//------------------------------// // Pop Rock and Pop Rocks // Story: The Sweet Meet and Greet // by MrNumbers //------------------------------// *Poof!* "There, nice fluffy pillows for the sleep heads!" Now what? At least there aren't any customers, or else- *Ding-a-ling-a-ling - Oh, now, come on. "Oh, wow, I love what you've done with the place!" A sweet-smelling cream-coated mare with a colourful curly mane looked around whilst making no effort to conceal how impressed she was. "Mrs Cake, I must say you-" The mare stared at Pinkie, as if for the first time. "You're not Cup Cake." She accused. Neither broke eye contact. Neither blinked. The room chilled several degrees. This wasn't really an issue, the ovens had already made it uncomfortably warm, so all it did was bring the room temperature back down to room temperature, but it was still pretty intense to be caught up in. Pinkie grinned sheepishly and shrugged. The other mare seemed to complete her internal assessment and smiled, nodding to herself. "You must be the new interior designer then! Pleased to meet you, I'm Bon-Bon." "Err... What?" Pinkie's relief was profound but unintelligible. "You are the one responsible for the new decor, right?" She tilted her head questioningly. "Oh? Yeah, the decor! That's the thing what with which that I done did do!" Pinkie sighed, the pent up tension melting away like an icecream sandwhich on an engine block. "Hi, I'm Pinkie Pie, and I'm really pleased to meet you!" "Well, Pinkie Pie," Bon-Bon glanced around to make sure no-one was there to listen in on them. Pinkie knew there wasn't but she understood the need for drama in a situation like this, so she leaned in conspiratorially cupping a hoof to her ear and grinning, "We're throwing a surprise party for Octavia, Bon-Bon whispered fiercely, eyes darting around the room, "she just got a part as a cellist for a Canterlot Quartet group! She's going to play for all the nobles, even the princesses!" the whisper became the excited hissing that inevitably happens when gossip gets juicy for the gossiper, Pinkie just smiled and nodded, "So we're throwing her a big bash to celebrate, yeah? But she can not, I repeat, can not find out about this! The darling is a little bit, well, refined, she'd never agree to a party if she knew!" Her voice reached its climax, a sort of half shout by this point. "You obviously know your way around festive decorating, do you know anything about throwing parties? I'll pay! " She hastily offered some bits, "We just need Octavia to lighten up, celebrate a little!" She finished, no longer half shouting, more 'whole shouting and rearing on her back hooves dramatically'. Pinkie gasped, and not just because her ear was ringing. A pony who doesn't want a party? We must draw upon our deepest reserves of boogie-oogie-oogie for this bish-bosh-bash! Many years later Pinkie Pie would be named a bacchant, a patron saint of Dionysus, God of Wine and Partying, for her services to the cause. Every great hero, every great quest, starts with one call to action. "Madame Bon-Bon!" Pinkie proclaimed, "Keep your bits. This is a party emergency! I must help this pony appreciate parties, pronto! She will have the bestest time in her life if it kills me! Or, at least, mortally wounds me!" She jumped up onto the counter and struck a dramatic pose. "But, Miss Pie-" "Wherever there is a pony who is frowning, I'll be there. Wherever there is a pony that is lonely, I'll be there. Wherever there is an achievement not given proper recognition? You better believe Pinkamena Diane Pie will be there with all your bestest biffle buddies!" She proclaimed, keeping her grip on the glass beneath her rear hooves, "Keep your bits, Lady Bon-Bon,-" 'Wasn't I a madame a few seconds ago?' Bon-Bon mused. "For making a pony in need smile enough is payment enough!" Pinkie finished triumphantly. "But won't you at least need bits for party supplies?" "Well, of course silly," Pinkie giggled, still not accepting the offered coins, "But not nearly as much as you need them for presents!" Bon-Bon smiled warmly and slid the bits back into her saddlebags. "You know what, Miss Pie, I like you, I really do." "Thanks, Bonnie, but call me Pinkie. All my friends do!" "Sorry, Mr and Mrs Cake, I'm going to use your bakery, I hope you don't mind!" "Eughh-ugu-ehh" Cup Cake murmured. GREAT! "All you have to do is take a cup of flour Add it to the mix I just hope this pony's sweet, not sour, Pull this off without a hitch... Baking for the Cakes is such a cinch Throwing a party for Octavia The Cakes are asleep on the floor So I'm out the door - to be this parties savior! Cupcakes! For lots of ponies! Parties! With songs and dancing! Candy! And punch and cakes and- Party, party, partAY!" "Hey, I'm going to have to remember that," Pinkie said to a snoring Mr Cake, "never know when you could use a song! Well, I do, and it's all the time!" Mr Cake nodded in what Pinkie took for as agreement, although it was probably just a particularly strong snore. Pinkie liked to give ponies the benefit of the doubt, though. "Well, I'll leave a note, just in case." Pinkie pie scribbled a hurried not as furiously fast as she could. It still came out calligraphy-perfect, with swirls usually found only the fanciest of garden gates. Huh, it feels so weird doing all that invitation-writing practice and only writing it once... So Pinkie wrote the note four more times, because hey, why not? Lyra and Bon-Bon were enjoying a delicious lemon-custard tart together in the gorgeous summer sun. Whirrrrrrr-CHUNK "Oh, what in the-" Were being the operative word in that last sentence. Embedded in the table before them, sunken about a quarter inch into the wood, was a laminated card. Please come at midday Surprise Party at the park Enjoy the haiku "Huh, well would you look at that... I hired a bright pink ninja. A bright pink ninja who's a fan of poetry?" "There's more to being a ninja than simply looking awesome." Lyra nodded, "You have to think awesome too." "It says something on the back too!" She said, holding up the improvised shrunken. It's a super secret surprise party for a special VIP. Be there or be an equilateral quadrilateral "Lyra?" Lyra just casually sipped her chocolate milkshake, barely glancing up. "She means be there or be square." She slurped the last of the chocolatey foam at the bottom, "Or, possibly, rhomboid, but that's a bit of a skewed perception of it." "That was a maths joke, wasn't it." "You're a maths joke!" Lyra wittily retorted, poking her tongue out now that it was no longer occupied with her milkshake. "Yeah, well you're a mass joke. Lay off the pie before your circumference exceeds your-" Lyra stared. "Sorry, too far?" "I have never been more turned on in my life than I am right now." "Cheque, please?" Bon-Bon urgently called the waiter as a thin bead of drool escaped Lyra's lower lip. 'Be like the wind.' Pinkie leapt from rooftop to rooftop, a candy wrapper floating in the breeze. 'One does not grow up on a rock farm without having a rock garden. *Kchunk* *Kchunk* she sent two more invitations flying. One does not have a rock garden without aligning their ki She was a blur leaving nothing but invitations as evidence she'd ever been. One does not align their ki and then not horribly abuse it. *Kchunk* *Kchunk* 'Well, I suppose plenty of serious ponies are all serious about being zen and stuff, but lets face it, when it came to philosophical schools I went to the party school' *Kchunk* *Kchunk* 'Totally worth it.' *Kchunk* *Kchunk* The park was abuzz with ponies. Young and old, entire families, summoned by the mysteriously poetic invitation. All there for Octavia, Pinkie liked to think. More realistically the prospect of free food, sure, but benefit of the doubt and all that. 'What is all this?" A panicked voice echoed over the crowd. "This can't possibly be all for me?" 'That must be Octavia!' "You're right!" Pinkie swooped down from a nearby treetop. It wasn't the treetop she was initially in, sure, but it was the only one Octavia saw her coming from. The crowd, drawn by the possibility of some free entertainment, gravitated slowly around the flustered grey musician. "This isn't all for you!" Pinkie proclaimed, pulling a small detonator from the park's gazebo. "This isn't?" Octavia seemed to sigh before catching herself. You're not allowed to want this sort of thing, it's silly, it's foalish, it's- "There's a whole bunch more than this!" Pinkie slammed the plunger down. Pops and bangs echoed around the park, spiralling. Balloons inflated and rose, streamers and confetti exploded from the treetops, buffet tables sprung open, food dropped onto brightly decorated mats. Octavia was overwhelmed, everypony was cheering... But not just for the extravagant display... They were cheering for her. "Oh, and I got you a special present! I heard you're a cellist, and I got one of your records, and it was eargasmic!" "Err... Thank you?" Octavia weakly offered, blushing, failing to hide behind her bowtie. Not for lack of trying. "So I'd like to introduce another up-and-coming around ponyville, Vinyl Scratch." A fog machine burst into life obscuring the gazebo that had contained the detonator. Silhouetted amongst the dry ice clouds was a turntable. A white unicorn wearing shades as black as coal, as night, as Twilight Sparkle's cooking revealed herself behind the table. "A... Disc Jockey?!" Octavia spluttered in horror. "Octavia, it's a party, and no party is complete without wicked-sweet beats. But, it's a party for you, and I know electronica might not be your thing-" Octavia bit back a biting remark. "-so I organized something a little special that me and Vinyl came up with your stuff. Vinyl, will you do the honours?" Vinyl stared, Octavia assumed, directly into her eyes. The DJ gave a devilish grin and put the needle on the record. [youtube=www.youtube.com/watch?v=dIg8Vs-MVZA] "Okay." Octavia muttered, "I have to admit, that is pretty cool." "I know right?!" Pinkie bounced in place. "So, do you like it? Huh? Bon-Bon told me you didn't like parties and I thought you just haven't had a good enough party before to really judge!" Octavia tried to retain her composure, truly she did. She looked around at all the happy ponies, all the delicious food, she listened to the great music, all her friends... All here for her. A soft smile crossed her quivering lips and, strange, she could have sworn her tear ducts were full a few seconds ago. Pinkie gasped. "So, you do like it? Oh, I'm so happy! Really!" Octavia wrapped Pinkie in a massive bear hug. A refined bear hug, of course, as if a bear wore a monocle and a dignified top hat and drank its brandy from a snifter, but a bear hug nonetheless. "Hey!" The DJ shouted over the thumping classical mix, "Can I have some, eh?" Octavia shot her a glare which only seemed to bolster Vinyl. She sauntered over to them, proudly buckling her swash,, leaving the table unattended for a few minutes. "So, headin' to Canterlot are you?" She drawled. "Well, yes, I am, what is it of concern to you?" The pony ignored her. "Have you got a place yet?" "Well, no-" "And you only just got the gig?" "Of course, but it's very well pai-" "So you have no place to go and no way could you afford a place of your own there at the moment, no?" "I have a few bits saved up..." "Five digits?" "Well, barely-" "That would last you a month, tops. Add in food, electricals-" Octavia turned from a pale grey to a pale white. "Oh..." Octavia considered the situation very, very carefully. "Well, buck." Vinyl just giggled, not chuckled, a girlish giggle. "Hey, Tavi, don't sweat it. I got a few gigs up at Canterlot too and I'm hardly what you'd call loaded. I was just thinking we could be roomates, you know? Pool our bits, share the load." Vinyl said with a genuine smile. "'Sides, too many stuffy uncool ponies in Canterlot, you know? I mean, not like you, you're a stuffy cool pony. You're like... My acclimatisation. I'd probably get lonely without somepony cool to hang out with." "You... You think I'm cool?" Octavia sniffled. "Duh. I mean, grow me some horse-apples and deep-fry 'em, how the heck do you hold the bow with your hoof?" "Well, it takes a lot of practice and-" Octavia started until she realized Vinyl was rolling on the floor laughing. "Oh, get your mind out of the gutter." Octavia hissed. The effect was ruined entirely by the fact that all the colour that had drained earlier had now re-materialized as blush hot enough to give nearby ponies sunburns. "I have no idea what you're talking about!" Pinkie bounced happily. Ignorance is bliss. "So, you up for it?" Vinyl asked, still on her back. "Well, I shall consider it, there is a lot of considerations to ta-" "So, that's a yes. Awesome, I'll pack my stuff." Octavia trailed after her new room mate, blabbering half-hearted objections. "Well, that turned out better than expected!" Pinkie chirped. "Eughh... My head..." "Shh, Carrot, don't move!" "Bwuh, wha?" Carrot replied whilst raising a hoof to rub his dizzy head. As he was taking his hoof away he saw what his wife was staring at so intently. On the sole of his hoof was a message: 'Dear Mr and Mrs Cake I'm really, really, really, really sorry. Also I used your kitchen a lot, I hope you don't mind. If you do mind you can yell at me after the party. I'll pay you back for all the ingredients I used, I swear! ~Pinkie Pie "It's on all your feet dear." "How perfectly normal." Carrot moaned. "Why are you still reading them?" "Because, scone-muffin, I'm hoping if I read it enough times it might start making sense!" Mr Cake waited for a few seconds, considering his reply. All he could come up with was this: "Well, has it?" "Err... No. No it has not." Mrs Cake hung her head in defeat. "Well, I guess all we have to do is find the party?" "Ponyville's a big town, scrummy-scroll!" Mr Cake whined, "How will we ever find a little party in the middle of it?" "Hey, everypony!" Pinkie called through a megaphone over the crowd demanding attention. People didn't pay attention to Pinkie Pie at their own peril, really. "Who's ready for some fireworks?!