Chapters PINKIE FLOYD: THE WALL
...We Came In?
Pinkie Floyd sat alone with her television, quiet music playing throughout the hotel she was staying in. She knew that she had heard the song somewhere before, sometime a long time ago. Pink was sitting not-so-comfortably in an arm chair. The television in front of her eyes was a bit too bright and intense pain rocked her entire body. However, Pinkie Pie didn't care. No. Pinkie couldn't feel a thing, not really. She was watching an old war movie, a movie that made her father's death seem lighthearted and fun. How she ached for anything lighthearted and fun. Pinkie knew that she wouldn't be able to enjoy a thing now, though.
Pinkie Pie stared blankly at the television set, holding an ashy cigarette. She couldn't remember exactly when she'd begun to smoke it, and she wasn't sure she was going to finish it. Thoughts of the father she never knew, Clyde Pie, filled her mind. She had grown up poor and fatherless, thanks to the exact war they were making to look like a fun little game on the television set.
Clyde Pie was just a regular old man with a loving wife and a child on the way when he was pulled off to war. Bleak and cold mornings had filled his last year of life. Pinkie could only imagine those black dawns filled with anticipation and fear. Her father was among those men, those poor, miserable men. A few hundred ordinary lives, to be exact. Her own father, lighting his cigarette as sounds of gunfire and bombs crashed around him; loading his gun in preparation of death.
The pink mare sat in awe of the television, gripping his cigarette just as tightly as the chair she was sitting in. She needed every ounce of comfort possible. The vacuum once more sounded, loud and droning. Pinkie's eyes widened as the hotel's maid attempted to enter her room, which was padlocked. The sound of jangling chains immediately spiraled her into a violent flashback, and she gripped the seat tighter than ever.
Screaming guitars and a booming pipe organ welcomed Pinkie to the stage, thick bass and slamming drums accompanying her every hoofstep. She was birthing a concert, a powerful concert. Her straight pink mane blew slightly in the wind and the feeling of chaos was empowering on every single level. Audience members sat in awe below her hooves, and on that tall stage she could feel the warmth and glow of the alienating spotlight. Equestria's true nature was not love.
It was violence.
Lights flashed onstage and sound effects shattered the ears of audience members. Spectators sat in gaping surprise as they stared at the solemn, dark Pinkie Floyd. Pinkie looked at her audience members, hoping to preach to them the message of her ways. Her life was before her, bright and exposed. She leaned into the microphone, staring into the audience.
"So ya thought ya might like to go to the show?" she asked the audience members, who clearly did, "to feel the warm thrill of confusion, that space cadet glow.Tell me, is something eluding you, sunshine? Is this not what you expected to see? If you wanna find out what's behind these cold eyes you'll just have to claw your way through this disguise!"
Pinkie spoke to an eager audience who drank her words like a newborn baby drank it's mothers milk. Pinkie was going to teach them about reality, hardened and faceless.
After that particular show, at a Las Pegasus venue, a huge riot had broken out. Audience members had been beaten and searched for tickets. Thanks to a local police force's hatred of rock and roll, fans were badly injured. The frantic outbreak had left many fans absolutely dumb-founded. It was outbreaks like that, "protective measures" by forces, that made Pinkie hate Equestrian government. After all, they were just fans of music, mostly young people with no intention of violence.
People always died in cold blood, and were always born in warm blood. Pinkie was certain.
3. Another Brick In The Wall, Part 1
Pinkie Floyd grew up faster and faster, the years flying by. Fueled by both love and fear, the young mare became a cautious, but curious, little filly always on the look out for a new adventure.
But as little Pinkie grew up, she began to become more observant about her world. The things she discovered weren't always so nice, and it made her sad. Despite her generally cheerful, happy disposition, Pinkie was sometimes saddened by how hurt her little world could appear.
For example, her Daddy had flown across the ocean, leaving just a memory. At least, everyone else remembered him. Pinkie Pie didn't know a thing about her father and couldn't remember his face for the life of herself. Everyone said that he was a solemn, serious stallion with a heart of gold.
Sue Floyd told Pinkie that her father's name was Clyde, and that the family had hoped to have a big family on a little rock farm to call their own. Sadly, Clyde was taken away by the war and Sue couldn't have any more children. Pinkie noticed that her Mommy prayed a lot and wore black. Pinkie didn't much like gray or bleak colors, but her Mommy always seemed to wear them for some reason. Pinkie didn't really understand her mother, but she loved Mommy all the same.
Pinkie often wondered why her Daddy couldn't come home from the war. Didn't he want to meet his daughter? Pinkie Pie couldn't wait to meet him, at first, but eventually realized that he was probably gone forever. Despite how sad that made her feel, little Pinkie Floyd kept a smile on her tiny little face. She just wanted to make other foals happy.
Pinkie Pie didn't like feeling pain or thinking about emotional problems. Whenever her Daddy was brought into conversation she tried to avoid it, shoving the memory of her father far away. He hadn't left anything behind for little Pinkie. Even if her Daddy was alive, he was in a distant country and either missing or in pain.
He was just another brick in her wall.
Pinkie Pie didn't notice her little self already slipping into a sad state of separation from reality, but nobody else noticed either. Her coping mechanisms were just doing what they were supposed to do.
Looking at pictures of her Daddy, she could imagine him being a good soldier. And a good farmer. She liked to imagine that her Daddy would come home someday, just to give her a hug. In photographs she could see his hazel eyes, tawny coat, and gray mane. She couldn't feel his warmth, though.
"Mommy? Daddy doesn't look like me," Pinkie once said to her Mommy as they were walking to the playground.
"You have his personality and my blue eyes," Sue replied warmly, smiling weakly and giving her daughter a kiss on the cheek. As much as Sue's approval warmed Pinkie's heart, she just wasn't sure what to think.
"But Mummy, why is my coat pink? Why is my mane pink and curly?" Pinkie asked in frustration. Sue just smiled back in a caring manner.
"Pinkamena Floyd, you are a very special filly. I think that's just the way you're supposed to be. Now don't walk too close to the road, dear, you could trip and hurt yourself."
Pinkie sighed and walked a little closer to her Mommy. There wasn't much more she could ask, but they had reached the playground anyways.
"Now, I'm going to the shops, little Pinkie. I want you to go play with the other fillies and colts. Be careful about the slide, don't hurt your hooves when you land on the ground. Oh, and don't fall off the playset. And Pinkie, be careful with strangers. Strangers are bad people."
Pinkie nodded and toddled off to try and make some new friends. She hadn't even been aware that there were many other fillies her age living in the city. Pinkie looked around, feeling curious but also afraid. Her mother's warnings had been very frightening. She had just left Pinkie in a park of strangers. Strangers were bad people, but how else was she to play? The other fillies and colts, she suddenly noticed, had daddies with them. Where was her Daddy?
Pinkie noticed a spinning merry-go-round immediately and she bounded towards it, eager to spin around like the other giggling foals on-board. However, it was high off the ground and she wasn't sure how to hop on to it. Immediately, she heard a stallion speak and she jumped away timidly. A stranger.
She turned to look at the stallion, and he had a kind looking face with an empathetic smile. He also had a foal of his own standing next to him, so he couldn't be too dangerous. He was helping his own daughter aboard the merry-go-round, and Pinkie hoped he could help as well. She poked him gently, and he turned to look at her in surprise.
"Excuse me, could you help me on to the merry-go-round?" Pinkie asked, minding her manners just as Mommy would have hoped. The stallion looked confused.
"Where's your Mommy?"
"Gone to the shops," Pinkie explained, embarrassed.
"And your Daddy?" the stallion asked.
Pinkie was immediately saddened and looked to the ground in shame. The stallion kindly lifted her off the ground almost immediately and placed her on the merry-go-round. It was great fun! Pinkie's face was filled with joy and she laughed endlessly. Hopping off the merry-go-round in a dizzy frenzy, Pinkie toddled over to the curb and shook her head to try and erase the dizziness. She immediately noticed the stallion and his daughter walking towards the swings with an eager spring in their step. Pinkie immediately ran towards them and leaned on the safe stallion happily. He shook her off immediately, much to the little filly's suprise.
"No, you've got to go away," he said, walking a little faster.
Pinkie immediately caught up and leaned on him once more in desperation. He shook her off, frustrated.
"Go away, I'm not telling you again!"
Pinkie stood by herself, feeling alone in the world. She watched as the stallion pushed his daughter on the swing happily. Pinkie wanted to swing too, but had no one to push her. She quietly went and sat on her own swing, far away from the stallion, and awkwardly tried to swing herself. She watched as other fillies were swung by daddies and nearly cried from wanting one too. She was so envious, and the dark emotion made bright Pinkie feel incredibly uncomfortable.
She couldn't get the swing going herself, so she sat defeated and motionless instead. What else could she really do?
4. When the Tigers Broke Free
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."
5. The Happiest Days of Our Lives
Soon enough Pinkie Floyd was school-aged, and was more than happy to toddle off to school and try to earn her cutie mark. That very first day she and her mother walked to school together, pride in Sue’s heart and thrill in Pinkie’s.
“Now you be a good girl, Pinkie,” Sue smiled, but her warning was harsh and there was no going around it. Pinkie shivered.
“Yes, Mommy.” The little pink filly shook her head, wild curls bouncing around and shining in the sunlight. Sue shook her head too, but seemed worried instead of excited.
“Really, now, you mustn’t misbehave.”
“I promise, Mommy,” Pinkie said, her blue eyes meeting her mother’s. Without another word, she bounded faster and faster ahead, catching first sight of the schoolhouse. Sue stood and watched her little daughter go, worrying about how her young child would be treated. Sue couldn’t protect her when she was off at school.
Pinkie entered the schoolhouse quickly, grinning happily. She looked around her quickly and noticed two other little fillies were already in the schoolhouse talking amongst themselves.
The first was a pale orange color and had a long blonde ponytail in her mane. Her freckled face adorned two emerald eyes and she was smiling widely. The filly standing next to her had a spotless white coat and a shiny, flowing purple mane. Her eyes were an intense deep navy color and she had the longest eyelashes Pinkie had ever seen. She quickly bounded over to the foals, excited to meet them.
“Hi there! Hi! I’m Pinkie Floyd!” she announced, smiling widely at the two fillies. They smiled back.
“Well howdy-do there, Miss Floyd, pleasure t’ make yer acquaint’nce! Ah’m Applejack Apple, an’ this is Rarity Belle,” said the little orange filly, tugging at her ponytail.
“Nice to meet you,” said the filly next to her, putting out a hoof to shake. Pinkie shook it quickly and looked around the classroom further. It had blank walls, white with green trim. The floor was sturdy wood and at the front of the classroom a blackboard with the name Mr. McAvoy written in contrasting white chalk. The classroom’s lighting was as gray as the morning outside, but a little brighter.
“Hey, let’s sit together!” Pinkie said, excitedly ushering her two new friends to their seats. More fillies and colts soon entered, finding their seats. One colt entered with a smile almost as big as Pinkie’s and he began searching around excitedly. His golden coat and autumn-orange colored mane shone and his big green eyes were racing around the classroom.
“Hey Braeburn!” shouted Applejack, ushering the colt over to their table. Braeburn quickly bounded over and took the seat directly next to Pinkie.
“Hi! I’m Pinkie Floyd!”
“Ah’m Braeburn Apple! Say, Ah ain’t never seen you before!” the two young foals shook hands excitedly.
“Mommy hardly ever lets me out to play with the other fillies and colts, she’s very protective.”
“Hey, mine too! Ain’t that right, cousin Applejack?” Braeburn winked at Applejack and she laughed.
“It’s true, Auntie Brown Betty is a real stickler ‘bout bedtimes!”
“Foals!” boomed a voice from the front of the room, “Take your seats and be quiet.” The foals all sat silently and looked up at the schoolmaster. He was near-bald, but had bits of white blooming from his head still. In one hoof he held a wooden ruler, and he was slapping it abruptly in the other hoof. He wore a nice suit, thick-framed glasses, and an emerald green tie. His wrinkly old face looked harsh, and Pinkie suddenly felt afraid.
“I want all you foals to listen up, and listen good. You are here to learn, not play. I expect you all to work, and work hard. That’s how things work in the real world.”
Pinkie Pie wasn't one to judge on appearances, but this schoolmaster definitely didn't look as nurturing as she would have liked. In fact, he looked downright scary. She also wasn't sure why he kept slapping that ruler around. Before she could fully contemplate it, he cracked it against the blackboard right next to his name. The startled pink filly jumped a bit and squeaked as well.
"My name is Mr. McAvoy. I'll cooperate with you so long as you cooperate with me. Got it?"
Pinkie Pie frowned. What was that supposed to mean?
"And if you don't cooperate with me..." Mr. McAvoy cracked his ruler down on the table right in front of Pinkie Pie and met her eyes. His were a greenish gray, but they still intimidated her all the same. She wasn't sure if she was going to enjoy school anymore.
As the lesson began, Braeburn took out his drawing notebook and sketched as the teacher spoke. He was clearly dedicated to his work, and smirked as he sketched line after line. He drew a cartoonish version of Mr. McAvoy that was frighteningly accurate and entitled "Mr. Rulermane". He passed it discreetly to Pinkie, who giggled. Unfortunately, the class was dead silent other than a current lecture at the front of the room.
Pinkie didn't need to look up to guess what was happening next. Mr. McAvoy was already at the foot of their desks, his tall and intimidating frame casting a shadow across Pinkie and Braeburn's faces. Their smiles immediately vanished. Pinkie hadn't been thinking fast, and was still holding the drawing notebook in her hooves. Mr. McAvoy snatched it and held it up high for the class to see.
"Mr. Rulermane!" he declared, in a voice so scary that not a single foal could dare laugh at the ridiculous title. The stallion turned back to Braeburn and Pinkie, a glare lighting his face. He turned to Braeburn first.
"Did you draw that, laddy?"
"Y-Yes sir, but I-" Braeburn couldn't even get his words out. A loud, frightening slap filled the air and Braeburn shrieked in pain. When Pinkie gazed over at him fearfully she saw a bright red, rectangular mark on his face already beginning to swell. Tears welled at the foal's eyes and at Pinkie's as well. She feared for Braeburn's face, and for her own hide as well. Pinkie quickly focused her attention on Mr. McAvoy and he looked at her with brimming anger. Her heart practically stopped.
"And you! You think that's funny?"
"No sir!" Pinkie squeaked, putting a hoof up to her cheek to protect it instinctively. Mr. McAvoy smirked and turned back to his lecture, keeping an extra eye on Pinkie for the rest of the lesson. When his back was turned she shot Braeburn looks of sympathy and worry, noting that his face looked just terrible. She could still see silent tears in the corners of his eyes, and it made her feel sick.
Despite her generally talkative nature, Pinkie DID learn something that day. She learned that she wasn't to bother the teacher and she wasn't to make a sound during any of his lectures.
"Recess time! Everybody outside!" Mr. McAvoy yelled, ushering the foals outside, "Single file line everybody! Those who break conduct will be punished!"
No foal wanted to be punished, and quickly exited in a single-file line. Even though Pinkie was a bit scared, she was eager to check on Braeburn and get to know her new friends better. Once they had all exited the schoolhouse, she quickly put a foreleg around Braeburn and hugged him tightly. Applejack and Rarity came forward as well, eager to check on his face.
"Oh Braeburn! The way he hit you just killed me!" Pinkie cried, hugging her new friend. Even though she hadn't known him for long at all, she had never been like anything like that at all.
"Is yer face okay, cuz?" Applejack asked, quickly peeling a hoof from his face. A swollen, red welt decorated the side of his cheek and it looked very painful. "Jiminy!" she shrieked, "How in the heck are we s'posed to explain that t' Auntie Brown Betty?"
"Don't," Rarity simply answered, looking at the ground, "she probably went through the very same thing."
"How do you know that, Rarity?" Pinkie asked, genuinely curious.
"My Daddy has scars," Rarity whispered, sadly. Pinkie's heart hurt. She had known about soldiers getting hurt in the war, but children? That she hadn't heard of.
For the rest of that term Pinkie stayed very silent and payed attention to every word Mr. McAvoy said. She also got much closer to the Apples and Rarity. On the weekends the four foals would meet up at Sweet Apple Acres and go for adventures of any sort.
Rarity always brought Pinkie books to read and always made her up all pretty. Pinkie wasn't too terribly girly, but she couldn't argue when Rarity taught her how to apply eyeliner and fix her hair. Pinkie learned with Rarity's help to control her frizzy locks and accentuate her eyes. That began to become important to her the older and older she grew. Rarity also introduced Pinkie to a new passion...poetry.
Pinkie spent all the free time she had writing rhymes and carefully crafting stanzas. She loved it, she loved it more than anything in the whole world. Her mother had also begun to notice her extreme fascination with poetry, and bought her books of all sorts to keep her raging creativity at bay.
"Great news!" Applejack announced with a grin on her face one Saturday morning. "Mah big brother Big Macintosh says that he heard screamin' over at Mr. McAvoy's house last night!"
"Foal screaming?" Rarity asked in alarm.
"No! Mare screamin'!"
"Mr. McAvoy hurts his wife too!?" Pinkie shrieked, frightened.
"No no, ya got it all wrong! She was screamin' at him !"
All Pinkie could do was smirk.
Pinkie began to write everything down in a notebook, her very own notebook. It had a rugged little leather cover and a lot of pages were torn out of it. At one point in time it had been her mother's, but Pinkie needed it more now.
Her first poem was written.
When we grew up and went to school
There were certain teachers who would
Hurt the foals in any way they could
By pouring their derision upon anything we did
And exposing every weakness
However carefully hidden by the kids
But in the town, it was well known
When they got home at night, their fat and
Psychopathic wives would thrash them
Within inches of their lives.
One Saturday morning the four fillies met up at Sweet Apple Acres bright and early in the morning. Rarity, Applejack, Braeburn and Pinkie were all off on an adventure.
"So what are we doin' today anyhow?" Applejack asked as Pinkie lead the fillies through an apple orchard she didn't even know. Pinkie had a wicked idea, and she couldn't wait to test it out. Sweet Apple Acres was right next to a railroad track, and Pinkie's love of reading had let her stumble upon some interesting information.
"You'll see!" Pinkie grinned, listening to the bullets chink around in her pocket.
6. Another Brick in the Wall, Part 2
Pinkie, Braeburn, Applejack and Rarity trekked to the edge of Sweet Apple Acres, the fragrant smell of fruit filling their eager nostrils. Pinkie Floyd was in a great mood, a smile on her face as she lead her confused, but excited, friends to the nearby railroad tracks.
"Don't tell me you're headin' t' the railroad!" Applejack suddenly realized, protesting by stomping her hooves down hard on the fertile earth. Braeburn grinned a bit wider and Rarity just sighed.
"Am I going to get dirty?" Rarity asked, frustrated, "I just did my hair, Pinkie."
Pinkie groaned, exasperated. She turned to her friends without a good word to say. How could they pass up such a cool opportunity? They were clearly losing their minds.
"Guuys!" Pinkie whined, stomping her feet, "I'm going to show you something super amazing!"
"Ah'm game," Braeburn immediately promised, the adventurous type by nature. He took his place by Pinkie's side, holding his head up high and adjusting the hat on his head.
"But Braeburn, we ain't allowed down by the railroad tracks!" Applejack reminded him, scornfully. Rarity rolled her eyes again.
"I promise it will be super duper cool!" Pinkie Pie shouted, jumping in place. Applejack and Rarity simply had to see this, it was going to be so wonderful! As Pinkie jumped she could feel the bullets in her coat pocket clanking together and it made her heart pound a bit faster. Pinkie Pie turned and began running off towards the railroad tracks. She looked to her left and saw that Braeburn was running at her side, their hooves pounding into the soft earth and digging up little holes in the shape of hooves. Behind her she could hear Applejack and Rarity sprinting to catch up with the duo and she grinned excitedly.
This was going to be a great day.
As they finally reached the edge of Sweet Apple Acres, Pinkie Pie saw a dip in the landcape, a narrow road filled with gravel that she would need to climb down to reach. Beyond the thin layer of gravel was railroad tracks, shiny and metallic. Pinkie Pie bounced, turning to her panting friends with a smile on her face. It was time to begin!
Pinkie Pie, Braeburn, and Applejack jumped off the ridge and landed in rough gravel. It wasn't very kind to Pinkie's hooves, but she could deal with it for now.
"Ouch!" whined Rarity, who had tripped and landed in the gravel, even skidding a little bit.
"Are ya alright, Rares?" Braeburn asked, rushing to her side immediately.
"Yes..." Rarity sighed, brushing herself off and shaking her head in dismay. Tears welled at her eyes, but she kept them back.
Pinkie Pie smiled at her friends as they gathered and removed bullets from her pocket. The day was foggy and gray, but not too terribly cold. Pinkie showed them the bullets and they all gasped in alarm.
"Where'd ya get those?" Applejack asked, her eyes wide and confused.
"My Daddy was in the war," Pinkie explained, not daring to look her friends in the eye. She really shouldn't have taken the bullets, they were one of the few things her mother still had of her father. However, she was exceptionally curious as to what kind of awesome power they harvested on the train tracks...
"Here's what I'm going to do," Pinkie stated, hearing a thin rumble begin on the tracks. Nearby them was a long, expansive tunnel which the train would go through soon. "I'm going to put these bullets on the track and watch them blow up. I'll go in the tunnel, you all stay here and watch."
"Cool!" Braeburn shouted, high-hoofing Pinkie Pie.
"Now y'all better wait an apple-pickin' minute here! Ain't that a taaad dangerous, Pinkie?" Applejack interjected, clearly upset.
"You're going to get yourself killed!" Rarity cried, dramatically.
"You just watch!" Pinkie Pie declared, storming off towards the shaking tracks and into the tunnel. She gingerly stepped over the more jagged stones, listening as Rarity and Applejack protested. She looked at the silver bullets and examined them. They were a bit rusty, but still sleek to the touch. She placed them gently on the track, the sound of a train booming in her ears.
"PINKIE! GET OFF THE TRACKS!" Rarity cried, her voice almost drowned out by the sound of the train. Pinkie quickly leaped off the tracks and stepped away. She pressed herself against the wall of the tunnel, the screams of her friends suddenly drowned out as a large train thundered past. Her ears felt violated by noise, and they hurt so badly that her head began to ache. The train quickly rolled over the bullets, crushing them and causing sparks to fly into the air with a loud bang. Suddenly Pinkie noticed many hooves reaching out to grab her, but she couldn't detect where they were from. She cried out in fear, clutching the wall with her hooves, and pressing to it as tight as possible.
"YOU! YES, YOU! STAND STILL, LADDIE!" Mr. McAvoy screamed at a nearby foal, slapping him across his hooves with a ruler. Pinkie Pie grimaced, feeling uncomfortable by the sheer sight of any classmate hurt.
"Repeat after me..." Mr. McAvoy ordered the class, "Princess Celestia banished Princess Luna to the moon when Luna was corrupted with power."
Pinkie Pie mumbled along, her eyes hardly ever leaving her poetry book. She was so filled with inspiration, she had so many deep feelings that she simply had to express. Pinkie's talent for words was growing and growing as the days passed. Her pencil in hand, Pinkie Pie crafted her words.
Suddenly Pinkie Pie's journal was snatched from her unsuspecting hooves. Snapping her head up, she met eyes with Mr. McAvoy, and he did not look happy. He lifted the book above his head and showed it to the class, other fillies gasping and laughing.
"What have we here, missy? Mysterious couplings? A secret chord?" Mr. McAvoy laughed in a cruel manner and opened the book. Pinkie was humiliated, a fierce blush warming her face. Tears stung at the corners of her eyes and her throat felt choked. She looked next to her, Braeburn was always comforting. This time Brae simply turned away.
"No, poems no less! Poems everpony!" the other fillies laughed, some because they thought it was funny and others because they feared corporal punishment. "The filly recons herself a poet!"
In her mind, Pinkie Pie begged him to stop. She begged him not to read her precious poetry aloud, but he had no respect for her mental wishes. He cleared his throat, and from that point on Pinkie Pie knew that it was all over.
"My name is Pinkie Floyd, and I am here to say, I'm going to make you smile, and I will brighten up your day. It doesn't matter now, if you are sad or blue, because cheering up my friends," Mr. McAvoy grimaced and shook his head slowly before uttering the final phrase, "is just what Pinkie is here to do."
Mr. McAvoy put Pinkie's book back on her desk gently. Pinkie sniffed and looked up at him as tears rolled down her face, and he simply smacked her hooves with his ruler. She cried out in pain and wailed like a small foal.
"Absolute rubbish, Pinkie! Get back to work."
As Mr. McAvoy's lesson continued, Pinkie didn't pay attention any better. She daydreamed about marching in straight lines as Mr. McAvoy screamed at her. Do it again! Do it again! Pinkie was sick of do-overs. She daydreamed about a grand, giant machine covered in an emblem of hammers. It took children and ground them up into conformity. After all, that's what school was doing to her and the other children. It was making them all conform. Pinkie wished she could destroy everything in the school. She would love to crack the desks with hammers, break open the windows with fire extinguishers, rip the pages out of every one of her textbooks. Mostly, though, she wished that she could burn the schoolhouse down.
That day, after school ended, Pinkie Pie ran home and locked herself in her room. There, she wrote one more poem, a poem that expressed her real feelings about the school she was forced to grow up in.
We don't need no education.
We don't need no thought control.
No dark sarcasm in the classroom.
Teacher leave them kids alone
Hey! Teacher! Leave them kids alone!
All in all it's just another brick in the wall.
All in all you're just another brick in 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.
Little Pinkie Floyd and her mother, Sue, were walking down the street and towards the supermarket. Pinkie's mind hadn't left her father, and the very young foal wondered if he'd ever come home.
"When is Daddy coming home?" Pinkie asked her mother, toddling along quietly. Sue Floyd sighed, walking along cautiously. She looked at Pinkie and shook her head, their blue eyes meeting and staring into one another. Pinkie cocked her head, waiting for her all-knowing mother to answer the question. Sue stuttered.
"I-I-I don't know, Pinkie," she said, suddenly putting a hoof up and adjusting her glasses carefully. Pinkie felt a bit disheartened. Every time she asked, she hoped for a different answer. She was still waiting for her Mummy to say the right thing. Someday her mother would say "He's on his way".
Suddenly a loud noise sounded in the sky, and Pinkie craned her head upwards to look at it. A big, dark gray airplane flew across the open air above them and Pinkie stared at it carefully, analyzing it's shape. She pointed her hoof up towards it and looked to her mother, an eager, wide-eyed expression on her face.
"Look mummy! There's an airplane up in the sky!"
Sue nodded, a solemn look on her face. The flames of war were all long gone but the pain lingered on.
Pinkie sat silently in her hotel room, her head resting gingerly on her hoof. She missed Braeburn, and she felt sick. Life was so complicated, to the point of being convoluted. Pinkie was thinking about war in general, but more specifically her father's war. She imagined the frightened faces, the falling bombs, ponies running for shelter. Those fighting in the war had been promised a brave new world, and then bombs fell from the clear blue sky above them.
Sue wiped another tear away from her eye, handkerchief in hand. She sniffled, staring at her grown up girl walk confidently down the driveway. Pinkie was grinning more profoundly than Sue had ever seen before. Pinkie couldn't wait to leave the house. She was free, and she was going to get married right away. Her new apartment was already furnished, all she had to do was say goodbye.
"Goodbye, Mum!" Pinkie called, beginning to walk down the street. She turned around and gave her mother one last glance, then walked more intently towards her new life. However, she was not completely excited. On the inside, Pinkie was scared. She'd never before left the comfort of Sue's arms. She didn't know what it felt like to sleep in a room where her mother wasn't simply a few doors down. She feared truly taking care of herself. Nonetheless, she was tired of being cared for and she couldn't wait to see what independence felt like.
"Oooooh..." Pinkie sang to herself, gently trying to calm her shaking heartbeat. She was no longer Mummy's baby blue. She was turning into a bolder shade of pink.
The repressive school days were finally over. The nerves and longing of dating were over. Her trials and tribulations of childhood would look silly to her as an adult. But what was important now? Pinkie didn't know.
Pinkie took one last sip of her water bottle, finishing it off, and threw it out. She was exhausted, but it had been a very rewarding night. Another concert, another city, and she had blown the minds of everyone in the crowd. She really connected with those ponies, they made her feel truly useful and important. The music had been so hot, Pinkie could practically feel the bottoms of her hooves burning.
She stepped outside for a moment, aiming to use the payphone nearby. She adjusted her hip glasses, and shook her hair to make sure it maintained the right volume. She reached for the phone eagerly, and stuffed the machine full of quarters. An operator soon picked up and Pinkie's call to Ponyville was soon on its way.
"Hello?" said a very feminine, soft voice. Pinkie was immediately surprised, and thought perhaps she had called the wrong number.
"This is a call from Mrs. Floyd in Canterlot, do you accept the charges?"
The phone line buzzed. The receiving line had hung up.
"That's strange. She just hung up. Are you sure this is your number?" the operator asked Pinkie, "14589932?"
"Yes," Pinkie said, her heart beginning to race.
The operator called once more, and soon the phone was picked up.
"Hello?" said the same pretty voice. Pinkie could hear heavy breathing down the phone line.
"This is Canterlot calling, are we reaching Mr. Floyd?"
The answering pony hung up immediately.
"He keeps hanging up," the operator cried, confused, "and it's a mare answering."
The phone line died, and Pinkie slowly crumpled to the ground, her back sliding against the wall. Fear seized her heart. She knew she shouldn't jump to conclusions, but it was obvious what Braeburn was doing. He was with another mare. Not only was he with another mare, but she had heard that mare's heavy breathing. They were in the middle of something...unspeakable. A little part of Pinkie cracked.
Pinkie Pie walked down the street, do a lot of serious thinking. What the hell was she going to do without Braeburn? She loved him, she loved him dearly. What was she going to fill the empty spaces where they used to talk?
Her stomach growled, the waves of hunger roared. Pinkie hadn't eaten in a day, and she didn't feel mentally hungry. Physically she was famished, but she couldn't bring herself to eat anything. She wasn't sure how she was going to complete a concert later that week, and she couldn't imagine herself looking out across the sea of faces in search for more applause.
Pinkie passed a music store, and thought perhaps she should buy a new guitar. She ultimately decided not to, since she already had many and wasn't interested in having any more. Passing a car lot, she considered buying a new car. She shook her head no, she couldn't take it with her on tour without much expense.
Pinkie Pie was practicing for the concert at 4 AM. She suddenly heard a subtle knock at her door, and she sluggishly inched towards it to open it. It was her tour manager, a mare named Twilight Sparkle. She looked distressed, but was in her finest business attire.
"I came to check up on you. I could hear your guitar from the next hotel room over!"
"Is that where you're staying?" Pinkie asked apathetically.
"Pinkie, do you want to get us kicked out of this hotel? Go to bed."
"You can't talk to me that way," Pinkie growled, looking Twilight in the eye and challenging her with a new body posture.
"I'm your tour manager," Twilight stated matter-of-factly, "now get your flank in bed."
"Make me!" Pinkie shouted, trying to start a fight. Twilight stared at her for a few moments, then rolled her eyes, and left. Pinkie felt victorious, and decided to celebrate by getting some sleep. She left the lights on, though.
"So Twilight, do you think we should do a tour of Eastern Equestria after this?" Pinkie asked at breakfast, taking a bite of her 3rd pancake.
"With...the bombs going off everywhere?" Twilight asked, shocked the Pinkie would even suggest something so insane. Eastern Equestria was warring with the griffons, you couldn't go near it.
"Maybe we could drop some too. Bury bones and break up homes and such. Then send flowers by the phone!" Pinkie hadn't had much sleep the night before, and was angrier than ever at Braeburn. Her violent tendencies were leaking out bit by bit, in a humorous way of course.
"What in Celestia's name are you talking about? Are you high?" Twilight asked, taking another sip of her orange juice. Pinkie just smiled. One of her band members, the current drummer, took a seat next to them. She was a quiet mare with a curly yellow mane and a hot pink coat.
"Hey, Cherry Berry..." Pinkie cooed, leaning back playfully in her chair. Cherry looked over, and cocked her head in a near-question. Pinkie Pie noticed on her lip a little pink sore, just barely oozing. Pinkie Pie leaned over quickly and gave Cherry a big kiss. She grinned widely, hoping to contract some sort of disease. She wanted to give Braeburn something special when she got home. Twilight Sparkle stared, without a word, then sighed.
"Hay bacon strip?" she asked, lifting up a plate with warm strips of hay-bacon. She had absolutely no idea what to say, so she figured she would feed Pinkie.
"Nah, I'm not eating meat anymore," Pinkie said, devouring another half of her pancake.
"It's not even...whatever. At least I'm getting paid for this," Twilight growled, and exchanged an exasperated look with Cherry Berry. There was something wrong with Pinkie.
Pinkie Pie had been without Braeburn for months, and she wasn't one to fool around with groupies. She was still young and inspired, still full of energy and prowess. Currently she couldn't consider herself dedicated to any relationship, and was having trouble deciding whether or not to give in to her urges. She breathed in deeply, kicking a leg out and having another sip of her drink. She was sitting calmly backstage, as those surrounding her drank and ate small dishes. She thought carefully back to her teenage days. She hadn't waited to screw Braeburn, in fact they made hay in the barn at least once a week, but should she stay celibate now?
Pinkie made a decision. Fuck safety. It was time to be a real rockstar, a sponsor of sex, drugs, and rock and roll.
A group of stallions in tight clothing confidently walked forward, fronted by dark gray pegasus with an icy blue mane. The stallions were confidently prowling onward, and their intent was clear. They didn't have to ask how they were going to get into the party they were going to, they already had a dirty, wonderful plan.
They had relied on this plan plenty of times in order to meet their favorite rockstars. This group, led by music and sex loving Thunderlane, quickly approached guards standing near. The guards, female pegasi, stared at the groupies. Many of them told the colts to get back, but none could deny that they were so incredibly attractive.
As the stallions embraced the guards seductively, Thunderlane continued forward with confidence. All guards were the same, and just like usual they gave into the charm of the groupies and let them past. Thunderlane kept his eyes on the prize and grabbed a stash of backstage passes from the back pocket of a guard. They were probably for someone else, but she was too distracted to notice him taking them.
Lane whistled and the boys triumphantly continued on towards the backstage. Some of the guard ponies followed, and they all emptied into a trailer for a bit of fun.
Pinkie looked around to see an incredibly handsome pegasus stallion taking a sip of cider. She watched him for a few seconds. He was clearly very social, and looked awfully clean-cut. Pinkie knew that Braeburn didn't care about her anymore, and she was dying to get some action.
She stepped up to him, trying not to lose her nerve.
"And what would your name be?" she asked, flipping her hair to one side.
"Thunderlane, I'm a really big fan."
Pinkie almost laughed aloud. She was so used to that answer, and it hardly affected her anymore. The first hundred times she'd heard, "I'm a really big fan" her heart was warmed, but not so much anymore. She wondered if he would worship her.
"Nice to meet you," Pinkie said, taking off her stylish sunglasses and winking at him.
"I brought my vinyl record of your album 'The Lyrist at Dawn'. Do you think you could sign it, I'd really appreciate it," Thunderlane asked, looking somewhat embarrassed. Pinkie admired how calm and collected he was, unlike most fans.
"Sure, cutie. Why don't you step into this room over here with me and I'll sign all over," Pinkie answered, opening up the green room door. Thunderlane took a step back, then grinned and nodded. They entered the room, and Pinkie locked the door behind them.
The show had ended, and Pinkie Floyd was hardly worn out. She'd really put her heart into her performance, but it didn't change how she felt. She wanted to do something crazy and new. She felt young. The only thing that had brought her any real pleasure that day was Thunderlane. She'd even nicknamed him Lane after their fun, and was fond of him now.
So Pinkie invited him over to her hotel room.
Pinkie coughed as she opened the door to her room, still wearing her classic black outfit with chic sunglasses. Her mane was a mess, but it looked just fine so kinky and wild. Thunderlane followed her obediantly, but stopped in the doorway as Pinkie entered. He looked around, his mouth agape in surprise.
"Oh my Celestia," he said, giving in to the luxury, "what a fabulous room!"
Pinkie stepped forward, took off her tie and coat, then turned on a lamp. It was dim, so it hardly lit up the room, but it did give the place a sort of romantic atmosphere. She took a seat in her comfortable yellow chair, and lounged in it. Something about her mood had changed, and suddenly she felt less adventurous. Thunderlane stepped further into the room, gazing around with wonder.
"Are all these your guitars?" he asked, staring at the rack that Pinkie had several on. Yes, they were all her guitars, but she didn't answer him. With anxiety, she turned on the television. Lane stroked their necks and felt their strings, lightly playing a few. The music didn't fill Pinkie with any happiness. She suddenly thought of Braeburn, and her eyes almost swam with tears. She couldn't let Lane see that, though.
She took her sunglasses off, yawning lazily, and stared blankly at the television before her. An old war movie was playing, as some sort of anniversary was coming up soon or whatever. Pinkie could care less. But she also couldn't help thinking about her father, and Braeburn. She had left her life behind so suddenly, and for what? There was nothing left but misery. She rubbed her eyes. He'd cheated on her.
"Celestia..." Lane sighed, looking all around, "This place is bigger than our apartment."
Pinkie lightly tapped the remote control on her leg, the soft, cold sensation making hardly an impact. She watched as ponies in uniform trotted forward and plotted their outings for that day. Thunderlane stared at her, awkwardly, and shuffled his hooves a little.
"You like the tube, huh?" he asked, standing up straight as to look appealing. After a moment, he asked, "Can I get a drink of water?"
Pinkie still did not reply, lost in her own thoughts.
"Can I get you a drink of water?" Lane asked, confused. He and Pinkie were supposed to have some fun! Or something like that. Maybe this cool rockstar was actually just another bore. He walked into the adjoined bedroom, then into the bathroom. He got imaginative, seeing the tub. It wasn't anything spectacular, but she was getting impatient.
"Oh wow, look at this tub! Wanna take a bath?" he asked, playfully. No response. He walked back into the room, frowning, and approached the occupied Pinkie Floyd. He sat beside her, trying to give her the benefit of the doubt. Maybe what she was watching truly was exciting.
"What are you watching?" he asked. A bead of sweat appeared on Pinkie's forehead, and she blinked away a tear. She was losing herself, again.
"Hello?"
Lane waved a hoof in front of Pinkie's face, trying to get her attention. Was something wrong, he wondered? Pinkie brought her hooves up to her head and gently rubbed her temples.
"Are you feeling okay?" Lane asked, truly feeling for the pink pony next to him. Something was wrong, evidently. He decided to comfort Pinkie as comforted anyone...sensually. He gently took a hoof away from Pinkie's temple and began to gently lick it and kiss it. Every once and a while she would bite it gently, but never aggressively. Just enough for her to feel teeth. He peered up at her, his already big eyes looking innocent and droopy, wondering if it affected her at all. Hopefully she would break free of this fog.
Pinkie felt the sensation, but her thoughts were on another stallion. Braeburn... oh, Braeburn. Day after day, their love had turned as gray as the skin on a dying man. And night after night, they had pretended that everything was alright. But Pinkie had grown older. Her youth was fading fast, and she no longer had the same beauty or energy. Meanwhile, Braeburn had become colder. Truly he didn't feel the same way about her as he once had. Nothing was very much fun anymore.
Pinkie took her hoof away from Lane, and placed it upon her chest gently. Something began to stir inside her. Lane turned, and sat next to her without touching her. The carpeted floor beneath him wasn't as comfortable as he had hoped it would be. He turned and walked away. He sat over by Pinkie's guitars, and gently wrapped up any loose patches or straps she could find.
She frowned, blinked, and felt something. She could feel one of her turns coming on. She felt as cold as a razor blade, as tight as a tourniquet, and as dry as a funeral drum. A slight smile broke out onto her face, but she wasn't feeling any joy.
Then she broke.
Pinkie howled threateningly, as she often did onstage, and leaped from her chair. On her way up she put out a hoof and knocked over a nearby lamp. She stood, growling, and swept everything off of a nearby coffee table. The contents crashed to the floor, and something made of glass shattered. Lane looked up at Pinkie, calmly backing up against the wall and trying to make himself as small as possible. Inside, he was filled with fear.
Pinkie slammed a hoof down on the glass coffee table, shattering the cover. She stepped her hoof through it defiantly, in her mind cursing every brick in her forsaken wall. She lifted a nearby camera off the floor, one that contained pictures of her and Braeburn, and she slammed it down on the table. Film flew out from it as it broke, and Pinkie stared at it with pleasure. Take that , she said in her mind, take that, you son of a bitch!
Lane pressed himself against the wall as far as his body would let him, and then inched to the right as to get away from the glass shattering. Pinkie looked up at him, and something had changed about her appearance. Her mane was usually bouncy and cute, but now it was pin-straight. Her big blue eyes suddenly looked a bit dilated and off-center. Lane began to flee in panic, racing towards the door of the hotel room, but Pinkie chased him down.
Lane screamed loudly, running to another wall for safety. Pinkie pursued him, so Lane leaped to another area of the room. Pinkie paused by her guitars, then picked up one of the pedals. She quickly turned and threw it with all her might at a nearby mirror. The mirror shattered, and the pedal broke. She then lifted a nearby lamp off the ground and used it to smash a nearby picture on the wall. Lane covered his ears, and backed into a corner. Pinkie tore the picture off the wall and tossed it behind him in fury.
She then picked up one of her favorite acoustic guitars- one she had saved up for and spent meticulous hours playing and caring for- and without hesitation smashed it on the floor. It broke from the neck, and the body of the guitar dangled dangerously by it's strings. Pinkie held onto it's neck, and the precious instrument swayed back and forth as if a pendulum. She turned to Lane, holding her guitar, and ran towards him. Lane screamed, covering his head, and ducked behind a chair. He began to cry. Was he truly in danger? He heard the hollow body of the guitar slam against the chair above his head, so he crawled underneath a table seeking safety. Pinkie smashed another mirror with her once beloved instrument.
Pinkie eyed her room-service cart, which he had called to be delivered in advance for after the show. She had ordered it for herself, and she had planned to share it with Lane. She didn't feel the least bit hungry, and discarded her broken guitar. She threw one plate after another at a nearby wall. The dishes fell to pieces, and food splattered against the wall. Juices and sauces raced one another, dripping down the blue paint, and little solid pieces slowly fell to the ground in defeat. Deliberately, Pinkie lifted the entire cart and slammed it down upon the table Lane was under. The stallion screamed in panic, afraid that the table would cave, and watched as all around him food, dishes, and silverware fell. Quickly he escaped from under the table, scrambling to his feet, and he ran forward.
Pinkie, still thinking of her wrath towards the cheating Braeburn, lifted a bottle of expensive red wine and gripped it fiercely. Lane cowered away from her, covering his head and face with his hooves, and Pinkie threw the near-full bottle against the wall. Glass and alcohol flew from the source, dangerously covering the floor. The room smelled of fine wine and uneaten dinner. Lane thanked Celestia that he was still wearing his boots, and blindly ran forward. With sharp pain and surprise he felt wine splash his back and lower mane, then a shard of glass flew closeby and cut his back open. He yelped in pain, afraid for his very life and wondering if Pinkie truly did want to kill him.
Lane ran to the kitchen, and Pinkie followed close behind. She lifted a chair and knocked over all of the bottles of cider on the counter, then flung the chair. She threw herself over the counter, and chased a wailing Lane into the bedroom.
"Run to the bedroom!" she screamed, throwing a vase of flowers against a mirror. Lane did as he was told, running into the bedroom and scrambling over Pinkie's Canterlot King-sized bed. It was covered in many sheets, and Lane tripped over them several times. He got down on the ground beside the huge bed, and shook, whimpering to himself. Pinkie entered, hurling the small television she kept in that room at the wall without even unplugging it. With a few sparks from the wire as it left the socket it belonged to, the television flew fast and dented the wall it was thrown at. Pinkie quickly knocked over a dresser, her own strength surprising her.
"Would you like to watch TV, Lane? Or get between the sheets?" she asked, breathing heavily and slowly stepping with purpose around the bed, "Maybe contemplate the silent freeway? Would you like something to eat?"
Pinkie was suddenly at Lane's side and gripped his sides. Pure terror took hold of the stallion.
"Would you like to learn to fly?" Pinkie whispered, gesturing towards a nearby window. Lane was too horrified to speak, so stuck in his place. Beneath the window were hundreds of feet of air. He would hit the ground hard and fast, with hardly time to feel any pain unless he was "lucky" enough to survive the torturous fall.
"WOULD YA?!" Pinkie shouted in his ear, interrogating him for answers he didn't have.
"Ohh! No!! " Lane wailed, openly weeping.
Pinkie left his side, ripping another picture from the wall, and threw it like a frisbee down the little hall it belonged to. She lifted a huge board that had fallen from the dresser and she smashed a mirror to bits. While she was distracted, Lane sprinted from the room, gasping for breath.
"Would you like to see me try, Braeburn?" Pinkie asked her former husband, stepping on their wedding picture with her front-left hoof. She stared at his shattered face and smiled. She'd done to him now what he had done to her heart. She had broken him as much as he'd broken her.
"Would you like to call the cops?" Pinkie shouted to Lane, sensing that he was still around. She kicked through the wicker closet door, finalizing her violence in the bedroom, and ran into the main living space with her precious TV.
"Do you think it's time I stopped?" Pinkie screamed, running to the open windows. Lane, who was standing at the door and making sure he was all in one piece, fled. He didn't want to see Pinkie jump, and he had a feeling she would. He slammed the door behind him, and was as gone as Pinkie's virginity.
"Why are you running away?" Pinkie howled like a banshee. Too late. He was gone. She threw herself onto the Venetian blinds, and pulled them down with her body weight, openly moaning in emotional agony. Screaming, she picked up the large television that she had once loved, and threw it out the window. The glass shattered suddenly, and the television fell to the streets below with shocking and dangerous force. Pinkie was very high up, standing the top floor of the grand hotel. She felt the cool night breeze on her face, and placed one hoof onto the window's frame. Glass pierced into her hoof, but she could barely feel the pain. She was completely numb. The television landed at it's maximum velocity and the pieces flew. Glass shattered, tubes rolled and bounced off the pavement, plastic became brittle and cracked. Sparks flew, and even from her height Pinkie could hear and see the devastation. Pinkie supported herself with one hoof, stood upright, placed a back hoof on the screen, and leaned far out the window, swinging recklessly off a top-floor windowsill.
"TAKE THAT, FUCKERS!! " she screamed, ripping her jacket off with one foreleg and waving it out the window. She screamed maniacally into the night, her hoof bleeding profusely, her head dizzying. She looked at all the lights below her, city lights, and heard the cars beeping at her direction. The night belonged to Pinkie Floyd.
Pinkie's hotel room was destroyed. On the floor lay endless broken glass, splinters of wood, and various bits of machinery. She stood still, scanning the wreckage, and was for a moment sad at the loss of her possessions. Her poor guitars. Her hoof was bleeding profusely, blood pouring onto the floor, but she didn't care much. She thought to herself for a moment, staring at her destruction, then decided to take a dip in the pool. Yes, it was a cold night. But who was going to stop her?
She walked out to where the pool was, on the roof of her building. There was no one else out there, because it was so late at night. She stripped down to her underwear, looked at her hoof, then gingerly stepped into the pool. The cold water and the cold night air were like knives, but she didn't really care. She just kept staring at the sky.
She lay in the freezing water of the pool, which was open to the night air. Her hoof bled on and on, and for a moment Pinkie couldn't believe that her body possessed so much blood. It would have been so romantic, she thought, if she could bleed to death right there. She also wondered how it would feel to drown, and contemplated bleeding until she became weak enough to do so. Drowning was probably wonderful.
She breathed heavily, and her teeth chattered. Blood continued to swirl out into the pool, causing vivid patterns of red. She thought of Braeburn, her love, who was now with another girl. She thought of those first nights with him, she thought about sex. She thought about his gentle kisses, and the way they trailed up and down her body. She thought about how she would smile gently, lost in happiness, and play with his mane with her stray hoof. She thought about how close they used to be on those nights, how she had been able to feel his hot breath on her neck. He had held her, gently, rolled around with her, and at times they didn't even need covers. There was so much love. There was so much fucking love.
Now, as Pinkie Floyd lay on top of a cold pool, she knew that Braeburn was giving it all away to Fluttershy. All of the love that Pinkie was missing was being forced onto another girl. And there was no way on earth that Fluttershy was as good as Pinkie. There was simply no way. In her head she begged Braeburn not to leave her, but it was useless.
Pinkie went inside, fearing that she would bleed out, and sat in her chair, watching a television left over from her rampage. Her hoof bled onto the floor, drip by drip splashing by her chair. Pinkie looked over to her left, casually, and stared at the blank blue wall next to her. Suddenly she saw a stallion's silhouette that she could not mistake. Braeburn was walking towards her, slowly getting bigger and bigger. The silhouette walked intently towards her, step by step.
Suddenly the silhouette became a gigantic monster, and cornered her. Pinkie jumped from her chair, backing away from the beast. It had a long, black, snake-like body and appeared to be covered in thorns. It had the front arms of a praying mantis, reaching for Pinkie with precision. It's head was huge and almost heart-shaped, a bright red color. It's slit-like yellow eyes stared at her intently, and it had a paler muzzle that implored her. Pinkie backed up against the wall, trying to protect herself, and it followed her. Suddenly it's huge muzzle opened and revealed a pink mouth with a little black hole waiting to swallow her up. Pinkie recognized her own anatomy, and was terrified of it.
The muffle became a flower, and from the flower came a pair of razor-sharp teeth embedded into jaws. Pinkie ran, and cowered in a corner. She was ashamed that she had ever slept with Braeburn, and now that her wall was complete she was seeing things that weren't even there. The monster vanished suddenly, but Pinkie didn't arise from the corner for a long time. She sat there, shaking, and cried. The room suddenly seemed so huge.
She looked up at the television, and saw a couple romantically kissing. She was filled with hatred. Grabbing a nearby guitar, she ran at it and smashed it, screaming. There would be no more love in her life!
13. Another Brick in the Wall, Part 3
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.
Pinkie lounged in her chair once more, a cigarette burning in her hand. She watched it burn slowly, never blowing it out. She loved to see it crumble to ash, just like she found her life to be doing. She could practically see the wall now, cold and tall and gray.
She stared intently forward, then remembered something she had from a long time ago. She stood, went to her bedroom, and searched through all of her suitcases. After several minutes of fruitless searching, she stumbled upon something quite precious.
She found a notebook, the one she had written down everything in as a foal. It had a rugged little leather cover and a lot of pages were torn out of it. At one point in time it had been her mother's, but Pinkie needed it more now. She gingerly flipped through the pages, carefully reading the poems. For some reason they did not affect her very much.
She did think of running through fields as a small child, the harvest sunshine smiling down upon her. It had been so warm and fun in that golden light, and she missed those times a little.
Pinkie flipped to one of the last pages, and found a pen among her bags. She quietly wrote a poem.
Goodbye cruel world,
I'm leaving you today.
Goodbye, goodbye, goodbye.
Goodbye, all you people,
There's nothing you can say
To make me change my mind.
Goodbye.
Pinkie walked to the front door of her hotel room and locked it. She locked everyone else out. She was officially in a catatonic state of mind, having adjusted the last few bricks on her wall. Everything was in place.
And then it became clear. The wall was immense, and she saw it right in front of her. In front of the wall, Pinkie was naked. She stood up on her hind legs, desperately scraping it. Her hoof was still bleeding, and blood dripped down to her delicate pink shoulder. The warm, runny liquid was sticky and unpleasant. She reached up as high as possible, trying to get her hooves over the wall, but she couldn't. It was too tall. Her hooves explored all around the wall desperately, aiming to tug bricks loose, but everything was in place.
Pinkie realized then that she had been a fool. Not only had her wall locked others out, but she'd just locked herself in.
The wall was finished, officially. Pinkie could feel nothing, so nothing could hurt her.
Almost immediately, she wondered if she'd made the right decision in finishing the wall. It was going to be incredibly lonely. More than anything, at the current moment, she wished for a friend who wouldn't hurt her. Of course, no such people existed in all of Equestria.
Pinkie sat with her ear against the wall nearest to the door, just in case Thunderlane had gone and called the cops, or someone intended to get in and reach her. Unfortunately, she couldn't be reached.
Pinkie longed to be felt. She longed to be touched. Not in any dirty way per say, but in any way. She felt extremely lonely and brooding just then. But at the same time, so numb.
"Hey you," she said gently, reassuring herself that she was alive. She thought about Braeburn. She thought about Thunderlane. She thought about anyone who could possibly listen to her. It did appear that all of her chances were blown.
16. Is There Anypony Out There?
Pinkie looked up at the wall, wondering how strong it was. She stood, walked closer to it, and began to feel it. Pinkie's hooves crawled up and down the wall, scraping and clinging to it desperately. She felt the sudden need to get out, she felt completely and utterly isolated. She pressed her ear to the wall, wondering if she could hear anything beyond it. She could not make out a single sound.
Beginning to feel uncomfortable, Pinkie took a few steps back and stared at the expanse of the wall. She ran, then leaped forward onto it. She slammed her hooves down on the hard, cold stone and heard the wall echo. She could not move past it, however. She was trapped. Determined, she tried several more times to break the wall somehow by slamming herself into it. No impact was made.
Finally she stepped back and observed the wall. She threw herself onto it one last time, and slid down to the floor in shame.
As a struggle continued on in her head, Pinkie compulsively cleaned her hotel room. She arranged every little thing she'd thrown on the floor into neat rows. They looked so beautiful and perfect. She crawled around the floor, picking up everything.
She picked up the lamp, she swept up tons of broken glass, she sorted tiny screws and little pieces of various electronics. She spent a few moments cleaning off her favorite acoustic guitar, now broken, and she placed it gently in the row.
Utensils, money, pop cans, pills, cigarette boxes...
Everything was neat and tidy after a few hours. Meticulous care had been put into the apartment, and Pinkie was quite proud of herself. Now she needed to change, there were too many little hairs on her face bothering her.
Pinkie stepped into the bathroom and filled the sink with water. Her bloody hoof was quickly clean, and looked to be healing. She smothered her face in shaving cream, and looked all around her. The whole bathroom was covered in white tiles, and was very clean. She quickly shaved all the tiny pink hairs on her face. She felt it then, and looked calmly at the mirror. She certainly looked different. The pink fur all over her body still felt disgusting and irritating. She smothered her whole self in shaving cream, listening to the aerosol can hiss as she pressed the button down.
She shaved a straight line up her body, removing just a streak of hair. Next, she made small strokes up her chest, removing pink fuzz. There were a few cuts, especially around her nipples, but she could hardly feel them. The pain almost felt good. She splashed her body with the water in the sink, staring at the strange pale figure that looked back at her. She was still pink, but she definitely looked more intimidating. Little trails of red snaked down her body.
Next, she reached a hoof up to her eyebrows. They were definitely bothering her. It was time to get rid of them. Pinkie unscrewed her razor quickly, putting the pieces other than the blade itself on the white tiles. They were splashed with blood, but Pinkie didn't mind. She took apart the razor, then held the blade delicately. She bent it calmly, hearing it snap, and she broke it apart into two pieces.
Plip plop.
After a few minutes, a silhouette of Pinkie Floyd could be seen pressed up against the bathroom door, bloody hooves and all. She opened the door, hearing the sounds of her television, and stared into the distance. Her body hair and eyebrows were missing, and her hair was cut to the chin-length it had been as a foal. Pinkie found herself to be quite beautiful.
Pinkie Floyd stared blankly at the television screen, recounting everything she currently owned. Next to her sat the little black book with her poems, and a little ways away sat her travel bag with toothbrush and comb. There were thirteen channels of shit on the TV for Pinkie to choose from, and none of it was appealing at all. She switched from one channel to another, quickly. War movies, cartoons, speeches, stunts, public access, a mobster flick, Cassanova...
Everything looked terrible. This stage of boredom and distraction was starting to wear off and her hooves ached. The one that had been bleeding seemed swollen for some reason, and Pinkie groaned mindlessly in it's general direction. The clicking of the television remote began to remind her of dialing the phone home and a few tears rolled down her face. She got up from her chair, found her bag of tools, and began dismembering the phone. Now no one could get a-hold of her, especially not Braeburn.
Besides, Pinkie knew that there was nobody home now. When Pinkie would return to Ponyville, Braeburn would have left her for Fluttershy. That hurt. Pinkie frowned and climbed back into her chair, wildly flipping channels once more. She settled on an old war movie and then...
Pinkie could hear the sounds of war, but her eyelids were too heavy. She was knocked out.
When she awoke, she was in dreamland. Sand and brush surrounded her, and the cold was chilling her. She rubbed her forelegs and shivered. Looking in front of herself, she could see that the television was still there. Starting to feel her little pink body freeze, she slammed it up against the leather chair with ferocity. The movement became blurry... all she could feel was the movement!
And suddenly Pinkie Floyd was a filly again. Looking around, she could see that the sun was setting. She got up from her seat, not wishing to be frozen, and began to walk along the sand. The wind whipped her in the face, sending her straight pink mane flying behind her. She came across the bodies of ponies in the sand, but she could not feel anything for them. She squinted as sand hit her in the face, and she grimaced. Sneaking forward, she saw the entrance to an old wartime building underneath the ground. Could these be the infamous trenches in which her father spent so much time? There was only one way to find out. Pinkie entered.
But wait. Suddenly she was in a building with peach-colored light streaming through bright windows. Was this where she came in, or somewhere else? She cautiously made her way forward. Down a long hallway, she could see a huge sliding door. She forced it open, and was now in a gray room filled with empty white beds. Low-hanging yellow lamps lit it up, and the whole area was cold. It smelled like medicine and bleach. This must have been the infirmary. Pinkie walked on, looking from bed to bed. Why was the whole place empty? Where were the patients?
She approached one bed that showed slight signs of previous life. It had an old jacket of sorts sitting atop it, white and buckled. She stopped and peered at it with curiosity, then realized that it was a wrinkled-up straight jacket. Blood dotted the bed. Pinkie scurried away, wondering what on earth had happened there. She turned a corner, hopping into a dimly lit room.
The sounds of wind were evident, and this room was very cold. There were bars on the windows, and tile all around. Looking into the corner, she could see a mare all by herself. She had her face against the wall, and was rocking back and forth. She had a book in her hooves and she was in comfortable linen pajamas.
Finally, life!
Little Pinkie Floyd approached the mare cautiously, but with excitement.
"Hi! I'm Pinkie Pie and-" the tiny filly started, cheerfully, and put a hand on the mare's shoulder.
The mare looked up at her, deranged. She had wild blue eyes, darting all around, and a disarming smile. Most importantly, however, she had one bloody hoof and a straight pink mane.
It was Pinkie Floyd.
Little Pinkie ran away as fast as possible, hoping her older self would stay put. She ran through the room with the beds, past the straight jacket, down the lengthy hallway, and out of the building! Fear coursed in her veins, and her heart beat wildly. She was panting and her eyes were wide with panic. She would never turn into that pony!
Unfortunately, the Pinkie who was not in dreamland knew that she already was that pony. What on earth had happened?
Little Pinkie ran farther and farther away from the deranged mare she would turn into, through the fields of her childhood. Those fields were Sweet Apple Acres, and she ran as she had once done. She could practically feel the bullets in her pocket. In fact, when she reached into it, she found them! But where were her old friends? Rarity, Applejack, and Braeburn were all missing!
Her hooves pounded into the soft dirt, producing tiny holes. It wasn't as fun without her friends by her side, but the shade of the orchard was pleasant and she was excited to see the railroad tracks once again. To the edge of the orchard she ran, but instead of railroad tracks she found trenches.
Muddy old remnants of an old war, the one that killed her father, remained here. She walked calmly and curiously through the trenches, seeing the earth all around here slowly crumbling. It was wet and impressionable. Her hoof left a tiny print. Rickety wooden fences held up the "walls". Looking down at her hooves she saw that the bottom of the trenches were covered in a layer of watery mud. Just a bit further ahead of her, she saw dead ponies lying in a heap. They were caked in mud.
Little Pinkie reached the pile and with her big blue eyes scanned it for her father. Nopony could be him, even though there were so, so many bodies.
Walking forward, she came across the body of a stallion who had a terribly bloody face. His brown uniform was ripped, and he gazed off into somewhere Pinkie wouldn't know until she was dead. She lifted up a piece of the brown fabric and gently fixed the wrinkles in his coat. He could now rest in complete peace.
Little Pinkie wandered on until she was back where she began. She saw the grown mare sitting in her chair and watching television. She had wild eyes, pin straight hair, and she grimaced as she stared blankly forward. Little Pinkie stopped for a moment and stared at the mare, trying to get her attention. She received none. Dejected, she found her way back to Sweet Apple Acres and towards the train tracks. This time they were there, and there was also a station to greet her.
She found herself beginning to fight crowds of cheering ponies as she made her way towards the tracks. A train, blowing huge towers of smoke into the air, stopped at the station promptly. The ponies seemed so happy. Overcome with nostalgia, Little Pinkie began to ask them if they too remembered something she could not let go.
It was an old war singer named Vera Lynn. Pinkie had listened to her so much as a child, and her mother was completely obsessed. Could these ponies possibly relate?
"Does anypony here remember Vera Lynn?" she called out, but no one answered her. "Remember how she said we would meet again some sunny day?"
Ponies bustled past her, and she realized that soldiers were coming home finally. Off the train they rushed, stallions in uniform! They embraced their foals and wives, a grand cheer filling the atmosphere. She wondered if anypony else in there felt she did... completely hopeless.
Sue Floyd calmly rocked a young, innocent pink foal. Her tiny pink body squirmed and twisted, crying out for one reason or another. Sue assured the infant of safety, kissing it lovingly and keeping it wrapped safely in a warm blanket. The foal's big blue eyes looked up at it's mother, a gray mare with a stern but loving gaze. Little Pinkie Floyd began to calm down, her fussing slowly turning to a calm dream. Sue sang to her daughter lovingly.
"Momma loves her baby..." with a small bit of sadness, she added, "...and Daddy loves you too. And the sea may look warm to you, babe, and the sky may look blue...ooooh...babe...ooooh baby blue...ooooh babe..."
Dreams of calm piano and sweet synthesizers filled the young child's mind like sugarplums on a sweet Christmas Eve. Her mother's sweet song had soothed Pinkie's heart, and music would forever be important to her.
As Pinkie grew up she was taught a lot of very important life lessons. Her mother always kept very close care and watched Pinkie with the eyes of a hawk, but Pinkie Pie was still generally a peaceful, kind young foal. Unfortunately, the world was not so kind.
Pinkie wasn't the first to notice the tear-stained looks on everyone's faces. The War had saddened them all, and Pinkie wasn't even capable of comprehending how many lives had been taken away. Pinkie could hardly contemplate death at such a young age, how could she contemplate war? People were always cold and mean to her, despite her mother's careful protection.
Modern Equestrian life was a thing of it's own. The war between the griffons and ponies had left every city tattered and many great ponies had died. Explosives began to go off, and one of them killed Pinkie's daddy when she was only five months old. She never met her father, and was always envious of the other foals for having one.
People were always fearful of a home-front attack. More than anything, they were afraid of everything. Even each other. As Pinkie grew as a young infant, her world was already fearful and cold. Her big, sea-blue eyes took everything in. All the emotions she couldn't understand were already becoming bottled inside of a mind that couldn't yet speak. Her immature psyche was already being covered in a layer of thin ice, loosely protecting the frigid and scared person she would become. The baby was being introduced to the world.
One thing was certain, however. Pinkie loved her mother. Her strict, watchful, oppressive mother. The mother who rocked her to sleep nightly and sang her peaceful songs of times past.
