.
I thought; I had heard some strange and unexplainable, squeaky noises. I just could not quite put a finger; on how and why, these noises had been in my room.
I know I am alone in the room.
”My Mother would not sneak into my room, quite this early?” I ponder.
As a matter of fact, she never sneaked into my room; she only entered the room, if and when she needed to speak to me or wake me up.
“Wait; what was that?” I ponder.
“Whoa!!” I exclaim; as I realize the warm body belongs, to the doll named Pinkie Pie.
Only now, she is lying partially under my quilt; affectionately nuzzling me, where she lies.
I feel the even warmth, I would have felt from a little cat; not the internally heated doll, I had seen the other day.
Now I scan the room, for where I had left her the other night; both the Muffin, and the Doll had vanished. Not as much as a single dry crumb of the Muffin remains. Someone had enjoyed the Muffin.
“Thank you!” she mumbles, in the high-pitched voice we all know as Pinkie Pie.
“Uhm..” I exclaim; “But, how did you even get into my bed?” I inquire.
“I trotted over; and jumped up, onto the bed!” she promptly concedes.
“Oh!” I respond.
“I love the Muffin!” she points out.
“She talks?” I ponder, as it had finally hit home; “I will not have to put more effort, into devising means to communicate with her; since she can talk to me, from now on!” I realize, in relief.
“I love muffins..” she now points out; “and I am so glad; you managed to give me one, just in time!” she adds.
“Anything, for you, Pinkie!” I respond; “Though I guess it would have been fun; to see you enjoy it, if you do not mind?” I inquire.
“I could not be up, at that late hour, even if I had wanted to; had I been told, about this!” I point out.
“I know!” she points out; “Maybe it was for the better; just in case, you had seen what came just before!” she then tries to console me.
“What happened before?” I inquire.
“Yes!” she points out; “You see; I was tempted, to do something I could not bear doing...” she points out, now sniffling, at the thought, of what she could have been doing.
“If it is that horrible; maybe it is better; you don’t tell me!” I respond.
“Yes, it was; at least, to me it was terrible!” she explains, emphatically.
“I chose the Muffin; not just because I love Muffins, but because I want to be your friend!” she offers.
“As your friend; I can give you a Muffin, tomorrow and every day!” I offer; “I just need to come up with; how to get my hands, on a Muffin I can offer you!” I continue.
“I could have baked a ton of Muffins, if only I had a kitchen, and the required ingredients!” she offers.
“The ingredients, would be the easy part; I could have bought these, all by myself!” I conceded; “Even if I guess some would wonder, why I was buying them!” I continue.
“Eggs, sugar and flour?” she puts forth; “I can see, how you could buy these hooves down!” she continues.
“Yes, just regular food-items; nothing strange about them!” I respond; “Just that I am to young, to be expected to need these!” I point out.
“Oh yes; I would not send a filly, to buy these!” she points out; “Even if, I guess there is nothing; preventing her, from buying them!” she continues.
“On second thought; maybe I could buy a package of frozen Muffins, if they have them specifically!” I mumble, to myself; “I just don’t know, if they have Muffins; or how I could store them for the last one to still be good, to be presented by the last day!” I continue.
“A Muffin only lasts, edible; for a few days, at best!” she explains.
“That is, what I was afraid of!” I respond.
“Letting the Muffins go bad, is not good; but what is good, is to hug a Friend!” she points out.
“Yeah; you do get me, there!” I respond.
I just could not quite shake, that I had seen her as a plastic doll. Now she is a living Pony, moving around on my bed; talking to me, as if she had been alive and fully sentient.
Maybe I could imagine, that it had all been a weird dream; either seeing her as the doll before, or as a Pony now? At least; either would have been easier on me now, but I can’t quite wrap my head around it all.
She moves, like the Pony I see before me; speaking to me, as if she had been there all along. I just can not quite compare her speech, to anything I know. Ponies does not speak, at all; not in terms I can understand, at least. How old or mature is she?
At least, her size had not changed; significantly, at least.
When she is touching me, now; she is soft to the touch, and warm. She genuinely wants to hug me, like a friend. Or family?
“Whoa?” I ponder, as I feel her flesh against me; I feel bones under muscles, in place of the plastic I had previously expected.
She just giggles, as she notices my reaction; knowing exactly how I feel, instinctively. I can’t even start to imagine; how it is, to know my friends on the level, she apparently does. It feels, as if she knew me; better, than even I know myself. It is a curious sensation, and feeling; I can’t quite put a finger on.
She may be just a bit too small, even for me; to make an actual hug, embracing her as I wish I could have. Yet, she manages to get close enough, to me, to embrace me with confidence and comfort.
“How does she even do this?” I ponder.
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