//------------------------------// // Act II - In Which Everything Might Be Okay but Then Isn't // Story: Pinkie the Unicorn - A Tale in Four Acts // by theworstwriter //------------------------------// Twilight perched in front of the doorknob and scrutinized it intensely for several minutes, mostly via staring with only the occasional taste or prod. So absorbed was she that a loud knock from the other side of the door echoing throughout the library did nothing to move her. “Twilight? Are you home?” Every muscle in her body tensed. She knew that voice. No level of engrossment could shut off the portion of her mind dedicated to picking out and reacting to threats of that magnitude. That was the innocent and bubbly voice that was going to bring about the ruination of all creation if it wasn’t stripped of that horn really soon. A voice that was supposed to be back in the kitchen of Sugarcube Corner baking delicious treats. How long have I been sitting here? Twilight wondered. “Twiiiiiiliiiiiiiiight, c’mon,” Pinkie whined, “if you’re not home then you gotta tell me so I can stop knocking before all the extra hoof exercise gives me super huge muscles and it becomes my duty to out-box the Soviets’ even bigger muscley stallion boxing champion. I don’t think I can do it! I’m not like iron at all!” A chill ran down Twilight’s spine. She shivered, blinked, then immediately fell over backwards upon opening her eyes to find Pinkie staring into her face. “Go on, feel,” Pinkie said, thrusting a hoof toward Twilight. “It’s more like some kinda marshmallow.” Twilight sputtered a few syllables that might almost have been words. Pinkie gasped sharply. “Hey, you are home! Is that why you didn’t tell me you weren’t?” “What are you doing here? I thought—” Twilight heaved, stopping to swallow a lump of anxiety so massive that it threatened to capture her teeth as orbital bodies. “I thought I told you not to do anything but bake. Did I tell you that? Please tell me I told you that,” she begged. “Well of course you did, silly! You were starting to do that thing where your breathe really quickly and your eyes get all funny and you sweat a lot. Y’know, like you always do whenever you’re worried you’re gonna disappoint Princess Celestia or alphabetize something incorrectly or look goofy in front of that nice doctor,” Pinkie chirped brightly before bouncing around Twilight. “So I decided to meet you halfway by doing almost nothing. That way I’m not enabling your craziness or completely letting you down. I Pinkie Promise I only did one other thing besides walk over here,” she chattered while crossing a hoof over her chest. Twilight’s left eye twitched imperceptibly; it tried to twitch much more, but she managed to suppress it. Unfortunately, the effort of hiding that left her with nothing and she couldn’t stop her right eye from flipping out a little. “What... um... what did you do?” she squeaked, managing to maintain control over her voice even as dozens of pre-apocolyptic scenarios ran through her head. A flood of frosting. Launching Equestria out of a cannon. Total protonic reversal. Any number of world-endingly horrible things could go wrong with a magically-powered random whim generator like her. There hadn’t even yet been any clear indication of just how much power Pinkie had in that oversized reality-puncturing device on her head. “...ilight? Hello?” Pinkie said, waving a hoof in front of Twilight’s eyes. “You’ve been sitting there with a really delicious glazed doughnut look in your eyes for a while now and not saying anything.” “I what?” “I guess you also drooled a little bit, but I can’t blame you for that. I drool, too, when I think about doughnuts. Especially jelly doughnuts! Is Spike dry yet?” “I... what?” Twilight stammered. Pinkie rolled her eyes. “You said you left him in the washing machine. I thought that you were probably gonna put him in the dryer, but now that I think about it it might be better if you didn’t. Air-drying is a lot more green, and since you live in a tree you probably care about the environment and stuff. Also, Spike is part green, so there’s that.” At this point, a faint shuffling faded down the hall as an eavesdropping Spike scampered away, trying his best not to attract the attention of either of those mares. With a giggle, Pinkie booped Twilight’s nose. “I know you’re home, Twilight. You didn’t tell me you weren’t and also you talked earlier and also I can see you.” Twilight inadvertently blew a small bubble with her saliva before snapping out of her stupor and switching out of imminent-danger-mode. Wait a minute, she thought, this is good. Pinkie’s here in the library where I can contain and examine her, and she still hasn’t done anything more than one standard Pinkie deviation off from normal. All I need to do is— “Hi AJ!” Pinkie shouted, waving out the open door at the passing farmer. ...Pay attention to my surroundings. Get a grip, Twilight! You’re losing focus! “Well howdy, Pinkie,” Applejack said with a tip of her hat. “You’re just the mare I was lookin’ for. Ya seem a mite busy, though. Helpin’ Twilight with an experiment o’ some sort?” “I don’t think so... why? Do I have something on my face?” This proved to be the necessary kick Twilight needed to resume semi-rational thought. She leaped directly behind Pinkie and frantically shook her head, pantomiming beheading in Applejack’s direction. Pinkie’s smile slackened. “Twilight’s been a Nervous Nellie all morning and I’ll feel really bad if it’s because she feels awkward telling me about something embarrassing nopony else is willing to tell me.” Applejack turned her lost gaze to Twilight, silently pleading for guidance. Lying wouldn’t do, but apparently neither would letting Pinkie know about her new forehead accessory. Both mares stared silently for several seconds before disappearing in a blink of light. Desperate, airy bubbles swam to the surface, crowding out their soapy brothers as two mares flailed and splashed and struggled to breathe under the formerly tranquil spa waters. Rarity shrieked once when Applejack surfaced in front of her and again when Twilight surfaced to her right, leaving no nearby windows unshattered. “WHAT are you two DOING here?!” she demanded. “Oh, this is bad. Really, really bad. I think she just teleported us!” Sudden and terrifying comprehension dawned across Applejack’s face. Without a word, she galloped away at full speed in the direction of Sweet Apple Acres, presumably to lock herself and her family in the storm cellar. Rarity exhaled and relaxed her scowl. “Twilight, dear, I gather something awful is happening, but would it kill you to be a little more mindful of—” “Yes,” Twilight interrupted, “it would. Equestria is about to face an unfathomable threat, and we’re all doomed if I don’t figure out a way to restore the natural order.” Stiffening her posture and discarding her indignation, Rarity flipped straight into hero mode. “What are we dealing with, and what can I do to help?” Twilight allowed a small grin to surface. She knew she could count on her friends. Applejack would be back, too, as soon as her family was safe. “To start with, how about—” She disappeared in a small puff of smoke, replaced by a large stone statue of a shark. “Twilight?” “Hey, I found you! I was wondering where you went. I was also wondering whether or not ski-jumping over a shark is cool. I should probably ask Dashie.” Twilight rubbed a hoof against her aching head. She still doesn’t seem to have realized anything is wrong, but that was definitely her magic at work. Maybe she’s unconsciously triggering it? Applejack and I seemed like we could use a trip to the spa, and... something about trying to find me while distracted by aquatic predators? In a way, that’s probably more dangerous. Pinkie’s smile disappeared and her ears drooped. “Are you okay, Twilight? I’m kinda worried about how you keep blanking out like that.” “Huh?” She shook her head in an attempt to clear it. “I... I’m sorry, Pinkie. I think I’m okay, but there’s a big problem I’m trying to solve, and I’m not sure what to do.” Wrapping a leg around Twilight’s neck, Pinkie pulled her into a gentle hug. “You’re the smartest pony I know, Twilight. You’ll figure something out.” “Thanks,” she sighed. “I hope you’re right.” She ducked out of her friend’s embrace and peered into her earnest expression. “I’ll be right back. This time, I promise. Two minutes or less. Can you stay in this room for me?” “Aye aye, cap’n,” Pinkie said, performing a quick salute. However, her hoof stopped before it reached its destination. She guided it down in front of her eyes and squinted at it. “That’s funny. Last chapter when I did that, it worked.” Twilight sat in stunned silence, too terrified to risk anything. There was still a chance, however small, that Pinkie would shrug it off and carry on unaware. Pinkie straightened her legs and back, standing rigidly. She slowly raised one hoof out in front of her and started another salute. As she moved through the gesture, she spoke. “Aye aye, ca—” she managed before her horn thwarted her again. “Is today the day we’re supposed to dismantle the military-industrial complex?” Come on... shrug! Shrug! Her gaze drifting toward the ceiling and her tongue peeking out of one corner of her mouth, Pinkie audibly pondered the mystery as her hoof probed the space around her head. After several seconds, she gasped. “Of course!” Twilight ducked down low and cowered under the meager protection of her hooves. “Blueberries!” She cracked one eye open and peered up at Pinkie. Pinkie grinned sheepishly. “Sorry, what were we talking about? I just realized what was missing from a recipe I tried the other day.” For what seemed like the hundredth time, Twilight’s body relaxed as she exhaled the worst of her grief. “That’s a relief,” she murmured. “I know, right?” In a sudden blue blur, the door flew open and Rainbow Dash dropped to the ground. “Twilight, have you seen AJ? It’s kinda important.” Pinkie smiled and bounced. “Hiya Dashie! I have a question for you about coolness!” “Oh? What exac—HOLY COW that’s a big horn!” she exclaimed. “Horn? Like what, a clown horn? But I can’t juggle and I don’t like Faygo!” Dash stared quizzically at her for a moment. “Huh?” “What have you done?” Twilight shouted. “Why did you tell her?” “Tell her what? I have no idea what’s going on here or why Pinkie’s a unicorn or what clowns have to do with anything!” “I’m a unicorn?” Pinkie asked flatly. She attempted one more salute and stopped her hoof on the side of her horn, slowly feeling the length of it. She blinked a few times, then focused her gaze at an empty spot on the floor. With a dull glow around her horn and a gentle pop of magic, a cookie appeared. She didn’t smile. Or laugh. Or bounce. She just stood and stared at it. Twilight grabbed Rainbow Dash by the shoulders and shook her. “We have to stop her!” Dash pushed her away and stepped back. “Whoa! Calm down. Stop her? I’m... I’m still confused here, but what exactly is so dangerous here?” Rapidly vibrating with renewed panic, Twilight sputtered, “I don’t know... something, anything, everything, nothing... there’s... there’s no way to know what’s going to happen! Pinkie can’t even be trusted with power tools. This is magic! Magic!” “And? What’s she gonna do, make trampolines? Turn a tree into spaghetti? Pinkie may be a complete goofball, but she would never hurt anypony.” “Not on purpose,” Twilight replied, “but she has no idea what she’s doing!” The cookie in front of Pinkie suddenly doubled in size. The corner of her mouth turned upward a few degrees. Something deep in the core of reality broke. Twilight shuddered. Dash shivered. A sinister grin crept across Pinkie’s face as she disappeared in a bright flash of pink light. Several motes of dust settled where she’d been standing as the cookie slowly grew stale. “SPIKE! LETTER. PRINCESS. NOW!”