*CLICK!*

“God Dammit! ” Mal yelled in frustration. He started to peel off extra shells from the sidesaddle attached to the Mossberg and quickly proceeded task of shoving shells into the magazine tube. It wasn't until he just loaded in the last shell when a blur of pink sent the shotgun flying out of the bounty hunter's hands.

“YOU BIG FACE MEANIE!” Pinkie Pie yell into the bounty hunter's face as the gun clatter onto the street. “You were going to shoot that pony after he gave up?!”

“Horse...” Mal started to growled but the notorious party pony continue on unperturbed.

“Do you know what kind of person that makes you?! That makes YOU THE BIGGEST MEANIE PANTS in EQUESTIRA! I MEAN THE BIGGEST! IN FACT, YOUR PANTS ARE SOOO BIG, I DON'T EVEN THINK A DRAGON COULD FILL THEM! AND I SHOULD KNOW, CAUSE I'VE MET ALOT OF DRAGONS. AND-”

Mal wasn't listening to the mare's nonsensical ramblings. Instead he brushed past the yammering pink pony to retrieve his fallen weapon. A pair of hooves appear on top of the firearm, affectedly pining it to the ground.

“HAY! ARE YOU EVEN LISTENING TO ME?!” Pinkie gleefully shout as she invaded his private space and his ear drums.

“Git off mah gun, hoss!”

“Not until you say the magic word.” The mare said in a sing song voice.

Mal's eye twitched.“Git. Stuffed.” He growled.

“Jeeze, Mal!” Pinkie giggled, “Would it hurt you to be polite for once in your life?”

“Not as bad it's gonna hurt sum dumb horse who doesn't git her stupid hooves off mah shootin' iron!”

“That’s not very nice thing to say to somepony who's standing on top of your whatchamacallit! Plus, is it too hard to ask for you to be nicer to ponies?”

“Goddamit horse! Where do ya git off on tellin' me how to do mah job?! Ah don't come' into ya kitchen an' knock the spatula outta ya mouth now do Ah!?”

“Mal, your so random! Oh! I almost forgot to ask you; Can I throw you a welcome to Ponyville party?”

“Why the fuck would ya wanna? Why are ya botherin' to throwing uh party for sum one who hates ya guts an' has even stated numerous times to ya stupid horse face! Besides, who ya gonna invite? Ah don't have any horse friends an' Ah'm plum fine with keepin' it that way."

“Because your going to be everypony's friend after my super duper, phenomenally spectacular, totally bitchin' first ever official welcome to Ponyville Mal Coltran Party!”

“Ya actually believe that dont ya?”

“Yeppers!”

“So Ah take it that ya'll git ya stupid horse hooves off my shootin' iron if Ah say yes to ya dumb party?”

The pink pony nods her head excitedly.

“Ain't nun' doin', hoss.” And with a violent shoved, Mal sent Pinkie Pie sprawling aside. He scooped up the shotgun and, again, the Mossberg was knocked out of his hands

“Mother Fuc-” He started to cuss as he went after the firearm for the second time today. Only to find it balancing on the tip of pink party mare's nose.

“Stop that will ya! It ain't uh play toy! Ya gonna shoot ya eye out!”

“In your eye with a cream pie!" She tittered back.

Mal took a step towards the pony and swipe at the shotgun, only to succeed in catching empty air as Pinkie took a step back.

“Give me back mah gun, hoss or ya gonna git whats comin' to ya.”

“Oh, Mal! With that attitude, you're gonna miss everything cool and die angry.” She snorts with laughter as she flipped the dangerous weapon harmlessly into air. The eight pound, fully loaded riot gun came down onto the mare's pink poofy hair. Mal watch as the gun sunk into the pony's impossible mane like quicksand until it completely disappear.

But Mal was not disturbed in anyway by what he had just witnessed. Extremely annoyed, yes. Ready for the insane asylum, no. Or at least not yet. He had observed quiet a few of his fair share of the unexplainable Pinkie Pie phenomenons since he his forced arrive here in Equestria. An while he maybe stuck for good in a world run by magical, nonsense talkin' ponies, but he still had a few surprises in store for them. And then some.

“At least Ah die in the comfort of knowin' that Ah never ever once needed to befriend an annoying talkin' horse.”

“Awww...thats sad.” Her eyes started to well up with tears. “Have you even tried to make any friends with anypony here?”

“Ah ain't got time for horses-”

“I could help you with that!” She shout gleefully while she bounced up and down around the bounty hunter. “I know lots of ponies! Maybe one of them will want-”

“Thanks but no thanks, Pinks. Ah got all the friends Ah'll ever need.”

The pink pony stop mid bounce as she voiced her skepticism. “Really?”

“Yup. Honest injun'.”

“Who are they then? Would I know them? Tell me, tell me, tell me!”

“Well, Ah doubt ya would know of them but their uh household name on back where Ah'm from.”

Mal reached an arm around at the small of his back and pulls out of the battered leather holster a weathered .44 caliber revolver. He pointed it up at the roof. His grin got even wider when he heard the loud gasp Brad let out at seeing the hand cannon.

Mal pulled the hammer back with his thumb.

*CLICK!*

“Pinks, allow me to introduce mah two best friends: Mr. Smith & Mr. Wesson!” And with a squinted of his eye, Mal aimed and squeezed off a shot.

CRACK!

The bullet zinged by Brad as he duck behind the partially demolished chimney stack.

“Oh wow, that's super-duper LOUD!” Pinkie Pie shouted in excitement. “That's even louder then my party cannon. Your friends are like the superiest, noisiest, party makers EVAR!”

Mal chuckle to himself. “Yup! Their the noisiest alright. An' they are certainty good at gittin' sum one's attention.”

“Aw...Not cool, man! Not cool!” Brad yelled from behind his masonry cover.

“Daaaw! Did Ah scare the poor lil' baby?”

“You could've kill me!”

“Son, if Ah wanted to kill ya then Ah wouldn't have missed.” Pinkie Pie started to frown at this but Mal wasn't paying any attention to the pink ADD pony as he continued on. “So unless ya hidin' uh engine block inside that chimney, Ah suggest that ya start gittin off the goddamn roof before Ah start inflicting sum flesh wounds on ya neon colored ass.”

“Mal?” The pony asked with concern.

“What?!” Mal said, not bothering to take notice of the bright blue eyes that were drilling holes into him. “Can't ya see Ah'm busy here?!”

Pink Pie plucked the revolver out of Mal's out stretched hand as if it were was covered in pig grease.

Exasperated, Mal turn to see the pink mare sitting on her haunches, wearing an outfit straight out of a spaghetti western. Right down to the wool poncho and cowboy hat. He could ever see that she was smoking a cigarillo.

But what had Mal really worry was the fact that the barrel of the revolver was pointed at him.

'Gotta go 'bout this nice an' easy. Don't wanna spook her an' havin' her dropin it. Knowin' mah luck, it'll go off an' blast off one of mah toes.'

“Uh. That ain't no play toy, Pinky.” Mal said as calmly as he could.

The pink cowpony silently furrow her eyes up at the five foot eight tall human as she chewed on her cigar tip. And despite there being no wind, a tumbleweed rolled between the two of them.

'Okay. This - This is weirdin' me right the fuck out.'

Mal figured himself to be jaded when it came to the pink mare's antics. However, this - This was something entirely new. And then she did something that blew his mind away.

Pinkie spat out her soggy cigar tip as she clicked back the heavy Smith & Wesson hammer.

'What?! How – How is that EVEN GODDAMN POSSIBLE! SHE DOESN'T HAVE FINGERS!'Mal screamed inside his nearly shatter psyche. Ol' Mal nearly lost there and then but his ever growing temper step in to recover the situation.

“Now look here, Hoss-” He started with his gruff Ah-ain't-takin'-nun-of-yer-wacky-bullshit. But the pink cowpony cut him off.

“Don't call me hoss, horse, jaded or nag.” The party pony said in voice dipping with snake venom, soaked in aged whiskey and then shredded by a lifetime supple of cigarettes with asbestos tipped filters.

'Well shit on a shingle! Is that you Mr. Eastwood, Sir?! If Ah wasn't 'bout to piss mah self, Ah would be thoroughly impressed. Okay. Gotta get grip here. Gotta swing this crazy train back around before anything else happens.'

“Okay that's pretty good, but seriously, Pinks...” Mal said as he broke into a cold sweat. “...Ya could hurt someone with-”

“It's a hell of a thing killin' a man...” She said as she slowly clicked back the revolver's hammer further. “...You take away all he's got and all he's ever gonna have.”

“Ah didn't know ya were such uh big fan of Clint-” Mal said as he slowly step his way forward and reached a hand out towards to the revolver.

CRACK!

Mal nearly swallowed his tooth pick at the sudden explosive noise. He swung up his hands in front him, as if he could somehow ward off the oncoming bullet. But the useless gesture was too late. He screw his eyes tight as he felt the round impact into his face.

'Oh fuck! This is it! Ah'm dead! Ah've been dun in by uh talkin' horse!'

Mal's hands gripped his chest and neck as he was finding it difficult to breath.

'Oh God! Ah can feel mah brains drip down mah face - like lil' bits of confetti paper! Oh lord, Jesus - Wait uh minute – CONFETTI PAPER?!'

Mal opened his eyes to see that his entire body was cover in colorful bits of confetti, glitter and paper streamers. The Pink mare was holding his revolver with a comically huge novelty BANG! flag hanging out of the end of the smoking barrel.

Seething with rage, Mal ripping out the joke flag and snatched the gun out of her pink hoof. He holster the weapon while grabbing the mare's poncho in bunches.

“YA FUCKIN' CRAZY HORSE! YA COULD'VE SHOT SOMEONE!” Mal shouted into Pinkie's face as he angrily shook the party pony, causing her cowboy hat to tumble off her head.

A wide assortment of items tumbled out of her big fluffy mane. Cupcakes, party hats, an anvil, a pogo stick, party invitations, a bag of flour, a rubber duck, a pick ax, a small alligator and finally his Mossberg fell to the ground. Pinkie then ducked out of the poncho in attempt to escape the enraged bounty hunter. But Mal managed to wrapped a fistful of the mares poofy pink hair and heaved her up off the ground.

“Oh no ya don't! Ya do NOT git off that easily, hoss! NOT after uh stunt like that! Do know the amount of SHIT Ah could uh gotten if that gun hit another hor-WHOOF!” Mal's toothpick flew out his mouth as his breath was stolen by the sudden gut punch.

Mal painfully fell to his knees, wheezing, as his lungs tried to suck back in air.

Two hooves latched onto the sides of his head, forcing him to look directly into the harden pink visage. Mal wasn't even entirely certain that this was the same pony. Her coat was a darker shade of pink and her mane was now long and straight as it hung down about her face.

'Ah jes' pissed off uh three foot tall pink horse. No. That's wrong. Ah'm 'bout to git mah shit ruined by uh fuckin' pink horse who's either possessed or bat-shit insane. Yup. Sounds 'bout right. Terrific. Fuck Mah Life.'

Even as the mare spoke, it was in another tone that he never thought he would ever hear coming from the notorious party pony: Serious. As in this-is-Pinkie-Diane-Pie-the-pony-who-loves-parties-and-cake-and-I-am-being-dead-fucking-serious.

“Ever come across somepony that you shouldn't have messed with? That's me. And this is my hometown, Mal. It's where I live.”

The pony hits him again in the stomach causing him kneel over onto the ground, retching and coughing.

“And this is me. I will not tolerate violence in my hometown against anypony.”

As Mal grimaced in pain he croaked out, “Pinks, Ah'm trying to do mah job...”

“But there's always room for improve, isn't there, Mal. So the next time somepony cries uncle, you play fair and give 'em a chance. No taksies backsies. Got it?!”

“Yeah, Ah got it.”

“You got nonething, Mal. Not until you Pink Promise.”

“What the fuck is this magical heap of horseshit?! Ah ain't got time for one of yer games!”

“Pinkie Promise!”

“Shove it up yer lil' pink ass, ya psycho!”

The two pink hooves started to grind painfully into the sides of his head.

“SWEAR TO ME!” The stony faced mare shouted, her spittle landing on the bounty hunter's face.

“OKAY! Fine! Ah swear!”

“Cross your heart?”

“Cross mah heart.”

“Hope to fly?”

“Um, sure. Whatever.”

The mare narrow her ice cold blue eyes.

“Hope to fly.” Mal said.

“Stick a cupcake in your eye?” The mare covered her right eye with a hoof.
Mal repeated the dumb gesture, covering his eye with palm of his hand.

“Stick a cupcake in mah eye – Look, are we dun' here?”

But the street was empty. The pink pony was no wheres to be seen.

'The fuck...'

Mal snapped up the riot gun and rolled away into a kneeling position. Whipping his shotgun up, he scan around the empty street for the pink hellion.

He peered under his work truck.

Nothing.

He crouch walk over to the vehicle before rising up and scanning the truck cab's interior.

Empty.

“Remember, Mal...”

Mal spun towards the familiar voice, only to see a pink, blue eyed pony staring back him.

From inside his truck side mirror.

“...I'll be watching you. For-EVEEEER!”

The shotgun leaped in Mal's hands as it went off. The beanbag load crashed into the mirror, shattering it.

For a moment, Mal stood there as smoke steamed out the Mossberg's barrel. He could feel his heart pound away inside his chest. With a slightly trembling hand he reached into his vest pocket, pulled out a fresh toothpick and placed it into between his yellowed, nicotine stained teeth.

“Fuck u, ya fuckin' horse.” He said to the broken truck mirror.

KA-KUNK!

“This ain't over.”

Suddenly, the truck body shook. Mal turned to see four hoof shaped indentations appeared from inside the cab's ceiling.

“MOTHER FUCKER!” Mal angry shouted as he back peddle from the side of the truck in time to see a neon green blur leap off the truck's roof.

He drew a bead on the pony's barrel and squeezed the trigger.

*CLICK!*

'Misfire! Shit!'

Mal tried to pumped the shotgun, only to find that he couldn't. And that's when he noticed the thick red wad of a spent shell wedged in the Mossberg's ejection port.

Mal cussed up a storm as he was force to wrestle the thick paper round out. Somewhere behind him, he heard a faint, yet familiar, giggling.

And by the time he torn the paper shell out, his bounty had ahead start in the one direction he could not risk taking the large truck on without hitting somepony.

'Ah hate this place. Ah really do. Why anyone in their right mind would wanna come here, Ah have not uh friggin' clue.'

Author's Note

I now have a new found respect for any writer that can write Pinkie Pie without going off the rails.

Because, Holy Crap.

The temptation misuse her is so bad that writing her character is like trying to feed a small camp fire.
At some point you just end up knocking a whole 55 gasoline gallon drum over, sittin' on back and watchin' the ensuing fireball/explosion.

'Cause some mares wanna watch the world burn - and then have a party afterwards.

So thanks to Pinkie Pie, I've rewritten this chapter a dozen times.

Thanks alot, for none thin' you fuckin' party animal.

Coming up next: Hoofin' it