Originally Published April 23, 2013
Pinkie Pie knew something fishy was up, and it wasn’t the salmon sandwich she had for lunch. Something fishy was certainly going on and she would have to get to the bottom of that fish. If she didn’t, then that fish’s fishiness would make just about everything seem fishy and then the fish would be lost, caught up in swarms of fish.
The fishy fish would be an illusive fish, no doubt. Squirming and swimming out of any net Pinkie would set down. Its slimy belly slipping across the surface of the ocean until it was a 100%, free fish.
Fish were born free, as archived by scholars over the years. The independence of fish was clearly evident in their goal of covering every surface able object with its fishiness, a militant expansion effort that almost always succeeded. Yes indeed, would this fish be hard to beat, one that would require sly, cunning, and wit.
Needless to say, Pinkie Pie was sure that there was a fish on the roof when she heard the ceiling grown under somepony’s weight. Flying fish could jump miles away from any body of water. Who was to say one couldn’t have landed on the roof of Sugar Cube Corner?
Slipping away from her studies of Pumpkin and Pound Cakes’ books, she skittered up the stairs on all four tips of her hooves before reaching the roof hatch. With an oversized butterfly net in her mouth, she unclipped the latch and opened the hatch.
With a single bounce, she arrived on the red shingled roof. She was directly behind one of the bakery’s chimneys, so if the fish was up there (which it most certainly was), then it would not be able to see her.
Pinkie’s eyes curved around the fogging chimney to inspect the area. No fish to her left, no fish to her front, and no fish to her-
THERE IT WAS! A massive shadowy trout wearing a cape and standing upright was on the right end of the roof looking at something. Possibly a fountain to swim in or some kelp to eat.
She measured that it was a few inches shorter then her and had a predilection for super hero imitation. Pinkie had never seen a trout so big before in her life; no doubt did this trout break a few world records.
Pinkie Pie wondered if the trout was even aware of its world record status. Its other trout friends would have told him by now or they could be keeping it from him as a joke. No, that wouldn’t be possible; some other fish definitely would have come out and told the trout, no doubt about.
Her eyeballs continued to be twisted around the chimney, staring at the trout, waiting for just the right minute to strike. She didn’t know what she’d do with the trout when she caught, but that wasn’t important now.
Pushing around the corner, Pinkie’s body met in the same position as her eyes. Her entire body was completely around the corner at this point, and the trout still didn’t see. It must have been looking at something important.
Pinkie began to put her weight into her back legs. She crouched her torso down and continued to look up at her target. The fluffy ball of cotton candy she called her head, bent slightly down. She breathed once, then struck.
She sprung full force toward the trout, rocketing herself into the air. The fishing net was in her mouth as she torpedoed to her target. In the air, she swung twice with her net. The first was too early, swinging past the bi-pedal trout harmlessly. The second however, notched it in the side.
The trout doubled back slightly from the force and stepped onto its cape. Slipping on the fabric, it flipped backwards. The trout’s entire body lurched back. One of its feet slipped away from the roof, the other foot followed.
Its legs flew upwards into the air and slowly plummeted off the roof with the rest of its body.
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“Oh my good golly gosh! Are you ok!?!” said a pink tuft of fur.
Alistair groaned slightly. His vision was blurry, his ears rung, and his back was sore. His cloak had dirt on it and a stranger was talking to him. One challenge after another he supposed. Getting to his feet, he brushed himself off.
“Yes, I am alright.” he responded
He shook his head a few times to ward off the evil spirits of concussion, then turned to what was staring at him.
It was a pony. With pink fur and a pink mane topped off with extreme pink fluffiness on both. A tattoo marking (like Twilight’s) was on her side. It was a picture of multi-colored balloons flying. He wondered what that meant.
“I’m sorry!” said the pony, a heavy regret in her voice that some how also sounded cheerful. “I didn’t mean to hurt you, it’s just that I saw you climbing up the bakery and I wanted to say ‘hello’, because most ponies don’t usually climb up roofs and start staring at stuff, so I wanted to surprise you, but not in a bad way but then I thought I should just go up and say ‘hello’ so that’s what I did, but then you got scared and I kinda of made you fall off and then I asked if you’re ok and you said yes and now we’re right here talking about how I didn’t mean to hurt you, its just that I saw you climbing up the bakery and I wanted to say ‘hello’, because-”
“No, it is quite okay” he interrupted nervously while wringing his hands against one another. “It’s just…I must be leaving now.”
“Woooooooooooooaaaaaahhhhhh,” marveled the pony. “What’s wrong with the way you taaaaaaaaaaalk?”
He blushed in anger. “It is simply the manner I speak in! What difference does it make if it does not mirror your own? Now, although I enjoyed this short and rude exchange, I must be going now. Goodbye!” He turned around to walk the other way, when the pink pony grabbed him by the shoulders.”
“What!?!” she cried. “You can’t leave, I just met you and I want to introduce myself and possibly throw a 8:07 P.M party since your new in town and everybody likes a party when their new in town!”
“How do you know I’m new? This information was due to be confidential until Thursday afternoon. How the devil did you find this out?”
“Oh that’s easy, I now everybody in Ponyville! Whether they are pony, pegasus, unicorn, donkey, mule, griffon, or…you, I know everyone. And how I know everypony can stay my little secret. Now come on, I want to throw a quick party, nothing to posh, just a simple shin dig.”
Alistair was starting to sweat. “Well…uh…I-I-I don’t…like…parties.”
The pink pony’s face turned into an expression of absolute disbelief. She jumped into the air while gasping louder then a sonic boom.
“Don’t like parties!?! Why that’s more loco then saying you don’t like…PARTIES! Here, follow me!”
The pony grabbed his hand and dragged him into “Sugar Cube Corner” and sat him down at a table. She threw on scholars cap, and then pulled out a long chalkboard and a pointer with an apple on the end.
“The definition of party by most official dictionaries is ‘a social gathering of friends for a special occasion, involving entertainment and refreshments.’ So, considering that this is the first time we have ever met, one would definitely consider this a special occasion. So for your own experience, I have quickly set up this mini party for your own enjoyment.”
The pink pony pulled from behind her an entire table cloth with cake, decorations, and party hats and tossed it onto the table. The party was ready.
“But I don’t even know your name!” Alistair stammered desperately, now attempting to conjure an excuse available to him.
The situation was growing more uncomfortable by the minute. A completely random individual was talking to him! Not only that, they wanted to ‘party’ with him! He hadn’t been this scared since first meeting Twilight. It was awful!
“Pinkie Pie at your service” said the mare, bowing and extending her hoof. Alistair shook it, and slowly began to eat the cake in front of him.
He had to admit, it was pretty good. In fact, it was probably the best thing he had ever tasted! He normally didn’t eat sweet stuff, mainly for the fact that he never had the option to.
“Wellllllll, how do you like it?” Asked Pinkie, her eyes full of expectation.
“It’s pretty good I must say, it has a nice consistency and the form of it holds up well. Very sweet as well.”
“Good!” said Pinkie as she snatched up Alistair’s plate. “Now that you’ve mastered the first element of parties, it’s time we move onto the second and third. Put on your party hat!”
“Ok,” said Alistair as he put on his party hat.
“Now, stand up and wait right there!” Pinkie rushed into another room of the bakery and came out with a large phonograph on wheels. She scooted it into position and flipped a record onto it, a song began to play.
“You have finished the second element of parties my fine bi-pedal bro, hat wearing. Now it’s time for the final part, dancing!”
“But I really don’t think if I should-”
“DANCE!” yelled Pinkie.
Immediately Alistair began to dance. His arms and legs flopped around like a dying earthworm to the wacky record playing. He was uncomfortable at first, making a clown of himself in front of a stranger.
After awhile, began to slightly enjoy himself, and started to flop his arms and legs more uniformly. He was now looking like a gelatin soldier, but at least he was happy, and Pinkie could tell.
She stood smiling a giant grin, as Al began to get completely into the music. He shut his eyes and just moved to whatever the music felt like, it was amazing. Once it stopped, he was still flopping about, happy as ever.
“Well, well, well, who doesn’t like parties now, hmmm?” chided Pinkie.
“Ok” said Alistair as he hung his head, “You got me. It was a lot of fun. Thank you for showing me. I’m Alistair by the way. Sorry I forgot to introduce myself.”
“Oh its ok Ally Wally, it happens to all of us. But now that you’re into the groove of things how about I play another record but this time-”
Pinkie Pie was interrupted by the sound of infants crying upstairs. Yelping, she galloped up the stairs. Near the top, she called down to Al.
“I have to go, babysitting calls, but maybe we can hang out later. See you!”
Pinkie disappeared up the stairs. Alistair stood in the empty room for a second. So much had just happened in the past few minutes, it was pretty overwhelming. He had met a new pony, partied, and enjoyed a sugar frosted treat, listened to music, danced and conversed with a pony with only mild shenanigans.
Everything seemed perfect, except for one thing. He had a question on his mind, a serious one. One that had recently came into his mind and was unsure if any pony could ever answer it. It was a complex question and he just had to know the answer to it.
He was worried that his question could never get answered. That it would lay on his tongue for eons and he would never unlock the mystery that he wanted to solve. This bothered him, and the more he thought about the more anxious he became. Unable to contain the philosophical context any longer, he said it aloud.
“Why would anyone sit on a baby?”