There's A Pinkie Pie In My Room
There’s A Pinkie Pie In My Room
A completely unoriginal My Little Pony writing practice fanfic by The Mungoman
“Hi!”
“…”
“C’mon, sleepyhead, it’s almost noon!”
“Mmmf. Leeme ‘lone.” I wrestle my bed covers a little.
“But it’s a brand new day, the sun is shining and the birds are chirping and so am I~! So get up. Pretty pretty pleeeeeeeeeaaaaaase?”
“… Naahh.”
“Please please please please pleeezy-pleez-pleez! Just open one teeny-weeny eye.”
“… Will you leave me alone then?”
“… Mmmmaybe.”
I open one eye. Pink. Blurry, unfocused pink everywhere. It hurts my retinas a little, so I don’t bother keeping my eye open much longer.
“There. I looked. Everything’s pink. Now lemme sleep.”
“Awww, you’re no fun.”
“Well, your voice is really high-pitched for representing my conscience.”
“Conscience? I’m not your conscience, silly-billy!”
I bolt upright and tear my eyes open. Sitting on the opposite end of the bed is a bright bubblegum-pink pony. The bubblegum-pink pony. The pink pony to end all pink ponies. The poofy, playful, puppy-eyed paradoxical Ponyvillian party-planner. That’s right, that one.
She gives me a hopeful look that quickly turns into a dissatisfied little frown as I flop back down on the bed.
“Pinkie Pie is sitting on my bed. Well, since I’m obviously still dreaming, I might as well… sleep in.” I yawn and snuggle back under the warm blanket.
“Nooo! You got it all wrong, this isn’t a dream! I just came he--“
“Look, as long as the house isn’t flooded I’m not getting outta bed until I feel like it.” I mumble annoyedly, my eyes shut tight again. “And imaginary cartoon ponies are not going to change that. Yet.”
“Hmpf! If you’re gonna be a pair of mean, grumpy uncooperative uncooperative-y pants, then fine.”
I hear two pairs of hooves leaving and nothing else afterwards.
Sweet, sweet silent bliss. This is my free day. Nothing is going to stop me from utterly slacking off today. Saturdays were literally made for this. You don’t have to be Jewish to benefit from the utter slick slacky slackness ~~Slackerdays~~ Saturdays bring with them. And I shall not, will not get up, unless--
SPLOOSH
“AAAAAAAA--*cough*AAAAAA--*gasp*AAAAIIIEEE”
I snort and cough freezing water out of my nose and mouth, a lot more conscious than I’d like to be right now.
“NOAH-ON-A-STICK, WHAT?!! Did the house just really flood?!”
“No, silly! I just thought I’d wake you up on my own!”
A very pink and much too happy pony is next to the soggy mattress, holding a dripping bucket from which the abominable ice-cold liquid most likely issued from, grinning gaily as I rub the water out of my eyes. Drying my sopping hair on a waterless bit of my blanket, I still keep my unwavering stare on Pinkie. I slowly reach forward, both eternally intrigued and exceptionally anxious; this moment is unbelievably precious, but it hangs on a single, thin thread. “This may be too good to be true and may actually really just be a dream” my unconscious screams at me as loudly as possible “So, for the love of everything candy-coated and chocolate-filled, DO NOT. SCREW. THIS. UP.”
I stretch out a trembling index finger as her big blue eyes follow it, approaching her closer and closer. Finally, while she goes completely cross-eyed, it makes contact with her muzzle.
I blink.
She retorts by putting her hoof on my nose.
“Boop!”
I shriek in the most manly way possible (a.k.a. as shrilly and ridiculously as possible) and hug my still drenched and slightly squidgy pillow for support, which provides about as much comfort as embracing a dead salmon does. Which is not a lot. My brain rapidly sends numerous commands to my mouth to be voiced out at once, but due to me only having one set of speech-related organs, it all turns into the logopaedic equivalent of a seizure.
“Holy f-- I mea-- Oh my-- I don’t even-- I-- But you-- There-- What the-- How the-- Why-- I-- Foop.”
“Um... Is everything okay?”
Well, considering the fact that emotions of sheer euphoric joy and utterly disarming bewilderment are clashing in my skull and possibly wrecking everything of use up there, no, everything is definitely not okay.
One part is 24-carat, Grade A, state of the art, sparkling diamond-standard polished perfection (“SWEET JESUS, PINKIE PIE IS SITTING IN MY ROOM”) and another part is nerve-shatteringly shocking and confusing to the point of no return (“FOR LOVE OF GOD, PINKIE PIE IS SITTING IN MY ROOM”).
“There... There’s a Pinkie Pie in my room.” I stammer, trying to remain calm.
“Yessiree!” She chimes. “I just thought it’d be super-cool if I paid you a visit! But then Twilight said she had something planned later today and I should better be there. So I looked into my schedule and saw that I still had a little time, so I came here and tried to make you get up, but your were all like ‘Mmm, I’m being a big pouty-patty or a frowny-brownie or something and I just wanna ignore poor Pinkie Pie and keep on sleeping like a... a...’”
“A nap-sap?” I offer.
“Hee-hee-hee! Good one! So then I just thought I’d wake you up on my own ‘cuz you were being such a snoozy-susie.”
“And you thought plonking a bucket of water over my head was a good idea?”
“Yup!” she nods enthusiastically as if she did nothing even faintly wrong.
Yeah, this is the real deal alright. The rhyming. The naïveté. The innocent cuteness. This is, without a doubt, the real Pinkius Piecus. I’m just about to ask her how she got into this dimension, but then my inner eye is struck by a vision of a purple unicorn in a wheelchair, who asked similar questions being crushed by a flowerpot, an anvil, a farm cart and a piano. Thus I refrain from tempting fate and potentially killing myself in the process.
I gradually get out of bed, still eyeing Pinkie doubtfully, pondering about what to say next. Steadily I stutter “Uh... Have you had, um... breakfast? I’m about to make some... I could offer you... something.”
She responds with a giggle and says “Oh, I never start a day without a big brunch! But thanks for the offer anyway! I had a slice of boysenberry pie, and I shared a muffin with Derpy and I had two cupcakes that were deee-lish! I thought I’d try that new chocolate gateau the Cakes baked last afternoon that looked totally super-dooper-scrumptious, but then I remembered it was for Dawn Dew’s birthday tomorrow, and besides, I had already had that yummy boysenberry pie! Y’know, I think boysenberry is my favourite berry ‘cuz it’s made out of blackberries AND raspberries and I don’t mean the ‘Pfffrrllblbl’ kind of raspberry, but the berry kind of raspberry...”
I’m told about all of this as I make my way downstairs to the kitchen (which, to be frank, is not so far away from my room that you could usually fit such a large mass of words in the time it takes to get there). My initial thought of bacon and eggs is quickly tossed out of the window because of prospective awkwardness, so I settle on cereal.
As I tip the box over though, only a few lonely flakes drop out of the carton. Cursing the heathen Muesli Gods for turning their backs on me, I notice that the almighty Toast demons have forsaken me as well (which is an overly dramatized allegory for ‘We have no bread either’). Surely the Breakfast Deities must be scowling upon me this day. Meanwhile Pinkie watches my plight with mild interest. As my meal-related dilemma reaches its peak, she intervenes; “Are you looking for something to eat? ‘Cuz... I did have a cupcake left over from breakfast...” She pulls a brown paper bag out of... nowhere in particular. “Wanna share?”
Now, I’m not a big fan of cupcakes. They’re a little too sugary for my tastes and whilst they mostly are quite pleasant to look at, I think they usually lack a bit in substance in comparison to The Grand King of all Pastries, the Muffin *insert epic fanfare here*. But, guys... I’m betting a lot right now that most of you have never had a Sugarcube Corner cupcake. Let me tell you, you’re missing out. That was, without a doubt, the best half cupcake I have ever had.
“Wow, this is great!”
“Thanks, I made this one myself!” she says through a mouthful of cupcake before swallowing the entire thing down in one large gulp.
“Really? It’s excellent! What did you put in it?” I flatten the last few crumbs under my thumb and lick it off before devoting myself to my tea.
“Oh, just the usual. Flour, butter, eggs, sugar... Oh, and the most special ingredient of all.”
“Let me guess. Lots of love and the magic of friendship.” I say in a deadpan voice.
“Naah, just molasses.” She sniggers.
I can’t help but join in her laughter. As I do, I feel some form of inner barrier melt away a bit; My mind is relaxing a little with me not being so hungry and wet and shaken and Pinkie not being so watering-my-face-y. And even though the ice hasn’t completely broken (You know, considering the fact that an animatedly animated equine is sitting at the same table as I am), that internal pressure is definitely dissipating. I’m just afraid I might suddenly end up in a big squishy room wearing a self-hugging jumper.
“So, now that you’re here, what do ya want to do?” I ask as I sprawl in my chair.
“Oh yeah! I came here, so I could... Oh no. Ohh nooo!” Her smile is gone. This scares me more than I thought it would’ve.
“What? What?!” I’m starting to freak. What is the problem?! Did she wreck some unsuspecting person’s possessions on her way here? Or did she bring some ancient magical evil into the human world with us powerless to defeat it? What if the dimensions are colliding? Time and space could be collapsing only due to her presence! “Good Lord, Pinkie Pie, WHAT IS IT?!!”
“I forgot.”
I think might have broken skin with the force of that facepalm. Ignoring the fact that I probably blew my brain through the back of my skull, I groan “You have got to be kidding.”
“Not right now, I’m not. But hey! My Granny told me about a great way how to remember stuff you forgot!”
“Your Granny? You mean the Granny who told you to giggle at the ghostly when you were a kid? Did she tell you that when you were a filly too?”
“Nope, she told me last week.” This catches me a little off guard.
“Last... week?” I enquire.
“Yeah, sure! She’s just over at the old folk’s home down the street. I go there every Thursday with a batch of oat cookies. She really likes those!”
I raise an eyebrow before going on. “Ah. So? What is this ‘great way how to remember stuff’?”
What happens next is gonna blow your mind. It blew mine, so buckle up. Prepare yourselves, ‘cos I’m gonna make you jealous, angry and happy at once now. You ready fo’ dis?
She begins singing. Yeah. Right the hell outta nowhere. I also don’t remember turning the stereo on, because there definitely is background music playing. Daniel Ingram-style music. I have no idea if the dude is, like, a hyper-efficient make-music-in-a-millisecond-master, or if he made this beforehand, but there is unmistakably music coming from... everywhere. Weird.
Now for the worst part: I couldn’t memorize all the lyrics. Or the melody. TAKE ME TO THE GALLOWS, I DESERVE EVERYTHING. Bad brony, bad brony!! I might as well beat myself up with a bedside lamp now. I do remember the chorus though, mostly ‘cuz it was repeated over and over:
C’mon, little Pinkie
Now listen to me
To recollect your memory
Just move back (*ding ding* (that was a glockenspiel doing some form of countermelody)) in space
Backwards you (*ding ding*) must face
And so you just (*ding-- I think you get the point*) retrace
Your steeeeeeps! ~~
Just imagine that in the catchiest melody you can think up, and you’re probably right on the money. Anyways, I am caught so terribly by surprise by this unprompted musical, I literally fall over backwards, with chair and all. I lie in a crumpled heap for a few seconds before getting up and dusting myself off. She reaches a great crescendo before the song’s key changes and the refrain is repeated a few more times before the song ends in a grand climax of epic proportions. She gives me a little buoyant grin (That is totally underlined with a little bling noise) as I stare through her vapidly. I then cautiously ask her: “Ummm... Does your grandmother... sing all the time?”
“Yuh-huh, pretty much! How’d you know?”
“Just a hunch.” I roll my eyes, unbeknownst to her.
“So to find out what I forgot, we just need to retrace my steps! And I don’t mean with a pencil, ‘cos I tried that once and the Cakes got maaad.”
“O... kay. So what did you do before you woke me up?”
“Uuuh...” She puts her hoof to her chin and ponders a little with her eyes searching the ceiling for clues. “Oh!” Instead of telling me though, she races back upstairs. I quickly hurry after her.
I find her in my room with my smart phone in her hooves. Oh, hell no. Wherever this is going (or has already gone, God forbid), I don’t like it. I quickly snatch the device out of her grasp before checking what she could have been doing with it. Instead of glimpsing some innocence-destroying dark corner of the internet though, I instead see that she has been playing Cut the Rope.
“I don’t get it” Pinkie Pie asks ingenuously “I mean, sure, it’s really fun, but if the greeny-thingy wants the candy so bad, why doesn’t it just walk over there and get it?”
I’m just dumbfounded that she made it past the mobile’s password defence, selected a game without even knowing how to use the damn thing and (I confirm that with another fleeting glance) made to level 14 of the game in the short time she’s been here. And now she of all ~~people~~ ponies is questioning a video game’s logic? Ladies and gentlemen, the brain has left the building.
I swiftly place my phone away from harm and say “Alright, so before you played games on my phone, what did you do?”
“Hmmm... I remember... Ummm...” She squints and stares into a random corner of the room.
I look at her intently. After twenty seconds or so, I furrow a brow and tilt my head in exasperation.
“Well-ll-ll-llll?”
“I’m tryin’, I’m tryin’! Errr...”
I could probably make another cup of tea in the meantime. As several minutes creep by I start to notice that the unusually quiet pony’s eyes are darting around in deep thought, but the look on her face has changed. She doesn’t look so contemplative anymore but more amused at something funny. I slowly squat down to look straight into her eyes. “Pinkie.” I say it as dryly as I can muster.
“Yeah?” she does an adorable little hop whilst saying that. I ignore it, however.
“What are you thinking about?” I breathe in, with a slight shudder in my voice.
“... ‘Button’ is a funny word!”
I massage the bridge of my nose. “... And what happened to that thing you forgot?”
She blinks at me a little before Pinkie-shrugging. “I dunno, what does happen to things you forget?”
“I... I’m not even gonna argue with that. That is some philosophical crud, here.”
“But you gotta say that ‘button’ is a funny word.”
I sigh a little and hang my shoulders in defeat “I suppose.”
“C’mon, say ‘button’! It’s hilarious when you say it really fast!”
I gaze into those big blue eyes beaming at me. Even though I am a bit browbeaten, I just can’t say no to those eyes. It’d be like giving a child actual coal for Christmas. I draw a breath and wryly utter: “Button.”
The sheer randomness of the word causes me to smirk. Not much, but a single corner of my mouth slowly rises half an inch. I repeat it. “Button.” I’m smiling now. “Button button button.” I chuckle gently as Pinkie starts skipping on her hooves a little, grinning from ear to ear. “Button button button button button!” we both chant in chorus, sending us into a fit of giggles. And then there’s no stopping us.
“Toy boat, toy boat, toe boit!” Pinkie calls, before guffawing at her own failed attempt.
“Fisher Fritz fishes fresh fish!”
“Peter Pony picked a peck of pickled peppers!”
“Supercalifragilisticexpiallygocious!”
“Sharp shards shy shorn sheep!”
“Hippopotamomonstrosaequipedaliophobia!” I rattle off as quickly as I can.
“What’s that?”
“The fear of big words.”
“No way! Hee-hee-hee-HA-HA-HAAA!” She flops on the bed and cackles as I double up on the floor and laugh alongside her.
We spend the next two hours or so playing Wii. She beats me five times in Mario Kart (She even tells me to step it up! Ponies these days. And don’t ask me how she secures the controller in her hooves. Pinkie Pie, end of discussion) before I can pay it all back to her as I completely annihilate her in Super Smash Bros.. We laugh, we joke, and we just have a great time. I’m not anxious about her appearance anymore and she isn’t pouring any water over my head. So I guess we’re both good. After another slightly one-sided, but still fun-as-hell match, Pinkie turns to me and asks “Hey, what time is it?”
I look at the clock on the far side of the wall and reply “It’s almost four ‘o clock.”
She bounces to her hooves. “Oh, just in time! I gotta meet Twilight at the library!”
“Oh... You’re leaving?” I can’t help but feel a little deflated. Well, at least one should end it on a high note. Yet... it seems there is something I’m forgetting... Ah, of course! “But... what did happen about that thing you came here for? Remember, the thing you wanted to tell me?”
“Oh, I remembered that about twenty minutes ago!”
My jaw drops. “What?! B-but-- why didn’t you say anything?”
“’Cuz we were having so much fun, duh! But hey, I can tell you if you wanna!”
“What is it?” I enquire almost inaudibly, crouching down to be closer to her.
“I just wanted to tell you to remember.” She smiles and cocks her curly head. “See ya in a minute!”
And with that she bounces outside of my field of vision and is... gone. Just like that. I stay standing in the middle of the living room, stunned at what happened in the last few hours. I’m sure I wasn’t imagining or hallucinating the whole thing, I have a wet pillow case and a stomach full of cupcake to prove that. But still... these past few hours have been... dreamlike. But what on earth could she have meant with “remember”? What did I have to remember? I hadn’t planned to do anything today. My calendar and my schedule are empty for today. What have I forgotten?
I look at the clock on the wall again. I then gaze back at the television, where the video game is still running. I think about what Pinkie last told me before she left. “See you in a minute”.
And then it clicks.
Turn off the console and the TV. Flip the laptop open. Load up a streaming site. I find one with a chat room on the side. I can already see numerous messages eagerly awaiting what is to come.
I sigh in relief as I type the following words into the text box below:
Thank God, I made it. I had the craziest morning, I almost forgot about this. Well, even still... nothing’s gonna stop me from seeing this now. Season 3, I’m ready for ya!
THE END
Author’s Note: This is my first piece of MLP:FiM fanfiction. Or, in fact, real, definite fanfiction in general. So, please critique as honestly and starkly as possible, because I am definitely looking for room for improvement ;).
I know the new Season 3 episode doesn’t air on a Saturday. Just apply your suspension of disbelief.
Also, the episode airs at 4 pm here because of the different time zone here in Europe.
Thank you for reading this, if you liked it, leave a message below and if you didn’t, tell me why!
Hopefully see you guys in my next story!
