Letters from an Irritated Princess

by Tired Old Man


I’d Rather Be Deaf Than Listen to Pinkie’s Yakity-Sax

Dear Twilight,

I can’t take this anymore. This has gone on for months without end, and my patience has worn out. As easy as it is for my town populace to ignore the calamitous cacophony over in Ponyville thanks to my ‘brilliant’ plan of donating phoenix feathers to my citizens to weather the noise, Philomena and I are quite sick of her spontaneously losing her coat every day to this painful music.

You need to say something to Pinkie, right now, about the yovidaphone notes she’s butchering. And I don’t mean saying something crude and insulting like, “You’re terrible, not improving, and we think you’re wasting your time doing it.” That’s far too harsh and while it would certainly get her to stop, it’d tear her down from her pedestal with no recourse to build her back up again. No, it doesn’t matter if you say it in the nicest way either—you’d still be a prick for saying it.

Get the girl lessons. Have her listen to, and try to emulate the masters in Yakyakistan that can actually play it in a way that more than just the music player can enjoy it if she insists on playing it in public. That said, do not use the Yak audience as a metric for how good she plays. They have the broadest possible definition of what constitutes perfect music playing, which unfortunately doesn’t translate well to other species that enjoy having the luxury of functioning ears.

Yet we must consider the worst as well. If she will never improve in any capacity, despite the best efforts taken to improve her performing skill, then she shouldn’t be ignorant of this fact and play her music somewhere private or soundproofed like a… bunker, maybe? A deep underground cavernous utopia? Maybe throw her in a sound-cancelling bubble on the off-chance that she gives notice of her practice time? Pinkie has no good reason to disturb the peace at this point and should find a solution that minimizes the overwhelming amount of neighborhood nuisance complaints.

Mayor Mare can’t even find her desk anymore, Twilight. Her office is crammed full of filing cabinets, filled with nothing but complaints, that have effectively turned her into a rat in a maze. She’s started buying sheets of plywood so she can have a temporary second floor to navigate. I’d rather send an urgent request to you now to solve this dilemma than see my friend turn her maze into a multilevel monstrosity.

However, I’ll remind you once more to be careful with your words when breaking this down to her, Twilight. I’m sure she will still listen to you, even if you sometimes say things that directly contradict yourself. You shouldn’t be doing that with her… or anypony else for that matter. The last thing we need is for Pinkie to have a meltdown and become a bitter mime.

Wishing You Luck and Common Sense… Mostly the Latter,

Princess Celestia

Sunny, what’s with the torn leather vest and studs? Is this a new phase of your, ahem, ‘dark and spooky’ phase? Also, please speak up a bit so I can hear you.

...So let me get this straight. You want to start a punk-themed band with instruments comprising of Pinkie’s “yakpipes”, a xylophone and... what are you playing again?

A triangle and kazoo. Somehow I should be surprised, but I’m not. Anyway, have you come up with any band names for your little group of questionable musicians?

Nature’s Wrath? Sounds appropriate. How about a venue for your first performance?

Uh, Sunny, we don’t have an amphitheater at the castle.

What do you mean by ‘We made one?’

Why did… Sunny, you can’t just blast a giant hole in the ballroom wall and call it an amphitheater! That’s right next to the bird sanctuary, for my sake!