Pinkie Floyd: The Wall

Pinkie was done feeling sad. In fact, she was filled with rage. She had smashed another one of her televisions, and there it lay with dented sides. Even more glass was littered on the floor, and it was quite a mess. She liked it.

Pinkie reflected once more on her life. Little moments flooded her mind like a collage.

That first kiss before she'd lost her virginity. She had been sitting upright, so close to Braeburn, then they leaned in towards one another, necks practically craning. It was the softest kiss she'd ever felt.

Pinkie screaming from the window, her hoof beginning to bleed.

A fantasy of her father's war camp bursting into flames. Soldiers running for their lives, ponies screaming, tears streaming down faces.

Her foalhood fantasy of burning down the school came next, vididly. Smashing windows, cracking on things with a club. Had she always been so violent?

She thought about when Thunderlane had tenderly licked and kissed her hand. She smirked, thinking that she should have just rolled down her pants and enjoyed some time with the desperate little freak. Instead she'd jumped from her chair, shouting, scaring him. That was almost as thrilling as the aforementioned thought.

Mr. McAvoy, her schoolteacher, waving around his ruler.

Rioting against the school.

Braeburn waving his hoof in front of her face, trying to get Pinkie's attention. His sad, somehow annoyed little face when he succeeded. The smug bastard.

When she reached for him, lying in bed, and him turning away. Had he been sleeping, or was he unfaithful back then too? When did the love die?

Pinkie Floyd, a foal, swinging alone on a playground.

Then worms. Worms eating away at her flesh, Pinkie could practically see them! She stared at her hoof, and yes! There were worms devouring her skin. She screamed internally, but not a sound escaped her mouth. Their tiny, slimy bodies quivered as they munched away at her, but no blood ran from her hoof.

And Braeburn, somewhere not too far away, was ravaging Fluttershy. Pinkie was his wife, but you didn't see her getting fucked. Her loyalty was all that had stood in her way, and now it was gone. She was going to live a life of debauchery! She was going to get ruined!

She was going to riot.

And suddenly, as she stood there with flashbacks slamming into her, a large gray brick wall appeared. It was tall, wide, and seemingly endless. Most of all, it was complete.

All and all they were all just bricks in the wall. All of her memories were. Braeburn was a brick, her mother was a brick, her schooling was a brick, her friends were a brick...and now she stood there in front of the wall and stared at it. She officially had no way of getting back to reality, because she was blocked from it by a huge wall of detachment and suffering. Fine then, Pinkie thought, knowing that she couldn't leave it's cold grip. She sat down, triumphant in her hatred, and lit a cigarette.