A side story in the Battleships Universe
Pinkie's First Christmas on Earth
The man with the very large handgun stared across the weapon’s sights at a cheerful mare the color of bubblegum. She didn’t seem to mind, grinning at him and giggling.
He sighed. “Ms. Pie, you know very well that you have to go through the security checkpoint at the front every time you enter the White House.”
“I’m sorry Agent Vickers, I’m just so excited to get started on my next big party project! Christmas is coming!”
The Secret Service Agent was too well trained to let his emotions show, but he wanted to roll his eyes and sigh. It was infuriating how the pink pony seemed to cheerfully slip by security on a whim. She did it often, and yet being confronted with armed guards whenever she was caught did not seem to deter her. Probably because she was a personal favorite of the President. Also because if they tried to detain her, she would probably just slip out of the cuffs and be loose again.
Anti-pony equipment had been first on the list of Secret Service requisitions when the doorways to the other universe had first opened. After planning for the challenge of possible security breaches by opponents who could fly and do magic, it seemed unbelievable that a simple earth pony like Pinkie Pie could cause so many problems. Luckily, she was fairly benign, although Vickers had heard that her pastries could cause instant diabetes.
As if Pinkie had planned it, the kitchen manager walked by at that moment. His eyes widened at the sight of the gun and he took a step back.
“Hiya Mr. Vought! I came in extra early today!” exclaimed Pinkie.
Vought looked between her and Vickers. The armed agent actually did sigh and roll his eyes this time, lowering the gun and putting it away. He turned and walked away, muttering something about Christmas.
“You might want to try being nicer to the Secret Service,” Vought suggested. He began walking towards the kitchen and Pinkie fell in step beside him. “I’d hate for you to jeopardize your employment. You haven’t been working here for very long.”
“But I’ve got so many plans and things to do!” insisted Pinkie. “It’s great that the kitchen has a lot of stuff I need, but I might have to ask you to order a few things.”
“Er, like what?” asked Vought. He knew that Pinkie was often on her own program, but she could be counted on to help with any task the kitchen was currently undertaking. It wasn’t often that the President appointed someone—rather, somepony—to the White House kitchen staff, but Vought was certainly glad for the mare’s help. She was more than a little eccentric, but also the best baker he’d ever seen.
Pinkie rattled off an inventory of ingredients and party supplies she wanted that Vought had no hope of remembering. She would probably give him an itemized list later. It wasn't easy stopping her when she was speaking, so he waited patiently until she paused for a breath before breaking in. “Just what are you planning that will require all those things?”
The bubbly pony gave him a grin that nearly stretched outside the bounds of her face. “Why, the greatest Christmas party the whole country has ever seen!” She gasped dramatically in sudden realization. “But…maybe not the greatest one ever on Earth? No! I’ll make sure it’s the best, most super-duper Christmas Party ever recorded in the whole history of the universe!”
The scary thing was, Vought could actually see her pulling that off. He pushed open the door of the kitchen and the two of them stepped inside. “One thing, though, Pinkie. Why a Christmas Party?”
“I’ve never planned one before. I mean, back in Equestria we have a lot of holidays, like Hearth’s Warming Eve which has sort of a Christmasy feel, but really they’re only similar because they’re both traditionally winter holidays. Now, if you wanted to get into the gift-giving aspect or the celebration of some religious figure or an arbitrary fat guy in a red suit—”
Vought held up a hand. “That doesn’t really answer my question, but thank you.”
“Okay!” Pinkie bounced away to make herself busy. Vought went to begin preparations for breakfast. The President was not usually very specific in the morning, so the menu was loosely defined. After making sure the eggs, bacon, toast, and beverages would be ready on time, he went to check his messages. There was a list—a scroll, really—waiting on his desk that named all the things Pinkie would need. Unless she’d planned ahead, it was impossible that such a missive could have been produced so quickly. He shook his head. Impossible for some, but not for Pinkie.
Upstairs, the Presidential Bedroom was dark and quiet, although not for much longer. Just as the alarm clock sounded its first note, the bedroom door burst open. “Hi, Mr. President! Hi, Mrs. President!”
Pinkie set down the breakfast trays with a flourish. The fresh-made muffins she’d just pulled out of the oven were front and center.
The two awakened people in the bed sat up. The President had met Pinkie at one of the first cross-dimensional diplomacy talks. While the First Lady did not particularly trust his choices when it came to hiring, she had to admit the pony’s baked goods were very good indeed.
“Good morning, Pinkie. What’s the occasion?” asked the President. Pinkie did not deliver breakfast in bed every day.
“I'm going to throw the best Christmas party ever and I wanted to talk to you about my super awesome amazing ahead-of-time plans for a totally stupendous record-breaking bash! I have to get started now."
The President and First Lady glanced at each other. “Pinkie, it’s January.”
“Right! It's going to be the best one ever!”
Author's Note
This was all Jlargent's idea.
Which President? In my head, the story is set in 1995. You do the math.
Now a dramatic reading
