Pinkie Floyd: The Wall

On Pinkie Floyd's bed-side table lay a phone, cream in color with a loud ring. Next to the phone was a picture of Braeburn and herself, smiling for the camera proudly. The hotel room she was in was messy, to say the least, but that couldn't be helped. Pinkie was sick, on tour, and in bed, and it was the perfect time to do some much needed thinking.

Her childhood was over now. It had passed by so quickly that Pinkie could hardly believe it had been there at all. She was still friends with Applejack and Rarity, but she had become closest to Braeburn. They had a special relationship now, one that was truly remarkable. Or, at least, it had been.

Pinkie sneezed and blew her nose. She then rolled onto her back, feeling very ill, and stared at the ceiling so she could contemplate further. She hugged her pillow tightly.

Pinkie thought about those first kisses she'd had with him. How gentle they were. She thought about it for only a few seconds before resting back on memories.

Little Pinkie Floyd was sitting outside the principals office. She buried her head in her hooves, ashamed and frightened. She had just mouthed off to Mr. McAvoy, and after a slap she had been sent here. Either the principal was going to be reasonable and talk to her in a decent way... or Pinkie Pie was in for the worst beating of her life.

A student exited the office in tears, trotting away in a dutiful manner. Pinkie Pie was quickly ushered in by the principal, and he did not look happy.

Young Pinkie Floyd was listening to the radio and writing poetry. Her desk was right next to a window that looked over into her neighbor's house. Next door lived a teenage stallion, a very handsome one. Pinkie looked over to see him take off his school uniform, which included a pair of pants. Around town Pinkie saw packages, but not around school. And she had never seen one belonging to a teenage stallion.

She cocked her head curiously, shutting off the light so that he wouldn't see her. Out of the very bottom drawer of her desk Pinkie pulled a pair of binoculars. She spied, carefully, and grinned as the boy's pants were almost off. She blushed, feeling funny in some way. Suddenly she heard her mother's footsteps on the stairwell, so she turned her light back on and began to write poetry again.

Pinkie had a terrible fever. She was stuck in bed, coughing and sputtering. She had been sneezing the entire day, and every joint in her body ached. She was sweating profusely, and she felt completely dazed. A raging headache rang in her head and she couldn't help but feel nauseated.

Suddenly Pinkie's mother and a doctor entered the room. The doctor quickly felt Pinkie's forehead, without a word, and began pulling items out of his personal briefcase.

"I got you a doctor," Sue said to her daughter, concerned. Pinkie had been out of bed for days, and she was beginning to feel bloated or swollen. The doctor took out his stethoscope and carefully listened to Pinkie's heart and lungs. He suddenly stopped, alarmed, and called Pinkie's mother into the hallway.

"Goodnight, sweet Pinkie," her mother said gently, shutting the light off.

Pinkie overheard their conversation. She was dying. As Pinkie leaned towards the door to call out to her mother, Sue reappeared and shut the door. Pinkie looked to the ceiling of her room for comfort, but all she saw were terrifying shadows from the trees in her neighborhood.

Pinkie couldn't sleep for a long time. Finally, when it was almost the morning hours, she snuck out of her room, down the stairs, down the hallway, and into the room of her mother. Sue Floyd was sleeping gently, and Pinkie climbed into bed with her. Little Pinkie Floyd curled up in bed next to her mother. It was warm and cozy and safe. Her mother always held her close and made her feel wonderful.

Pinkie sat alone as classical music gently played over the speakers. She was at a school gymnasium with Sue Floyd, and there was a community dance going on. Almost everypony was on their feet gently waltzing, but Pinkie was sitting alone on the sidelines. She didn't have anypony to dance with.

Sitting across the room Pinkie spied Braeburn sitting alone and adjusting his hat as if it was an olympic sport. Pinkie smiled, slowly rising from her seat, and waltzed over to Braeburn quickly.

"Hey Braeburn! Wanna dance with me?" she asked, getting straight to the point. Braeburn blushed, and he looked like a deer caught in headlights.

"Yeah! Sure!"

Braeburn stood and raised is forelegs around Pinkie. The two swayed side to side gently, enjoying the music and eachother's company immensely.

"Mum...I really love Braeburn, but..." Pinkie sighed, feeling ashamed. Thank goodness her mum always lent a listening ear. "Mother, do you think he's good enough...for me?" Pinkie asked, genuinely curious, "And mother, do you think he's dangerous to me? Will he tear me apart?"

Pinkie burst into tears, feeling so uncertain about the prospect of having a coltfriend. Sue immediately hugged her daughter tightly, rocking her back and forth gently.

"Hush now, baby, baby...don't you cry. Mama's gonna check out all your coltfriends for you. I won't let anyone dirty get through. I will always wait up until you get in, and I will always find out where you've been. Miss Pinkie, I'm going to keep you healthy and clean. And remember, Pinkie, you are always baby to me."

Loud applause boomed as Pinkie Floyd and Braeburn Apple were married. Pinkie was now officially a part of the apple family, and she felt beautiful. It had been a small, very cheap wedding, but she and Braeburn were married.

Sue Floyd had been sad about Pinkie's name changing, devastatingly so. There were few, possibly none, to carry on the Floyd lineage after Sue passed away. Understanding the situation, Braeburn made a brash decision.

"Ah wanna be a Floyd, Pinkie. Ah wanna join your family."

Now they were happily married, and as photographs were taken Pinkie knew what was going to happen next: the honeymoon. She was particularly nervous, but it didn't matter. She loved Braeburn Floyd.

Roses petals drained down the bathtub and Pinkie and Braeburn kissed one last time. They had never felt such joy.

Pinkie was watching television in bed. The program was enthralling, and she was severely zoned out. She clutched the blankets and wrapped them around herself comfortably. She finished a drink and put it down, not taking her eyes off the program.

Pinkie was watching soccer. Even though she didn't know much about the sport, she found it fascinating to watch. She was confused by the rules, but it certainly did take her mind off of feelings of stress.

Braeburn entered the bedroom without saying hello. It was apparent that he had just arrived home, and he was still wearing his outdoor clothes. As soon as he saw Pinkie he smiled and took off his scarf and jacket. He sauntered over to the bed-side and began removing all of his clothing. He was clearly in a very sexual mood. Lastly, he took off his favorite hat, something he never took off. Braeburn meant business, and he was clearly trying to cheer Pinkie Pie up.

Braeburn posed in front of the television, laying across the bed in a seductive manner. His silhouette blocked almost the entire television, and Pinkie moved her head so that she could continue watching the show. Braeburn scooted closer, trying to look into her eyes. Pinkie moved her whole torso to see. Finally, Braeburn blocked the television completely, looking her in the eyes. Pinkie's blue eyes looked into his and she felt miserable. She didn't feel sexy at all, she didn't want anything to do with Braeburn.

Braeburn and Pinkie were both naked. It was a quiet, peaceful night. However, something didn't sit right with Pinkie. Hoping to talk things over with her husband, Pinkie reached her hoof out slowly to touch his shoulder. Braeburn was fast asleep and simply turned away from Pinkie when touched.

Pinkie sat on the edge of the bed, tears beginning to sting her eyes. She felt like something was wrong, but she just didn't know what it was. She loved Braeburn, didn't she?

...Didn't she?

Pinkie knocked her glass of red wine over accidentally, but didn't bother to pick it up. The piano room was a mess anyways, there was no need to go out of her way to do anything. Cigarette butts were scattered all around, not to mention that ashes were carelessly dumped on the floor and the top of the piano. Firing up her lighter, Pinkie took another drag of pot and then continued playing piano.

She had to write something, she just had to.

Braeburn entered the apartment, and when he heard the piano he walked into the room. Pinkie was sucked into her music and didn't stop to greet him. Braeburn leaned overtop of the piano, smiling at his dedicated wife. The room smelled terrible, and Braeburn was angry, but he also couldn't help but laugh at how frustrating the situation was.

"Hello?" Braeburn asked, "Hello? Hello? Is there anypony in there?" Braeburn waved his hoof in front of Pinkie's face gently, hoping to catch her attention.

Pinkie looked up slowly. Her eyes were bloodshot, her mane was frizzy and bedraggled, and her mouth hung open like some ape. Braeburn grimaced and looked her straight in the eye.

"Remember me? Ah'm the one from the registry office." Braeburn said indignantly. Pinkie just stared blankly at him. Braeburn sighed, knowing that communication was a lost cause. Pinkie turned back to her piano and began to play again. Braeburn exited the room and straight out the front door again.

Pinkie walked through an airport with her manager, a man who talked for endless amounts of time. She was going on tour. It turned out that her childhood poetry had turned into the lyrics of beautiful songs. Those songs had turned into anthems and were incredibly popular. Pinkie Floyd was officially famous.

Braeburn smoked his cigarette and sobbed, looking out the window in their quaint Ponyville apartment. He wanted love back in his life, he missed sex and he missed having someone to talk to. As cigarette burned shorter and shorter, he cried louder and louder.

"Thank you for helping out with the animals, Braeburn," Fluttershy said, smiling at her friend. Braeburn smiled back. Fluttershy was so cute, so sweet, and so delicate. Unlike Pinkie who was spontaneous and crazy, Fluttershy was logical and grounded. She was never cruel and always giving.

"Well, Ah love animals," Braeburn said, smiling as he gently petted angel bunny.

"Animals are my life, you know," Fluttershy said, shyly. She was beginning to trust Braeburn more and more, and she was beginning to speak to him too. She loved how kind and caring he was, and he had never done her wrong. Braeburn had been visiting her cottage for weeks now, he had remembered her from when they were just young foals. Fluttershy was so excited to have a true friend in Braeburn, and Braeburn was excited to feel loved again.

Pinkie was in tears. She needed Braeburn, she loved him, she badly wanted his company. Still, he wouldn't pick up the phone. Pinkie understood why he was so angry, but she didn't feel that it deserved such a big fuss surrounding it. Pinkie had been distant, yes, but that was no excuse for not answering the phone. Where was Braeburn? Why didn't answer?

Pinkie crawled into a little ball on her bed, and layed there with tears in her eyes. She sobbed for Braeburn, she so badly wanted him back. The only way she could contact her beloved husband on tour was over the phone. She prayed that he hadn't found another mare.

"I love you, Braeburn!" Fluttershy squeaked, cuddling closer into the stallion's arms.

"Ah love ya too, Fluttershy," Braeburn responded, truly happy for the first time in a long time. He fell asleep with Fluttershy in his arms, and for once love felt right.

She was in love, he was in love, and Fluttershy had just had her rose de-flowered.