Becoming Pinkie Pie
By Alaborn
Standard disclaimer: This is a not for profit fan work. My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic is copyright Hasbro, Inc. I make no claim to any copyrighted material mentioned herein.
Chapter 1: No Laughing Matter
Applejack surveyed the orchard, trees resplendent with plump, ripe apples. Fall was her favorite time of year. It was also the busiest time of year. Soon, ponies would snack on Apple family treats while enjoying the festivities of Nightmare Night. And after that, she’d enjoy a competitive race in the Running of the Leaves. But before any such fun activities could be enjoyed, the Apples needed to get past cider season.
She scowled briefly at the position of Celestia’s sun in the sky. It was hours past dawn, yet Applejack had not bucked a single apple. Last night had been Pinkie Pie’s birthday party. Leading up to the event, Big McIntosh had told her in no uncertain terms that she was to go to the party, enjoy the company of her friends for as long as they wanted to celebrate, and then come home and get a full night’s sleep. She always hated to admit it, but in this case, big brother was right. Her friends were more important than another day rising at dawn.
Despite getting a full eight hours of sleep, and the late hour, Applejack still felt sluggish. Fortunately, she knew the cure, some good hard work. She headed out to tackle the southern orchard. Methodically, she went down one row. Place the buckets, assess the tree, turn, plant forelegs, buck. With a satisfying crack, her hooves impacted the tree’s bark, sending a message to the tree that it was time to release its apples. And release they did, the apples falling into the buckets the mare had placed under the boughs.
At the end of the first row, Applejack tipped her hat back and wiped the sweat from her brow. It was an unseasonably warm fall day, and she was already feeling thirsty. She turned, and felt her hoof knock something. It was a wooden pail of tempting, clear water, placed in between two roots. A ladle rested in it, ready to carry the water to her lips.
Applejack stared at the pail. It was one of many she could find around the farm, yet she didn’t remember leaving one all the way out here. How long had it been since anypony harvested the fruit from the southern orchard? She sniffed the water hesitantly. It lacked the off smell of stagnant water. She was again reminded of her thirst. Taking the ladle in hoof, she skimmed just a bit of the water, and then tasted it. It was good. In fact, it had the cool, crisp taste of water freshly drawn from the well. Applejack shrugged, and drank several ladlefuls.
On the way back to the barn, pulling a wagon full of freshly harvested cider apples, Applejack thought back to last night’s wonderful party. All her friends had chipped in to make Pinkie Pie’s birthday party the best ever. Applejack had provided freshly baked apple pies. Twilight Sparkle brought a book from the library, describing party games Pinkie Pie had never tried before. Rarity’s decorations had turned Sugarcube Corner’s main room into something fabulous. Rainbow Dash’s fresh bottle of liquid rainbow was just the thing to spice up the birthday mare’s drink. And Fluttershy thoughtfully brought friends for Gummy to play with; after all, it was the day after his birthday, too!
After the debacle of two years ago, however, everypony recognized that the gift Pinkie Pie wanted more than any other was to plan the party. It didn’t matter if she was doing something she did every day. It didn’t matter if it wouldn’t be a surprise. The smile on her face as she pulled her party cannon out of nowhere was worth it. And that’s just how it happened yesterday. The cannon produced food and decorations that perfectly complemented what her friends had already provided. Rarity’s decorations were surrounded by matching balloons and streamers. A five layer cake appeared next to her pies. And that’s not to mention the full punch bowl that landed on a table without spilling a drop, or the gramophone that materialized, its needle moving to the start of a record as it landed.
Buckets of apples were tipped into waiting barrels as more memories surfaced. Dancing, including that conga line. Pinkie Pie leading a train of ponies… come to think of it, wasn’t she at the end of the line too? Scrumptious cake, with half consumed at once by the birthday mare. Punch, delicious punch. The sight of a baby alligator and an old tortoise alternating gumming the other. Applejack couldn’t help but laugh.
As Applejack emptied the last basket of apples, she felt an itch in her left hock and a twitch in her right ear. It was time for lunch.
Applejack headed back to the farmhouse, wiping her hooves on the mat before stepping inside. She walked into the kitchen. Granny Smith looked up from the pot of soup simmering on the stove. “Eh? What are you doing back, Applejack?” she asked.
“It’s lunch time, isn’t it?” Applejack replied.
Granny Smith checked on the soup. “Soup’s done, but I didn’t call for lunch yet.” She assessed the metal triangle hanging by the open window next to the stove. “Or did I? Better call again, just to make sure.” Granny Smith took the ladle out of the pot, shook it off, and then rattled it around the triangle. “Soup’s on, everypony!” she screeched.
Applejack took her seat at the table. As she thought about it, she was certain she didn’t hear Granny Smith call for lunch. So how did she know?
Blossomwind. The pride and joy of the south orchard. This tree was the first tree planted by Applejack’s mother on her own, and was responsible for her earning her cutie mark. Branches from this tree were grafted onto trees sent by the Apples throughout Equestria. Whether distant Appleloosa or the Oranges’ summer home in the Ponyskills, the heart of the Apple family went with them.
This tree played an important role in cider season, one not seen outside the family. Apples from Blossomwind would be pressed into a small batch of cider, one that would be shared only by the family. Each year, two mugs were left at the graves of Applejack’s parents, so that they would remain a part of cider season.
Applejack placed two antique baskets under the tree, baskets woven by Granny Smith when she was a young mare. She examined the tree, and turned to buck it. But then, she stopped. From this angle, they would get a clear view of her rump. That wouldn’t be appropriate for a modest mare like her. She turned to walk around the tree.
Applejack stopped. What had made perfect sense in her mind just moments ago was totally nonsensical, now that she thought about it again. To confirm, she looked in all directions. The orchard was empty. No family members, no sleeping rainbow-maned pegasus, nopony whatsoever. There were just a few birds flitting through the orchard, none of which made any note of her.
She shook her head and returned to the correct place to buck the tree. She turned, but couldn’t kick. They were still watching.
Following several unsuccessful attempts to resolve this conflict, Applejack finally gave up. She searched the trunk of Blossomwind, finding two points to kick in succession that would convince Blossomwind to release her bounty of apples. As she delivered these two kicks, she thought about the nice view they would get of her cutie mark. Now that, Applejack was always proud to display.
Midafternoon, and Applejack was hauling another full wagon to the barn. Once inside, she unhitched herself from the wagon and started lifting buckets of apples. After uncovering the special baskets filled with apples from Blossomwind, and setting them aside, she emptied the rest of the apples into the waiting barrels. In the corner, the cider press sat, covered with a canvas tarp, and empty wooden casks were stacked next to it.
It was good, hard work, and even out of the sun, it made Applejack thirsty. She pulled a pail of water out from under the wagon and drank. Setting it aside, she turned to examine the bounty beginning to fill the barn. The barrels were about two-thirds full, but she wanted a more accurate count, to get a better idea how many more trees needed to be bucked.
As Applejack mentally counted, a cheery song filled the barn.
Gotta count these apples
Gotta count them good
Gonna make delicious cider
And fill these casks of wood!
Gotta sell our cider
Just two bits per pour
Gonna help out thirsty ponies
They’ll come back wanting more!
Applejack stopped mid-count as she realized the happy song was coming from her own mouth.
For the rest of the afternoon, Applejack lost herself in her work. Her count indicated that it would take Applejack and Big McIntosh working every minute of daylight to collect enough apples. Every time she was thirsty, she found a pail of water. She couldn’t buck while facing north. And she couldn’t get that song out of her head. Applejack tried not thinking about these things.
As Celestia’s sun began to dip below the horizon, Applejack pulled the cart back to the barn for the final time that day. Inside, she found her brother had beaten her there; the stallion was already unloading the apples from his cart.
“Good harvest today?” Applejack asked.
“Eeyup,” Big McIntosh replied.
The siblings worked in silence, hauling apples to the waiting barrels. Big McIntosh finished first, and started to stack the buckets. “Need any help, sis?” he asked.
Applejack shook her head. “Nah, you go on in and get cleaned up. I’ll see you for dinner,” she replied.
“Sure thing, sis.”
With a little more work, Applejack finished unloading the apples. The harvest filled the barrels, and three buckets were left over. It’ll be a good cider season, she thought, as she drank a ladleful of fresh water.
Again, Applejack found herself staring at the bucket of water. As much as she appreciated not having to trot over to the well every time she was thirsty, it just didn’t make any sense. What strange magic was this?
Applejack closed her eyes and concentrated. She focused on the comforting feeling of the earth’s magic, flowing through her hooves and invigorating her body. It was a natural part of being an earth pony, one that most never thought about. But unlike most earth ponies, Applejack had experienced other kinds of magic. The power of the Elements of Harmony was one such form of magic, its power like her own, mingled with two other forms of magic, and strengthened beyond the mere sum of their parts. Discord’s magic, on the other hand… well, she still shivered at times when she recalled the feeling of that creepy and corrupting magic.
There it was. She felt some other form of magic in her, something unfamiliar.
The ringing of the triangle brought Applejack back to the present moment. Twilight. If anypony knew how to help her understand what was going on, it was Twilight Sparkle. Applejack returned to the farmhouse, wiped her hooves, and opened the door.
Twilight Sparkle contemplated her options as she surveyed the contents of her icebox. She wasn’t particularly hungry. A sandwich would make for a light supper, but what kind? After weighing the pros and cons of each potential filling on a mental checklist, she decided to go with the traditional daisy sandwich. Now, to fetch the wheat bread from the pantry.
The unicorn trotted over to the pantry door and opened it. She jumped back and squealed as Applejack spilled from the pantry, the earth pony somersaulting before coming to a rest on her back. “What… why… how did you get in my pantry?” Twilight Sparkle yelled.
Applejack looked around, disoriented. She shook her head to clear her thoughts. She got to her hooves, and then replaced her Stetson on her head. Finally recognizing the pony standing in front of her, she grabbed Twilight Sparkle by the withers. “Twi, ya gotta help me!” she implored.
“What’s the matter, Applejack?”
“Ah… Ah think Ah’m turnin’ into Pinkie Pie!”