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Baked goods and other plot devices1,317 words
The magic tricks of Pinkamena Pie1,231 words
Breakfast, subtle hints and a countdown1,079 words
The Eggheads Guide to Allicorns1,068 words
Tap-dancing1,131 words

Tap-dancing

Dr.Pinkhatten
Ch.05 "Tap-dancing"

Ponyville had exploded. That was the only explanation that I could come up with, to explain the massive changes that had occurred all around me. Some time ago Pinkie had mentioned that she considered upgrading her Party-cannon to a “Party-Nuke”, I had no idea what that meant but seeing the state Ponyville was in I could make an educated guess.

A carnival had spontaneous broke out, streamers and balloons adorned every available surface and confetti showers rained down on the crowd that filled the streets. I had never seen so many Ponies in one place before, even Canterlot seemed deserted compared to the masses that flooded Ponyville’s streets. Whatever snow had been around, had soon surrendered to the onslaught of trampling hoofs. Everyone was laughing, drinking and generally enjoying themselves.

Now that I think about it, it’s rather strange that the biggest scare that I ever got in my life, wasn’t caused by some sort of enraged demigod - the likes of which I met with disturbing frequency- but by a crowd of ponies having fun.

In the distance I could spot Sugarcube corner. The humble bakery had transformed into some sort of Candy-Cane-Castle. Not hard to guess where I would find Pinkie.

My horn lit up, unimaginable power coalescing inside of it, as my mind reached out for the boundaries of time and Space, trying to tear the fragile veil of reality asunder; in short, I tried to teleport. A soft pain at the base of my horn informed me that teleportation was out of the question. Of course. Looks like I was hoofslogging it.

I shot my number one assistant a glance: “Spike, giddyup, we've got a party to crash.”

Spike on my back, I darted out of the library. Instantly my brain was attacked by the noise and bright colours. Confused I tried to make my way through the partying masses. Hastily I dodged an outstretched leg, a grey stallion offered trying to motivate me to dance. My hoofs practically tap-danced across the asphalt, as I maneuvered my way through the crowd. Left, right, avoid the drunk, right again. A mare grabbed me, swinging me around with a big grin on her face. After a few rotations I loosened her grip, sending both of us pirouetting away from each other. Another mare caught me, holding me tight in her front leg and giving me a suggestive looks. Quickly I scrambled to my feet, making sure that Spike was still holding on, before running of. The mare, obviously not one to be discouraged quickly, was directly behind me.

I looked around, searching for a way to lose my enamoured pursuer. There! I increased my speed, heading directly for a row of parade floats. Using an unsuspecting stallions back as stepping stone, I rocketed myself onto the first float, a flowery decorated stage on wheels. Quickly I dived between the burlesquely dressed dancers, heading for the back of the cart.

Another quick leap and I was caught in Celestia's embrace. Too bad that the 15 feet high plaster replica wasn’t as sure footed as the original. Slowly the statue began to tilt. While I charged up the falling figure of my mentor, I took a moment to reflect on the fact that I was seriously getting used to those kind of hijinks. Just as I reached the head, I jumped. If I just reached the roof of the house in front of me, I could jump from housetop to housetop. I shot through the air, time slowing to a crawl. I would make it, I wouldn’t make it, I would make it, I wouldn’t make it, I WOULD MAKE IT. “Wait, aren’t most of Ponyville’s roofs thatched?” I just managed to think before crashing straight through the roof.

“Well that could have gone better.” I muttered stumbling out of the bed that I had landed on.

“Maybe you’ll leave the stunts to Rainbow Dash in the future.” Spike groaned, still latched tightly to my back.

I ignored him, opening the front door and leaving. Luckily enough my little stunt seemed to have discouraged my pursuer. I dived into the crowed again, this time a little slower. It was important that I reached Pinkie as soon as possible, and another wild chase was the last thing I wanted. Yes, this time there would be no distra....

Before I could even finish the thought I was swapped up by a passing conga line. Held in place by the iron grip of the pony behind me, I had no choice but to dance along. Three steps forward, one step back, three steps forward, one step back. Even I with my admittedly sub par dancing skills was able to keep up with the simple pattern.

By Celestia’s unshorn fetlocks! I was getting distracted again. Eyes forward Twilight Sparkle. In front of my eyes was the swaying orange backside of a mare. Okay, maybe “eyes forward” wasn’t the best idea if I wanted to concentrate.

Wait. I knew this backside.

The cutie mark was the right one, but that didn’t mean anything, a lot of people had the same cutie mark. Analytically I scanned the rump in front of me. The shape seemed all right, the colour was a definite match as well, and the way it moved seemed to be in accordance with my prior investigations as well, but was the elasticity right?

“Spike, I need my calliper.” I said to my assistant.

I could practically hear the confused expression, he probably had on his face, while he asked: “What would you need your calliper for right now?”

“I need to check the thickness of the sub dermal fat layer of the rump in front of me...” I replied.

“Excuse me?” Applejack said, looking at me over her shoulder.

“Never mind.” I said to Spike before turning back to the now identified mare. I gave her my most innocent grin, trying to cover the near social faux pas: “Fancy meeting you here Applejack.”

“Now wait a minute, what was that nonsense about ya measuring my backside? Are ya calling me fat?” she drawled with her heavy southern accent.

“That is a very good question and I would just love to explain everything to you, but we have more important things to do. Have you seen Pinkie?” Once again my mastery over the art of subtlety allowed me to change the topic and avoiding further public humiliation.

“Pinkie? Now that ya mention it, it’s mighty strange that she ain’t here. Normally she wouldn’t miss a party like this for her life.” The apple farmer replied “Is something wrong with her?” She asked.

I sighed: “Oh you got no Idea.”

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