Pinkie Floyd: The Wall

It was another beak and dreary Saturday, rain pouring outside. Pinkie Pie was now a school-aged filly, old enough to go out and play with friends for more than a few minutes. Of course, Pinkie was never gone more than an hour. Her mother always fussed about punctuality.

"Pinkie Floyd!" she would scold, no matter the arrival time of the child, "You have simply got to learn to be punctual!"

Pinkie soaked up her mother's lectures like a sponge did water. The young child learned through fear of disappointing her mother to be punctual. Her mother was such a fragile mare, and Pinkie didn't dare upset her frail heart.

Pinkie Pie groaned from boredom as she stared out the window, torturing herself with the view of what she wanted. She rolled from the window seat onto the floor, and banged her head on it a few times. She felt absolutely miserable and restless, but her mother wouldn't hear a word of it. Pinkie Pie knew that much. Crawling across the soft carpet, Pinkie Pie scooted down the hall and into her mother's room. She stood and looked around, curious about what kind of baubles were surrounding her. She wasn't allowed into her mother's bedroom, so it was really a treat to go snooping. She turned her head from side to side, then noticed a large, beautiful wooden dresser.

She quickly trotted up to it and began rummaging through it's drawers. They were mostly filled with clothes, dresses folded and pressed ever-so-neatly. Pinkie Pie's mother took precise care of her laundry, washing it carefully before hanging it out to dry. Next she ironed it and folded it as tightly as possible. Her drawers were as organized as the entire house. Pinkie Pie knew that her mother didn't like a thing out of place, not even a singe hair on her head. Pinkie Pie tried very hard not to get muddy or eat messily around her mother.

Opening the final drawer, Pinkie Pie noticed that the items inside weren't as well managed as the others. She picked up the first thing she saw, and turned it all around. It was a blue army man's cap, and she excitedly placed it on her head. Daddy had worn it the day he died, and even though it was a little tattered, it looked beautiful on top of Pinkie's wild curls. Next, she noticed a roll of paper. Excited to see what it said about her father, the Hero, she lifted it up and read it carefully. It was signed by Princess Celestia.

The scroll was printed on nice parchment and had golden fringes. Princess Celestia's royal stamp, red and shiny, marked the end of the letter, which read,

"Dear Floyd Family,

We regret to inform you that Clyde Floyd was killed in battle at 2:15 AM on the Morning of January 5th while an enemy force bombed his base. We will mail you information as it becomes available.

Sincerely,

Princess Celestia

Equestrian Royal Military"

Pinkie, overcome with a sudden sadness and feeling of solemnity, put the scroll back where it belonged quietly. Next, she picked up a box of old bullets and at first could not recognize the small, round objects. She quickly put one in her pocket for later inspection, and put the rest back down. She next found a coat and placed it over her tiny frame. Her Daddy sure was big and tall! It was a bit tattered as well, and smelt of burnt rubber and ash. Despite the smell, Pinkie felt a swell of pride for her Daddy. Through brave tears she went and stood in front of her mother's vanity mirror like a soldier.

Adjusting her hat and looking herself straight in the eye, she wondered if she looked anything like her father at that moment. Even though the huge uniform was nearly falling off her and her hat kept falling into her eyes, she hoped that she made her father proud, wherever he may be. In that moment she thought herself to look, and feel, very grown up.

"Daddy," she said, saluting to the mirror and trying not to cry, "you are a hero."