Cupcakes: Consequences
The air was warm, the sun was shining, and everypony in Ponyville was having a glorious day. The town square was bustling and crowded and busy ponies filled the streets. All the pony folk seemed to have somewhere specific to be. All except Rainbow Dash; her place was in the sky. She tore freely through the air, speeding one way and the next, buzzing the tree tops and racing the wind. The blue pegasus swooped over a schoolyard, much to the delight of the children, then climbed several hundred feet and dove, streaking downward as fast as she could. Seconds before hitting the ground, her wings flew open and she pulled up back into the clear blue. Rainbow felt alive.
Suddenly, Dash remembered that she had somewhere to be; she was supposed to meet with Pinkie Pie in five minutes. Dash had gotten so caught up in her exercises that she’d nearly forgotten that Pinkie had asked to meet her at Sugarcube Corner at three. Pinkie hadn’t said why—or what they’d be doing—but Dash knew that with Pinkie, it could be anything. Dash wasn’t sure if she really wanted to go, though. She was so engaged with her stunts that she thought about blowing Pinkie off to continue flying. But, Dash’s conscience got the better of her. She knew that it would hurt Pinkie’s feelings; after all, Pinkie had said it was going to be something special just for the two of them. Dash considered it and thought “why not?” What did she have to lose? Heck, it might be more pranking. Pinkie might have found a bunch more fun stuff to pull on folks, and they’d had so much fun the last time. Dash kicked into overdrive to make up for lost time, and sped to her appointment.
When Dash walked into the store, she was immediately greeted by her host, who was bouncing in excitement. “Yay, you’re here! I’ve been waiting aaall day,” said the jumping pony.
“Sorry if I’m a little late, Pinkie. I was doing my afternoon exercises and lost track of time,” Dash apologized.
Pinkie giggled and responded in a gleefully reassuring tone, “Oh that’s ok, you’re here now. What’s a few more minutes? I’ve been sooo excited thinking about all fun stuff we’re gonna do, I haven’t stopped bouncing since I woke up. I mean, I almost forgot to breathe, I’ve been so happy.”
Dash gave a slightly uncomfortable laugh. She had always appreciated Pinkie Pie’s friendly, outgoing way of life, but Pinkie’s overabundant enthusiasm almost creeped her out. Dash maintained a polite expression, however. If Pinkie was this worked up, whatever she had planned must be good.
“So, you ready to get started, Rainbow Dash? I’ve got everything all ready,” the pink pony said.
Dash psyched herself up. “You betcha, Pinkie. So whaddya got planned? We gonna prank somebody? I got a couple of good ones I’ve been thinking about. Or maybe you’ve got some stunts you think I should try? Or perhaps…”
“MAKING CUPCAKES!” Pinkie happily announced.
“Baking?” Dash was disappointed. “Pinkie, you know I’m not good at baking. Remember last time?”
“Oh, that’s not a problem at all. I only need your help making them. I’ll be doing most of the work,” Pinkie explained.
Dash thought for about it for a second. “Well, alright, I guess that’s ok. What exactly do you need me to do?”
“That’s the spirit. Here you go.” Pinkie handed Dash a cupcake.
Dash was puzzled. “I thought I was helping you bake.”
“You will be. I made this one just for you before you got here.”
“So, is this like taste testing or something?”
“Sorta!” Pinkie said.
Dash shrugged and popped the pastry in her mouth. She chewed a bit and swallowed. Not bad.
“OK, now what?” Dash asked.
“Now,” Pinkie informed her, “you take a nap.”
Puzzled, Dash opened her mouth but felt instantly lightheaded. A wave of dizziness washed over her, the world spun, and seconds later she collapsed to the floor.
When Dash regained consciousness, she found herself in a dark room. She tried to shake her head but found that a taut leather strap held it firmly in place. She struggled to move, but braces around her chest and limbs glued her to a rack formed from a series of sturdy planks, which spread her legs wide apart. Dash’s wings were the only part of her not tied down, and they fluttered frantically while she struggled to escape. As she writhed, Pinkie jumped suddenly into her line of sight.
“Goody, you’re awake. Now we can get started,” Pinkie stated gleefully. She bounded into the darkness, and quickly reappeared pushing a small cart covered with a cloth.
“Pinkie, what’s going on? I can’t move!” Dash said urgently.
“Well duh, that’s because you’re tied down,” chided Pinkie. “That’s why you can’t move. I didn’t think you’d need to be told that.”
“But why? What’s happening? I thought you said I was going to help make cupcakes.”
“You are helping. You see, I ran out of the special ingredient and I need you to get more.”
“Special ingredient?” Dash was now breathing heavily and starting to panic. “What special ingredient?”
Pinkie giggled and responded “You, silly!”
Dash’s eyes widened, and her face contorted in fear. Then she started to laugh and said, in a voice bordering on hysteria, “Woo, you really got me there, Pinkie Pie. I mean, tricking me into thinking I’m gonna get made into a cupcake? I gotta tell you, this is the best prank yet! You win, you’re the best.”
Pinkie only giggled even more. “Aw, thanks Dash! But I haven’t done any pranks today, so I can’t accept your praise.”
Dash was struggling again. “Pinkie, come on, this isn’t funny.”
“Then why were you laughing?” Before Dash could answer, Pinkie grabbed the cloth and whipped it off the cart. On the cart was a tray containing various sharp medical tools and knives, carefully organized and wickedly sharp, as well as a large medical bag.
Dash was now in full panic mode. She was starting to hyperventilate. Her mind raced as she tried to reason with the pink pony. “You can’t do this Pinkie! I’m your friend!”
“I know you are, and that’s why I’m so happy that I’ve got you here! We get to share your last moments together, just you and me.” Pinkie was skipping again.
“But, the other ponies will wonder where I am. When the clouds pile up, they’ll come looking for me and then you’ll get found out,” Dash cried in desperation.
“Oh, Dash,” said Pinkie. “Don’t worry, there are plenty of pegasus ponies to take care of a few clouds. And besides, no-one will find out. I mean, how long do you think I’ve been doing this?” And with that ominous statement, the lights suddenly came to life and revealed the rest the room.
“Oh no.” Dash reeled in horror at the image presented to her. The room was decorated with a typical but twisted Pinkie Pie flair. Colorful streamers of dried entrails fluttered around on the ceiling, brightly painted skulls of all sizes were attached to the walls, and organs done up in pastels filled with helium were tied to the backs of chairs. The tables and chairs were made of bones and the preserved flesh of past ponies. Dash cringed upon seeing the center piece of the table nearest to her. The heads of four foals, their eyes closed as if they were sleeping, were wearing party hats made from their own skin. With a thrill of terror, Dash recognized one of them as Apple Bloom’s classmate Twist. Dash’s eyes darted back and forth and then fell upon a patchwork banner hanging from the rafters. Made from several tanned pony hides, the words “Life is a party” were scrawled on it in blood red.
Dash’s attention was brought back by a party horn unfurling and tickling her nose. She gaped at Pinkie Pie, who was standing right in front of her. The party pony was wearing a dress quilted from dried skin, emblazoned with cutie marks. On her back fluttered six pegasus wings, all of different colors. As the earth pony skipped in excitement, her necklace of severed unicorn horns clacked together loudly.
“Like it?” Pinkie asked. “I made it myself.”
Desperately, Dash pleaded with the smiling pony before her. “Pinkie, please, I’m sorry if I did anything to you. I didn’t mean it. Please let me go. I promise I won’t tell anybody.”
“Oh, Dash, you didn’t do anything. It’s just that your number came up and, well, I don’t make the rules! We can’t turn back now.”
Dash was tearing up. How could this be happening?
“Aww, don’t be sad, Dash!” said Pinkie. “Look, this’ll cheer you up. I brought you a friend.”
Seemingly out of nowhere, Pinkie produced a brightly painted blue and yellow skull. It was about pony sized, but it had a very defining feature: a beak.
Dash gaped in shock. “Is…is that….is…that?”
“Hey, Dash, let’s hang together. These ponies are lame-os. Dweebs dweebs dweebs,” Pinkie mimicked. “I caught her right before she left town. Remember when I left the party for about twenty minutes? That wasn’t enough time to play with her, of course—I had to wait till after the party to do that. But boy, am I glad I did. It was worth it for the flavor alone. Griffons taste like two animals at once, it’s amazing. I know she didn’t have a number like everyone else in Ponyville, but when was I gonna get another chance to try griffon? I probably should have asked where she came from so I could have gotten more, but I forgot. I’ll tell you what though, she was quite the fighter. She lasted a long time, which was a lot of fun for me. I got the chance to play with somebody other than a pony and try new things. It’s too bad she had such a meanie mouth. She said so much bad stuff I just had to take her tongue out. You know, bad language makes for bad feelings, Rainbow Dash.”
Dash didn’t have anything to say. She just sobbed and writhed in her tight bonds.
“Well,” said Pinkie with an air of finality, “that’s enough reminiscing. It’s time to begin.”
Putting down Gilda’s skull, the pink pony gripped a scalpel in the cleft of her hoof and walked over to Dash’s right flank. Without any flair, Pinkie placed the blade an inch above Dash’s cutie mark and began a circular cut around it. Dash shouted in pain and tried desperately to pull away, but the braces held her still. Finishing the incision, Pinkie grabbed a curved skinning knife from the tray. Screwing up her face in concentration, she worked it under Dash’s skin and sliced the hide away from the muscle. Dash ground her teeth as she tearfully watched her flesh peel off. Pinkie then moved to the other side and repeated the process on Dash’s left flank. Once she had finished, Pinkie held up both cutie marks in front of her friend and started waving them like pompoms. Dash just whimpered. Her thighs burned like nothing she had felt before.
Placing the ragged patches of skin down, Pinkie selected a large butcher knife and walked behind the blue pegasus. “Hope you don’t mind, I think I’m gonna wing it now,” Pinkie laughed. She grabbed Dash’s left wing in her mouth and played with it for a few seconds, yanking it back so the sharp pain reignited the fire in Dash’s flanks. Then, stretching the wing out, Pinkie brought the blade down hard at the base. Instantly, Dash screamed and thrashed her appendage. The movement threw off Pinkie’s aim. She tried to hit the mark again but missed, and carved a huge slice into Dash’s back.
“Dash, you gotta stay still or I’ll keep missing!” scolded Pinkie as her friend howled.
Pinkie took another whack and hit her target. She swung again and again. Blood sprayed into the air, but Pinkie realized she wasn’t getting anywhere. The blade just wasn’t going through the bone.
“Hmm, I guess I forgot to sharpen it. I’ll try something else,” stated Pinkie matter-of-factly as she tossed the knife over her shoulder, embedding the blade in the table. Through the haze of pain and tears, Dash heard the sound of a metal box opening and closing.
“Got it! Say, Dashie, why do they call it a hack saw? It doesn’t hack, hacking is what I was doing with the knife. This is a saw. I don’t get it.”
Pinkie placed the tool over the mangled flesh of the last attempt. Standing on her hind legs, she worked the saw back and forth with her front hooves. It sliced effortlessly through the bone and skin. The feeling of the jagged teeth grinding into her made Dash want to vomit. She watched numbly as her wing flew over her head and landed with a fluff on the table. Pinkie moved to the next wing and started sawing. Dash didn’t struggle this time; she’d given up trying to fight and focused on choking back screams of agony. Abruptly, the sawing paused. Pinkie was only half way done, the wing hanging off by a sliver.
“Hey, Dash-” Pinkie piped up. “Think fast!”
Suddenly, Pinkie yanked the wing as hard as she could. The bone snapped but the blue pony’s skin held, then tore away. The pull ripped away a long strip of flesh all the way down Dash’s back to her rump. Her body seized at the unexpected trauma. As her pelvis tensed up, Dash felt a warm release between her legs, and her loud, unending melody of pain filled the room. Unable to catch her breath, she blacked out.
Dash awoke with a gasp. The stench of her urine filled her mucus-caked nostrils. As her vision swam into focus, she saw a very pouty Pinkie Pie removing a large adrenaline needle from her chest. Stomping her hooves, the frustrated Pinkie lashed out at her helpless victim.
“Didn’t anybody teach you any manners? It’s very rude to fall asleep when somebody invites you over to spend time with them. How would you like it if I came over to your house and went to sleep? ‘Oh, I’m sorry, Dash, you’re so boring I think I’ll take a nap.’ You think I like always doing this by myself? I told you how excited I got when I found you were next. I was excited to have a friend be here with me while I worked. But NOOOOO! You’ve got to be inconsiderate. You know, I thought you were tough. I thought you could handle anything. I’ve had foals stand up better than you! Do I have to baby you? Huh? Is that how you want me to remember you, as a baby?”
As Pinkie stopped to catch her breath, Dash blinked and sobbed softly. Her back was in agony, her sides were on fire, and there was an intense pain in one of her legs. As she blinked again, she saw Pinkie pop something red into her mouth and began to chew. Noticing Dash’s stare, Pinkie quickly gulped the morsel down.
“What?” Pinkie asked. “Oh, this?” She held up another piece. “Well, while YOU were asleep, I got a little impatient and helped myself to a small sample. I got it from your leg; you’re not bad. Wanna try some?”
Without waiting for a response, Pinkie shoved the strip of meat into the revolted pegasus pony’s mouth. Dash gagged, and immediately spit it out. Pinkie frowned, and picked up the chunk of flesh. “If you didn’t want it, you could have said no.” She contemplated the discarded snotty morsel, then gulped it up. “It’s not like you haven’t had my cupcakes before.”
Swallowing, Pinkie turned her attention to a small can on the tray. She removed the lid, revealing that it was filled with red-hot coals. Lying on top of the coals were several large nails. As the adrenalin filled her veins, Dash began to panic again. Picking up the can, Pinkie walked over to Dash’s left. Holding some tongs with her mouth, Pinkie carefully picked up a nail and positioned it at the seam between her victim’s front left leg and hoof. She then grabbed a hammer and took careful aim.
“No, Pinkie!” Dash screamed. “NO! NO!”
The hammer came down and the nail punctured Dash’s skin. The white hot burning was too much. Dash screamed as she pulled and thrashed at the braces, causing her raw skin to rub and tear. Pinkie tried to line up another nail, but couldn’t find her aim, and let out a frustrated grunt. When Pinkie brought the hammer back to take a wild swing, Dash burst out crying and begging.
“PLEASE STOP! PLEASE, PLEASE STOP!”
Pinkie rolled her eyes. Putting down the hammer and tongs, she walked back in front of her friend and stared pensively at the broken pegasus. Gilda didn’t even cry this much when she had a live parasprite stuffed down her throat. Pinkie thought for a minute about what to do next, then had a sudden spark of inspiration.
Rotating a wheel on the rack, Pinkie laid Dash on her back, then moved to Dash’s hind legs, bringing the can with her. Picking up her tools, Pinkie drove a searing hot spike of metal directly into the bottom of Dash’s hoof. As Dash yelled in pain, Pinkie moved around and drove a second nail into the other hoof. Next, Pinkie went back to her cart and located an enormous battery and controller, which she dragged over to where she was working. She tied copper wires between the terminals and the nails driven into Dash’s hooves, then gave Dash a wink and flipped the switch.
Electricity rocketed through Dash’s body. The blue pony reacted immediately; her body seized, and her muscles snapped taut. Dash’s hips thrust skyward, her eyes rolled back, and she let out a deep, throat shredding cry. Pinkie giggled and danced in place, then reached down and turned up the juice. Dash convulsed uncontrollably, and her bladder emptied once more.
After about five minutes, Pinkie shut off the power. Wisps of steam rose from the singed fur around Dash’s hooves, and the area reeked of cooked flesh and burnt enamel. Pinkie rotated Dash upright again and tried to snap the drooling, delirious pony back to attention.
“Dash? Dash! Rainbow Dash, wake up!” Dash moaned and managed to give a modicum of weak acknowledgment. Pinkie studied her handiwork, then reached into the medicine bag and produced a large syringe. “Alright, time for the last round.”
Dash focused blearily on the needle, which Pinkie took as a question as to what it was.
“This is a little something to take the pain away,” Pinkie informed Dash as she walked around to her victim’s ruined back. Dash flinched as Pinkie jabbed the needle into the lower part of the blue pony’s spine. Moving in front of her friend again, Pinkie leaned down and elaborated.
“In a few minutes, you won’t be able to feel anything below your ribcage. Then you’ll be able to stay awake to watch the harvest.”
Dash started to cry again. “Pinkie?” she choked out.
“Yeah?”
“I want to go home,” Dash sobbed.
“Yeah, I can see wanting to do that,” replied the party pony. “Sometimes, I just wanna give up, just say ‘I’m done with this mess’ and go to bed. But you know what? You can’t shrug off your responsibilities. You’ve got to pull yourself up and meet the challenges head on. That’s the only way you’re gonna get ahead in life.”
Dash hung her head—for just a moment—but as the anesthesia took effect, and the pain began to fade, she had a thought. Her head lifted, somehow, and she expressed the thought out loud.
“Pinkie… who did ya do? Exactly.”
The pink pony stopped, startled. “Gee. There have been so many! It’s kind of wonderful, really. I’m surprised you didn’t ask ‘why’?”
Tears ran down Rainbow Dash’s face as she faced her friend—partly from the tortures and physical anguish, but partly in unbelieving horror at the strange normalcy of her. This was Pinkie—only, horribly, not. Dash shook her head weakly, and tried again.
“No, I mean who?”
“You don’t ask questions. How’s that injection coming? It’s time to play with streamers!”
“What?”
“That’s three questions, who, what and why. Next you’ll be asking where, and it’s right here, silly! And…” Pinkie Pie giggled merrily, “You already know how!”
Dash fought for lucidity. The injection had taken away pain below her midsection, though it persisted as a horrible vague throb in her hooves, flanks and leg. She was glad she couldn’t see the chunk missing from that. …or to be picky, she had seen it all too well, but as a kebab. You are what you eat, thought Dash. No, focus! The pain from her wing stumps was so excruciating that it was nearly impossible to think.
“Just… as a personal favor, okay? We’re… friends, right?” managed Dash.
“Sure we are! You could say you’re my friend with the best taste, and that’s saying something!”
“Oh, crap, you got Rarity….”
“Nopey dopey! The numbers don’t lie! Now, are you stalling?”
“I, I, I, no way!” squeaked Dash, “You’ve just got to tell me—who else?” She desperately scanned the grisly array of trophies that festooned Pinkie, but it was just too hard to focus.
“You mean, who like our friends you mean? Is that it?”
Dash panted. Pinkie trotted up, close to her, and blinked cutely. “It’s lonely doing this. I really appreciate you sharing it with me, Dashie. I’m sorry I called you a baby, you’re the coolest! Saying such a mean thing, it was like, like.. a rotten parasprite in my head!” She did a horrible twitch, and continued. “It’s going to be so much nicer doing it with my friends!”
“WHO?” begged Dash, her vision blurring. “You didn’t get Rarity. Did… did…”
“What’s the matter? Come on, out with it!” chirped the pink pony. “I mean, we’re going to take lots of fun things out of you, but let’s start with this one! My Pinkie sense says, you’re holding out on me! You want to know about friends, huh?”
“Applejack…” sobbed Dash. She’d wondered if she recognized that color of pelt as part of Pinkie’s gruesome decorations.
“Well, this is your lucky day!” said Pinkie, and Dash’s mind caved in. She sagged, all the fight draining out of her.
“You’re the FIRST! Isn’t that special? Isn’t that just the Rainbow Dashingest thing, like, ever? And I have some very special news for you…”
Dash’s head snapped up, her eyes wide and desperate. “F…first? You didn’t get anybody else, before me?”
“Oh, you silly! I’ve been so busy! Me and Applejack will have lots and lots to talk about, I feel like I totally understand her now. Sheesh, what a workload! It’s so hard to get the blood off, and sawing is so tiring and hurts your neck after a few hours. But,” and here Pinkie blinked and looked dizzy and lost, “I guess you gotta do what you gotta do, huh? It just makes sense. Don’t you think?”
Dash wouldn’t let go of the point. “You didn’t get Applejack. You didn’t? Say you didn’t!”
The pink pony laughed merrily. “Nope! But that’s the special news. Don’t try to be sneaky—I saw the way you look at her. Pinkie sees EVERRRYTHING.” She did another twitch, and continued. “You won’t be apart from her long, silly pony!”
“What?” gasped Dash.
“I rolled twice. She’s next! Right after you’re finished. Hey, if it will make you happy, I can do a double-header! Get it, header? You won’t have to wait long at all—I can fit her in today if I’m lucky!”
Dash’s eyes widened in utter horror—and dropped, as the pink pony zipped up close, a scalpel in her teeth.
“We’d better get cracking! If I’m going to bring you two together like you ought to be, time’s a wasting!”
She began to draw the scalpel along Dash’s belly. Rainbow Dash felt her mind giving way to the horror of the situation—and fought back, desperately, knowing what Pinkie’s plans would be if she got to continue.
“Wait! I have an idea! It’s a really good idea!”
“Nope! It’s streamer time! And I can’t wait to share pegasus liver with you—oh, wait, you’ve had it all this time, silly me! But you haven’t been able to properly appreciate it, not like this! You’ll love it!”
Rainbow Dash tried to struggle, but it just sent shards of pain through her wing stumps, almost blacking her out. Summoning every bit of strength she had, feeling the blade daintily slice into her nearly numbed belly, she cried, “WINGS!”
Pinkie stopped. “What? What about them?”
Dash’s heart was pounding. “Well… uh… didn’t you ever wonder, why pegasi have only one set of wings? C’mon, seriously?”
“Not you anymore!” giggled Pinkie.
“But that’s just it! They were…” Dash choked up for a moment, then fought through it and put on a cheery and bright tone for all she was worth, “like, really good wings, but what if I had four of them? Or six? Or, or, or a whole bunch?”
Pinkie was taken aback. “Well, I’ve got enough left over. They’re little ones. But if we used a lot of them?”
Dash choked back vomit, and gave it all she had.
“LET’S TRY IT! It’ll be AWESOME!”
Pinkie could not resist the enthusiasm, the sound of friendship in Rainbow Dash’s voice. The pink pony began to bounce. “Oooh! You’re the best friend ever! I totally will let you have all the pegasus liver. Hey, it is yours, how could I deprive you?”
“So, wings!” continued Dash, desperately. “We need wings, lots of them…”
“Got ‘em!” cried Pinkie, and zipped off, to return instantly, fanning out an array of pitiful little pegasus wings. Rainbow Dash almost lost it, looking at them—but those children could not be saved, and there were others who still could. Even… what the hell was wrong with Pinkie? What could possibly have happened to do this to her? Had she always been this way?
“Oh, wait,” cried Pinkie, “we should use griffon wings! Maybe we can get you to… woops!”
“What?”
“Ate ‘em!” said Pinkie, and Dash fought to keep her features under control.
“It’s okay,” said Dash, “I’m still your most awesome friend… though it’s disappointing…”
“I’m sorry!” said Pinkie. “And you are the awesomest friend ever! Would you like a snack of more pegasus haunch? I can get it off you in a jiffy, it won’t even hurt this time…”
“No!” cried Dash, and then, before Pinkie could become suspicious, “Let’s get cracking on those wings! I can’t wait to try it, you’ll be my best friend ever for that!”
“Pinkie?”
Twilight Sparkle.
“What are you doing down here? There’s nobody minding the counter—ew, what’s that smell?”
Pinkie trembled. Rainbow Dash could see the tension, as the fragile bridge to her madness that Dash had constructed was challenged by reality. She had bare instants to act, and only one chance—if she blew this, she was gutted and dead, Twilight might well be doomed, and Applejack after them had no chance. Dash took a deep breath.
“Twilight! Good to see ya! Come down here, we need your help with something!”
“Rainbow Dash? You sound kind of funny.”
Yes, thought Dash, I’m almost dead and bleeding out from my wing stumps, thanks for asking. She gathered her strength. “I’m all right! Come help!”
“Help how?” demanded Pinkie.
“We’re all friends!” said Dash. “I bet she’ll let me have her horn. That would be awesome!”
“She will?” blinked Pinkie, off balance. She twitched, horribly, again.
“We love each other and we love you and of course she will, silly!” protested Rainbow Dash.
“Guys, this doesn’t smell g…”
Twilight came into view, and froze.
Rainbow Dash forced a smile, though she feared it was a horrible one. “Whaddya think? You like it? Isn’t it the creepiest thing ever? Isn’t Pinkie great?”
Twilight took one, then another trembling step forward, her eyes like saucers. “What… is this?”
“We’re playing a little game!” proclaimed Rainbow Dash, glancing nervously at Pinkie, who seemed frozen as well, with the scalpel still between her teeth. Blood dripped from it, a detail not lost on Twilight.
The purple unicorn’s eyes met Dash’s, and widened to see the expression there, as Dash continued, “And we have the most fun new thing for you to do with us…”
“Yeah!” added Pinkie, who began to bounce, feeding off the energy in the room, and believing she was soon to mix-and-match friend parts in a sort of gruesome party.
“And you’re just in time before I have to seriously go to SLEEP,” finished Dash.
Her eyes twitched to Pinkie—and again—in desperate entreaty.
Twilight’s eyes widened, and she gasped.
The unicorn horn glowed purple—and Pinkie dropped.
Dash sagged against her restraints… victorious.
“Rainbow Dash! This is real???” wailed Twilight.
“Yeah…” panted Dash. “Ohmygosh, hurts so much…”
“I’ve got to get you…”
“No!” cried Dash. “I’ll hold on—you have to use your magic and find out what happened to Pinkie!”
“But…” wailed Twilight, in pity and horror.
“NOW! Something’s horribly wrong with her! Before she wakes up and starts doing it again, hurry!”
“But I can’t leave you there like that…”
“Do it! Do it, Twilight!” raged Dash, with the last remnants of her strength.
Twilight Sparkle, shaking like a leaf, her ears laid back, focused her attention, and the horn glowed purple again. A purple glow formed on Pinkie’s hoof, and scanned up. It roamed across her body, over each hindleg…
“I might… suggest… her HEAD, brainiac…” managed Dash.
Twilight started, and when she glanced at Rainbow Dash her eyes swam with tears. The horn flared up, and then returned to her scanning. “I got help. I can’t carry you myself, I’m not that strong, and I’m doing as you asked…”
“Help… from… who?”
“Twilight? What’s the matter, sugarcube?” came a voice.
Rainbow Dash’s eyes got tragic. “Oh, nooo… you didn’t!”
Hooves clattered down the stairs, and Applejack came into sight, twisting her lip at the smell, blinking at Twilight and the unconscious Pinkie, her jaw dropping as her gaze took in Rainbow Dash—and the honest pony’s face fell, and kept falling, her eyes wide in anguish so great as to freeze her to the spot.
Dash managed a weak little smile, though her vision was beginning to turn into a dark tunnel. “Lil… help… here…”
The next thing she knew, strong equine teeth were tearing at her straps. Applejack didn’t wait to unbuckle them. She ripped them to shreds. As Dash’s body came loose, it was cradled in earth-pony forelegs, gently lowered to the ground, and then an enormous commotion took place—the maddened Applejack couldn’t help herself, she took a few moments to kick the torture apparatus into splinters and junk. She was instantly back at Dash’s side, hugging her—which was a horrible idea, as Dash screamed from the contact near her wing stumps. Applejack spotted the problem, and her eyes flooded with tears. She gasped for breath, heaved air into her lungs and shook violently while she demanded, “Who DID this to you?”
“Dash, you were right!” breathed Twilight.
“WHO?” screamed Applejack, tears streaming down her face.
“It’s more like… what…”
They stared at Twilight. Her horn glowed brightly, and before their eyes, Pinkie’s head… opened. Like a more gentle surgery, the pink flesh parted, skull impossibly folded, revealing a nice clean pony brain… crushed to the side by something horrible, glistening, insectoid.
“I’ve heard stories of this, but it’s almost impossible. It’s a parasprite… if a larva gets in your bloodstream, at just the right stage of its development… I can’t imagine how this happened to her…”
Applejack was still shaking, and couldn’t stop. “That thing? That’s Pinkie there. That’s PINKIE’S head. Pinkie Pie did this to you?”
Dash rasped a weak sigh. “Not… exactly… but kinda…”
“Git it out,” demanded Applejack. Her gaze returned to Dash, to take in more and more of her horrific injuries, and Applejack’s lip quivered, her shaking worse. “Git it out NOW.”
Twilight’s magic intensified, and the grotesque larval thing lifted and withdrew, Pinkie’s brain seeming to ease back into place as if unaccustomed to the extra room. “Sweet Celestia… her real brain doesn’t even fill up her skull anymore. What must it have been like?”
“I’ll… tell ya later,” managed Dash. “Take a look around… why don’t ya.”
The parasprite larva settled to the floor. “This is unprecedented,” said Twilight. “To protect others, we should study…”
Applejack’s hoof lashed down viciously, with a crack that echoed to every corner of the hideous room—and the larva became a fine spray of pulp. Applejack heaved another breath, obviously not done—she couldn’t stop shaking, and her eyes were mad and reddened.
“Wake her up.”
Twilight quavered. “I don’t know if it’s right for you to…”
“Right NOW!”
Rainbow Dash coughed, pain racking her wingless frame. “Hey, I… went through a lot to…”
“Wake her,” gritted Applejack, a flood of grief and rage held in check by a tiny shred of self-control.
Twilight didn’t dare argue, though her eyes were huge, and darted about like she was frantically calculating tactics for possible events. The horn glowed, and Pinkie’s skull and head gently sealed back up again… and, in dead silence, Pinkie Pie’s eyes slowly opened, to look upon what she had wrought.
They were very wide, but not in glee or enthusiasm—the haunted look she bore froze every pony motionless, as Pinkie’s eyes took in the smashed torture/dissection apparatus, the knives and scalpels, the hacksaw, Rainbow Dash’s ruined body, all the little wings strewn across the floor, Twilight Sparkle’s anguish and horror—and, lastly, the tortured gaze of Applejack, who shook with nostrils flared and hooves planted, towering over Dash’s prostrate form.
“I… remember… everything.”
The silence stretched out.
Pinkie looked up at Applejack, trembling.
“Please… PLEASE kill me.”
“AJ?” said Twilight. “I think we need Princess Celestia on this one…”
Applejack loomed over Pinkie like a spirit of vengeance, unable to understand how the pink pony could have let herself do these things, staring into her defenseless, brimming eyes with an expression of rage, disbelief, despair… and finally, said three words between painfully gritted teeth.
“Ah’m needed elsewhere.”
She turned, refusing to look at Pinkie, and went to attend Rainbow Dash, trying to cuddle her without touching any injuries and having a tough time doing that—and before long, the sound of heartbroken weeping could be heard, as she gave in to her feelings, and Applejack wept and shuddered beside her friend as a purple glow rose to stop bleeding and patch the ruined pegasus as well as possible for the time being.
Much later, it was a quiet evening in Ponyville, and Rainbow Dash sat with Applejack in a quiet cafe, watching the ponies go by. “I’m not ready to give up on you, you know.” Dash said.
“Beggin’ your pardon?”
“You know what I’m talking about. Pinkie is what I’m talking about.”
Applejack winced. “Do we have to talk about this? It’s bad enough seein’ her around the place.”
“It wasn’t her fault,” said Dash. “You know that. It was a parasprite.”
“I know, but…”
“Applejack! You’ve just got to listen! Name one pony with more right to say this, huh? There is nobody else with the right to judge her for what happened.”
Applejack’s nostrils flared. “Is that so? Let me name two.”
“I’d like to see you try!”
“Ah will,” said the earth pony, and set her jaw. “The first is sittin’ right here in front of you.”
“Oh, now don’t give me that…”
“You hear me out!” said Applejack. “You know how I feel. Nopony’s prouder of you than me, the way you’ve been arguin’ with everypony and fightin’ to keep a place for her here. But honey—with all that, you still hide behind me if you see her unexpected-like…”
“And I’m gonna stop. I can beat that!” said Dash.
“You wake up screamin’. I have to hold you. I have to bring you back to a reality where you ain’t got your lovely wings no more, and it breaks my heart… I remember how I used to caress them, an’… be caressed by them…”
“Stop it,” said Dash.
“Well, if it was just that, sugar, we could heal. It ain’t. We all remember how she was, while she was doin’ that and we didn’t know. We never suspected. She seemed… well, she seemed Pinkie. You know. It’s worse, that it was her… You told me about how she acted, once. She giggled and promised you could eat all your own liver. She chided you like you was a school-filly, to hold still, and she was hackin’ off your poor wing with a knife the whole time. You couldn’t stop shakin’ when you told me that. Oh, sweetie, you’re shakin’ now!”
“Am not! And don’t tell me, the other one with a right to judge her is Twist’s mom, right? I know, I know, I can see how hard it is for everybody, but it was an ACCIDENT!” Dash was tearing up as she tried to make her defense.
“No, sugar,” said Applejack softly.
“No? What do you mean no? Okay, seriously, there’s me, there’s the moms and dads of all those kids, the other relatives, it doesn’t change one single thing about how it was a terrible accident, and…”
“Maybe your fear stops you from lookin’. Now that you’re safe, I ain’t afraid to look at her, though for your sake I try not to, because I’m sure I glare. Maybe it’s because I can glare, knowin’ I have you safe—but I can see. Oh, I can see all right.”
“…what?” said Dash. “I don’t get it.”
“The other pony is Pinkie herself. She notices everything, you know. Always did, always will. I do my best to stay away from her, on account o’ that, for your sake. Darlin’, we really can’t forget. It’s too much to ask, less’n you stuck parasprites in all our heads to do it. We can try our best with what we got—I b’leeve we all are, in our way—but y’all remember the first thing she said afterward? I ain’t likely to forget it.”
Dash nodded. “Yeah. ‘I remember everything’.”
Applejack hung her head.
“I think she still do… an’ I don’t know what’s gonna happen, but her hair ain’t been curlified once since then, and there’s dark, dark circles under her eyes. I could almost feel sorry for her, long as I’m not lookin’ at you…”
“And maybe if you let yourself, you could…” said Dash, but Applejack wasn’t finished.
“An’ I’ve seen her look at you. And, sugar? The harder you fight for her, the worse she looks. Ah do not think the sight of you brings her peace.”
Dash was silent, and Applejack fell silent with her.
Much, much later still, the friends walked somberly into Canterlot’s Sculpture Garden. Twilight’s eyes, like Fluttershy’s, kept filling with tears. Rarity stepped with dignity, face grave. Applejack’s jaw was set, and she walked close to Rainbow Dash, who kept switching between chin-high trotting forward and lagging back, pressing to Applejack’s side, expression anxious and fretful. Pretty rainbow-colored ribbons, a gift from Rarity, flew from her wing stumps, and when she ran they blended with her mane and tail fetchingly—but now she paced fearfully, not prepared to see what awaited her.
“You’re here! My poor ponies,” called Princess Celestia. “Please, come and hear what I must tell you.”
They walked up to what they’d half expected—Princess Celestia, standing beside a certain statue. A statue with a familiar form, sitting with a quiet dignity, with the saddest eyes any pony had ever seen—and straight, straight hair.
“I am sorry, but I was not able to heal what has been done. I doubt anyone, or anything, could. Your friend is safe now, after a fashion. She shall not take her own life, as she tried many times to do—but she will never return to you again, and for that I am sorry.”
The ponies’ eyes teared up—though Applejack’s gaze, hard and stern, did not.
“I say to you,” continued Princess Celestia, “if you can forgive—then forgive, for this one’s acts cannot be undone by hatred. It will only poison you and continue the damage endlessly. And if you cannot forgive,” she said, glancing at Applejack, “consider this. I have turned her to stone, but her thoughts are free. She would not ask mercy. Indeed, I begged her to, yet still she would not accept mercy… and so, I have delivered none.”
The implications of that sank in, as Princess Celestia drew a sorrowful breath, and spoke again, gently. “She will stay here, as she wished. I could not persuade her otherwise. The one thing she asked for herself was that she could see sunbeams—so, here she is.”
Applejack still looked grim, if sad. The others were a picture of woe. Celestia spoke directly to Applejack, seeing the pride and judgement of the earth pony, who still clung to the belief that if it were she, she would not have succumbed and become a monster, and who still couldn’t forgive Pinkie for it.
“Take a moment to consider—if you were she, would hatred from those she once thought friends… be necessary? What hate could you possibly have greater than she bears for herself? The evil influence is gone. The consequence remains. I will not give her a death she does not deserve. The only thing I can give her now—is time.”
The other ponies were weeping openly now, and Applejack’s head bowed, just a little—and her eyes didn’t soften, but they went a little less hard. Then, for the first time, they glistened, as the words sunk in, and the proud earth pony finally acknowledged the little statue had once been a trusted friend.
“Forgive her—and go, leave her in what peace I could give.”
Applejack nodded slowly, and set her jaw. “…come on, you heard her,” she said to the others, with something like tenderness. “Come on. There ain’t nothin’ for us here…”
They departed, and after a last sorrowful look, Princess Celestia departed as well, leaving the sad little statue to sit alone in the Sculpture Garden.
And ever after, when people came, or school field trips brought children to the Sculpture Garden, it was remarked upon: the little pony with the straight hair, the horrific story behind the ‘statue’, the look so sad that nobody could bear to be around the statue for very long—year after year, century after century, the tales were repeated, embellished… forgotten.
And nobody ever noticed, especially so long after the events, a peculiar thing—that around the statue, within at first a narrow, scant radius, no child ever tripped, or fell, or stubbed its hoof. They usually didn’t fall on open grass, anyhow, so it would have been hard to notice such a strange absence of event.
And so very slowly, year by year, the radius grew, bit by bit, and people began to get used to the idea that children didn’t hurt themselves in the Sculpture Garden, for some reason. And then, parts of the hedge maze—bit by tiny bit, an area grew, never a large area, never recognised, never understood, yet within it, no matter what… children came to no harm.
FOREVER.
