Pinkie Pie woke up. It wasn’t the way she usually woke up, when she sprang out of bed, shook the tangles out of her poofy mane, and bounced downstairs to the shop at Sugar Cube Corners, ready to bake something delicious. It was an unusual way, when she opened her eyes in the dead of night and couldn’t get back to sleep. She felt small and scared and alone.
Pinkie heard Granny Pie’s voice.Remember, Pinkie. Remember what you do when you're scared. “Hee hee.” The attempt to laugh sounded fake, weak, and forced. “Ha ha.” That sounded even worse. No matter how hard she tried, Pinkie couldn’t laugh for real.
Why should I listen to you? Pinkie thought. You’re not even real.
_____
It was true. Granny Pie had been the first friend Pinkie Pie made. She had made her when she was a filly, back when she was still Pinkamena Diane Pie. It had been a scary, lonely night like tonight. Her parents had tucked her into her bed in her room, which wasn’t a very nice room to sleep in. The sheets were gray, the pillow wasn’t puffy, the walls were gray and bare, and the windows had no curtains. Shadows from the rocks and dead trees outside would shine onto the wall, and Pinkamena would whimper and try to hide under her covers.
She saw a different shadow on the wall. This one looked sort of like a pony. Pinkamena imagined a pink pony with a white, poofy mane. She was old—even older than her parents. But she looked like Pinkamena, because she was pink. Pinkamena had always felt like her parents weren’t her real parents. This pony looked like she was actually related to Pinkamena. But she was old, so she must be her grandma. Granny Pie. That was her name. Granny Pie had a weird expression on her face. Pinkamena recognized it as an expression she often made during the day, only to be chastised by her parents. After a while, Pinkamena stopped making the expression. Actually seeing somepony else smile was strange.
“Don’t be scared, Pinkie!” Pinkie? It sounded like it was short for Pinkamena. But on the farm, nopony ever called anypony else by anything except their whole name. Ruth Ellen Pie. Rebecca Alice Pie (or Mother). Byron James Pie (or Father).
“I can’t help it, Granny Pie! The shadows on the wall are so scary!”
“Oh, Pinkie. I’m just a shadow, you know. Am I scary?”
“No. But you talk to me. The other shadows don’t.”
“Pinkie, the shadows can’t hurt you. If you’re scared of them, that means they win. Laugh, and everything will be better.”
“Hee hee.” It wasn’t working. Pinkamena didn’t know how to laugh. Not really. Funny things weren’t allowed on the farm.
“That was a good try! I’m sure that the first time I tried to laugh, it was just as shaky and quaky and whimper-tastic as that!”
“Really?”
“No. But did I make you feel better?”
Pinkamena giggled.
“See? You’ve got the hang of it!”
“Thanks, Granny Pie.” Pinkamena, no longer afraid, was able to fall asleep without a problem. Every night, Granny Pie would pay Pinkamena a visit. She would tell jokes, make funny faces, and tickle Pinkamena. Pinkamena would try to help Granny Pie in the same way she helped her. She showed her her new cutie mark and poofy hair that matched Granny Pie’s, made up jokes of her own, and gave names and voices to the particularly scary shadows on the wall. Soon, Pinkamena had no problem laughing. And she started calling herself Pinkie.
_____
Pinkie finished remembering. Granny Pie isn’t real. She’s imaginary. Lots of fillies have imaginary friends. I’m too old for that silly-filly stuff.
Pinkie, said Granny, in a more serious voice, you’re never too old to laugh. And you know you’re never too old for imaginary friends when your regular friends are unavailable.
And Granny Pie started showing Pinkie the tricks she used to teach Pinkamena how to laugh. After less than an hour, Pinkie Pie was back to giggling, chuckling, snickering, and plain old laughing. When she felt better, Pinkie was ready to finally go back to sleep.
Thanks, Granny Pie, thought Pinkie as she fell asleep.
