Pinkie has one month to throw a party that's out of this world. Which is exactly where she'll receive the training she needs.
Pinkie has one month to throw a party that's out of this world. Which is exactly where she'll receive the training she needs.
Can she brave the trials of artistic integrity, heavy rainfall, an actual literal gun, and thinking too hard about why she went to Equestria in the first place?
I mean, it's a diary, right? So that means I should write it like a diary entry. Except most diaries aren't crazy interdimensional lodestones to my sisters' matching diary, right. Maybe I should write it like emails?
Or texts! Let's try texts!
lol goin on magic pony party quest #yolo
Let's not try texts.
Maybe email... but what would the subject line be?
Ooh, wait, what if someone reads this in the far future as a record of my epic journey?!?! They'd totally want to know what was going on! Okay, subject line: Pinkie Pie's Partypalooza Prologue!
Basically, I'm pretty good at parties. But pretty good isn't enough! I've got until the end of this summer, cuz that's when college starts: that's just one month to compose the bestestest party ever! And if what Sunset says is true, if I want to learn from the best, there's only one place to go: Equestria. So, I'm heading through the mirror to learn from the greatest party ponies around!
Twilight's coming too. She says she's superduper excited to research the magic, and to travel around the country, and she's so hyped she could explode! And I might be paraphrasing a bit there, but she's definitely into it.
Anyway, I'll be sending status reports and cute animal drawings through this interdimensional magic diary that Sunset set up (Sunny, if you're reading this, thx again!) and my family—specifically Marble and Limestone, and also my parents I guess—will read them! And go 'aww' at the cute animal pics.
Assuming the connection works. So that's what I'm testing now! Marble or Limestone, if you see this message, please please please say 'hi' or something! And if you don't... you probably won't see this part either, come to think of it, so whatever.
Bye! I'll be in touch! Hugs and kisses!
-Pinkie Pie
pinks
you could've just said 'test message, please respond'
what the hell
also Marble says hi, or she would if the diary hadn't spooked her jerk
-limes
Pinkie shut the diary, shoved it into her backpack, and beamed at Twilight. “Link confirmed!”
Twilight smiled back at her. A little less energetic, but to be fair, she seemed to be carrying the entire contents of a small apartment on her back: counting her supplies, she was taller than the pedestal they stood in front of, the one containing the portal. Her knees shook.
Pinkie cocked her head to the side, sending the geode on her neck swinging. “You all right, Twilight?”
“Fine!” Twilight panted, and the geode hanging from her neck jiggled with each heaved breath. “I've been exercising to prepare for this.” She wiped sweat from between her glasses and her headband. “Jogging is awful. But worth it! I've got muscles now—” she flexed, revealing an arm with the definition of a bent hotdog “—and I'm ready for the greatest research expedition in history!”
“Party expedition.”
“Fine, both.”
Pinkie shrugged. “You told Sunset to tell them we're coming, right?”
“Yeah, I did.” Twilight frowned. “I did do that, right? Yeah, I definitely did.”
“All right.” Pinkie did a dramatic finger point at the portal, and the wind chose that moment to ruffle her hair. How thoughtful of it. “Let our adventure... begin!”
Twilight crouched into a squat and clambered forward.
“Twilight, you're supposed to stride confidently into the unknown.”
“I won't fit if I do that,” Twilight grunted.
“You're totally killing the moment!”
“I know.”
Pinkie smiled, rolled her eyes, and followed her friend through.
Princess Twilight frowned, mid-step on her way to the kitchen to grab lunch. (Or to shoo out Trixie, if necessary.) That was her voice. With the right note of panic, even.
“Twilight,” said another voice, which sounded an awful lot like Pinkie's, “you weren't going to need a crockpot.”
“That's not the point! The point is that it shouldn't have vanished when we went through!”
Twilight trotted toward the source of the noise, then galloped. Possibilities ran through her head: Changelings. Mirror pool. Time travel. Similo duplexis. Got drunk, recorded a strange conversation with Pinkie, and forgot about it.
“All that stuff's gone,” her voice continued from the basement, “but I keep my glasses, you kept your backpack, and we keep our geodes! This is baloney!”
Princess Twilight skidded to a halt as she reached the basement, took a moment to assess the situation, and breathed a sigh of relief. In the room before her was a magic mirror, and two ponies standing in front of it: Pinkie Pie, happily bouncing on four legs, and another Twilight standing uneasily on two. A Twilight, in fact, with no wings and a pair of square glasses.
Right. Alternate dimensional counterparts. Twilight grunted to herself. I have too many plausible reasons for encountering body doubles in my life. “Hello!” she said, cheerfully. “You two are the Pinkie and Twilight from the human world, aren't you? What brings you to Equestria?”
Pinkie froze mid-bounce and narrowed her eyes at Two-Leg Twilight. “Twilight?” she said. “Is there an eensy-teensy chance you didn't tell Sunset to tell Princess Twilight we were coming?”
Two-Light grinned, looking for all the world like a pet who'd made a mess on the good carpet. “Eheh. Princess Twilight? Could you please bring your Pinkie Pie over?”
It was ten minutes later, and Pinkie had arrived (with nametags—kept everywhere in case of nametag emergencies), and Two-Light still hadn't gotten onto four legs. “Just act like a horse,” Two-Pie said, giggling as Two-Light lost her balance for the dozenth time and teetered backward several steps.
“I did not,” Two-Light muttered, “do all this jogging for nothing!”
“Uh, maybe you did?” Two-Pie shrugged. “Because while you were jogging, I was training for this trip too! By walking around on all fours like a weirdo. But who's the weirdo now?”
Two-Light grunted.
“Anyway!” Pinkie clapped her hooves together, her face assuming its natural smiling position. “Let's get down to brass-tacks! So you want to be the best party-planner ever?”
“Yes!” said Two-Pie, leaning forward and smiling the same smile back.
Twilight glanced between them a few times. Unlike her and the wingless Two-Light, the resemblance between Pinkie and Two-Pie was almost flawless: Two-Pie was wearing a gem necklace, and had no cutie mark, but that was all.
“Okay!” Pinkie said. “Why do you want to be the best party-planner ever?”
“Well....” Two-Pie's face fell. “There's this puppy hospital in town, and it's running out of money for the puppies, and it's gonna get torn down in a month and replaced with a puppy hurtspital! That's a building specifically for hurting puppies!” she yelled, leaning further forward in open defiance of gravity. “And I've gotta put on the bestest fundraiser party ever to stop it!”
Two-Light actually sat down at that. “Pinkie,” she said with a blanked-out look, in open defiance of Two-Pie's nametag (arguably ruder than the earlier gravitic defiance). “I'm pretty sure there's no such thing as a puppy hurtspital—”
“Exactly!” Two-Pie zoomed into her face. “Pretty sure, as in not completely sure, as in shush! It's like you don't even care about those puppies!”
“I do! I think?”
“Then it's settled.” Two-Pie returned her rapt attention to Pinkie. “I know you've got a few years on me in the party planning departyment. That's why I need you to teach me how to throw the best parties ever, just like you do!”
“Just like I do, huh?” Pinkie made a pulling motion with her hoof near her neck, tugging at a collar she didn't have. “Well, it's kinda short notice, and I've never really had an apprentice or anything, and... can we start tomorrow?”
July 14 (Night)
Eeeee we're startying the partying tomorrow! I'm superdupercited!
Twi says hi—both of them do—they're not here right now because they're still talking about magic and research and other smart-person stuff! Uh, smart pony stuff?
It feels weird trying to get comfortable as a horse. Mouth-writing's hard too, but I'm managing.
Oh, before I forget, how was your doctor’s appointment?
-Pinkie
Fine.
-Marble
Fine is great! All right, gotta sleep. Sweet dreams!
-Pinkie
Sweet dreams, Pinkie.
-Marble
Hey, Marble. You doing okay?
-Pinkie.
Yeah.
-Marble
You know you can talk to me about anything if you want to, right?
-Pinkie
Yeah.
-Marble
Or say more than three words at a time? And we can probably stop signing our names on these.
go the fuck to sleep
it's two in the morning
this stupid diary is buzzing every five minutes
See? I totally knew it was Limestone there even though she didn't sign!
Good night, Limestone.
eat a dick
Love you too, sis.
“But why can't I watch you do it?” Pinkie Jr. wailed, digging in what would have been her heels as Pinkie Sr. pushed her steadily toward the door.
“And why am I helping?” Twilight Jr. asked, with Pinkie's other forehoof on her rear.
“Because I need to watch how you do it,” Pinkie Sr. grunted, “and you are gonna need help because you don't have those weird claw thingies that your kind usually has.” Sr. sent the two of them sprawling inside the room with a final push.
Pinkie Jr. got to her hooves and glanced around at the room, which seemed to be in the center of the castle. Seven chairs—thrones, really—encircled a central crystal table with a map projected from it. Above hung something like a chandelier, made of tree roots.
More importantly, covering the chairs were various supplies: streamers, colored paper, confetti, that sort of thing. “You have two hours,” Pinkie Sr. said with the seriousness of a drill sergeant, “to throw the best party you can. Materials are limited to what you see before you, what you brought yourself, and also if you find any hidden confetti cannons you can use those. Oh, and you'll need food, so kitchens are down the hall and second right. Begin!”
She slammed the door, which had a stained-glass window set into it. Within moments, Pinkie Jr. saw a pink shape hovering behind the glass.
“They're hands!” Pinkie Jr. yelled, pounding her hooves. “They're not weird claw thingies!”
“Forget it,” Twilight Jr.—or maybe just Twilight, since the princess wasn't here—said. “She's probably not listening.”
“I don't get it!” Pinkie Jr. shrieked. “I should be watching her! She's the superduper party pony with the magic tramp stamp—”
“Cutie mark.”
“—to prove she's a superduper party pony!” She slumped to the floor, glancing back at her woefully bare butt. “Wish I had a magic tramp stamp. That's gotta be easier to get than a resume, or a college degree....”
“Cutie mark,” Twilight repeated. She walked, somewhat clumsily, to Pinkie's side. “Remind me, where are you going to school again?”
“Clown college! But the admissions officer says I have to call it 'Princeton'.” Pinkie shrugged. “Either way, it's a party school. You?”
“Well, I've got standing offers from fifteen colleges to show up if I want, no questions asked, so... hard to choose.” Twilight frowned. “I'm thinking somewhere close to home? So I can spend more time with family.”
“Mm. Really good idea. Can you start hanging those streamers? I'd do it, but....” Pinkie shook her hooves.
“Princess Twilight says that you get used to it.” Nonetheless, Twilight closed her eyes and concentrated, her geode and horn glowing as one. The streamers flew into the air, arranging themselves in perfect rotational symmetry above the table—
“Hey,” Twilight said, her eye quirking open. The streamers sagged toward the floor. “Princeton's really far away. Wouldn't you want to be somewhere closer?”
Pinkie grimaced. “Look, just... hold up the streamers, okay? I think I have an idea of where to put them.”
Pinkie Sr. trotted into the room and gave it a cursory glance. “Not bad.”
Pinkie Jr. deflated, heaving breaths and drenched in sweat. “Not bad? I poured my heart into this party, and it gets a not bad?”
“Why are you sweating,” Twilight Jr. mumbled, prone on the floor behind Pinkie Jr. “I did all the lifting.”
The room was as festooned as a room could reasonably be. Streamers hung from the roots above the table, and paper cutouts of ponies hung from the streamers. Complementing them were balloons hanging up from the thrones. Lots of hanging going on, in fact.
Pinkie Jr. gulped as her senior stepped forward: every calculated look she made felt like a sentence from a judge. Behind her, Twilight Sr. trotted into the room levitating a flotilla of refreshments, and deposited one by Twilight Jr, who gratefully gulped it down.
“All right,” Pinkie Sr. said, tapping Twilight Sr. on the shoulder. “Twilight, do you have a clipboard with you?”
“Why would you just assume—”
Pinkie Sr. gave her a flat look.
“Here,” Twilight Sr. said, producing a clipboard, paper, and pencil from somewhere Pinkie Jr. couldn't see. “It's my good one, so don't scuff it.”
Pinkie Sr. placed it on the ground and jotted down some notes, then lifted the clipboard and proffered it to Pinkie Jr. “Here's some tips for how you can improve. You've got a good grasp of the fun-damentals, but your party doesn't really have a recognizable theme and it's not easy to understand the direction. It's like you're throwing fun stuff together without something to tie it in.”
“Theme?” Pinkie Jr. stood at once with a squint. “Parties need themes?”
“It helps more than you'd think.”
“Prove it!” Pinkie Jr. stomped closer to her senior. “Show me how you do it, and then I'll just do that!”
Pinkie Sr. grimaced like she had the previous night. “Ooh boy. I was hoping we could avoid this.”
“Avoid what?”
“I can't show you how I plan a party.”
Pinkie Jr.'s jaw dropped from the bombshell. Sr. continued, “Or I could, but it wouldn't help you.”
“You think I wouldn't learn anything?”
“Not exactly. I think you'd learn to be a party planner just like me.” Pinkie Sr. shook her head. “And that's bad, because you need to learn to be a party planner just like you.”
“But—but I am you! And you are me!” Pinkie Jr. sputtered. She jabbed a hoof at the two Twilights. “And she is she!”
“Coo-coo-ca-choo?” Twilight Jr. said, sitting a little more upright now and sipping on clear water.
“What?” Twilight Sr. asked.
“Nothing.”
“You are me,” Pinkie Jr. said, advancing on her elder counterpart, “but with more experience and less fingers, right? You're everything I'm trying to be!”
“Well, um... I know that sounds right, but the thing is....”
Pinkie Sr. glanced at Twilight Sr., who sighed and said, “I think what Pinkie's trying to say is that, no matter what it looks like, she's not just a better version of you. You shouldn't be trying to copy her.”
“But she—I—we're literally—” Pinkie Jr. zipped off, returned with a pillow, and screamed into it. “Okay,” she panted. “Sure. So does that mean you can't teach me anymore? Then who's gonna help me?”
“Don't worry about that.” Pinkie Sr. winked. “I may be Equestria's premiere party pony, but luckily for you I am not its.... Um.” She glanced back at Twilight Sr. “Is there a word for 'only' that starts with 'P'?”
She called them the 'Party Sages'. And then said that she'd made that name up and that if I called them that, they'd probably be confused, so don't call them that.
Anyway, they're the ones I must seek out to master the ancient art of the party! Crazy, right? And their names are: Cheese Sandwich. Party Favor. Discord. Luna. And SombnambullerSome NambalaSumnum
Pinkie spat out her pencil and called out, “Twilight!”
Across the bedroom, Twilight glanced up from her work: jamming a saddlebag with as many supplies, coins, and doodads as would fit. All had been donated by Twilight Sr., to replace what had vanished upon their trip through the portal. “What is it, Pinkie?”
“Can you spell Somnambula for me?”
Twilight sighed, grabbed the pencil with her magic, and dashed out the word 'Somnambula'.
“Thanks! Actually,” Pinkie said, scrutinizing the word and mentally comparing it with her earlier, clumsy attempts, “would it be okey-dokey if you helped me write these from now on? You're way faster than my mouth.”
“Uh....” Twilight shrugged. “Give me a minute, then sure, I guess?”
“You're the best!”
Oh my gosh this is so much better! Now I can say everything I want to say, and I mean everything write that last everything in italics but don't write the part where I tell you to write in italics
Pinkie
So the first thing was, Pinkie Sr. told me to throw the best party I possibly could and that was fine, I guess, except she was supposed to be showing me how she does it not the other way around
Pinkie stop
But whatever I figure I'm the best party person ever so I guess I'll just throw a party! What if you made like little stars around the word party, hang on are you writing down the parts where I tell you how to write it? Stop it, Twilight!
Pinkie you're writing too fast what happened
Sorry. Twilight's helping. Human person Twilight, not pony princess Twilight.
Twilight's reading our diary?
I guess? More like she's writing in our diary.
Tell her to fuck off Oh wait I can tell her to fuck off Fuck off I love this magic diary, that felt great I'm gonna do it again
Twilight and Pinkie watched, helpless, as the page filled spontaneously with expletives. “It doesn't even look like a word anymore,” Twilight said after a minute. “And this is your sister?”
“Limestone's great once you get to know her!”
“Sure.” Twilight rolled her eyes, then returned to packing up: now she had a stack of books to shove into a new saddlebag. “I can see why you might have needed a dimension's worth of space for a while.” She grabbed the books in her magic and heaved as hard as she could, but the bag didn't quite want to close around them. “Pinkie,” she grunted, turning around, “could you help me with—why are you glaring at me?”
“I'm not glaring!” said Pinkie, glaring. “What? No, I just—” her eye twitched “—my family's great, and I'm not doing this trip to run away from them, okay? I'm doing it to throw an awesome party!”
The ramshackle town in the badlands reeked of helium and broken hopes. Rain fell, each droplet hitting the ground and splattering like a dream hitting cold, hard reality. Also the rain probably symbolized despair or something.
Two dames came into my office tonight. They had the kind of faces where it was like I'd seen them before, and yet like I'd never seen anyone like 'em in my life. Normally that would be a convoluted way of describing them as foxy ladies, but in this case it meant that they looked exactly like Princess Twilight and her friend Pinkie. Except no wings or cutie marks.
The pink dame said that Pinkie had sent her so I could teach her how to throw parties, and then the purple dame said, Stop calling us dames, and why are you narrating aloud in a gruff voice?
I lit up a cheap cigar. Of all the houses in all the villages in all Equestria, she had to—
“Can you stop talking like we're not here?” Twilight said, eyebrows flat. “And that's not a cigar. Stop being ridiculous.”
Party Favor, who wore a heavy trenchcoat and brown fedora, gestured dismissively with his miniature party balloon. “Look, I'm a party pony, okay?” he said in an irritated, but otherwise normal voice. “Pinkie sent you here because I'm ridiculous. We do bits sometimes. Roll with it.”
“Twilight,” Pinkie pleaded, “I've got a good feeling about this guy!”
“Ugh, fine. Keep going.”
“Thanks.” Party Favor cleared his throat. When next he spoke, it was in his prior gruff tone. “I told the two of them that I wasn't in that line of work anymore. Not enough to call it work, anyway. Ponies in Our Town, we don't need parties—we need infrastructure, which is where I come in.”
“Infrastructure?” Twilight raised an eyebrow. “How does that have anything to do with parties?”
“She asked me how infrastructure had anything to do with parties. I cocked a smirk, like a nocked arrow, and told them to follow—”
“Can you not repeat the parts we've actually already said? I know you're doing a bit, but—” Twilight groaned. “Come on. Please?”
“She asked if I had to repeat the parts she....” Party Favor grumbled, then got out of his chair and walked to the door. “I told them to follow me.”
It was a sewer.
Made entirely of balloons.
“This seems...” Twilight grimaced wide, her teeth nearing her ears as she stood overlooking the stream of water beneath her. “Dubious.” Then she looked at Pinkie, whose mouth hung open. “Pinkie? Wide-open mouth? Sewer? You see a problem here?”
“Nope,” Pinkie whispered.
Despite the setting, everything seemed to sparkle. Pinkie's eyes reflected light off the balloon struts and arches, which reflected light off the water, which reflected light off the... other water....
Hang on.
“The old dog took a whiff of his cigar, proudly surveying his creation,” Party Favor said. He sucked in a drag of helium from his balloon, then continued in a squeakier, less gruff voice. “It was built one year ago this very day, and ever since, the residents of Our Town have been grateful.”
“I love this guy,” Pinkie breathed, watching him with rapt attention.
“After all,” he continued, sounding less like Dick Tracy, more like Bugs Bunny, “everyone needs a pit to—”
“Shut up,” Twilight said.
“Party Favor was a little hurt by the sudden—”
“I respect you're doing a bit. This isn't about that. Shut up.” Twilight yanked open her saddlebag and telekinetically pulled out and opened a book. Squinting in the dim, shimmering light, she read, “Equestrian Book of Standards, Volume 3. This sewer is to code, right?”
“He confirmed that yes, it was.”
Twilight sucked in a deep breath before continuing. “Which means that the water should, normally, be... there.” She jabbed her hoof down at a point about one foot below the current water level.
A water level which was rising.
Twilight returned the book to her pack, then retrieved another. “Pegasus Weather Almanac. July 20th. Light rains, over by evening.” She pointed at the open mouth of the sewer, half a mile away, but even at that distance the rainfall could be heard like blaring radio static. “Does that sound light? Because to me it sounds like the rain symbolizes a bit more than despair or something.”
“A flash flood,” Party Favor whispered, ashen-faced and squeaky-voiced. “Straight out of the Crystal Mountains, that's why it's not on the almanac.”
(“Ooh,” Twilight said, “the bit's over.”)
“We don't have enough weather ponies to stop it. The town's gonna get wrecked.”
“Unless we stop it.” Twilight tapped her head. “Think, think, what would Sunset do... what do you have with you? What are our resources?”
“Resources?” Favor let out a laugh. “There's nothing but dirt for miles around!”
Pinkie reached up and grabbed his face. “Do you have more of those awesome load-bearing balloons?”
Another snort. “I always have more balloons.”
“That's perfect!” Pinkie turned to Twilight. “You see?”
“Of course!” Twilight beamed with sudden comprehension. “Sturdy sacks plus dirt equal sandbags! You can divert the flood!”
“Me? I—I'm good with balloons, but I can't—it would take the whole town working together!”
Pinkie grinned. “Leave that to me.”
The two others looked at her. “You?”
“You know what you call an organized group of people?” Her smile widened. “A party!”
Who said saving a town couldn't be fun?
“I can see the flood coming!” yelled Favor at the top of his lungs—in pitch, not volume—as he peered from under his sodden fedora. Indeed, a surge was visible over the horizon.
“On it!” Pinkie called back. “Okay, boys and girls,” she said, galloping over to the last gap in the sandbag wall and holding up her tool: a board with a hole in it at the end. “Bag toss time! You know the rules, winner gets to keep their house!” She slammed down the board with the hole over the final gap.
The townsponies were panting, soggy, and shivering, but at the urging of Pinkie's voice they straightened up and threw their sandbags true. They went through the hole with unerring accuracy, filling out the last piece of the barrier.
“Hey, that's cheating!” Pinkie said, as one of the ponies took the sandbag in her magic and placed it through the hole. “No points!”
Twilight glanced at her from over the top of a very wet book entitled Proper Flood Barrier Construction. “Seriously, Pinkie?”
“There are rules, Twilight!”
“Come on, is it finished or not?”
“Let me check!” Pinkie yanked off the board and scrutinized the pile. “It's good!”
“Just in time!” Party Favor stood atop the barrier, his shrill voice carrying over the wind. “It's here!”
The flood struck and splashed him smack in the face, knocking him off the barrier. Twilight and Pinkie held their breaths as the sandbags shook with the impact.
Then the waters diverged.
“Woo!” Pinkie yelled, echoing the crowd's cheers. “Looks like we're all winners! Take that, nature!”
“Pinkie!” Twilight said, rushing to her side and hugging her. “What was on that list that the other Pinkie gave you, of things you needed to improve?”
Pinkie's eyes went wide. She reached behind her ear and pulled out a clipboard and pencil. “Parties with purpose!” She gasped. “Ooh, this is definitely a party with purpose! Nailed it!” She checked off the box with vigor, and beamed at Party Favor, who was dusting himself off after having fallen. “This must be why she sent me to see you!”
“Might be. Might just be.” Party Favor flashed a grin then fumbled inside his trenchcoat for another 'cigar'. “As I lit another cigar, I looked out at all I'd accomplished: a little stand against the darkness constantly surrounding—”
“Stop,” Twilight said.
Party Favor groaned.
“Oh, don't listen to her.” Pinkie pronked forward and hugged him. “You've taught me so much in so little time! And you didn't even have to say anything! In fact, I think I learned it all on... my... own?” She drew back, frowning. “Wait, what did you even do?”
He shrugged. “Dunno. Who else did Pinkie send you to find?”
“Well, maybe she was really hungry and got distracted, because the next name on my list is....” Pinkie squinted. “Cheese Sandwich?”
“Cheese? Ha!” Party Favor's mischevious grin was back on again. “Oh, he's every ounce a party pony. Hard to find, though. Usually roams the desert in search of places needing a cheer-up.”
“Aww.” Pinkie's face fell. “We don't have much time. We can't check every town in Equestria! There's gotta be—”
“Two hundred forty five,” Twilight said, nose deep in a census.
“Thanks, Twilight.”
“Well, worry not,” Party Favor said. He took a drag off his balloon. “I don't know if you know this, but I fancy myself a bit of a detective.”
Pinkie and Twilight squinted at him in unison. “Yeah,” Twilight said, “we noticed.”
He let out another single laugh. “Girls,” he squeaked, “I think this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship.”
July 20 (Night)
Party Favor pointed us in the direction of where Cheese would probably be! It's so exciting to think we'll be meeting someone the other Pinkie looks up to!
Twilight isn't writing this one, if you're worried. She's checking out the sewer and learning about balloons in construction, since we're hunkered down in Our Town until the flooding's over. Other than that, things are good! How about you?
Fucking fine Good night
“That's... unusually short,” Pinkie muttered, squinting at the words. “Good night, Limestone,” she said, in lieu of writing it down, and turned over on her mattress to sleep.
The pounding of rain on the roof would have gotten her asleep very quickly, if the book hadn't buzzed again behind her. She whipped around and grabbed it.
Limestone got sent home again for fighting.
Oh no Is she still allowed at summer school?
She didn't tell m
I will literally set this book on fire if it doesn't stop buzzing Shut the fuck up right now.
Pinkie slammed the book shut with feverish speed, and pressed herself into her mattress. Suddenly the thundering sound of rain wasn't relaxing. It was just loud.
July 22 (afternoon)
You were kidding about setting it on fire, right, Limestone?
“I am the stallion with no name,” gruffed Cheese Sandwich. Not that gruff was a verb, but if it was, that would be what he'd done.
“I've got a good feeling about this guy,” Pinkie said, beaming.
“Oh, god, not this again,” Twilight said simultaneously, face in hoof.
He blinked at her. “What's 'this'?”
Twilight waved her other forehoof at him to indicate, in one fell swoop, everything about him: his sarape, his cowboy hat, and the rubber chicken on his back. And then, since she'd just lifted both front hooves, her face slammed into the ground. “Ow,” she mumbled. “We've had enough weirdos.”
“Oh?” Cheese squinted like, well, an old west actor. Because who else would he squint like. “You two are doppelgangers of a princess regent and my party idol, and I'm a weirdo? At least I'm setting-appropriate? We've got tumbleweeds over there, not a cloud in sight—”
A gunshot rang out, and Cheese's hat had a hole in it. He yelped and ducked behind the boulder they were standing next to. “And no-good varmints,” he whispered. “In no-good varmint garments.”
Pinkie peered to the side of the rock. There was an old-timey town in front of them, with buildings strewn about as if they'd been dropped haphazardly from a great height. Everything and everyone was covered in dust except the two white-suited stallions standing in front of what had to be, by genre convention, a saloon. “The Tartarus was that, Forsa?” said the fat one.
The thin one, holding a very old-fashioned revolver in his magic, glared at the rock. “Thought I saw a Sandwich, Boss,” he muttered, before spinning and holstering the gun.
“If he knows what's good for him, he'll be miles away.” Boss cracked a grin, then yelled into the saloon. “Ya hear? No Cheese Sandwich is coming to save your sorry hides. Y'all had better pay up by sundown, two days from now, or your one-pony town is history!”
Cackling, he and his lackey ambled away.
“They're the landlords,” Cheese hissed, “and they want to turn the whole town of Donkey's End into a strip-mine! So they keep raising the rents, trying to force the people out, and it's almost working.”
Pinkie gasped. “They can't do that!”
“Actually,” said Twilight, nose-deep in Western Genre Cliches 101, “they can, on account of 'being rich and arrogant and wearing fancy clothes, to contrast with the common clay of the land'.”
“All those poor people,” Pinkie mumbled, “separated from their homes.”
Cheese kicked at a pebble. “Consarn it! They know I could throw a party that would have people coming from miles around, bringing in all the bits they could need! That's why they've barred me from entering!”
“So they've banned you from the town,” Pinkie said, keeping her volume low too. “Just you, right? Not every party pony?”
Cheese nodded. “If you're willing to lend a helping hoof, you'll have my eternal gratitude—not to mention my supplies and all the training I can offer in three days' time. But you'll have to set it up! I can't risk setting hoof inside town limits... if it were just me, maybe, but—” He shot a glance at the rubber chicken on his back. “I couldn't do that to Boneless II. Not after all we've been through.”
“We're your ponies!” Pinkie saluted.
Twilight jumped, then scooched away from the two of them. “Wait, 'we're'? Don't press-gang me into this!”
“Come on, Twilight, I need your help to save the town! Besides,” Pinkie said, “what's the worst thing that could happen?”
“That stallion had a gun.”
Pinkie was quiet for a few seconds. “But—but Twilight!” she eventually said. “What does your book say that wandering funslingers need to do when faced with nogoodniks?”
“Ugh. Fine. Let's get started.” Twilight poked a hoof out from behind the rock, and then—when no hail of gunfire greeted her—trotted around the side and toward Donkey's End. “So,” she muttered, as Pinkie followed, “do you think Boneless II is a living rubber chicken somehow, or....”
“Worry about that later,” Pinkie said, eyes narrowed in determination. “And also, absolutely.”
The inhabitants of the town were donkeys, as it happened. They'd been watching with worried interest as Twilight set up bunting under Pinkie's direction, but that had been hours ago. Now it was dark, save for the stars and the moon: silence reigned.
Mostly.
“Friggin—stupid—gosh darned—bunting!” Twilight grunted and yanked, trying fruitlessly to untangle a few strands that had formed a sort of tumbleweed. She gave up, panting, and kicked the buntleweed, letting it bounce across the sand. “Pinkie,” she said, “it's ten at night.”
“And?” Pinkie slung out another roll of bunting without looking at it or Twilight.
“Don't you need to... sleep? Or at least write to your sisters?”
“What? This late?” Pinkie forced a laugh. “That would be rude, and might lead to burning. Silly Twilight.”
“What?”
Pinkie still wasn't looking.
“Well,” Twilight said, shivering as the heat of the day bled away in the moon's cold light. “I'm going to bed. I'll see you in the morning.” She turned to leave.
“Wait!”
Twilight stopped mid-step, and looked back to see Pinkie looking at her, a wild look in her eyes. “Did I do good?” she said. “I need you to tell me how good this party's going to be.”
“Me?” Twilight shook her head. “Pinkie, you're the partier. I'm just... nerdy.”
“Please, Twilight, I need a second pair of eyes here!”
“All right.” Twilight trotted several steps away from the town, took a breath, and lit up her horn. The day's preparations were illuminated: bunting, wall murals, signs directing tourists to the locals' shops, and more. “It's good, I think,” she said.
“Is it enough? Am I gonna be done by sundown in two days?” Pinkie's bloodshot eye twitched.
“Um....” Twilight squinted, a clear sign of mental arithmetic if ever there was one, then shook her head. “Even if you didn't sleep. I don't think it's possible.”
Pinkie shook her head, then growled, then jumped up and down like she was trying to trample something. “I'm not—giving—up!” she yelled. “There has to be a way to make this party happen in time!”
“Sorry.” Twilight rested a hoof on Pinkie's shoulder, which was tough because she was still jumping. “You might not be able to have it done by the time the landlords arrive.”
Pinkie stopped. “By the time they arrive,” she repeated. “Not sundown. When they arrive.”
“Pinkie?”
Pinkie started pacing to and fro, one hoof on her chin. “Pinkie Sr. said my parties needed a clear sense of direction....” She gasped, and then beamed a smile that seemed to emit visible light. “We need to see Cheese! I've got something he can do outside town to buy us time!”
Sundown on the third day.
“Boss,” said Forsa, idly spinning his revolver as they ambled across the desert—now in black suits. “Has that sign always been there?”
The sign stood starkly in the desert sand, almost black against the glaring sunset. It was only as Boss and Forsa approached that they were able to read it:
← Donkey's End
→ Donkey's End: Super Special Landlord Entrance
There seemed to be quite a beaten path headed left—but, without a second look, Boss turned right. Forsa squinted at the sign, then shrugged and followed Boss.
“Sure is taking longer than usual to get there,” he said an hour later, as they passed a sign that said, Just a Bit Farther!
“Shut it, Forsa.”
“Yessir.”
It was dark by the time they reached the ramshackle collection of buildings that passed for a town in these parts. No light came from the shacks. “Well, well, well,” Boss said, letting his voice carry through the wilderness. “It looks like Cheese Sandwich didn't come through for y'all after all, because I don't see a party. Smart fella.” He chuckled. “Now, pay up or get on out!”
No answer. There wasn't a single murmur of life in the town, come to that. “Well?” Boss shouted, stepping forward. “Answer me!”
Forsa felt a rising fear in the pit of his stomach. He pulled out his six-shooter, aimed at the saloon, and fired.
What came next wasn't the sound of bullet hitting wood. It was the sound of air gushing from a balloon.
Boss and Forsa stared, open mouthed, as the balloon saloon deflated.
In the real Donkey's End, the sun rose on a saloon that still had lights on. Mussed bunting and messy murals bedecked the outside, bearing the marks of unrestrained revelry.
“One last cider for the road!” cried the last bilious mare at the bar. “How much?”
“With all the demand?” The jennet behind the bar laughed. “Thirty bits!”
“This had better be the best cider of my life....”
The bartender slid a mug across the table, and the mare grabbed it and chugged. After a few seconds, she belched and got up to leave. “You got lucky!” she said, teetering toward the door.
Over at a table in the corner, a venerable-looking old donkey—the Wise Ass of Donkey's End, in fact—perked up at the words. “This is fantastic,” he said. “That thirty bits puts us over the landlord's price! We're saved!” He turned and grabbed the hoof of Pinkie Pie, and shook vigorously. “We could never have done it without you.”
“We're happy to help,” said Twilight, who'd been keeping tally all night in the margins of Finance for Dummies. “Especially since no one got—”
A gunshot rang out from outside.
Twilight dived under the table.
Pinkie gasped, and peeked out a window of the saloon to see Boss and Forsa, dressed in black clothes that were covered with dirt. Forsa spun his revolver, which had been pointed skyward, and holstered it clumsily—needing an extra two tries. The cider-loving mare who'd left the saloon looked up, saw them, and scurried around them and out of town.
“All right!” Boss roared, his eyes bloodshot. “I don't know what kind of comedy y'all got the idea for a fake town from, but I ain't laughing! The deal's off—you can keep whatever dozen bits y'all collected! I'll bulldoze this town myself to make that mine!”
“Twilight,” Pinkie hissed, “we need to do something!”
“He has a gun.”
“So what?”
Twilight shot her a “Seriously?” kind of look.
“Now get your asses out of this village!” Boss yelled. “Or my boy here's gonna start shooting!”
“No,” said a quiet voice behind them. “You're the ones leaving this town today.”
Boss turned, just in time for a rubber chicken to fly into his throat.
“Oh, Boneless II,” said Cheese Sandwich, his eyes hidden ominously beneath his hat as Boss choked. “You always were fond of a gag.”
“Cheese Sandwich.” Forsa smirked, and twirled his revolver. “You shouldn't have come back. When I'm through with you, they'll call you Swiss Cheese.”
“You wanna bet?” Cheese Sandwich smirked back, then looked past Forsa and winked, right through the window of the saloon.
Pinkie Pie winked back.
“Really,” Cheese said, “let's make a bet of it. Duel, here and now, you and me. Loser leaves Donkey's End forever.”
“But you're unarmed. I'd hate to beat you in an unfair fight.” Forsa shrugged. “Eh. I'll get over it.”
“Who said I was unarmed?”
Cheese winked again, then pulled a device from under his sarape—a gray box with a red button. He pressed the button.
From over the horizon came a trundling noise. Then, a dome shape, advancing quickly. Closer to, it revealed itself as a brightly colored tank, with its barrel pointed right at Forsa. The unicorn gulped.
“The Cheese Supreme Cannonball Surprise,” Cheese said, hopping atop the CSCS. “Looks like mine's bigger, compadre.”
Forsa stared open-mouthed at the device, then shook himself. “You're bluffing,” he said. “That's a party cannon. It's not for hurting ponies!”
Cheese stared him down for a few seconds, but Forsa stared right back. Cheese sighed. “You're right. Boneless II might be a loose cannon, but I made a promise never to use what I love to hurt someone.” He frowned.
Forsa grinned and raised his revolver.
“But, on the other hoof,” Cheese continued, “she's probably fine with it.”
“What?” Forsa whipped around, just as—
A pamphlet whapped him on the head. “What?” he repeated, taking the pamphlet in his magic. “How to Bludgeon Ponies?”
“Sorry!” Twilight called, peeking through the door of the saloon. “I got kind of mixed up. Used the wrong one. Let me try again.”
She concentrated, her horn glowed, and four hundred pages of First Do No Harm: A Medical Primer flew out and clocked Forsa upside the head. He hit the sand like a ton of bricks.
“That's better,” Twilight said, trotting out and returning the book and pamphlet to her saddlebags. Pinkie followed her out.
The sound of coughing alerted the three of them. Boss, rolling on the ground, had finally managed to yank Boneless II from his throat, and was dry-heaving into the dirt, staining his black suit with saliva. Eventually he looked up, only to see the three of them standing and Forsa out cold on the ground.
The color drained from his face, and he bolted with a yelp, running out into the wilderness.
“Well, that went pretty okay!” Pinkie said. “Thanks for the help, Cheese! Couldn't have done it without you!”
“I should say the same to you!” Cheese smiled, but the smile seemed wistful, a little down-turned. “I'd offer you a celebratory polka, but I'm afraid I can't stay that long.”
“Are you sure?” Twilight called up. “I'm sure Pinkie's got an afterparty in mind, if you stick around.”
Cheese shook his head, then jumped off his tank and walked over to retrieve Boneless II. “Can't say I'm the sticking around type,” he said, wiping the chicken on his sarape. “Besides, I've got to catch Boss, bring him to justice. Ponies have to know what he did.”
“All right!” Pinkie waved. “See ya later!”
Cheese smiled, and tilted his hat. “I look forward to it.” Then he set his eyes on Boss, who was several hundred yards away now.
The stallion in black fled across the desert, and the funslinger followed.
July 27
Pinkie wrote the date out on the page, then did nothing but stare at the blank expanse. She and Twilight were in a bedroom that the Wise Ass of Donkey's End had lent them for the day, resting after their hard work of the previous nights; heavy blinds were closed against the noonday sun.
Somehow, despite three nights of town-saving, she couldn't think of anything to write.
“Hey,” Twilight said from her bed. “Talking with your sisters again?”
“Sort of.” Pinkie rolled over on her back, staring at the ceiling.
“Mm-hmm.” Twilight paused for a few seconds. “So, ready to admit that there's no such thing as a puppy hurtspital?”
Pinkie jolted, and stared at Twilight.
Twilight just chuckled. “I looked it up, to be double sure,” she said, pulling out a book titled, Is There Such a Thing as a Puppy Hurtspital? She opened it up to reveal a single page, with a single small word in the center: No.
“Where did you even,” Pinkie began, then shook herself. “Fine. No, it's not for puppies.”
“And I bet the real reason's something to do with your family.”
“I....” Pinkie bit her lip, as if to stop words from escaping prematurely. She took a breath. “I want to throw them the best party ever, before I leave for college. Okay?”
Twilight laughed. Pinkie narrowed her eyes. “What's so funny?”
“Did you seriously make up a 'puppy hurtspital' because you thought I'd laugh at the real reason, or something?” Twilight hopped down from the bed, next to Pinkie. “That's an amazing reason for a party, Pinkie! You didn't need to hide it!”
“Yup! That's the only reason I was hiding it.” Pinkie laughed back, and scratched her neck. “You got me.”
“To be honest....” Twilight blushed and looked away. “I'm actually kind of jealous. Since Shining Armor enlisted, we haven't really spoken a whole lot—and now I feel dumb for it, because look at you! A whole dimension away, no hands, and you're still....”
Her gaze wandered over to the open diary and its empty pages. “Keeping in... actually, come to think of it, I haven't heard it buzz in a while.” Twilight looked up at Pinkie. “Is something wrong?”
“Well, I might have brought up a touchy subject and Limestone miiiight have threatened to set the diary on fire, so I'm a teensy bit on edge,” Pinkie said, picking up verbal speed with each word. “But hey, no news is good news, right?”
Twilight blinked. “Did you just pronounce 'news' with a hard S—”
The diary buzzed. “Quiet!” Pinkie hissed. Both ponies stared at the page with rapt attention as new words slashed their way onto the page.
sorry I said I'd set it on fire
The penstrokes were sharp and jagged. “Limes!” Pinkie hissed.
it just pisses me off when you
look let's just talk about other stuff okay how's it going
“When I what? What do I say, what do I say?” Pinkie whispered. Her head whipped over to look at Twilight. “What do I say?”
“What—what are you asking me for? She's your sister!”
“Twilight, please!”
“Fine, I'll—I'll try to think of something.”
It's going great-tastic! We just saved a town from evil rich people.
sounds fun
It was! We nearly got shot, like, a bunch!
what
Also we made a fake balloon town and met a dude with a rubber chicken and
go the fuck back you nearly got shot?
Dunno if I want to talk about it.
Pinkie I will strangle you
I'll tell you if you tell me what happened with your stuff. Not today! Not if you're not up for it. But soon.
They'd reached the end of the page. Twilight smiled. “I think this is all you, now,” she said. With a yawn she hopped back up on the bed, plopping a pillow over her face. “Let me know how it goes.”
Pinkie turned the page. Any moment now, Limes would start writing again. Things would be better.
Tangerine skies bloomed from verdant red lawns, hanging in the eye of an opulent flamingo-pink sunset. Twilight and Pinkie stood on a bridge made from a music staff, and it squeaked out Pomp and Circumstance as they wandered across it.
“The lady of antiquity speaks of pipes connected upon pipes,” whispered an unrecognizable voice all around them. “Her voice gives shape to truths already in your heart!”
A clump of land floated in the near distance, covered in lizardy marmosets. Pinkie and Twilight approached the home on the hill before them.
Before they could get within five hundred meters, the door creaked open. Then Discord appeared before them in a cloud of confetti and applause. “Ta-dah!” He leaned over at them, grinning madly. “Now, a little pony tells me that you, my little simian, are in the market for some party repartee?”
Pinkie and Twilight looked at each other, then back at Discord.
“This isn't gonna work,” Pinkie said.
The arch of Discord's back deflated a bit. “Pardon?”
“Yeah,” Pinkie said, “it's like... I don't think anything here qualifies as a party?”
Discord tched, and snapped his fingers. A fleet of picnic tables appeared floating in the infinite sky at their side, with cakes made of bean paste and a mariachi member made of paper astride each one, playing out a symphony that seemed to harken to the eternal blackness of—
“Okay, sure,” Pinkie said, squinting at it. “I guess? There's music and food? But it's like... help me out here, Twilight,” she said, waving her hoof in a circle.
“It's like you're....” Twilight tapped her chin. “Like you're trying too hard, right, Pinkie?”
“Yeah, that's it! But also not trying at all, somehow?”
“Couldn't have put it better myself!”
“Like, you're just snapping your fingers.”
Discord slumped further down with each negative line, and by this point he had actually submerged into the ground like a videogame glitch—but at that last line, his eyebrows twisted. “Just snapping my fingers?”
He tutted, then vanished and reappeared lounging upon one of the picnic tables. “I'll have you know that just because I make it look easy, that doesn't mean I don't put thought into it. It just means that my results are a bit more creative than yours.”
Pinkie and Twilight looked up, suddenly aware that they were wearing dunce caps. “Hey!” Twilight said.
“Oh, don't say the idea doesn't appeal to you,” Discord said, pulling the skin off a banana. “I know you ponies—pardon, you humans love your rules, but isn't it fun to just—” having eaten the peel, he tossed the banana over his shoulder “—throw them away sometimes?”
He vanished and reappeared near the banana, walking toward it. “I know you've got a lot of preconceived notions about what a party can be. Maybe it's time you let them... slip away!” As he stepped on the banana, it flew out from under his talon, did a flip, and landed with a splat on the ground.
“The banana slipped,” Twilight muttered, eyes half-glazed, “instead of him.” She buried her face in a hoof. “Oh, that was so bad. We're going now, right, Pinkie?”
After a few seconds, she removed her hoof to see Pinkie, whose eyes were slowly widening. “Pinkie?” Twilight said, alarm apparent in her voice. “Please don't say you've got a—”
“I'm starting to get a good feeling about this guy,” Pinkie said.
“Oh, for god's sake.”
August 1
Discord's actually super cool! We took a selfie together! Here it is, check it out!
did
did you just take a picture and glue it to the book
Yup!
and you expected that to work huh
Might not have thought it through. Anyway, he kinda gave me some of his powers for a bit and had me go crazy and I created a chocolate fountain the size of a volcano, and choked a whole town in pyroclastic deliciousness. It was a gingerbread town so it was okay! And then we ate the ruins. I've never felt so creatively free! This was awesome!
that sounds really cool
It was! Hey, is Marble there? Haven't heard from her in a while! I wanna know how her latest checkup was!
Marble's doing a not talking thing right now
Oh.
yup btw, if you're about to ask if i'm ready to chat not yet
That's fine.
Soon though, right?
yup soon
“When's soon?” Pinkie muttered, frowning at the book as light from their campfire danced across it. They'd been dropped in the middle of who-knew-where after leaving Discord's realm, so they'd needed to improvise a camp.
“What?” Twilight said, lying down at the other side of the fire. She was peering at a strange plant—a sunflower whose stalk grew in chaotic spirals, perhaps from Discord's nearby influence—and was sketching it in a diary of her own as carefully as she could.
“Sounds complicated.” Twilight shrugged, and repositioned to get another angle of her flower. “Well, you'll be seeing them soon enough in person, right? We can cross Discord off our list now, and that's over halfway done.”
“Yeah,” Pinkie said, still staring at the page. “Great!”
“All right.” Twilight sighed. “This is dumb. I should be doing this in daylight.” She closed her eyes, lit her horn, and pulled a pair of sleeping bags from her saddlebag, one of which enveloped her. “Good night, Pinkie,” she mumbled.
“Remind me,” Twilight said, as the two of them crept up the staircase, with only the guttering light of a singular candle stub to lead their way. “What does the Princess of the Night have to do with parties?”
“She used to wield the Element of Laughter,” Pinkie whispered back. “That's a pretty good reference!”
She raised a fist and knocked three times on the door. It boomed like a funeral drum with each knock, one which seemed to chill Pinkie's mortal spirit.
After several ponderous seconds, a voice replied to the knocks, booming in kind: “Enter.”
Pinkie found herself inside the office. Luna sat behind a desk which was sleek and black, like a raven. “It's nice to see you, Twilight, Pinkie,” she said, in a voice as dark as night. “What brings you to my chambers?” Chains and torture devices adorned the walls of her study, next to diplomas and academic trophies.
“Well, uh....” Pinkie twirled her hair in her fingers. “I'm sort of doing an extracurricular, Vice Principal Luna. Very extra. And I hear you might be able to help me with learning to party?”
Luna laughed. “Pinkie, I wielded the Element of Laughter once, but that was thousands of years ago. Maybe if you wanted to talk about political parties, I might be of some use to you... but I don't think you're here to talk about parties at all.” She smiled, with something like mischief in the curve of her mouth. “Isn't there something you're not noticing?”
“Pinkie?” Twilight said, sitting beside her.
“What?” Pinkie said, continuing to twirl her hair in her fingers.
“You shouldn't have fingers.”
Pinkie blinked. “Oh.”
“Trust Twilight to notice the details, no matter what universe she's from.”
When Pinkie looked up, Vice Principal Luna had a crown, and a peytral, and also hooves and wings and a horn. Her hair flowed as if the air were water. “Is this really what you think my 'office' looks like?” she said, words that might have sounded accusatory if not for the mirth within them. "I'm a princess, not a dominatrix."
“So, um....” Pinkie fidgeted some more: as long as she had fingers, she was going to use them. “Was that just part of the dream earlier, where you said you couldn't help me with parties?”
“Did the other Pinkie tell you to see me?” Luna said. Before Pinkie could answer, Luna smiled and continued, “I'm in your head, so that was a rhetorical question. It seems like she cast a wider net than perhaps she ought to have... but I'm glad she thought of me. And I think there is something we should talk about.”
“What is it?” Pinkie said.
“That this isn't the first nightmare you've had since you arrived in Equestria.”
Pinkie and Twilight both stared at her. After a moment, Twilight forced a laugh. “What? Pinkie hasn't been having nightmares—and, and this isn't even a nightmare!”
“No, it's not.” Luna's expression was solemn. “Not yet.”
A chain leaped out from the wall, like a striking snake, and coiled around Pinkie's arm. As she yanked at it, another three chains erupted from the walls and floor, wrapping around her other limbs. “Let me go!” she yelled at Luna's face.
Luna shook her head. “I'm not doing this, Pinkie. Your mind is.”
“Then stop it!”
The chains spun Pinkie around, forcing her to look the door she'd come in—but it didn't look like an office door, or a door for this room at all. It looked like an old closet door, like someone might find at a rustic farmhouse.
Pinkie tried to close her eyes, but her eyelids didn't do anything. The closet door still loomed. “No,” she said.
“Stop this!” Twilight yelled behind her. “You're the Princess of Dreams—why can't you stop this?”
“She needs to see it,” Luna said. “Pinkie, you need to accept what's behind that door!”
“I know what's behind that door!” Pinkie floated steadily closer, and the door creaked. “Let me out!”
“Face it! Or the nightmares will continue!”
“I said—” Pinkie contorted her body, getting her jaw around her shoulder. “Let. Me. Out!”
She bit down, hard.
Pinkie's eyes burst open, and she felt the night air freezing the cold sweat that covered her.
The sleeping bag was covering her. She was cocooned. Trapped. Helpless.
“Pinkie!” Twilight yelped. She was bolt upright in her sleeping bag, as Pinkie kicked and struggled her way out of her own. “What's going on? I feel like we—we had the same dream just now! What was behind that closet door?”
Pinkie stood and bolted to her bags. She grabbed a piece of paper out of one of them with her clumsy pony hooves—one with five names, three of them crossed out—then took a pencil in her mouth.
“Pinkie,” Twilight said, more calmly, “what's going on?”
“Good news!” Pinkie said, glancing up at her with the kind of grin a skull uses: not because it wants to, but because it has to. “We can cross Princess Luna off the list.”
She slashed the pencil tip across Luna's name, with such force that the paper tore.
The outskirts of Fillydelphia were about as suburban as suburban got. There weren't any cars, and Pinkie and Twilight didn't see anyone on their smartphones—and of course everyone was horses—but besides that, the neat rows of houses looked just like home.
Hard to believe a millennium-old pony lived here.
Pinkie hammered on the door until it opened. “Do you know we checked Somnambula first? As in the actual town named after you? What are you doing here instead of—” She looked up, and stopped talking.
“Pinkie, don't be rude,” Twilight said, tutting with her eyes closed. “Hello! We're Twilight and Pinkie Pie, but not the ones you probably know. I hope the Pinkie you know sent a letter ahead about us—”
She opened her eyes and shut up.
Somnambula stood there with a mohawk, tie-dye shirt, and sneakers on all four hooves. She beamed, and they did not beam back. “Like the hair?” she said in her thick accent. “I'm thinking about an afro next week!”
Pinkie and Twilight stared.
“Come in, come in!” she said, leading them into a sitting room that was filled with as much bric-a-brac as Pinkie could imagine: oil paintings, abstract sculptures, and several radios all blaring out different channels. Somnambula turned each one off in turn as Twilight and Pinkie made themselves comfortable.
“Before we begin,” Somnambula said, sitting opposite the pair, “I've got two things I'd like to apologize for.”
Pinkie raised an eyebrow.
“First of all, the Sirens....” Somnambula grimaced. “We really didn't think that dimension was inhabited when we sent them through the portal....”
“What?” Twilight almost leapt out of her seat. “You did that? I mean, I wasn't there for that, but still, you're the reason they—”
“Water under the bridge.” Pinkie held a hoof to Twilight's face. “Not important. What can you teach me about partying?”
“See, that's the other thing.” Somnambula frowned heavily. “I don't... actually know anything about throwing a party.”
“What?” Pinkie didn't almost leap out of her seat—she hit the ceiling, and the impact rattled some of the sculptures in the room. “But you're Pinkie's party pony predecessor!”
“Yes, yes, I'm the Pillar of Hope that inspired the Element of Laughter—but neither of those,” Somnambula said with a shake of her head, “actually include the word 'party'. I'm honestly not sure why she sent you. Not that I don't enjoy visitors!” she added quickly. “Please stay as long as you like.”
Pinkie got up and turned toward the door. “Thanks anyway,” she said, her tone clipped.
“Pinkie!” Twilight hissed. “Where are you going?”
“Back to the other Pinkie so she can actually teach me something, instead of passing me off on random strangers! No offense!” she added, her tone harsh.
Somnambula sighed. “You know,” she said, “the other Pinkie is a pretty smart girl. There might be something else she sent you here for. Something I can help you with that's not a party?”
Pinkie stopped, her hoof raised to pull open the door. “I don't know what you're talking about.”
She reached for the door, but a glow of purple magic enveloped it, holding it in place. “Pinkie,” Twilight said, “maybe now's the time to say what's going on. To her, or at least to me.”
Pinkie still faced the door. “This isn't your problem—”
“I don't care if it's my problem! You're my friend!” Twilight stepped forward and rested a hoof on her back. “You wanted Limestone to open up to you, didn't you?”
“Well, she hasn't!” Pinkie spun around, her eyes shimmering. “She hasn't opened up! So I don't see why I have to—”
A buzzing sound cut her off. A buzzing from inside her saddlebag.
Pinkie gingerly reached over, undid the clasp, and pulled out the diary as it continued to buzz. It only stopped when she opened it.
here goes nothing
wanna know what happened? this stupid fucking girl was ragging on Marble oh haha, poor crazy sister, has to see a shrink so now she's missing a few teeth and I don't get to go to summer school for a while
There was a pause. Pinkie noticed Somnambula discreetly watching over her shoulder, and then the book buzzed again.
you're mad at me aren't you
Pinkie sighed, closing her eyes. “You're mad at me, aren't you?” she said. “For not saying sooner?”
“Of course I'm not mad,” Twilight said. “Just—just sit down and say what's going on.”
Pinkie walked, ever so slowly, back to the couch. Somnambula and Twilight sat down as well, watching intently. She took a deep breath, then took out a pencil and scribbled something in the diary.
Of course I'm not mad. I'll talk soon, okay?
She closed the diary, put down the pencil, and spoke.
“So you know how I don't live with my parents, right, Twilight? I used to, but now me and Maud share a place. Limestone and Marble still live back at the farm—that's my oldest sister and my youngest twin sister,” she added, as Somnambula looked inquisitive. “With my mom and dad. We're still really close, though, right?
“So one time this summer, I dropped in unannounced, I figured, hey, they'll be happy to see their best sister Pinkie.” She stared at the floor, her voice flat. “No one was home, though—silly Pinkie. I go looking, and I stumble into my old room—the one we all used to share. Limestone and Marble still share it. I opened up the closet, 'cuz I've still got some of my old stuff in there—trip down memory lane, you know? You know what I found?”
She looked up.
“I found a noose. A couple nooses, actually. Just lying down there like old clothes. It was like—like someone had been practicing how to do it.” Tears were leaking down her face now, like water overtopping a dam. “And you know what really kills me? I don't even know which one of them it was. I thought we were close, I'm their whole support network, and—and I don't even know that?”
“Pinkie,” Twilight said, pulling her closer with her foreleg.
“I mean, of course I wasn't close enough—I was a whole town away, and in a few weeks I'm gonna be starting college and I'll be even further away, and look what I did to try to fix things!” She laughed, mirthlessly. “I went a whole universe away.” She tried to stand up, but Twilight held on. “Coming here was stupid. I need to go home, I—”
“Pinkie, please,” Twilight said, “don't run. Let us help.”
“I already ran. I thought I could throw the bestest party ever and that would fix things, and now I'm—I'm so scared.” She took a shuddering breath. “Of the future.”
Somnambula tapped the table. “As somepony from the past, could I show you something?”
Pinkie didn't react. Twilight helped her up and led her after Somnambula, who trotted out of the room.
They went through the house, seeing more of Somnambula's eclectic tastes, until they reached the kitchen. “Check this out,” Somnambula said. “This is what the future looks like to me.”
She walked to the sink and turned on the faucet.
Twilight frowned. “What?”
“Running water!” Somnambula squee'd, dancing from hoof to hoof. “You just—you just turn that, and it comes out! And if I turn this one—” she turned the other handle “—it's hot water now! Through a series of pipes connecting this whole town!”
“Um.”
“And—and this!” She dashed to the fridge. “Winter in a box! It makes food preservation a problem of the past! No more famine! I can take a train across Equestria to see a friend in a day or less! And check these out!”
She jumped up and stomped all her hooves, and her shoes lit up in flashing colors. “I used to just have hope the future would be better, but now? Now I've got proof.”
“This isn't about sneakers!” Pinkie hissed. “Someone I care about is going to—to—”
“Do you think I've never lost someone I care about to the darkness?”
Somnambula's voice was stern. Pinkie shrank back. “I'm sorry, I didn't think—”
“It's okay,” Somnambula said. “But the reason I lost the person I cared about was because I lost faith that he could be saved. You need to have faith that your sisters can make it through this.”
Pinkie took a breath. “I—I don't know what to do.”
“You came here to learn how to throw a party?” Somnambula smiled, lifting Pinkie's chin with a hoof. “Throw them the best party they've ever seen. And then talk to them. You're close, aren't you?”
“But—but—” Pinkie shook her head. “I'm not ready! I haven't learned enough!”
“Let me give you some advice that's not for parties, but it might as well be.” Somnambula leaned close and whispered: “You will never be ready.”
Pinkie's eyes widened.
“No one is.” Somnambula smiled. “And we go out and we do what we have to do anyway.” Her voice became sterner once again, but still kept its warmth. “Are you ready to stop being ready?”
The dance floor that Pinkie'd set up outside the Pie farmhouse was filled with everyone Pinkie knew, except for the ones who were getting drinks—and even they didn’t stay for long. The drinks tables, which had been formed from marble and limestone chunks, curved to form a sort of vortex around the dance floor, directing people back to the center.
Almost like someone had planned it that way.
In fact, there was only one alcove for people to stand in, and three Pie sisters were occupying it.
“Holy shit,” Limestone said, after chugging her beercan. “Maud's actually dancing.” She pointed at the floor, where Maud was nodding her head to the beat, otherwise motionless.
“Wow,” Marble agreed, and sipped her juice pouch.
“Hey, don't interrupt the story! This is the best part!” Pinkie said, draping her arms around Limestone and Marble. “I said to myself, 'Pinkie, if the other Pinkie's right about us being different, then there must be something I can do that she can't!' And I figured it out! Watch this!”
She bent down and took a hunk of rock candy, big as a softball, in her hand. “Twilight!” she yelled across the floor, and tossed the rock.
“Got it!” Twilight called from the drinks table. She concentrated, the pendant around her neck glowed, and the rock flew skyward. “And... now!”
Pinkie snapped her fingers, and the rock exploded like a firework, in a burst of pink color. The crowd below looked up and gasped, then applauded.
“Ta-da!” Pinkie jumped for joy, making her own pendant bounce on her chest. “I can make sugar explode with my mind! Take that, Pinkie Sr.!” Then she looked over to see Marble cowering. “Um, was that too much?”
“No,” Marble said, lowering her arm from her face. “S'fine.”
“And the party?”
“Great.” Marble smiled. “Doctor says… should do more of this. Exposure therapy.”
“Awesome! Hey,” Pinkie said, swirling around to face Limestone, “that reminds me for no reason at all, did you get back into school yet—”
Limestone shoved a hand over her mouth. “Pinkie,” she said, eyes narrowed.
“Mmph?”
Limestone took a deep breath, chugged the last of her beer, then tossed it over her shoulder. “Thanks,” she said, looking Pinkie in the eye and releasing her hand.
“For what?”
“For the party. And....” Limestone shrugged and looked away. “For... being there.”
Pinkie squinted. “But I wasn't actually—”
“You dumbass.” Limestone groaned, and then grabbed Pinkie in a hug. “Marble, help me hug the dumbass.”
Pinkie felt another pair of arms wrap around her from the back. She tensed, then let herself relax. “Thanks for staying here for me, too.”
“Okay.” Limestone let go in a decisive movement. “Touchy-feely time over. Is this a party or what?”
Pinkie laughed, grabbed her sisters, and pulled them into the throng.
