//------------------------------// // So You're Telling Me Your Beard Isn't a Rat? // Story: The Day My Beard Turned Into Pinkie Pie // by Thunderbug80 //------------------------------// So You're Telling Me Your Beard Isn't a Rat? Stanley Turner turned the steering wheel and pulled his 1979 Chevy Nova onto Harding Drive. The address he was heading towards seemed familiar, but he couldn't quite place it. He drove slowly, trying to make out the numbers on each home as he passed. Finally, he spotted the house he was looking for, 34 Harding Drive. Oh no, not this house, the troubled young man thought to himself. He had suddenly realized why the address had been so familiar. He parked the car and allowed for a few moments to compose himself. Scanning the driveway, he noticed there were no motorcycles parked out front. Perhaps he would luck out after all. He looked at his reflection in the rear-view mirror. You can do this. You've been trained for this kind of thing, he thought. He wiped his sweating palms on his shirt and took a few deep breaths. He was just doing what he was paid to do, nothing more. Just stay focused on the job, right? This job's going to kill me. Stanley Turner unfastened his seat belt with a shaking hand. It was time to perform the job. He grabbed the box of pizza and made his way towards the Grimwold residence. "Pizza!" Pinkie squealed after hearing several knocks at the door. She began giggling uncontrollably. "Hey man, I told you about that," Harvey glared. "Sorry!" Pinkie said through her giggles. She took a deep breath and tried to remain calm. Harvey grabbed his motorcycle helmet and carefully put it on again, tucking Pinkie the Beard into his leather jacket once more. He zipped it to the neck, checked the mirror again, and answered the door. "Oh Jesus!" Stanley Turner blurted at the sight of Harvey as the door swung open. This was it, his short life was already over. Harvey slowly held out a hand and waited. Stanley's eyes darted around, looking for an escape of some kind. They locked onto the coffee table. Oh God, he's so angry about the pizza that he broke his table in half, he thought with despair. He looked back up into the dark visor of the helmet. "Here's your pizza!" he said a little too loudly. "It's really hot and probably perfect in every way possible. In fact... in fact your next pizza is free." Harvey stood motionless, waiting. Stanley's eyes began to glisten. "So... so you have nothing to worry about, and... Oh God, please don't kill me!" he pleaded, falling to his knees and sobbing. The biker grabbed the pizza box from the deliveryman and slammed the door shut. Muffled sobs could be heard through the door. He walked over to the sofa, sat down, then eyed the coffee table with annoyance. He stood back up and walked to the kitchen, retrieved a chair, and returned to the sofa. Sitting down, he used the chair as a temporary table and set the pizza down on it. Harvey Grimwold's jacket unzipped and a frantic Pinkie Pie swung merrily back and forth on the biker's chin as she began to sing. "Oh my name is Pinkie Pie and I suddenly appeared, On a big old meanie's face as a big pink pony beard, I thought that he would starve me, yes that is what I feared, But then the pizza guy arrived and I danced and sang and cheered, yeah!" Harvey closed his eyes in frustration. "Shut up and eat," he growled. "Yes, sir!" she complied. She held her hooves out to retrieve the hot, delicious-looking pizza slice that the biker was about to hand her. Just then, there came another knock on the door. Harvey tossed the pizza slice back into the box. Pinkie watched him close the pizza box with eyes that began to fill with tears, while the biker quickly retrieved his helmet again and began to put it on. "No!" Pinkie screamed. "I can't take it any longer, I need that pizza now!" She was hyperventilating. "Quiet!" Harvey scolded in a whisper. "Never!" The biker sighed and pulled the helmet on, then zipped his jacket up as far as possible before reaching into it and placing a finger in Pinkie's mouth. She struggled, but was effectively gagged. Stanley Turner was looking down at the three pizza boxes he was carrying when the door opened. "Hi there, Mr. Grimwold. I'm sorry I acted like that a few minutes ago. I just came to give you these pizzas as an apology for my behavior," he said as he finally looked up. His eyes fell upon the hand that was reaching into the leather jacket. He's pulling a gun on me! Stanley thought with terror. He emitted a high-pitched, whining scream as he dropped the pizzas, turned on his heels, and fled. He fell down the porch stairs, but was back on his feet within seconds. The young man jumped over the hood of his 1979 Chevy Nova, collapsing to the pavement on the other side. Within moments, he was in his car and screeching away from 34 Harding Drive, clipping the truck that was parked in front of him along the way. Harvey watched as the Nova screeched around the corner and disappeared. He then removed his finger from Pinkie's mouth, scooped up the remarkably unharmed pizza boxes, and closed the door. He returned to the sofa, tossed the extra pizzas onto the floor, and gave Pinkie her long-awaited pizza slice. She grabbed it in all four hooves and took a giant bite. "Oh yeah, that's the good stuff," she said happily. She finished the slice in two more large bites. Harvey wondered how she could fit it all in her stomach. The biker and his beard-thing ate happily, and were able to relax for the first time since meeting each other. Jerry Burnside slowly opened his eyes. He looked around, then squinted in pain. His jaw felt awful. What had happened today? He couldn't remember. He tried to move a hand to his jaw, but his hands seemed to be tied to bedposts. Not again, he mused quietly to himself. A pleasant smell caressed his nose. He knew that smell. That right there was the smell of a Meat Giant from Gongo's Pizza. Sixteen inches in diameter, with a base of barbecue sauce and mozzarella cheese. It would be filled to overflowing with ham, beef, bacon, chicken, sausage, pepperoni, salami, and mini-meatballs. It was then topped with an extra layer of cheese and a swirl of mayonnaise. It was his favorite, and there was one nearby. He looked over at the bedside table. There it is. There was a can of beer right next to it. Suddenly the bedroom door opened and Harvey Grimwold entered the room. He was wearing his old motorcycle helmet from when he'd first begun riding, as well as his Angel's jacket. The jacket was ludicrously zipped all the way up to his neck. Man, what's this all about? he thought. Harvey came over and sat down on the edge of the bed. He held a note in front of Jerry's eyes. Jerry, You got drunk and were violent, so I had to tie you up, brother. That's not important though. You see that pizza and beer? If you want it, you need to promise me you'll never talk about what I'm going to show you. I swear man, I'll have to off you if this gets out to anyone. Now choose, the pizza or your life. Jerry winced as Harvey reached over and ripped the duct tape from his mouth. "Ow man, my moustache!" he complained. Harvey pointed at the note. "Hell, man. That's about the easiest thing I've ever had to decide. I'll take the pizza and beer." Harvey grabbed the pizza box and tossed it onto Jerry's chest. He opened it up, took a slice out, and held it before Jerry's face. He pulled the slice back when Jerry tried to take a bite. Jerry sighed, "Yeah, man. I'm not going to talk about whatever it is you want to show me. This isn't about that time we were in Sturgis and I knocked your ride over, is it? I just can't handle a whole bottle of Jack, man. I can't help it, I just get to drinking and... " Harvey held up a finger to silence him, then allowed Jerry a bite of pizza. "Man, that's the best," Jerry said after he swallowed. "No better pizza than a Meat Giant." Harvey took a deep breath, then quickly took the helmet off. He unzipped his jacket, and just as Jerry was thinking maybe he should have chosen to die after all, a pink ball of hair emerged from beneath it. "Hi, I'm Pinkie! You and I are going to be best friends!" Harvey's beard, which was now pink and had a body, said with a smile. Jerry Burnside's eyes rolled to the back of his head for the second time that day as he fell back to the bed unconscious.