eyepatch!" Pinkie said to nopony in particular, "Or else using this telescope would be a lot harder! When it comes to peripheral vision, eyepatches are the perfect periphery for Pinkie!" Now! How do I stop this, again? Pinkie's carefree grin melted off her face as the realization struck her. Uhh... Huh. "Uh-oh" she mumbled. Sometimes, I wonder where I'm going in life, she mused, And then it just hits me. Seconds later it wasn't just the realization that struck her. -CRUN-K-ASH- Mrs Cake squealed as a huge, runaway cart came crashing through the store front sending sugar-coated shrapnel flying all around her as conservation of momentum finally, finally, decided to apply itself to a situation involving Pinkie Pie. Mr Cake simply looked calm. He had just been through the shock of his life, believing his dear wife had cheated on him. Thus, already having come down from that adrenal peak, it allowed him some brief respite: In that single instant, as his store exploded around him, he was the eye of the store. And, in the very next instant, his eye rolled into the back of his head and he fainted, crumpling into a heap on the floor. "Oops... My bad, I guess." A strange pink mare called from the top of the wagon of mass destruction. "Welcome to Sugar Cube Corner." Mrs Cake mumbled. "This is Sugarcube Corner? Oh, good, if this wasn't the right place that would be really awkward!" Pinkie yelled back. "Hi, I'm Pinkie Pie!" Mrs Cake stared at the mare in the crows nest. Eyepatch, Spyglass, Crows-Nest, destruction...All that's missing is- A falling collection of Teddy Bears revealed the barrel of Pinkie's Party CannonbetaTM- A cannon. Ah, a land pirate. And, in the very next instant, Mrs Cake joined her husband in a slightly larger heap on the floor. "Err, Miss? Miss cake-shop-owner lady? I'm really sorry for destroying everything and scaring you and your husband guy?" N'aww, that would be so sweet- Mr Cake's eyes fluttered open. -If she weren't talking to me. "Hello, strange pink pony." Carrot Cake murmured from the floor, addressing the pony looming over him. She has such a caring look, he mused, If only she wasn't standing over me, staring at me like that. "Cup? Cup Cake?" He moaned, "I think we have a customer." "Why do we get all the weird ones, dear?" Came her shaky reply. "Oh, that's not true" Pinkie chirped, "I'm the only pony here! Also that would mean that the Apples get all the not-weird ones, and I went there first!" She nodded knowingly. "Oh, good," Carrot Cake sighed, "So our quaint little bakery was just destroyed for no reason by the runaway, err, thing, of a perfectly ordinary pony, then?" "It was an accident!" Pinkie yelled, hurt, jumping back off of Mr Cake, finally allowing him to stand. "No, it wasn't!" Cup Cake jumped to her hooves."She's a pirate! She's here for our bits, and our stallions- She'll do unspeakable things to you!" Carrot's eyes widened in horror. "No! Only my wife is allowed to do unspeakable things to me against my will!" Mrs Cake sighed deeply again, rubbing the bridge of her snout with a hoof. "No!" Pinkie wailed, her rump slamming onto the floor in misery, "No! I just... I want a job!" "Welcome to the interview, then" Mrs Cake said bitterly. "I would show you the door, but it appears as though-" She indicated where the giant, gaping hole in the wall was, "-It isn't there anymore." "I put it back and fixed everything whilst you were asleep, though, see!" Pinkie said hopefully. Mr and Mrs Cake finally turned to assess the damage they'd been too afraid to look at until now and found- Nothing. When they saw where the giant, gaping hole in the wall was before was now sparkling, clean, fixed. Even the stock was back, fresh. "I saw, and smelled, you had just finished baking a super-yummy cake," Pinkie added helpfully, "So I decorated it and put it in the window to replace all that stuff I sort of smooshed!" She also added, looking at the floor bashfully. "I'm really, really sorry, though! Can we start over, pretending like that never happened? Hi! I'm Pinkie Pie!" She extended a hoof and gave a weak smile. "But, er, Pink Pie... How'd you fix the wall?" "Oh, that was easy! I couldn't find any wood, but you had plenty of flour and sugar, so I just used all the broken bits of old wall to make a big bonfire and cooked up a lot of ginger bread! It's my own special-super-secret recipe, it goes stale as soon as you finish baking it, but that makes it super-strong and it's also really, really delicious." "And the window?" Mrs Cake asked suspiciously. "Sugar Glass!" Pinkie beamed with pride. "How long were we out for?" Mr Caked asked incredulously. "Oh, you were all sleepy for over an hour! You must have been really sleepy." Cup Cake blinked, looking at the wall. Back to Pinkie. Back to the window. Back to Pinkie. At the roof, then Pinkie. "You did all this in an hour?" Pinkie could barely hear her, her voice sounded frail to her ears. "Err, yeah... It takes ages to cook that much gingerbread." Mr and Mrs Cake decided that consciousness around this mare was far, far too exhausting and embraced the brief comfort that its counterpart offered. Everything went black. "Wow, you two mustn't have slept for ages. I err- I guess..." Pinkie glanced around the store nervously. "I have no idea what I'm doing." She finished lamely.
Pop Rock and Pop Rocks*Poof!* "There, nice fluffy pillows for the sleep heads!" Now what? At least there aren't any customers, or else- *Ding-a-ling-a-ling - Oh, now, come on. "Oh, wow, I love what you've done with the place!" A sweet-smelling cream-coated mare with a colourful curly mane looked around whilst making no effort to conceal how impressed she was. "Mrs Cake, I must say you-" The mare stared at Pinkie, as if for the first time. "You're not Cup Cake." She accused. Neither broke eye contact. Neither blinked. The room chilled several degrees. This wasn't really an issue, the ovens had already made it uncomfortably warm, so all it did was bring the room temperature back down to room temperature, but it was still pretty intense to be caught up in. Pinkie grinned sheepishly and shrugged. The other mare seemed to complete her internal assessment and smiled, nodding to herself. "You must be the new interior designer then! Pleased to meet you, I'm Bon-Bon." "Err... What?" Pinkie's relief was profound but unintelligible. "You are the one responsible for the new decor, right?" She tilted her head questioningly. "Oh? Yeah, the decor! That's the thing what with which that I done did do!" Pinkie sighed, the pent up tension melting away like an icecream sandwhich on an engine block. "Hi, I'm Pinkie Pie, and I'm really pleased to meet you!" "Well, Pinkie Pie," Bon-Bon glanced around to make sure no-one was there to listen in on them. Pinkie knew there wasn't but she understood the need for drama in a situation like this, so she leaned in conspiratorially cupping a hoof to her ear and grinning, "We're throwing a surprise party for Octavia, Bon-Bon whispered fiercely, eyes darting around the room, "she just got a part as a cellist for a Canterlot Quartet group! She's going to play for all the nobles, even the princesses!" the whisper became the excited hissing that inevitably happens when gossip gets juicy for the gossiper, Pinkie just smiled and nodded, "So we're throwing her a big bash to celebrate, yeah? But she can not, I repeat, can not find out about this! The darling is a little bit, well, refined, she'd never agree to a party if she knew!" Her voice reached its climax, a sort of half shout by this point. "You obviously know your way around festive decorating, do you know anything about throwing parties? I'll pay! " She hastily offered some bits, "We just need Octavia to lighten up, celebrate a little!" She finished, no longer half shouting, more 'whole shouting and rearing on her back hooves dramatically'. Pinkie gasped, and not just because her ear was ringing. A pony who doesn't want a party? We must draw upon our deepest reserves of boogie-oogie-oogie for this bish-bosh-bash! Many years later Pinkie Pie would be named a bacchant, a patron saint of Dionysus, God of Wine and Partying, for her services to the cause. Every great hero, every great quest, starts with one call to action. "Madame Bon-Bon!" Pinkie proclaimed, "Keep your bits. This is a party emergency! I must help this pony appreciate parties, pronto! She will have the bestest time in her life if it kills me! Or, at least, mortally wounds me!" She jumped up onto the counter and struck a dramatic pose. "But, Miss Pie-" "Wherever there is a pony who is frowning, I'll be there. Wherever there is a pony that is lonely, I'll be there. Wherever there is an achievement not given proper recognition? You better believe Pinkamena Diane Pie will be there with all your bestest biffle buddies!" She proclaimed, keeping her grip on the glass beneath her rear hooves, "Keep your bits, Lady Bon-Bon,-" 'Wasn't I a madame a few seconds ago?' Bon-Bon mused. "For making a pony in need smile enough is payment enough!" Pinkie finished triumphantly. "But won't you at least need bits for party supplies?" "Well, of course silly," Pinkie giggled, still not accepting the offered coins, "But not nearly as much as you need them for presents!" Bon-Bon smiled warmly and slid the bits back into her saddlebags. "You know what, Miss Pie, I like you, I really do." "Thanks, Bonnie, but call me Pinkie. All my friends do!" "Sorry, Mr and Mrs Cake, I'm going to use your bakery, I hope you don't mind!" "Eughh-ugu-ehh" Cup Cake murmured. GREAT! "All you have to do is take a cup of flour Add it to the mix I just hope this pony's sweet, not sour, Pull this off without a hitch... Baking for the Cakes is such a cinch Throwing a party for Octavia The Cakes are asleep on the floor So I'm out the door - to be this parties savior! Cupcakes! For lots of ponies! Parties! With songs and dancing! Candy! And punch and cakes and- Party, party, partAY!" "Hey, I'm going to have to remember that," Pinkie said to a snoring Mr Cake, "never know when you could use a song! Well, I do, and it's all the time!" Mr Cake nodded in what Pinkie took for as agreement, although it was probably just a particularly strong snore. Pinkie liked to give ponies the benefit of the doubt, though. "Well, I'll leave a note, just in case." Pinkie pie scribbled a hurried not as furiously fast as she could. It still came out calligraphy-perfect, with swirls usually found only the fanciest of garden gates. Huh, it feels so weird doing all that invitation-writing practice and only writing it once... So Pinkie wrote the note four more times, because hey, why not? Lyra and Bon-Bon were enjoying a delicious lemon-custard tart together in the gorgeous summer sun. Whirrrrrrr-CHUNK "Oh, what in the-" Were being the operative word in that last sentence. Embedded in the table before them, sunken about a quarter inch into the wood, was a laminated card. Please come at midday Surprise Party at the park Enjoy the haiku "Huh, well would you look at that... I hired a bright pink ninja. A bright pink ninja who's a fan of poetry?" "There's more to being a ninja than simply looking awesome." Lyra nodded, "You have to think awesome too." "It says something on the back too!" She said, holding up the improvised shrunken. It's a super secret surprise party for a special VIP. Be there or be an equilateral quadrilateral "Lyra?" Lyra just casually sipped her chocolate milkshake, barely glancing up. "She means be there or be square." She slurped the last of the chocolatey foam at the bottom, "Or, possibly, rhomboid, but that's a bit of a skewed perception of it." "That was a maths joke, wasn't it." "You're a maths joke!" Lyra wittily retorted, poking her tongue out now that it was no longer occupied with her milkshake. "Yeah, well you're a mass joke. Lay off the pie before your circumference exceeds your-" Lyra stared. "Sorry, too far?" "I have never been more turned on in my life than I am right now." "Cheque, please?" Bon-Bon urgently called the waiter as a thin bead of drool escaped Lyra's lower lip. 'Be like the wind.' Pinkie leapt from rooftop to rooftop, a candy wrapper floating in the breeze. 'One does not grow up on a rock farm without having a rock garden. *Kchunk* *Kchunk* she sent two more invitations flying. One does not have a rock garden without aligning their ki She was a blur leaving nothing but invitations as evidence she'd ever been. One does not align their ki and then not horribly abuse it. *Kchunk* *Kchunk* 'Well, I suppose plenty of serious ponies are all serious about being zen and stuff, but lets face it, when it came to philosophical schools I went to the party school' *Kchunk* *Kchunk* 'Totally worth it.' *Kchunk* *Kchunk* The park was abuzz with ponies. Young and old, entire families, summoned by the mysteriously poetic invitation. All there for Octavia, Pinkie liked to think. More realistically the prospect of free food, sure, but benefit of the doubt and all that. 'What is all this?" A panicked voice echoed over the crowd. "This can't possibly be all for me?" 'That must be Octavia!' "You're right!" Pinkie swooped down from a nearby treetop. It wasn't the treetop she was initially in, sure, but it was the only one Octavia saw her coming from. The crowd, drawn by the possibility of some free entertainment, gravitated slowly around the flustered grey musician. "This isn't all for you!" Pinkie proclaimed, pulling a small detonator from the park's gazebo. "This isn't?" Octavia seemed to sigh before catching herself. You're not allowed to want this sort of thing, it's silly, it's foalish, it's- "There's a whole bunch more than this!" Pinkie slammed the plunger down. Pops and bangs echoed around the park, spiralling. Balloons inflated and rose, streamers and confetti exploded from the treetops, buffet tables sprung open, food dropped onto brightly decorated mats. Octavia was overwhelmed, everypony was cheering... But not just for the extravagant display... They were cheering for her. "Oh, and I got you a special present! I heard you're a cellist, and I got one of your records, and it was eargasmic!" "Err... Thank you?" Octavia weakly offered, blushing, failing to hide behind her bowtie. Not for lack of trying. "So I'd like to introduce another up-and-coming around ponyville, Vinyl Scratch." A fog machine burst into life obscuring the gazebo that had contained the detonator. Silhouetted amongst the dry ice clouds was a turntable. A white unicorn wearing shades as black as coal, as night, as Twilight Sparkle's cooking revealed herself behind the table. "A... Disc Jockey?!" Octavia spluttered in horror. "Octavia, it's a party, and no party is complete without wicked-sweet beats. But, it's a party for you, and I know electronica might not be your thing-" Octavia bit back a biting remark. "-so I organized something a little special that me and Vinyl came up with your stuff. Vinyl, will you do the honours?" Vinyl stared, Octavia assumed, directly into her eyes. The DJ gave a devilish grin and put the needle on the record. [youtube= "Okay." Octavia muttered, "I have to admit, that is pretty cool." "I know right?!" Pinkie bounced in place. "So, do you like it? Huh? Bon-Bon told me you didn't like parties and I thought you just haven't had a good enough party before to really judge!" Octavia tried to retain her composure, truly she did. She looked around at all the happy ponies, all the delicious food, she listened to the great music, all her friends... All here for her. A soft smile crossed her quivering lips and, strange, she could have sworn her tear ducts were full a few seconds ago. Pinkie gasped. "So, you do like it? Oh, I'm so happy! Really!" Octavia wrapped Pinkie in a massive bear hug. A refined bear hug, of course, as if a bear wore a monocle and a dignified top hat and drank its brandy from a snifter, but a bear hug nonetheless. "Hey!" The DJ shouted over the thumping classical mix, "Can I have some, eh?" Octavia shot her a glare which only seemed to bolster Vinyl. She sauntered over to them, proudly buckling her swash,, leaving the table unattended for a few minutes. "So, headin' to Canterlot are you?" She drawled. "Well, yes, I am, what is it of concern to you?" The pony ignored her. "Have you got a place yet?" "Well, no-" "And you only just got the gig?" "Of course, but it's very well pai-" "So you have no place to go and no way could you afford a place of your own there at the moment, no?" "I have a few bits saved up..." "Five digits?" "Well, barely-" "That would last you a month, tops. Add in food, electricals-" Octavia turned from a pale grey to a pale white. "Oh..." Octavia considered the situation very, very carefully. "Well, buck." Vinyl just giggled, not chuckled, a girlish giggle. "Hey, Tavi, don't sweat it. I got a few gigs up at Canterlot too and I'm hardly what you'd call loaded. I was just thinking we could be roomates, you know? Pool our bits, share the load." Vinyl said with a genuine smile. "'Sides, too many stuffy uncool ponies in Canterlot, you know? I mean, not like you, you're a stuffy cool pony. You're like... My acclimatisation. I'd probably get lonely without somepony cool to hang out with." "You... You think I'm cool?" Octavia sniffled. "Duh. I mean, grow me some horse-apples and deep-fry 'em, how the heck do you hold the bow with your hoof?" "Well, it takes a lot of practice and-" Octavia started until she realized Vinyl was rolling on the floor laughing. "Oh, get your mind out of the gutter." Octavia hissed. The effect was ruined entirely by the fact that all the colour that had drained earlier had now re-materialized as blush hot enough to give nearby ponies sunburns. "I have no idea what you're talking about!" Pinkie bounced happily. Ignorance is bliss. "So, you up for it?" Vinyl asked, still on her back. "Well, I shall consider it, there is a lot of considerations to ta-" "So, that's a yes. Awesome, I'll pack my stuff." Octavia trailed after her new room mate, blabbering half-hearted objections. "Well, that turned out better than expected!" Pinkie chirped. "Eughh... My head..." "Shh, Carrot, don't move!" "Bwuh, wha?" Carrot replied whilst raising a hoof to rub his dizzy head. As he was taking his hoof away he saw what his wife was staring at so intently. On the sole of his hoof was a message: 'Dear Mr and Mrs Cake I'm really, really, really, really sorry. Also I used your kitchen a lot, I hope you don't mind. If you do mind you can yell at me after the party. I'll pay you back for all the ingredients I used, I swear! ~Pinkie Pie "It's on all your feet dear." "How perfectly normal." Carrot moaned. "Why are you still reading them?" "Because, scone-muffin, I'm hoping if I read it enough times it might start making sense!" Mr Cake waited for a few seconds, considering his reply. All he could come up with was this: "Well, has it?" "Err... No. No it has not." Mrs Cake hung her head in defeat. "Well, I guess all we have to do is find the party?" "Ponyville's a big town, scrummy-scroll!" Mr Cake whined, "How will we ever find a little party in the middle of it?" "Hey, everypony!" Pinkie called through a megaphone over the crowd demanding attention. People didn't pay attention to Pinkie Pie at their own peril, really. "Who's ready for some fireworks?!
Presently, the pre-after party"Ah. That would do it." Mrs Cake sighed. "Err, lollipop-tart, you know how that strange girl said she had used our ingredients?" Mr Cake backed slowly away from the pantry, eyes as wide as serving platters. "It appears to be that way, peach-crumble." "She used all of them." Carrot Cake whispered. "When do we get our next shipment?" Cup Cake cried. "Thursday." "It's-"Cup Cake closed her eyes and tapped a hoof in thought. One-two-three- "Yes dear. Sunday." "Sun-" her eyes rolled into the back of her head and she passed out. "Oh good, it's not just me then?" Carrot swiftly followed suit. Both dreamed of elaborate revenge fantasies involving confections. Pinkie Pie bounced amongst the dying embers of the party. The last of the food had been devoured, the party favours packed prudently into her precarious pile and the cups were completely devoid of their previous cake occupants. As fun as after-parties were Pinkie didn't feel one was in order here: The guests of honour had started discussing, in various degrees of enthusiasm, their departure to Canterlot and Pinkie didn't really have friends here in Ponyville, not enough for a Very Important Ponies click, anyway. I mean, every pony is a very-important-pony, but some ponies are more important than other ponies, just to me though, I mean, they're all important to somepony, and they're all special, sort of like that one pony there whose wings on fire, I mean, how silly is tha- Omigosh! A rainbow streak plowed into the soft pink pony, breaking its fall. "War paint?" Carrot cake handed his wife the red icing. "Check." "Battle Cry?" Carrot did his best, but it came out more as a battle shriek. "I have to admit, that did scare me." Carrot, not understanding the subtext, beamed. "Check!" "Sword?" "Sword?" "Yes, dear, we need weapons, don't we?" Cup patiently explained. Carrot scrabbled around, finally deciding on a sturdy rolling pin. "I'm afraid this is the best I could do, scrumptious." "Then it will have to do!" Cup took the rolling pin firmly in her mouth and tested its weight, tapping it against her hoof. Carrot let out his scary battle squeal. "Omigosh, I'm so, so sorry." were the first words Pinkie said after regaining lucidity, or whatever could pass for lucidity in Pinkie world. "You shot me!" an indignant, yet muffled, voice shrilled, "I can't believe you shot me!" "I didn't mean to!" Pinkie scrabbled off the pegasus's face, just now realizing she had been sitting on it. It didn't take nearly as long for the pegasus to realize she was being sat on, of course. "How many times do I have to tell you people," the mare growled, "I do not, not, like being shot at." She pointedly spat out some of Pinkie's tail, Pinkie giggled despite herself. "For a moment there, I thought you were gunna say you don't like filly flank" The pegasus flushed furiously, fixing an angry glare at Pinkie. Its effect was mostly diluted by virtue of her glaring at Pinkie through her plump posterior. "Just what are you implying." she growled, her voice cracking only twice. Okay, fine, three times. "Well, you're like... I dunno?" Pinkie gulped, scooting away. "Rainbow Dash. I'm Rainbow Dash. I'm like awesome. I'm like radical. I'm not like, like-" "Lesbian?" Pinkie supplied helpfully. Rainbow blushed and chose to glare at the ground even harder. "Don't say that." "Say what? That you're lesbian?" Pinkie asked in confusion, oblivious to the small crowd that had gathered around the singed pegasus. "If my feathers hadn't just burnt off I would so be flying away by now." Dash whimpered as she hauled herself to her feet. "This is so not cool." "I dunno, I don't think I could choose between one gender..." Pinkie trailed off thoughtfully, giving Dash a meaningful look. Rainbow Dash's wings flared open, surprising Pinkie. Why hadn't she taken off yet? "Look, I'm sorry, forget about the firework, okay, just- Just leave me alone!" "I'm so sorry about that! I would have booked this flight path, really, but it was a surprise party." "Oh, that makes everything okay then." The flustered pegasus rolled her eyes, voice dripping sarcasm that would have made even Twilight proud, were she not still several hundred miles away. "Oh, yay!" Pinkie Pie crash tackle hugged Rainbow, squeezing her tight, oblivious to the meaning of the word 'Sarcasm'. She could spell kumquat correctly, though, so Pinkie had no further use of studying language. "P-please get off me..." Rainbow fiercely whispered. The crowd around them giggled even more. Pinkie, however, remained blissfully ignorant. "Gargh! You're so- So annoying!" Rainbow took off, screaming, even her rainbow trail seemed to be blushing as the red streak spilled into the rest. Pinkie simply attributed it to the Doppler effect, what with Rainbow Dash attempting to escape her at an appreciable fraction of the speed of light. "N'aww... She seemed ni-" Poomf! "Eat Flour Pour, Sugar-Bandit!" "You get her, honey-bun!" Carrot cheered as Cup Cake unloaded a bakers dozen of pain upon Pinkie Pirate. "I'm sorry!" Pinkie squealed, alternating between shielding herself and catching the delicious barrage in her mouth. "You ate into our profit margins!" Carrot cried, throwing a chocolate-coated pastry himself, "now eat profiteroles!" "Ooh!" Pinkie snapped it out of the air, spraying high-pressure cream filling everywhere, "Scrummy!" Bon-Bon dragged Lyra into the crossfire between the Cakes and the Pie. "What exactly is going on here, hmm?" "This ruffian," Cup Cake accentuated her point by making a wild swing with her rolling pin, which Pinkie effortlessly dodged in the process of catching another pastry lobbed by Carrot, "Just stole all our ingredients! We won't have anything left until next week!" "This 'Ruffian'," Bon-Bon fumed, "Provided catering and party organization on behalf of Sugar Cube Corner. Why would you-" "No," Pinkie sighed, "They're right. I did take their ingredients..." She gazed at the Cakes with watery eyes. "But I promise to pay you back for them, really!" "Yes, dear," Cup patiently explained, still hefting her rolling-in menacingly, "but the cost of the ingredients isn't nearly as much as the cost of what we could have made with the- Wait, hold on a tic-" Cup whirled round to stare at Bon-Bon, "Did you say she did all this?" "Err, yes?" The pony tried to hide her confusion. "In one day?!" "Apparently so." Bon-Bon nodded cautiously. "Even hired a pretty sick DJ" Lyra grinned, earning her a hoof to the ribs. "Well, I'll be..." Carrot mused. "If you need more than bits, though," Pinkie jumped onto the train of thought before anyone could derail it,"I can replace most of it by tomorrow afternoon. Pinkie Promise." "You do realize how much flour, sugar, eggs-" "Eeyup!" "-Butter, milk, cocoa, vanilla-" "I really do!" "-You'll need to get... by tomorrow?" "Duh!" "How are you planning on-" Carrot managed to say before a pink blur whizzed him around. "I better get started!" it shouted. Sitting on the doorstep of Sugar Cube corner was the exact amount of goodies that had gone missing the day before. She had done it. The Cakes couldn't believe it, they didn't know how, but she had done it. Three o'clock the next day they gawped, they gaped, they inspected the load. Everything was back, down to the last egg, as if it had never been cooked at all, it had simply taken a stroll from the back room to the front door for some sunlight. Sitting proudly beside it was none other than Pinkie Pie herself wearing nothing but a grin the size of a watermelon. heck, she had even brought a watermelon for comparison, and they didn't even need it. "Please, please don't tell me you plundered all this?" "Only the chocolate coins, and that was for authenticity. Yargh." "How..." Was all that Carrot could bring himself to ask. "Oh, it was really easy; I just went to everypony in town who came to the party yesterday and asked if I could borrow a cup of flour." "What? A cup of-" "Yuppie duppers! A cup of flour! Everypony was so friendly, and happy to oblige, one eensy bit of flour or sugar or an egg isn't that big a deal right? It adds up though!" "You... Everypony in town gave you-" "They're all so nice, aren't they?" "Even... Rarity?" "Oh, she gave me a whole thingo of milk, she was so generous." "Surely, the Apples, they're not the type to give anything away for-" "Oh! That reminds me!" Pinkie pulled a bushel of apples from the pile. "Apples?" "Yeah, they gave me all the stuff needed to make scrumptious apple-pockets! I really like apple-pockets!" "Fluttershy?" Carrot was grasping at straws, but surely a pony as... Extroverted as the Pink Pirate would have scared Fluttershy off?! "Hey! Can I borrow a cup of flour? Maybe some su-" "Eep!" Slam! "Hey, are we playing hide and seek? That's awesome! Here, you hide, I promise not to peak!" Clash, pow, crack, clatter, pekew, clash! "Twenty-two-" "Gah!" "Twenty-three-" "Pl-Please don't try to-" "Twenty-four-" "B-b-b-but- "Schfifty-five!" Pinkie announced to the world at large, "Ready or not, here I come!" Pinkie ignored the house completely, too obvious, and chose to instead bounce around the side of the house. Fluttershy stared at her from between shut blinds until Pinkie found- "Oh my Celestia, Chickies!" "Stay away from my precious little babies!" Fluttershy screamed, slamming the back door open. "Haha, no, no, hahaha, too much, I'm too ticklish!" "Wha- Huh?" Pinkie rolled on the grass inside the chicken coop, shut carefully behind her, the chickens having a field day brushing against her with their tingly feathers. "Help me!" Pinkie Pie laughed a little too loud, even by her standards. "Oh, oh dear..." It took a bit of wrangling, slowed considerably by how nervous Fluttershy was around the strange new mare, but finally Pinkie was rescued from her tickle prison. "I'm so, so sorry! Is there anyway I can make it up to you? Please?" Fluttershy pressed tight into the still shivering Pinkamena. "Eggs." "Eggs?" "Yes. Eggs." "Oh... Oh, okay, I don't really eat them anyway, they're mostly for the animals that aren't vegetarian and-" "Wait-" Pinkie's Poultry Traumatic Stress Disorientation cleared up, along with the poof in her hair, "other animals?" "Oh, yes! I'm caretaker for almost all of Ponyville's animals, pets or otherwise. They're so much easier to talk to than, err.... other ponies..." "Oh, hey, you should totally meet my new friend Rarity!" Pinkie proclaimed, "She'd absolutely love you!" "R-really?" "Oh, yeah, I think that pony really just needs somepony to just listen, you know?" "N-Not really, no..." "Well, I'm sure you'll find out, really and- Holy bejeezus, is that a crocodile?!" Pinkie gasped. "Actually, it's an alligator... She's very old, so be careful around her, or else you might-" "Hi! I'm Pinkie Pie! What's your name?" The crocodile yawned a toothless yawn in response. "Smiley's a bit... Under the weather." "Smiley? Awesome! But isn't everypony, except pegasii of course, under the weather? I mean, it's really high, and-" "Oh, no, she's just very sick. I think that might be the last batch of eggs she'll lay before... Before..." Fluttershy teared up, completely unable to finish. The problem was that the alligator wasn't. "Hey, I promise not to take her eggs." Pinkie reassured her. "No, I just..." Fluttershy bawled, burying her tearstained face in Pinkie's neck. "Err... Do you... Do you want me to adopt one of the babies? I could totally look after it!" "You'd... You'd really want to look after an alligator?" "Yeah! it'd be sweet!" "Well... You seem pretty responsible to me..." Fluttershy sniffed, "I'd hate to leave a baby alligator in the hooves of somepony who wasn't... Not that anypony responsible would want an alligator..." Pinkie nodded solemnly. "it... It really does make me feel better knowing that her babies might go to a good home..." Fluttershy considered. "I already have so much work to do as it is without raising some babies without... without their mu-mu-mummy-y-y-y" Fluttershy started crying again, holding Pinkie tight. "Pinkie. Promise." "She seemed really nice! She gave me the eggs!" "Oh..." "Don't worry, everypony was so happy to get free food yesterday, they were more than happy to help out!" "Is that so?" Cup mused. "Eeyupper ducky!" "Pinkie... Do you live nearby? I'd love to hire you as Sugar Cube Corner's professional party planner, and host," "Oh, that's no problem, I don't live anywhere!" "I beg your pardon, dear? I must have misheard, you sounded like-" "I'm totally homeless!" Pinkie declared triumphantly. "Why, dear, where did you sleep last night?!" "I didn't!" Indeed, the bags under her eyes, the tremble in her step... The poor girl mustn't have slept since yesterday morning at least! "Pinkie, we have a spare loft upstairs... Would you be happy if we garnished your salary to pay rent? You could live in the loft above the bakery, plenty of room!" Carrot declared in a rare moment of initiative, and an even rarer one in that his wife actually agreed with him on it. "That sounds great. Really!" Pinkie yawned, swaying on the spot. "The bed's already made, sweetie." Cup smiled softly, motherly. Pinkie nodded slowly, almost imperceptibly. "Home.,," And with that Pinkie Pie passed out on her feet, hitting the ground with a loud snore. "Cup! Cup! She's waking up!" "Oh, dear, are you alright?" "Where... Where am I?" Pinkie murmurred groggily. "You're in bed, sweetie, in your new room. Your new home." "Oh..." Pinkie smiled. It wasn't a big, broad grin, or a toothy chuckle. It was a simple smile, small one, a private smile. The warm and fuzzies died pretty quick, however, when a stray thought entered her mind. "How am I going to get all my stuff up here?" Downstairs the cart finally succumbed to gravity, toppled by the errant breeze of a pegasus flight-testing her healed wings, teetering right into the window of the loft. The top heavy cart overbalanced and, pulled by the new anchor point, seemed to spill upwards, sliding into the upstairs room like some sort of perverse slinky. As the cart finally crashed back, empty of its load, a small orange foal found it, grinned, and raced off in it as fast as her tiny wings would allow her to. Finally Pinkie pulled both the awe-struck Cakes into a tight hug from her bed and sighed a happy sigh. Home.
Authors NotesThis story is dedicated, heart mind and body, to Courtney Southwell, one of the greatest human beings I have had, and ever will have, the chance to know. Now, some of you might think that a dedication in a free online story is a bit cheap. ... Anyway, if you enjoyed this story, feel free to Watch or check out my other stories. Specter Shift is being updated, slowly but surely, as are two yet-to-be-released fics. I graduate in 10 days, which should free up an awful lot of time, and I'm also planning on writing an actual full length novel about zombies and hobos, to be finished before February. Because of these budding authorial aspirations I need a lot of practice writing in a place where I can get unbiased feedback and have a lot of fun writing, notably here. I love you all, I read all your comments and I thank you, for the kind and the critical, they both mean an awful lot. Coming Soon to a MrNumbers Story List Near You: Twilight Goes Back to Magic Kindergarten A Dash, a Glimmer, A Sparkle: A TwiDash ship written in, hopefully, a fresh, new way, if such of one exists. Check in soon, same bat-time, same bat channel.
