//------------------------------// // Take the Third Right // Story: Ponk Home, Virginia // by totallynotabrony //------------------------------// Pinkie stood there after finishing the performance.  A handful of people clapped, either because they knew who Ponk PK was or they were just being polite.  All the cops seemed rather cross. Soft Eyes perhaps put it best, pinching the bridge of his nose before thrusting his open hand at her.  “Just what did you think you were doing? It didn’t work, and you could have been in danger.” Well, it wasn’t like it was Pinkie’s idea.  Still, revealing that her sisters had set it up in an attempt to trap the Kirin would only take this conversation in a direction Pinkie didn’t want.   She tried to play the sympathy card.  “I’m just doing the best I can. I didn’t ask to be targeted by gangsters.  I don’t want to be involved. Not my monkeys, not my circus.” “It’s literally your circus!” Whet Stone piled on, gesturing at her pink trailer.   “Amid all this, I’m also concerned about calisthenics while carrying,” Soft Eyes said.  “On top of the public perception issue, bouncing around with a gun isn’t safe.” Pinkie realized she still had the old Colt strapped to her hip, over her spandex workout suit.  “Point taken and noted, detective.”  Pinkie lifted her hands, palms open. “Now I know all y’all are big old sticks in the mud who didn’t want to work to the rhythm, but I worked up quite a sweat, so I’m just going to have a quick shower.”  She pointed at her trailer. This was a risky move.  It would give the cops some time to consolidate and they might come up with more questions to ask her.  However, it also gave Pinkie some time to think of her own. At any rate, the part about her being sweaty was true. Her sisters were waiting for her inside the trailer.  Pinkie closed the door and put her hands on her hips. “Okay you three.  I’m not mad, and I applaud your initiative, but this could have gone very badly.” “You’re really gonna lecture us?” said Limestone. “You bet your britches, missy.  You three borrowed my stuff without permission, you stole my identity, you alerted the cops that something fishy was going on, and you exposed yourselves to gangsters who have already proven they are willing to get violent.” Marble’s face had mostly disappeared behind her hair as she withdrew.  Maud looked at the floor. Limestone stood with her arms crossed. Pinkie shook her head.  “I mean, I recognize that you did it for me, but come on, if you were going to go after the Kirin, you could have asked me to help.  If nothing else, I’m good at planning events.” Limestone lifted a hand.  “Well...what next?” “I’m going to start with a shower.”  Pinkie turned. “Why don’t we talk later, at the house, when we aren’t surrounded by cops?”  At least one thing went Pinkie’s way today and she got her sisters to go along with her suggestion.  They snuck out the back of the trailer and Pinkie did what she said she was going to and got cleaned up.  Exiting the trailer again, she was mildly disappointed to see that the squad of police had waited on her. “Did you pay the vendors’ fee to be a part of this festival?” Soft Eyes asked. “I did indeed.  It came with parking, too.”  While Pinkie hadn’t counted on being involved in quite this way, the possibility was always on the table and she had been trying to attend the festival anyway.  It was always good to be prepared to party. “Always be prepared to party” would have been the Party Scouts motto, if the other two Scouting organizations in town hadn’t proven surprisingly closed-minded about Pinkie's proposals to start a third branch. “Anyway,” she said, “I guess I should apologize.  I really tried to make this work. I didn’t even pull a Blues Brothers - ‘And we would especially like to welcome all of the representatives of the Dashville City law enforcement community, who have chosen to join us here in Metternich Park this fine, sunny morning!’” Soft Eyes gestured to Whet Stone.  “Get her out of here.” Pinkie walked back to the car with Whet Stone.  He, too, seemed irritated with her. Considering everything else that had happened today...Pinkie decided she could live with that. “I’ll take you home,” he said as the two of them got into the car. Pinkie thought for a second.  “Actually, can we go to the quarry?” She wasn’t sure if that was going to increase or decrease her likelihood of running into her sisters.  It seemed a slim hope to bank on Whet Stone having a phobia of heavy equipment. Maybe Pinkie could just say that she had agreed to help out her parents this afternoon. If Whet Stone was surprised by the change in destination, he didn’t show it.  He also appeared to know exactly where the place was. “Okay, thanks,” Pinkie said, unbuckling her seatbelt the picosecond after the car had stopped and already reaching for the door handle. She got out of the car and shut the door, turning to hustle for the office building.  She came up short when she heard a second car door shut behind her. Pinkie turned.  Whet Stone was walking around the car, following her.  She quickly stuffed down her actual reaction and waved a hand.  “Oh, you don’t have to walk me all the way to the door. This isn’t a date.” Whet Stone did pause, but Pinkie had apparently not put enough over-the-top flamboyant energy into her statement, because he wasn’t shamed into stopping. “You never know,” he said.  “They could be waiting for you or something.” Pinkie seriously doubted that, but what was she supposed to say?  No, don’t check that the gangsters out to get me might be here? She walked into the office, Whet Stone right behind her.  As expected, Pinkie’s mother was at the desk. She was mildly surprised to find her father there. “Hey dad, hey mom,” said Pinkie, hurriedly getting ahead of the conversation.  “This is Detective Whet Stone. He was just dropping me off.” She turned to see Whet Stone glancing around the office before joining the conversation. “How do you do?” he said.  “I take it you’re Pinkie’s parents.” That was literally what Pinkie just said.  Apparently her folks were also a little miffed, though they hid it much better than her. “We were chosen by the Pairing Stone and betrothed within a fortnight,” said her mother primly. “The choosing stone decreed, ‘Thou shalt love one another.’ And lo, it was so,” added her father. “Four kids. It must have,” said Whet Stone.  Even he was starting to see the awkwardness here and changed the subject.  “Speaking of, are your other daughters around?” “No,” both of Pinkie’s parents replied simultaneously.  They glanced at each other, and to Pinkie’s surprise, actually traded quick smiles before returning to stonewalling the detective. “Okay then,” said Whet Stone.  He waffled awkwardly and then said, “Have a nice day.” He finally left and Pinkie let out a long sigh after the door had closed.  Though, she now had another problem. “Pinkamina, why were you with a police officer?” her father asked. “He was just giving me a ride,” Pinkie said.  “I didn’t know he was going to come in and start asking questions.” Pinkie waved her hand, passing off the incident.  “So I did come to see everyone else. Are they around?” “Did you not see them?” her mother said.  “They had asked for time off to spend time with you.” Telling her parents what had transpired would only invite more questions, and certainly disapproval.  Pinkie affected surprise and clamped a hand over her mouth. “Oh no! I hope I didn’t accidentally stumble on them setting up a surprise party.” The back of her mind twinged.  It wasn’t exactly lying to her parents, but it was close enough to make her uncomfortable. “Well, I’ll go see if I can catch up, then,” Pinkie said.  “Is that little footpath still in the back or did you get around to dynamiting that wall of the quarry?” Her father said that the trail was still there.  The two of them left the building and mounted up on the big loader.  He drove her to the back of the pit and Pinkie hopped off, finding the old crevice among the rocks that lead up the wall. She and her sisters had found it and expanded it into a pseudo path when they were kids.  It was steep and narrow, and falling off was a real danger, but it was a great shortcut. It was a couple of miles to drive from the house around and down the hills to the entrance of the quarry, but by making the climb at the back, it was perhaps only half a mile. Pinkie made it to the top, breathing hard and sweating.  She was just outside the guardrail of the road that led to the house. She turned, taking in the view.  The quarry floor was far below, with the pool of water in the middle.  Holder’s Boulder was just down the way. In the distance, she could see her father working. She turned again, setting off down the road.  Within a few minutes, she came to the house, and almost by muscle memory found the correct rock in the flower bed that concealed a spare key to the front door. Unlocking the door, Pinkie called “Coming in!” as she opened it.  She didn’t get shot, so her voice must have carried. She found her grandparents in the kitchen, but still not her sisters.  Well, Pinkie was sure to run into them eventually. In the meantime, she sat down. “How was your day, Pinkie?” her grandmother asked. “Oh Granny, you have no idea.”  Pinkie sighed. “I’m trying to keep the gangsters who are after me at arm’s length while trying not to let the police know why they were after me in the first place and then Limestone, Maud, and Marble tried to help me but they accidentally almost made things worse and to be perfectly honest I sometimes wonder how I can keep putting out this much energy and not get any results.” “What did your sisters do?” “We were down at the Salt Seasoning Festival and they tried to throw an event like I would have, and it might have actually worked out but we didn’t count on this fabulous police detective following me on Instagram.” “How is the festival this year?” “Well, I might make the newspaper.  Other than that, it seems pretty normal.  To be honest, I did kind of miss it, just a simple small town event.” “Is it still held in the park?” “Yeah.  You go down into old town, cross the bridge, and then it’s just the third right.” Her Großvater’s arm started to raise, palm flat.  Her granny pushed it down with her own hand without even looking.  “Maybe we’ll go. It’s been a while since we’ve been out of the house.” “I guess I should go back,” Pinkie said.  “My trailer is still there.” “From what I’ve heard, it was quite a nice one.” “Yeah, but it’s kind of beat up now with the gangsters and the firebombs and my own defacement in an attempt to run and hide from my problems.” “Well, I’m sure there’s a metaphor there.  Pinkie, you know it’s what’s on the inside that counts.  Great sculptors say that sculpting is a matter of removing everything that isn't the statue from the block of stone.  Something beautiful lies within.” “Well yeah, but...what if you remove everything and all you find in the stone is another stone?” “Then you aren’t done yet.” “But if you keep going, eventually there’s going to be nothing left.” “Then you’ll have a pile of gravel, and that’s useful for many things.  You could make some concrete and build your own statue.” “Huh.” Maybe Pinkie had been going about this the wrong way. Maybe it was time to break a few rocks and do things herself.