I know nothing has been posted, but I assure you, I am hard at work · 8:20am Apr 30th, 2020
Ponk-a-pronk! Ponk-a-pronk! Ponk-a-pronk!
The ponk pronked through the Everfree, and while some might say the pronk was oblivious to the dangers of the dark and scary wood, the simple truth of the matter was that the Everfree was oblivious to the dangers posed by the ponking ponk. Had the Everfree paid attention in remedial biology, it would know that bright, vivid colours were nature's way of advertising danger, and there was no creature in all of the Everfree brighter than the ponk.
Ponk-a-pronk! Pronkity-ponk! Ponk-a-pronk!
She bonkity-bounced from here to there, her curls sometimes going in one direction as she went in another. Here there were ghosties to be giggled at, and sometimes grosslies too. As she hippity-hopped over a log, she thought of her friends and their adventures here. With every bounce, with every boink, with every pronk, her plush backside jiggled enticingly for the many predators found within the Everfree. She was a feast wrapped up in pink velvet—yet few creatures attempted to gobble her gizzards.
Ponk-a-pronk! Ponk-a-pronk! Ponk-a-pronk!
Over some briars and past some thorns, she came upon a manticore that just so happened to be getting to know it's lunch, which it held beneath one paw while it washed its face with the other. Lunch wiggled and writhed, but was unable to free itself, because lunches in general had trouble running away. For those rare lunches that did run away, they became fast food, which had its own special appeal. What critter didn't like fast food?
Ponk-a-pronk! Ponk-goes-bonk! Ponk-a-pronk!
With a solid-sounding kachonk! the pink ponk pronkity-pronk-pronked off of the manticore's head, somersaulted over the thorny underbrush, landed with a gymnastic flourish, and then said, "Hi there Mister Manticore! Whatcha doing?"
"Grawr!" it grawred as its lunch skittered away. "Rawr grawr rargh!"
"Rude!" replied the ponk, who bounced away from the playful swipe that missed by a mile. "You know, if you had some fibre in your diet, maybe you wouldn't be so grumpy, Mister Manticore. Maybe a salad, or I could bring you some nummy bran muffins!"
"Grrwrawr!" it grrwrawred grrwrawriouslessly, annoyed by the generous-but-difficult-to-eat upgrade to fast food.
"How is that my fault?" Pinkie Pie demanded whilst she flipped away from an even more playful poke. She spoke fluent frog, but manticore wasn't too difficult to make out. One just had to be careful with all the hard, edgy consonants and excessive phlegm, lest one sprayed what they had to say. "I'm sorry, Mister Manticore, but I really don't have time to play tag today. I'm baking! Maybe tomorrow though. When I come back, I'll bring some bran muffins so you don't tear apart your poor tushy-wushy when you visit your cat-box!"
"Rawr-rwar-wrargh!," the manticore rawr-rwar-wrarghed in response.
"Oh, there's no need to thank me, but… you're welcome!"
With a final "RAAARGH!" the manticore charged off into the underbrush, no doubt off in search of fast food, and Pinkie Pie was left all alone in a scary wood that really wasn't all that scary at all. Birds flew skyward, up and away from the furious, no-doubt constipated, cranky manticore in search of lunch. Pinkie had tried very hard to be a friend, but things just hadn't worked out as she had hoped. Maybe when she returned, she would bring along Fluttershy, and she wondered if the sunny, buttery yellow pegasus knew anything about high-pressure deep colonics—a colonic volcano? Surely the bound-up manticore was in need of some relief. Then, with a gloriously gregarious gigglesnort, she was off again to say hello to Zecora and to maybe borrow some special ingredients.
Ponk-a-pronk! Ponk-a-pronk! Ponk-a-pronk!
I was inspired by the repetitive sounds of Pepe Le Pew as he bounced into a scene and wanted to somehow capture that in text. Not sure if I succeeded. Also like Pepe Le Pew, I wanted Pinkie Pie to be absolutely oblivious. Instead of Pepe Le Pew, we have Pinkie Le Pronk. She lives in her own little world and her world and the world around her suffer from overlap. Which is a tough, tough concept to slip into text, but I made the attempt. Which brings us to containment horror; Pinkie Pie's good intentions results in a horrible monster that slips out of her world and into the other world at large. Which sounds like a hifalutin concept, something pretentious, but it is in reality a fairly common theme in fiction writing that is used in a myriad of ways. My attempt is Pinkie-centric, which might very well prove dangerous to my own sanity, as my thoughts have been more than a little pink lately.
Also, Hemingway absolutely does not like these paragraphs, and neither does any other bit of software I feed them into. This is probably bad writing. No, terrible writing, but I fear that if I changed it and cleaned it up, it would destroy what makes it charming and quirky. Which is a dilemma; attempt to write well, or attempt to be entertaining. There's too many adverbs and run on sentences, but Pinkie's thoughts are all just one long run on sentence with too many -ly words all chained up together.
It's late, and I'm rambling. I'm a tired old man who is having too much fun playing with electrons. Thank you for humouring me.
I love it! :)
I really can see Pinkie Ponk-a-pronk-ing in my minds eye, just like Pepe Le Pew, inflicting inconceivable, unstoppable annoyances upon her unsuspecting victim - not out of malice, but rather stemming from her well-intentioned nature and has-to-be-seen-to-be-believed obliviousness, driving them to the edge of insanity all the same.
We are waiting patiently :)
Be careful. Pinkie writes herself.
Sunset shimmer and starlight glimmer will do that to, but not as much.
Poor, poor Hemingway.
This is gonna be good.
And it's not bad writing. I suspect Hemingway would react the same if you plugged in, say, Fox in Socks.
Or, Celestia help us, Jabberwocky
I love the idea that many ponies are bright colors because things with bright colors in nature are dangerous and avoided by predators.
That could mean ponies are mimicking things with bright colors that are actually dangerous.
Or that ponies themselves are dangerous.
Or some of each!
If there was any justice in the word, that phrase, alone, would grant you an award.
Is that particularly different from canon Ponk?
5253957
I don't think so?
5253961
I definitely don't think so.
5253963
Er, that came out wrong. I am addled from pain and too-little sleep.
I do think so. Not all here tonight.
Edit: Wait. I think I'm still lost. Never mind me.