//------------------------------// // The Pi (part one) // Story: The Pi (and other very random stories) // by Sir Squidfish //------------------------------// It was dark. The world went on outside, but all that mattered was right here. Vague shapes seemed to float ethereally through the room, but they weren't what mattered. They were only an effect, a byproduct of what was really important, what she had come here for. She? She, who? Why, the Pie, of course. One pie was much like another pie, but no pie was like the Pie. And the Pie could never hope to equal the Pi, and thus it was to the Pi she had come for betterment. Silence, and then more silence. Silence, she had decided, was different than quiet. Quiet was more or less a relative condition, and a purely scientific one. A temporary lowering of volume. But silence-- silence was total. It preceded something. Holding your breath while the speaker collects his thoughts. Watching open-mouthed as the ball soars through the air. Silence was total, but it didn't necessarily last long. That's exactly why she loved it. An air of mystery, a buildup of excitement before the action began, a wave, growing higher and higher before ultimately crashing down with fantastic force. Not that a tsunami had anything on this. The Pi was all. It was completeness. It was... it simply was. The Pi, as some might say, was It. And It was here. In this room. Right now. The Pie sighed. This time, this moment... was It. It was It because It was. Right here. In this room. Right now. And it was glowing. The Pi was indeed glowing, a sulfury yellow it glew, until the entirety of the room was filled in its otherworldly glow. Creepy? Most indubitably. But It was the Pi. And the Pi, believed the Pie, had every right. And every right certainly included the right to look creepy if the Pi so wished. Because the Pi was... well... all-encompassing. You might say it surrounded everything. And it was exact. Oh, exact and unknowable. One did try, of course. Three-point-one-four-one-five-nine-two-six-five-three-five-eight-nine-seven-nine-three-two-three-eight-four-six-two-six-four years studying the art of yam punching was hardly a fitting tribute to so great an entity, but it would have to do, paltry as it was. At least for now. One day, she swore, one day she would gain the full knowledge of the Pi. The full power, the -ness of Pi, would be hers, and then-- oh, then. The world, the world would be hers! And if the world was hers, why then, llamas, of course! Llamas were in high demand as mercenaries and porters, and the world was certainly enough money to purchase the services of at least thirty-nine of these wonderful creatures. She envisioned the scene, glorious She at the head of nine and thirty llamas, eliciting Oohs and Ahs and more than a few Whatisthises. But they didn't Know, she decided, mentally capitalizing the word for added emphasis and intrigue. The Pi knew. Of course it knew. It knew all. It was all. It could see into the future. The Pi could see into your soul... Suddenly she decided that the Door and the Pi were a lot alike. But llamas were only the beginning of her humbly majestic plan. For what was the world without Soul? A trumpet, she decided. She must have a trumpet. But how to get one, that was the enchiladalic boomer. Suddenly she paled. Before her stood an entity from the beginning of time. It was the one thing that made Buck Norris quake in fear. It was what was under the bed, what every child knew to be the most dreadful thing in the world. It was the bottom of a dry glass. It was the meaning of life without a mustache. “Hello, Pinkie Pie,” said Nothing. “H-hello,” she squeaked, silently calling on Pi to aid her. “You looked too happy, so I thought I'd stop by,” continued ___ . “M-me?” she said, stuttering. “Nothing could be further from a lie!” And all the while, she was reaching under the table, searching, groping, giving the author time to plan his next sentence. “And thus,” finished , “I have come to give you a gift. Child, meet my minion, Comma Space Writer's Block! Pinkie gasped in horror. “Not Comma! Or rather...” She coughed, straightened, and puffed out her chest. “Comma! I should have known.” Nothing raised an invisible eyebrow. “Nicely done, Pie. You been taking lessons?” “Uh... Maaaaaaaybe?” Suddenly Nothing had gone, and Something was different. Something was here, because Nothing had left. And that Something was Comma Space Writer's Block. “Hello, Comma,” spat Pinkie, “nice of you to come.” Comma shrugged. “Really, it's Nothing.” “Nothing is never nothing.” “Nothing is never anything.” “Is he Something, then?” “Something is him.” The Pie gritted her teeth fiercely. “Right, now that we've exchanged meaninglessly complex insults, which probably went way over everypony's head, let's tango.” “Let's.” Comma leaped over Pinkie's head, whipping her tail in the pink pony's eyes. As she landed, she turned and threw a right-left hoofpunch combo at her opponent's midriff. Pinkie swayed ever-so-slightly as the blows whistled harmlessly past, then struck back with a double buck. Comma jumped back, but a hoof caught her a glancing blow to the ribs and she cried out in pain as she stumbled to the side. Recovering quickly, she ducked low and swept out with her left hind leg, neatly tripping her enemy. Pinkie fell heavily to the floor and rolled over, looking up just in time to see Comma hurtling through the air towards her. Instinctively, she thrust up with all four hooves, using her opponent's momentum to carry her up and over. Comma flew through the air, did a neat tumble, and landed crouching on the other side of the room. Pinkie tucked her legs under her and sprang up, snorting dust and waiting for her foe to make the next move. Comma wasted precious little time. In a flash, she was on Pinkie, forcing her head into the dust. The pink mare shut her eyes against the blinding clouds of dirt, beginning to panic as she felt herself running out of air. Comma laughed in triumph, proclaiming her victory to the skies. The Pie had nowhere to go-- she was pinned, and out of options. Save one. )^-^-^( Hey, nice battle sequence, Squiddy. Thanks. Who are you? And I really liked that cliffhanger. I'm glad... I'm pretty sure they hated it. Who are you? No, no! It was a great pacing device. And I'm your alternate personality. Well, one of them, anyway... This isn't happening... I love this guy! He's so positive! If you're me, tell me why I put that cliffhanger there. It's supposed to ensure they all come back for the next chapter, right? How did you know that?! I didn't even know why I did that! I read a book. Anyway, guys, make sure you comment and stuff. Tell Squiddy what a great writer he is. Shut up, me! I'm supposed to do that part. And I'm not a great writer, I'm just an editor who got out of his yard... Whatever. Catch you in part two, everypony! It's gonna be awesome. ...Please, ignore him. )^-^-^(