Dusk stared at Pinkamena unblinking for the longest time. Finally, he burst out laughing. This was the greatest prank he’d ever seen in his life! His sides ached from giggling. Soon, he noticed that Pinkamena was completely silent, contempt still in her eyes. His laughter died down, and the way “Pinkie” wasn’t joining him was leaving him feeling a little awkard. He cleared his throat.
“Okay Pinkie, that was a pretty good one. Now let me go.”
Pinkamena was instantly thrown into a rage, punching Dusk with every syllable. “I *SMACK* THOUGHT *SMACK* I *SMACK* TOLD *SMACK* YOU, *SMACK* MY *SMACK* NAME’S *SMACK* NOT *SMACK* PINK-*SMACK*-IE!!! *KA-POW!*
Dusk broke once again into tears. “M-my n-n-nose is b–b-bleeding,” he sobbed.
“Don’t be a wuss,” Pinkamena muttered.
“Where am I?” he asked.
“In the Cake’s basement.” She answered. She opened Dusk's mouth, seeing with satisfaction that she’d broken a few teeth. “Alright, you’ve had enough. Now, do you want to get out of this hellhole alive?”
“Yes!” said Dusk urgently. “For love of Celestia, yes!”
“Then answer my questions,” she simply put. Yeah right, loser, she thought. Like I’m letting you go that easily. “First thing: What does Pinkie Diane Pie look like?” Dusk blinked in confusion.
“…What?” he said dumbly. In response, Pinkamena slammed a hoof in the wall Dusk was strapped to, putting a hole in solid concrete.
“What country you from?” she snapped without missing a beat.
“What??”
“What ain’t no country I’ve ever heard of! They speak Equuish in What?”
“What?” Dusk repeated.
“EQUUISH, MOTHER-CLOPPER, DO YOU SPEAK IT?!” Pinkamena barked.
"Yes!"
“Then you know what I’m saying?”
“Yes!” Dusk said, hyperventilating.
“Describe what Pinkie Diane Pie LOOKS LIKE!”
“What? You’re not making any-“
“Say ‘what’ again!” she interrupted, not giving Dusk any time to think. She picked up a stainless titanium crowbar from the floor. “SAY ‘WHAT’ AGAIN! I dare you! I double-dare you, motherbucker, say ‘what’ one more moon-banished time!”
“She’s pink,” Dusk said, his mind racing. “She a poofy mane…”
“Does she look like a tree?” Pinkamena said, now with a grin of psychopathic glee on her face.
Dusk couldn’t resist. “What?” he said, squinting his eyes a little. Pinkamena said nothing in return; she just used the crowbar to whack her captive where the sun don’t shine.
“DOES. SHE. LOOK. LIKE. A. TREE.” She repeated slowly.
“NO!” Dusk squealed like a pig.
“Then why are you trying to buck her like a tree, Dusk?” Pinkamena returned to a perfectly level speaking voice, as if they were discussing nothing more important than the weather. Dusk could only sputter in pain. Pinkamena waited patiently for his response. Finally, after ten minutes, Dusk’s panicked breathing slowed to deep breaths as Dusk frantically tried to calm himself.
“W-why are y-you doing th-th-this to me, P-pinkie P-uhh… Pinkamena?” he asked.
“Well, it is your fault,” she said as she rolled her eyes.
Dusk’s jaw dropped. “What?”
…*WHACK!*
“My balls!”
A few days ago…
“That’s just it, Princess,” said Dusk Shine glumly. “After discovering what it means to have friends, I have to leave them behind.”
Friends.
That’s what Pinkie was to Dusk: A friend. Part of Pinkie’s soul died when she heard those words. She wanted to cry. No, she couldn’t cry, she was at a party! It was always Pinkie’s purpose in life to throw parties. She never felt she had a choice. It was her cutie mark, after all! To make everypony happy.
She had to please everypony.
Not just one pony, which would be selfish! Just focusing on one pony would make everyone else feel left out. And leaving somepony out was worst thing anypony could do! She knew that.
She knew that all too well.
I mean, a party meant by definition that everypony had fun, and she liked seeing everypony have fun, so the only logical solution would be that threw parties whenever possible! Right? She couldn’t afford to stop smiling, because that would mean somepony would stop smiling too, and she couldn’t afford to be a buzzkill. She just saved Equestria by being the very embodiment of Laughter, for Pete’s sake! She had to throw parties all the time.
Even if that meant nopony threw a party for her in return.
Even if that meant Dusk Shine would never love her in return, because she was so busy throwing some party for sompony’s relative’s roomate’s dog’s birthday. She always remembered everypony’s name in town, but none of them offered her favors or listened to her advice or paid attention to her, and some of those ponies didn’t even remember HER name! But she always kept on smiling.
So she told herself everything would be fine, that she and Dusk would be friends and… nothing more. Even if it was a shipfic. She couldn’t afford to shed tears, the party must go on! She bobbed for apples. She started a conga line, followed by the bunny-hop. She pulled a few party pranks. She played Pin-The-Tail-On-The-Pony. She even learned that Mrs. Cake was pregnant, so she had a new playmate to look forward to! That night, she had fun! Everypony had fun.
So, when she finally got home, why did she still cry herself to sleep?
The next morning…
Pinkamena groaned as she struggled to wake herself up. “Pinkie, it’s time to get up. Get our lazy flank outta bed,” she said to her other half.
Pinkie was unusually quiet.
“Is this another joke, Pinkie?” Pinkamena said with annoyance. “What did I ever do to get the silent treatment?” she continued sarcastically. “I’m usually cursed to hear you talking mile a minute by now!” She kicked the blankets in frustration. She then gasped.
She had just moved. All on her own! She hadn’t been able to move so much as their tail in decades! She tried another time. There, it worked again! “Okay Pinkie, this is a pretty freaky joke of yours. Stop it; you’re giving me a false sense of hope.”
Pinkie was stone silent.
Finally, Pinkamena flung their body out of bed in a childish tantrum. “That enough for ya, Pinks?” she said angrily, lying in a heap on the floor. Then, she saw herself in the mirror.
Her real self. Not a trace of Pinkie Pie looked back at her in their reflection. Instead, a bitter mare with a long straight mane stood with her mouth hung wide open. Pinkamena searched their mind frantically for any passing thought Pinkie had.
After fifteen grueling minutes, a quarter of a hour of regretting every single time she told the party animal that she wished that she was dead, crying softly as she just sat there and thought as hard as could, Pinkamena at last found Pinkie.
And screamed in horror.
Pinkie was just a shriveled up scrap that lay dormant in their subconscious, feeling nothing but a cruel, endless void of pity and self-loathing. “Pinkie Pie, speak to me!” Pinkamena screeched.
[Go away,] Pinkie whimpered. [Leave me alone.]
“You have no right to waddle in despair and loneliness!!!!” her opposite roared. “That’s MY job, remember? You can’t steal my job from me! What the hay am I supposed to do?”
Suddenly, a voice rang from downstairs. “You okay, Pinkie Pie?” hollered Carrot Cake. “I heard you screaming.”
“I-It’s okay, boss!” yelled Pinkamena as her mind raced for an excuse. “I just have… uhhh… cramps! Yeah, really bad cramps!”
“Oh,” he said. “In that case, take the day off!”
I have bigger problems, she thought. Pinkie, how did you even get this way? What was different about yesterday?
But Pinkie already faded into silence again.
Was it Nightmare Moon? The Elements of Harmony clopping with our brains? Like, using up all the Laughter inside you? No? Well, what was it? Who was it? Pinkamena gasped in realization.
“…Dusk Shine,” she hissed aloud. “That son of a mule.”
There was a flicker of recognition from Pinkie, confirming Pinkamena’s beliefs.
“How dare he break your heart! Scratch that, I was the one who warned you about not to get attached to him! Well, I warn you about not getting too attached to anyone, but still!” Realizing that she was acting too much on emotions, Pinkamena took a page from their psychiatrist/anger management classes: She took a deep breath and counted backwards from ten. “Look,” she began again. “I may hate you, but it crushes me to see you like this. What can I do to bring you back?”
All quiet on the Pinkie front.
“Fine!” she pouted, infuriated that she was rejected. “I’ll do it my way!” Then, she paused.
What WAS her way, exactly? She had years and years of experience as a voice in Pinkie’s head, but it felt like an eternity since she did anything without her. Focus, Pinkamena, she meditated. The solution obviously has to relate to the source. Now, what can I do with Ol’ Dusky?
She tossed around ideas, rejecting one after. Talk to him? He’s as thick a brick, and sharing feelings is what lead to this mess. Kill him? Too simple, and Pinkie would never forgive her. Rape? Forcing him to pleasure them both would leave Pinkie guilty, and it just made Pinkamena sick to her stomach. She hated colts, (because all of them were perverts) and she hated being touched even more. Then, Pinkamena had the most brilliant idea in her life: Revenge!
She wasn’t going to kill him, but when she was done with him, he was going to wish that she did. She began to plan out every detail of the slow, painful torture.
And for the first time in a long while for both halves of herself, Pinkamena truly smiled.
Present time…
“Pinkamena…” said Dusk, his voice full of sorrow and guilt. “I… had no idea. Trust me; I had no intention of hurting Pinkie’s feelings.” He’d always suspected that Pinkie was a little… unstable, to say the least, but he never had thought that she was suffering from depression, was hiding a case of multiple personality disorder, or that she could take one little comment from him so personally. In short, he’d never felt so bad in his life.
“Of course you don’t understand,” Pinkamena scoffed. “Nopony understands! Why do you think she has ME?” Tears were now streaming down her cheeks.
“Pinkie…” Dusk pleaded, trying to reach out to her other self. He knew what had to be done. In the name of Celestia, he prayed, please listen to me, because I’ve never felt this sorry for anypony, and I want you to forgive me.
Pinkamena raised her hoof to beat him again. “I TOLD YOU NOT TO CALL ME-”
“…would you go to the Gala with me?” he finished. Pinkamena froze in the blink of an eye. At a pace that was downright disturbing to a passing bystander, Pinkamena’s mane poofed up in bright pink curls as a goofy grin was plastered on her face. Pinkie Pie was back, and better than ever.
“OmigoshDuskydoyoureallymeanit?” she blurted at usual her super-speed pace. “I was thinking you would totally snuff me and bring us all instead, but this is so better than canon! I can’t wait to tell CarrotCakeandCupCakeandBerryPunchandDerpyandDitzyDooandVinylScratchandScootalooandPipsqueakandLil’Pipandthatonestatuethat’ssupposedtobeDiscordbuthehasn’tbeenfreedyet…”
“Pinkie?” Dusk broke off.
“Yes, best boyfriend ever?” said Pinkie.
“Please untie me,” he requested.
“Silly Dusk,” Pinkie giggled. “You can do that yourself! The sedatives wore off halfway during the flashback.”
“…What?”
*WHACK*
“My balls!”
“Sorry, reflex. Here, lemme kiss it!”
Dusk paused for a moment. “…No.”
Aww! *pouts* Forget Dusk, he’s such a party pooper. Anyway, let’s celebrate with my version of the Gala!~
The Grand Galloping Gala was, as always, boring. I mean, really, really boring. Like, teeth-grindingly boring. The orchestra never knew any good songs, the guests never sang along, and who even still dances the waltz, anyway?
All of the sudden, Pinkie Pie and Dusk Shine, partners in partying, burst through the doors. And by doors, I mean we got a wrecking ball to crash the wall open. I pulled out my megaphone and addressed the screaming party guests (What? It doesn’t matter why they’re screaming):
“Attention, Canterlot!” I announced with gusto. “The Party Revolution has arrived! No longer will you be oppressed by slow, dull music, brainwashing you into thinking the ‘Pony Pokey’ is just for children! Go! Be free while I do the honors of dropping the bass!” I then pulled out some flippin’ sick speakers out of hammerspace and blasted Octavia’s band into obilivion.
“This is the greatest party anypony’s ever thrown in recorded history!” Dusk yelled over the blaring music.
“I know!” I called out, beaming boldly. “And I couldn’t have done it without you! Even though we’ll probably get arrested for this and end up on the morning news, I’m sure everything will turn out okay. You know why?”
“Why?”
“Because I’ll be doing it with you,” I said softly. “Now come on! We still haven’t converted the royal washing machines into hot tubs! Everypony knows it’s not party until you do that!”
Pinkie went on and on about “how super-duper amazing the Gala’s gonna be” as Dusk Shine went upstairs. When he did, he saw Spike standing out the door.
“Spike?” said an extremely shocked Dusk. “Where have you been all this time?”
“Well,” explained Spike, “I was riding on your back when Pinkie Pie here sprang out of nowhere and clocked you out! I started screaming, but then she told me that it was some new kind of surprise party, where you knock the guest of honor unconscious and drag him to the party place where he wakes up.” He shrugged “It’s apparently supposed to be all the rage in Hoofington. But then you wouldn’t wake up for like, ever, so she gave me this awesome box of cupcakes to pass the time. Do you want one? They have real sapphires in the icing!” Dusk’s eye twitched.
“Are you okay, Dusk?” said Spike innocently. “Didn’t you enjoy the party?”
“You don’t wanna know,” his surrogate brother replied with a shaky voice. He pulled the baby dragon close and whispered in his ear, making sure that Pinkie (and especially Pinkamena) couldn’t overhear them. “Just don’t trust Pinkie when she seems upset, especially when she redoes her mane.”
“What are we whispering about?” asked Pinkie Pie, popping up beside them both.
“Gah!” exclaimed Dusk. “N-nothing!” he stuttered. “Nothing at all. Absolutely nothing in particular at all and definitely not anything you need to be suspicious about!”
“Okie-dokie-lokie,” she smiled cheerfully, not revealing any sign of her dark side. “Just be sure to include me next time you talk about nothing. Those conversations are like, the most interesting talks ever! I mean, there this one time I talked to Derpy about nothing and it lasted for hours and hours and hours and hours and hours and hours and hours and hours and hours and hours and hours and hours and hours and hours and hours and hours and hours and hours and hours and hours and hours and hours and hours and hours and hours and hours and hours and hours and hours and hours and hours and hours and hours and hours and hours and hours and hours and hours and hours and hours and hours and hours and hours and hours and hours and hours and hours and hours and hours and hours and hours and hours and hours and hours and hours and hours and hours and hours and hours and hours and hours and hours and hours and hours and hours and hours and hours and hours and hours and hours and hours and hours and hours and hours and hours and hours and hours and hours and hours and hours and hours and hours and hours and hours and hours and hours and hours and hours and hours and hours and hours and hours and hours and hours and hours and hours and hours and hours and hours and hours and hours and hours and hours and hours and hours and hours and hours and hours and hours and hours and hours and hours and hours and hours and hours and hours and hours and hours and hours and hours and hours and hours and hours and hours and hours and hours and hours and hours and hours and hours and hours and hours and hours and hours and hours and hours and hours and hours and hours and hours and hours and hours and hours and hours and hours and hours and hours and hours and hours and hours and hours and hours and hours and hours and hours and hours and hours and hours and hours and hours and hours and hours and hours and hours and hours and hours and hours and hours and hours and hours and hours and hours and hours and hours and hours and hours and hours and hours and hours and hours and hours and hours and hours and hours and hours and hours and hours and hours and hours and hours and hours and hours and hours and hours and hours and hours and hours and hours and hours and hours and hours and hours and hours and hours and hours and hours and hours and hours and hours and hours and hours and hours and hours and hours and hours and hours and hours and hours and hours and hours and hours and hours and hours and hours and hours and hours and hours and hours and hours and hours and hours and hours and hours and hours and hours and hours…”
As Pinkie rambled on, Dusk and Spike realized that neither of them had lunch yet, and decided to resume walking to the restaurant they planned on going to.
As the two boys placed their order of food, Pinkie was still stuck in her loop, and it was getting on their nerves. Her voice was like a sledgehammer, pounding into not just the ears but the mind as well, borrowing into their retinas until it bored past their spinal cords and soared up into the sky forever and ever and ever amen.
“..And hours and hours and hours and hours and hours and hours and hours and hours and hours and hours and hours and hours and hours and hours and hours and hours and hours and hours and hours and hours and hours and hours and hours and hours and hours and hours and hours and hours and hours and hours and hours and hours and hours and hours and hours and hours and hours and hours and hours and hours and hours and hours and hours and hours and hours and hours and hours and hours and hours and hours and hours and hours and hours and hours and hours and hours and hours and hours and hours and hours and hours and hours and hours and hours and hours and hours and hours and hours and hours and hours and hours and hours and hours and hours and hours and hours and hours and hours and hours and hours and hours and hours and hours and hours and hours and hours and hours and hours and hours and hours and hours and hours and hours and hours and hours and hours and hours and hours and hours and hours and hours and hours and hours and hours and hours and hours and hours and hours and hours and hours and hours and hours and hours and hours and hours and hours and hours and hours and hours and hours and hours and hours and hours and hours and hours and hours and hours-”
“PINKIIIIIIIE!” yelled Dusk out of exasperation.
“Yes?”
Dusk held his breath for a moment before speaking. “Don’t you think it’s time to change the subject?” he suggested.
“That’s what I said!” said Pinkie.
“Pardon?”
“That what I said to Derpy! Don’t get me wrong, I like conversations about nothing as much as the next mare, but Derpy was the one doing all the talking! You won’t buh-leeeeeeve how much that pegasus loves to talk. She never knows when to shut up! And honestly, isn’t that the most annoying trait in the world?” she paused for a moment. “Dusky-wusky?”
“Yes, Pinkie?”
“Please stop slamming your face on the table. It’s getting kinda wobbly. Seriously, what did that table ever do to you?” Dusk Shine stopped, simply resting his forehead on the tablecounter.
This more torture than Pinkamena could ever dish out, he thought as a migraine formed in his skull. I wish there was some savoir from heaven above that could help me escape from this Tartarus-on-earth…
“Darling!” called out the flowery voice of Rarity. “I heard that you were attending the Grand Galloping Gala in Canterlot, and that you were saving an extra ticket. Oh, that’s the sweetest thing anypony’s ever done for me. You’re such a gentlecolt!”
…I take it back, he regretted. This is worse. This is easily ten times worse. Please don’t let Pinkie hear that, my flank can’t take another beating!
“Actually,” Pinkie piped up, “Dusky’s taking me to the-”
“Like I said, it’s the sweetest thing anypony’s ever done for me!” Rarity said in the exact same tone of voice. “Oh, I can see it now…”
At the Gala, where Rarity’s dreams come true…
We would enter the ballroom with only the grace and dignity that only a royal couple should have. All the nobles would gawk in awe as the one and only Prince Dusk Shine swooped in and stunned them with his presence. Of course, everpony in the room would know who you were, but who would be that fabulous mare beside you? Who danced with you, cared for you, completed you, and complimented you in every single possible way and more?
Why, it would be little old me, Darling! Not that wench who tried to rape you, my dearest. How dare that little worm steal you first kiss? I don’t care if she was Celestia’s long-lost sister, I don’t care if it was her party, and I don’t even care if she was alone on her precious moon for thousand years, NOPONY TOUCHES MY-
Sorry. That was… uncouth of me. Now where were we?
“The part where you take me instead?” Spike said hopefully.
“The part where I rip your throat out?” growled Pinkie, now fully transformed into Pinkamena.
“Ugh,” said Dusk, his face still planted in the table. “My horn is stuck.”
The ballroom, of course darlings! The two of us would be the envy of all of Canterlot (and Luna), dressed in our custom-made eveningwear that I designed myself. And by the stroke of midnight, you would lean down on one knee and pull out a 24-karot, perfect cut diamond resting on a classic solid gold ring. I would read the question engraved on the inside of the ring, and a single tear would roll down my face.
Of course, I would answer with the upmost ladylike dignity.
Our wedding would be attended by everypony within miles, as with any royal wedding. Please forgive me Darling, but I’ve already taken the liberty of what picking out what to name our foals. Don’t worry my love; I’ll keep you in the dark about it, just to make it a surprise. Oh, we’re going to be so happy together!
Pinkamena just sat there, scowling. “Fat chance, you overbearing %$@#,” she cussed. True, she hated Dusk to the bone, but she put her blood, sweat and tears into threatening him into hooking up with Pinkie, and this slut was going to take that away in one fell swoop. “I ain’t letting you get within a hoof’s length of him after what I’ve just heard.”
“What did you call me??” Rarity gasped. “The %-word is most fowl for a lady! Come Dusk, we’re leaving!”
“I can’t,” said Dusk put simply.
“What?” Rarity said, shell-shocked from what her ears just told her. “Am I not good enough for you?” she whined.
“No, I literally can’t,” he explained. “My horn’s still stuck, and I haven’t paid the bill yet. Hay, I haven’t even eaten yet!”
“You’re taking Pinkie out for brunch?” Rarity inhaled dramatically. “How could you? I thought we had something special!”
“I think we could have something special,” interjected Spike.
“SHUT THE BUCK UP, SPIKE!” both mares said simultaneously, forcing the dragon to back down. Hearing the commotion, a waiter trotted up to the table.
“Iz there a problem, mademoiselles?” he spoke with a thick accent from Prance. He had no idea what kind of chaos was about to overtake his restraunt. The tension was so thick, you could cut it with a knife.
“No,” said Pinkamena through her gritted teeth. “Is there a problem, Rarity?”
“I don’t believe so,” hissed her nemesis.
“Actually…” said Dusk, about to explain the situation. The two arguing ponies whipped their gaze at him, daring him to speak.
“…Could you get my horn out of this table?” he finished meekly.
“Of courze sir,” the waiter answered. After pulling with all his strength, the staff member got Dusk out of his physical predicament, leaving him to die in his social one. “If zat iz all, your meal is ready.” He then suddenly realized something. “Oh, how rude of moi, I zee that you have another guest. What will ze white unicorn be having?”
“Just water, please,” Rarity said politely. She narrowed her eyes. “I don’t plan on staying long.”
“Really?” retorted Pinkamena passive-aggressively. “You seemed to have planned a lot today.” With every word of the cold, uncomfortable situation, Dusk felt himself sinking a little lower in his seat, as his grave was also being dug a little deeper.
I’m dead, he gulped. I’m deader than dead. I’m more screwed than a twister on a merry-go-round. How did I end up in this mess? Why have you forsaken me, Celestia? What did I ever do to deserve this? Was it that one time I got an A- instead of my usual A++++++? Cut me a break, I hated myself for a week because of that!
“And what is that supposed to mean?” snapped Rarity as soon the waiter was out of earshot.
“You named your future foals with Dusk? Who the hay does that?” Pinkamena said, disgusted at the fashionista.
“Actually, that was kinda creepy,” Dusk muttered.
“Oh, really?? Is ‘creepy’ to have dreams?!!” Rarity said, her eyes two blazing balls of fire.
“Don’t hurt me!” he flinched.
“Oh no,” said Rartiy as her voice suddenly switched to a sweet, loving tone. “I wouldn’t think of hurting you, my sunshine. You know what? Thinking back, I suppose I could’ve been a tad… subtler when mentioning you my intentions. Tell you what: I’ll forgive you for this little mistake, and I’ll bury the hatchet with Pinkie here. We’ll even have a fresh start, and I’ll treat you like a proper equal, not some last pair of cute shoes in a sale.” Dusk raised his eyebrows at this. “All you have to do is kindly give me that ticket,” she smiled eagerly.
“Over my dead body,” proclaimed Pinkamena.
“Be careful what you wish for, Pinkie dear,” remarked Rarity, causally bending a fork via telekinesis. Not to be outdone, Pinkamena mangled her own fork with her bare hooves.
“Don’t call me Pinkie,” she warned.
“And why not, Pinkie?” smirked Rarity, a cruel iciness coating her voice. “Did I strike a nerve?” Without warning, Pinkamena’s mane coat turned a bright pink once more, and her mane exploded into wild curls like a popcorn kernel as Pinkie returned into control.
“Of course not, Rarity!” she said as her lips twisted her grimace into a forgiving smile. “If there one thing Granny Pie taught me to do other than giggling at the ghosties, it’s to turn the other cheek, especially for a friend!” Dusk & Spike let out a collective of relief. Even though Dusk was a little more familiar with Pinkamena than Spike was, the baby dragon felt the unrelenting tension of the predicament none the less.
Thank Faust that’s over, they both thought. Neither of them had any idea what triggered Pinkamena to retreat back into Pinkie’s subconscious, but they were never the less filled with gratefulness for Pinkie, for her always positive attitude and inability to look at anypony with distain. But something was still wrong. Pinkie showed little too much pure joy, almost like she was hiding something. Whatever it was, Rarity didn’t seem to notice.
“Why, thank you Pinkie,” the fashion designer said with smug pride. “I knew you’d see it my way.”
It was then Pinkie unexpectedly took her meal of daisyburger and hayfries and applied it directly to Rarity’s face. Mustard and pickles dripped from the beautiful unicorn’s features, ruining her makeup. The hayfries stuck in her mane in random places, giving her an appearance that was unflattering, humiliating and rather ridiculous.
“So,” said Pinkie Pie, her tone as innocent and cheerful as ever, truly never showing any sign of Pinkamena. “Did that strike a nerve?~”