//------------------------------// // 3. It's no fun being me // Story: Slice of Strife // by helmet of salvation //------------------------------// Maybe she should have stuck with rocks. Sure, they weren't as much fun as fruit (although she dared not hint as much to her family, especially her older sister Maud). They had no sweet taste or smell, their texture was unsuitable for baking, and juggling them demanded extra concentration because if they were to land somewhere they shouldn't they could do more than just make a mess. But at least they didn't die on you. They were solid, dependable. They stuck by you forever. They didn't rot, nor bruise, nor succumb to mould or insect pests. They didn't bear mute, marescent, discoloured witness to your dismal attempts at cultivation. Yet her destiny was right there, in red and pink, for all Equestria to see. Ever since she left her foalhood rock farm, over her family's protests and sober warnings, firm in her conviction that her true calling lay elsewhere. Responding to a farmhoof want advertisement, Pinkie Pie trekked to Sweet Apple Acres in Ponyville. There, she soon overcame Granny Smith's skepticism by whipping the property's produce—especially their famous apples—into a dazzling array of pies, crumbles, scrolls, tarts, turnovers, popovers and other assorted treats. She combined an innate understanding of optimising flavour and texture with speedy yet unrushed preparation. Word of mouth quickly spread through the small town, sales were unmatched in the farm's venerable history, and a symbol of three red apples burst onto each side of Pinkie's hindquarters. Alas, all the baking expertise in the world could not make quality confections out of inferior crops, and Pinkie's ability to cultivate and harvest the farm's once-renowned apples proved to be sorely lacking. The dawn-to-dusk labour—ploughing the ground, dislodging apples from the trees, maintaining the farm's various structures—was well beyond her physical strength. It also required a considerable degree of focus, and Pinkie often found herself so distracted by flocks of pretty birds, fluffy white clouds that looked like cupcakes or funny-sounding new words that popped into her head that she ended up falling even further behind on her chores. Even the apples not lost to infestation, bruising, over-ripeness or mysterious misplacement were deteriorating in quality. A foalhood spent among rocks had ill nurtured in her the earth ponies' definitive skill of drawing plump, ripe, flavoursome produce from the ground. Pinkie's various imaginative techniques for improving the crops—singing wacky songs, making funny noises, shrieking enraged threats—yielded scant results. Pinkie was not alone on the farm. Big Macintosh, Applejack's prodigiously strong older brother, could normally do the work of two ponies. Yet as the seasons went by even he was buckling under the strain of undoing Pinkie's chaos and picking up her shortfall on top of performing his own chores. Apple Bloom, the youngest of the family, was too young for the more arduous farm duties, and Granny Smith too old. So Pinkie still faced a vast burden of heavy work. And despite the support and companionship of her friends, she was not coping. Yet she had to cope. The Apple family and Ponyville's consumers were depending on her. And as she plodded back to the dwining farm, that knowledge made her feel like she was the most miserable pony in Equestria. Then she spotted Rainbow Dash. Pinkie was still a considerable distance from the blue pony, alone in one of the farm's apple orchards, but the desolation Rainbow conveyed was unmistakable, and heart-rending. Instead of hovering above ground with that proud, fierce determination Pinkie remembered, she was slumped on her haunches like a rag doll sat at a filly's tea party. Her rainbow-maned head hung low, her eyes were unfocused, her wings sagged from her flanks into the dust. Now there was a pony in need of cheering up, thought Pinkie Pie. An exuberant hug, a sweet treat, an upbeat ditty, a cluster of heart-shaped smiley-faced balloons. Something to show her that her happiness mattered to somepony, that whatever was troubling her a friend would be there to lift her spirits. It might not solve her problems but at least it could put her in the right frame of mind to deal with them. If only Fluttershy were here. Pinkie barely even noticed the whimper of sorrow that fluttered from her own throat. Rainbow Dash winced at the sound, then gulped and heaved a sigh. "I tried." Still facing the barren ground, Rainbow spoke in a voice riven with bitter self-reproach. "You gotta believe me, I tried so hard." "Tried what, Dashie?" "My critters. They all got away from the cottage at once and came here. I managed to herd the fliers into a ball but that just left all the ground animals on the loose. I tried to drive them out but they just split up into a hundred directions. Then the birds got out of control and ..." Rainbow flicked a limp, aimless gesture around the bleak orchard. "Well, just look at this place. It's a disaster. No fruit, no leaves, bark falling away. It's completely ruined and it's all my fault. I just keep failing at my own destiny." Pinkie gazed openmouthed around the orchard for a few seconds, then zipped from one tree to another, frowning, peering intently at what was left of them. Rainbow kept her eyes averted, silently preparing herself for Pinkie's reaction. She was not prepared for snickering. For the first time, Rainbow Dash risked a look at Pinkie Pie. The pink pony removed her forehoof from in front of her mouth and threw back her head in glee. "Oh Dashie, yer a crack-up." "Wh-what do you mean?" asked Rainbow. "Yer critters didn't do any damage here, silly," said Pinkie between titters. "This orchard looks just like it did when I left it." Her hysterics overcame her and she collapsed, rocking on her back and kicking the air. "So, this isn't my fault?" "That's right." By this time there were tears in Pinkie's eyes. Rainbow launched herself into the air, her forehoof pumping with excitement. "Yes! I didn't destroy all your hard work." "That's right." "I just ... insulted your hard work ... the work that represents your destiny ... in the cruelest ... possible ... way." Rainbow's voice faltered to a hoarse near-whisper as she sank back to the ground. "That's right." Pinkie's mouth maintained its smiling shape but her tears were flowing more freely now. "So quit mopin' around like a mopey old moropus an' buck up because yew are not failin' at yer destiny." She heaved an almighty sob. "Unlike some ponies around ... here." Twin geysers erupted from Pinkie's eyes as she lifted her voice in a pitiful lament of pain and powerlessness. Every wail and whimper was like a kick to Rainbow's belly. Of course she felt heartsick at any of her friends being upset, especially if she was to blame, but seeing Pinkie Pie in such a state of despair just seemed wrong somehow. She tried to think of something comforting to say. "Uh, you might wanna take that inside. I don't think salt water is too good for soil." The sound of galloping hoofbeats pre-empted Pinkie's response. The two ponies glanced towards the path from the front gate and saw the urgent approach of Applejack, surrounded by clouds of dust kicked up from the parched pathway. "Rainbow Dash! There y'all are. Ah been lookin' all over fer——" As Applejack took in the wretched state of the orchard for the first time, her voice began to tremble with horror. "What in thunderation has hapblumph——?" Rainbow Dash shot towards Applejack and plugged a forehoof in the earth pony's muzzle. Grimacing, the pegasus shook her head and drew her other forehoof in a cutting motion across her own throat. Applejack nodded, and Rainbow withdrew her hoof from the newcomer's mouth. "We gotta bird emergency in town," said Applejack. "Ah'll explain on the way." As the orange pony galloped back up the path, Rainbow Dash shook off her weight of remorse. She didn't know where to start restoring matters with Pinkie Pie but for now she had a job to do. The blue pony flew off after Applejack, while Pinkie Pie slunk towards the barn to finish her crying in a safer place. She wanted nothing more than a great big rock to crawl under. Should have stuck with rocks.