Officer Brooklyn T. Kubiak tightened his fists on the steering wheel in anticipation. Trouble was about, he could smell it. He scanned the road in both directions through dark aviator sunglasses and was disappointed to see that all was well. Somewhere out there in the dark city, the scum of the earth was stirring. They called to him, taunting. Mocking. As if on cue, a voice came over the radio.
"COM to Echo one-two-four."
The officer leaned forward and answered. "Echo one-two-four."
"Echo one-two-four, be advised we have a ten-forty-six on a five-zero-five-alpha. A blue Chevrolet Nova with registration bravo-alpha-uniform-three-three-four westbound on Arcadia past East Chapel Road."
The edges of Officer Kubiak's mouth slowly turned up in a grin. "Ten-four, COM. One-two-four en route."
He set the radio down, cracked his knuckles, and started the engine. He would find this blue Chevy Nova and make the driver rue the day he was born. Nobody drove recklessly on Officer Brooklyn T. Kubiak's watch. He flicked on his siren and unknowingly began the second hunt for Stanley Turner that night.
The blue 1979 Chevy Nova took the corner too fast, its tires screeching as it barely avoided spinning out. Stanley Turner glanced into the rear-view mirror and was relieved to find that there were no bikers in sight. He accelerated further just to be safe.
Why does everyone want to kill me? the soon-to-be-former pizza deliveryman thought to himself.
Stanley continued to drive around town, turning off onto random roads in an effort to lose anyone who might happen to still be on his tail. Finally, the deliveryman took a look around at his surroundings and decided he should be safe for now. He slowed down, then pulled to the side of the road and parked in front of a cake shop. Sitting in the driver's seat for a few moments in an attempt to get his heart rate down, he noticed the ten pizzas still sitting in their warming bags. His stomach rumbled.
No, not pizza. Never again, the young man thought.
His eyes wandered to the sign above the shop he was parked in front of. Cotter's Cakes. He opened the car door and stepped outside into the warm night air. Kicking the door shut, Stanley walked up onto the sidewalk and to the front door of the cake shop. He opened it up, causing a small bell above to announce his arrival. He stopped with one foot in the door, the hairs on his neck standing on end.
The entire floor of the shop was covered in bits of cake and frosting. Display racks were overturned, plates and other dishes were shattered, and it looked as if bags of flour had been emptied onto nearly every available surface. Eggs that had been thrown at the ceiling slowly dripped to the floor. To add to the confusion, balloons and confetti could be seen everywhere.
Stanley was preparing to exit when the door to the back of the shop was kicked open by a shotgun-wielding elderly woman wearing a baker's hat. She raised the gun towards the hapless deliveryman.
"You! Did it come this way? Answer me, boy!" the old lady growled.
Stanley Turner fell to his knees with a high-pitched wail of fear and defeat. He tipped backwards onto the floor and curled into a fetal position, covering himself in cake, flour, and frosting in the process. The gun-toting grandma lowered her gun.
"Oh grow some stones, young man. Now tell me, did you see an overgrown pink poodle come this way?" she asked impatiently.
"Pink what? No, I just got here," Stanley said through tears. "Is everyone in this city crazy?"
"Damn, it must have got away!" the old woman said, ignoring his question. She turned to head into the back room. "Get on out of here, there's no cake left to be sold," she grumbled and left.
Lying on the floor of Cotter's Cakes hungry, scared, and covered in a mess of cake and flour from head to toe, Stanley Turner wondered what could possibly go wrong next.
Pinkie Pie merrily bounced out the back window of Cotter's Cakes and into the alley. She began hopping along, humming to herself. Her tummy was finally full, and she was free to go wherever she wanted. A small part of her supposed she should probably try to get back to Ponyville. Her friends would probably be worried about her, and she couldn't remember if she had to help at Sugar Cube Corner tomorrow or not. In fact, a lot of things were hard to remember right now. Her mind was all fuzzy-wuzzy. She stopped hopping for a moment to contemplate her situation.
Ponyville's probably just down the road, but this place is totally new and exciting with all the bright lights and funny signs. It's just like a big party! she thought to herself.
The pink pony suddenly burst into an uncontrollable fit of giggles. A brilliant idea had just formed; She was going to throw the biggest party ever! The mother, the king, the Grand Poobah of all parties. She happily began bouncing down the alley towards the street again. She had supplies to find.
Somewhere in the near distance, a siren could be heard drawing closer.
Officer Brooklyn T. Kubiak grinned as he noticed a blue Chevy Nova parked on the side of the road ahead. Was that the scum he was looking for, heading toward the car? The suspect's hair and clothing were covered in some kind of white, powdery substance. Could it be? Had he just found a user? He swung the police car in behind the Nova and jumped out of the car, scowling at the young man in front of him as he moved toward the suspect.
"You! Put your hands on your head, now!" the officer commanded.
Stanley Turner looked up in shock and froze. His eyes were wide and darting all over the place.
Oh yeah, this boy's been using, the officer thought.
Officer Kubiak quickly moved toward Stanley and pulled the young man's arms behind his back. Taking out a pair of handcuffs, he clamped them over the deliveryman's wrists, then slammed him up against the Nova.
"You packing, boy?" Kubiak asked roughly.
"What? No, of course not. Why am I being arrested?" Stanley asked in confusion.
Kubiak ignored him. "Where's the stash? Did you swallow it? Do I need to go full cavity, son?"
"What do you mean stash? Wait, I don't do drugs! What are you talking about?"
"You're so far gone you don't realize you're covered in them," the officer replied. "You make me sick."
"Huh? Oh this. It's flour, sir!"
Officer Kubiak made a show of running a finger over some of the powder covering Stanley and putting it in his mouth.
"You know what this tastes like, boy? The lies of criminal scum!" he answered before the deliveryman could say anything. "You're coming with me to the station for interrogation."
"Interrogation! Are you serious?" Stanley gasped.
Officer Brooklyn T. Kubiak began to corral his latest catch towards his police car. The city would have one less dangerous criminal to deal with by the time he got through with the boy.
Harvey Grimwold and Jerry Burnside watched from the entrance to the alley as Officer Kubiak began to pull Stanley towards the patrol car.
"You think that was Pinkie in the cake shop, man?" Jerry asked his friend quietly.
"Yeah man. I'd know the sound of my beard anywhere. We can't get in through the front though, that cop's out there," Harvey replied.
"I guess we'll have to just wait and hope she doesn't cause too much trouble before we can catch up to her," Jerry stated.
"Hey, I think that's my pizza delivery guy," Harvey said, squinting. "Look, he's covered in cake. Maybe he saw my beard!"
"Uh, I don't think she's your beard now, man," Jerry observed.
The look that appeared in Harvey's eyes caused Jerry to drop the issue immediately. He looked down the road and noticed something familiar in the distance.
"Hey... hey man," he said, pointing. "Isn't that Jeanie?"
Tony Loreno did a double-take as he drove past the cake shop. Some dirty cop was trying to arrest his pizza guy before he could exact a horrifyingly painful revenge on the young man. This was something he simply could not allow. He revved Jeanie's engine and did a U-turn, then sped back towards the shop. He had no idea what he was about to get himself into.
The party was about to begin.