//------------------------------// // Sickly Sweet // Story: Pinkie's Doom Parade // by NeuPferdfurt //------------------------------// (I need your help with this one, horses and bipeds. I have no intention to offend people who suffer from very real diseases. If you think this text is not only as random as the others, but also randomly hurtful, please tell me so I can take it down) “Hi!!” “Don’t you ‘Hi’ me, MISSY!” The overweight colt didn’t even make it through the door of Sugar Cube Corner on his own. He got stuck. “Some help here?!” “You want me to bring you some butter?” “That would be nice, yes.” With the assistance of a few curious bystanders, Pinkie Pie managed to squeeze the red earth pony stallion into the store. “So, what can I do for you, sir?” “The question would rather be: What could you UN-do for me?” “Boy, have you come to the right place! I’m mighty good at un-doing things. I undo ties, I even undo ancient demon lords! And lemon lords. Once I undid the president of a foreign country, but that was an accident. No one seemed to mind, mind you...” The colt grunted, growing impatient. “I eat here at Sugar Cube Corner every day!” “Sure you do! You’re one of our best customers, we even have a picture of you on the wall, see that? Customer of the month! Twelve months in a row! And may I add, even if I had forgotten your face for whatever grotesque reason, I could identify your diet just by looking at your... pudge. Which you grow by eating fudge. And now you can hardly budge, maybe that’s why you’re carrying a grudge- in addition to the pudge.” “Yeah, very nice. Listen, girly. The doc just gave me a checkup. Guess what? You got me diabetes.” Pinkie Pie frowned. “Gosh, I didn’t even know we were selling that sort of thing.” “You are! It’s in your horrible food!” “Hold it right there, mister! Our food is AWESOME. That’s scientifically proven. And we certainly don’t put any alzheimers in it!” “Diabetes. And yes, you do! Eating your filth gave me diabetes!” “Aha! So it was your EATING of our food that did the deed! The food itself is perfectly innocent. Quod erat nosferatu.” “Ha!”, the colt got even more red as he tried to lean forward, his voice shaking with triumph, “That’s where you’re wrong again! It was, in fact, YOUR eating of YOUR food that made me sick!” Pinkie was staring at the customer’s pudge. “Geee, so that’s where all the calories went... I had no idea I had a teleporter for a tummy. Guess I should have that looked at...” She tentatively started massaging her belly. The colt looked as if he was going to explode any second now. “NO! LISTEN to me, mare! I read your stupid BOOK! Your so-called food counselor! I based my whole diet on that devilish tome of LIES!” He reached into his rolls of flab and produced a book with Pinkie Pie’s face on the cover. It was a little sticky. “‘Pinkie Pie’s Fun and Healthy Eating’! What an awful joke! Now listen closely: I’m going to sue your flank, as well as this rotten candy store, unless... wait, I have a list with demands somewhere in here...” “Sir”, Pinkie said, “We bake our baked goods according to the established standards and regulations- at least those which are for sale. My book is not affiliated with Sugar Cube Corner, which, may I remind you, is firmly in the hooves of Mr and Mrs Cake, so a bad counsel from the book can not be the basis for a claim against the Cakes. Finally, you say you have followed the book by the letter?” “You bet I have!” “How strange, then, that you seem to have missed the most important thing... Would you read the title to me again?” “Hm! ‘Pinkie Pie’s Fun and Healthy Eating’...” He hesitated. There was a second line in the title he had never paid any attention to. “By Pinkemina Diane Pie, for Pinkemina Diane Pie...” “That’s right. Every advice given in this book is an advice FROM me, FOR me. And nopony else. Hay, if anypony else truly followed these rules, it would make’em sick! (They’d get diabetes, or something!)” The colt was flabbergasted. “That doesn’t even make any sense! Why would you publish a book if you’re supposed to be the only one reading it...?” “Hellooo? I wouldn’t follow the advice of some random mare who isn’t even published!” The colt sank down to the floor (he didn’t get far, his bulbber being in the way), exhausted. “But I still have a horrible disease...” “No worries. I can fix that.” “You CAN?” “Sure. Faster than you can say Ph'nglui mglw'nafh Cuckoolhu R'lyeh wgah'nagl fhtagn!”