The Waxman that calls himself the King of Ooo is many things. A liar. A cheat. An oblivious buffoon who somehow manages to con people out of money despite having the intelligence of half a peanut. Ambitious. Selfish. Slightly insane.
One thing he is not is observant. This provides a very simple weakness for any looking to exploit him: distraction. Show him a picture of his face and give him a good conversation partner and he’ll do whatever is desired. So long as he isn’t allowed to think of anything more pressing.
It is a very rare day when he thinks anything is more pressing than himself; though they are not unheard of.
He’s also made out of earwax. He hates this fact like a child who discovered they were half dung-troll. But, like that child, the fact is utterly inescapable to him, and so he despairs.
~~~
Pinkie stared out the castle window at the setting sun. If she positioned her head just right, the sun was eclipsed by the shape of the golden pyramid. The closer the sun got to the horizon, the more her back left hoof felt like it was burning.
She didn’t like this one bit. She’d gotten on the King’s good side, planned a party, and gotten some information… but she still had absolutely no idea what the pyramids were for. Obviously it was something, but nobody in the entire city had any clue. She’d had Dirt Beer Guy going around and asking about it, and he’d found nothing. The Banana Guards had no idea. The only people who might know were people she couldn’t ask—Toronto and the King of Ooo himself. To further complicate matters, Pinkie had her doubts that Toronto knew anything. He was just too… scared. Not to mention closed off.
And asking the King directly? That’d ruin the appearance of innocence she had. She needed that. Plus, she’d worked hard to get close enough to the King for him to trust her. She wasn't going to ruin friendship progress like that, he clearly needed more companionship in his life as it was.
So she sat at the window, staring at the setting sun, trying to think of something.
“Oh, Twilight always had the brainy plans…” Pinkie said, pressing a hoof to her temple. “But Twilight’s not here right now. It’s just Pinkie and…” Pinkie glanced around the party-ready hall, finding only a single banana guard watching over it. “Just Pinkie. Just Pinkie and a burning hoof that I really don’t like the feeling of.” She bounced across the hall, pretending to examine the decorations. “Come on, Marcie...”
“Oh, will our vampire friend not be joining us?”
Pinkie jumped up with a startled shout, rising to full attention. “Y-your highness!” She bowed to the King. How did he sneak up on me? Nobody sneaks up on Pinkie Pie! “She’s just running a little late, I’m sure she’ll be around soon!”
“At least I can go through the opening ceremonies without her hovering by my back!” The King laughed. “She’s like a vulture, you know. I’m sure you understand.”
“Yep!” Pinkie nodded with a cheesy grin. “Why, when me and my friends arrived, she even tried to scare us! Didn’t work on me, though, I knew she was a friend.”
“Your judge of character is questionable.”
“But I think you’re my friend too!” Pinkie extended a hoof to him. “After all, I threw this party just for you!”
“Of course, of course!” He waved a hand, ignoring her outstretched gesture of friendship. “The floodgates open soon, yes?”
“Fifty-six seconds!” Pinkie confirmed. “Fifty-four… Fifty-two…”
The King quickly ran to his throne and sat down, a level smirk carefully placed on his features. “Then let the Festival of Hooves and Hands begin! Be sure that pizza’s the first thing they see.”
Pinkie looked at the pizza of the King’s face sitting at the top of the decoration in the center of the hall. “Pretty sure they’ll see it.”
“Great! You know, if you weren’t an ambassador, I’d hire you! You really do cater much better than the current aides.”
“What about Toronto?”
“Toronto’s been twitchy lately. I think the whole deal with the comet got to him, or something.”
Pinkie scratched her chin. “I can try to find out what’s up with him, if you want.”
“Perhaps later. For now, feast!”
“Okie dokie loki!” Pinkie bounced to the main doors and pushed them open, starting the banana guards on the other side. “It’s party time!”
The small crowd of candy people outside let out a cheer and rushed in, trampling the startled banana guards. Pinkie took a moment to help them back up before jumping back into the festive hall. “All right everybody! I’ve got Equestrian games on the left and candy games on the right, instructions are on the banners themselves! Feel free to eat any of the food that doesn’t talk back, okay? Okay! If you have any questions don’t hesitate to ask me, and be sure to give the King your respects for throwing this feast in his grand hall!” She winked at the King.
From his throne, the King nodded in her direction. The grin on his face let Pinkie know he legitimately appreciated all this work. She was winning him over.
Her hoof’s burning intensified, reminding her that she wasn't just trying to make friends and establish diplomatic relations here.
“C’mon Marcie…” Pinkie whispered under her breath.
“You look concerned,” Dirt Beer Guy said, walking up to her.
“Marcie’s not back yet.”
“Oh, that’s messing with the plan, isn’t it?”
“Yes. Yes it is.” Pinkie made sure to shoot the King as genuine of a smile as she could manage before turning back to Dirt Beer Guy. “This party can’t last forever and I have no idea how long we’re going to need. We…”
“Need me?” Marceline said, dropping her invisibility. “Pinkie, don’t you have any faith in me?”
“Oh thank Celestia,” Pinkie let out a breath. “Do you have the blueprints?”
Marceline tapped her bag. “Right here.”
“Good, let’s take a—” Pinkie caught the King rising out of his throne. “Hide it.”
Marceline opted to pretend like the large bag she was carrying didn’t mean anything.
“Distraction, distraction…” Pinkie took a step forward.
“Nah, I got this,” Dirt Beer Guy said.
Marceline raised an eyebrow. “No offense man, I don’t think he cares about you at all.”
“Not me. I just need to…” He kicked one of the tables with his foot and let out a harsh yell. “Ow! Stubbed my toe! Hurts like a cactus!”
That was clearly some kind of code, because at that instant Lady Rainicorn removed herself from the crowd and intercepted the King. “A, dangsin-ui gomabseubnida! neomu olaedoeeossseubnida!”
The King looked at her, started. “Lady Rainicorn! What a surprise! I have seen so little of you since I took power!”
“Ye, jib-e munjega iss-eossjiman jigeum yeogi issseubnida.”
“Tell me, legally speaking, what is the foundation of your relationship with Jake the Dog?”
Lady’s serene features twisted into a snarl worthy of an axe murderer for a split second. Luckily, the King didn’t notice. “ulineun uli saie beobjeog gusoglyeog-i eobsdago gyeoljeonghaessseubnida...”
“I’m surprised he understands her,” Marceline said.
“He doesn’t,” Pinkie said, dragging Marceline under a table while Dirt Beer Guy remained outside to keep watch. “Now, the plans?”
Marceline nodded, laying down a blueprint of the Candy Castle onto the floor. Pinkie pulled out a red marker and marked the first floor plans with “X” marks on every pyramid location. She traced a circle, using the ten points as a guide, finding it matched the circle on the paper they found in the lab exactly. “Right and now…” She drew lines between the ten “X” marks, converging on a single point.
A point that wasn’t in the exact center of the castle.
“I knew it!” Pinkie cheered, clapping her hooves. “It’s off-center!”
“There’s nothing there, though,” Marceline said. “Just a hallway.”
“How many floors and basements does this castle have? It doesn’t have to be at ground level.”
“A lot.” Marceline frowned. “It’ll take a while to search.”
“I wish you luck!” Pinkie winked perhaps a little too forcefully. “I’ll keep him occupied as long as I possibly can. You’ve got the stealth—figure out what’s there. And… be fast.” She glanced at her burning hoof. “I don’t think we have a lot of time. So, treat it like a race!”
“...You doing okay, Pinkie?”
“Doing fine!” Pinkie wiped her brow, laughing nervously. “Just… hurry.”
Marceline nodded, becoming invisible once again.
Pinkie jumped out from under the table, sliding up to Dirt Beer Guy. “Okay, she’s on it. I’ll be sure to keep this party running as long as possible. You take this moment to enjoy yourself!”
“Huh?”
“I didn’t throw this party for people to come to it and stay nervous. Enjoy yourself! Not as a beverage. That’d be weird.”
“Some candy people are known to sample themselves, Pinkie.”
Pinkie opened her mouth to respond, but her tongue stuck to the roof of her mouth. She smacked her lips. “You know, I think my mane tastes like cotton candy.”
Dirt Beer Guy shrugged. “I wouldn’t know.”
“Pinkie!” a banana guard shouted. “Pinkie, get over here!”
Pinkie saw that an entire table had been upended by the living punch bowl. Of course it was you. She refused to look at the punch bowl, instead pushing the table back up and setting everything in its right place, humming a little ditty to herself the whole time.
“Remarkable!” The King said, breaking away from Lady Rainicorn, an act that made both of them relieved. “Guards, tell the kitchen staff to start making tables that fast.”
Pinkie coughed. “I don’t think they could do it like I do…”
“Nonsense! You’re just a pony, you don’t even have hands! They should be able to reach your quality of service… no, better!”
“Your highness, I have been holding parties all my life—”
“So have they! They’re palace staff, aren’t they?”
Pinkie glanced at the closest staff member, a puffy white marshmallow. He looked ready to burst into tears at the suggestion he would have to work like Pinkie.
Pinkie’s first instinct was to confront the King, defend the marshmallow.
But there were more things riding on the King’s satisfaction than her making a friend.
“...I’ll see if I can teach them later,” Pinkie said. “Why don’t we do something else? I’m sure you worry enough about the palace staff as it is.”
“Oh, yes yes, quite incompetent, the lot of them.”
“I’m sure!” She glanced at the marshmallow and mouthed “I’m so sorry” before returning her smile to the King and leading him to a game of pin the tail on the pony.