The afternoon sun shined. Merchants were hawking their wares. Young colts and fillies were playing in the street. A few pink and purple carriages could be seen. There were pegasus ponies flying overhead. Ponies were talking and laughing. Ponyville was like every other town he had been to.
Top Story found Sugarcube Corner, the unique gingerbread-looking house with a pink cupcake spire failed to make an impression on him as he walked through double swinging doors into the shop. He scratched his gray foreleg and shook his short black mane as a lanky yellow stallion walked up to the counter. He ordered and flopped down at a nearby table and placed his saddlebag on the floor beside him.
He was there from the Equestria Herald to write a report on a mare that had just broken the sugar cube eating world record. It would be a little pony interest story, like all of his stories. He was about to rise up and retrieve his order but a squat, but pretty middle-aged blue mare brought his pastry and coffee to him on a tray that she carried in her mouth. He took both wordlessly accepted his order and took a small bite of his pastry, his face not showing the leaping excitement his taste buds expressed as the cream rolled over his tongue.
He hands on his watch read 3:30. The mare was late, but that was fine, he had nowhere else to be. Top Story stared straight ahead, empty contemplations filling his mind, when there was an explosion that came crashing through the doors. Pots and pans rattled against the wall. The tall yellow stallion that was trying to open a bag of flour, leap up in fright, causing a white cloud to explode throughout the room.
Top Story fumbled forward and managed to set his coffee on the table before he spilled it on himself. He pressed his hooves against his chest to keep his heart from leaping out. The journalist configured that he had just become the youngest stallion in his family to ever have a heart attack.
The massive cloud of white was settling, causing patches of white to appear on top story's coat. He did not notice these however. What caught his attention was a little pink mare that had apparently caused the ruckus. On her round face was plastered a wide grin. Her main feature that really stood out were the puffy mane and tail that bobbed behind her as she walked. The doors closed behind her, and the journalist could only assume that she had caused the noise by bounding through them.
White particles peppered her mane, which she ignored. “Hi Mr. and Mrs. Cake, I finished all of my deliveries for the day!” The mare's smile grew even wider on her face, and her large blue eyes began to sparkle. From what he had heard, the reporter figured that this must be the Pinkie Pie mare he was supposed to interview.
In a split second she began to tell the bakery owners about a trick she had seen her friend Rainbow Dash performed. Top recognized the name as a pegasus mare that had come into renown for performing what was called a “Sonic Rainboom” by flying so fast she broke the speed of sound. Top story was amused by the fact that most of this mare's dialogue consisted of onomatopoeia accompanied by loud noises to help her audience visualize the action. The gray earth pony's mouth was open as this ball of pink energy bounced around, telling her story.
Top was truly amazed. This mare's machine gun motor mouth ran so quickly that he expected a Sonic Rainboom to explode from her mouth at any moment.
The Cakes seemed to take it in strike, which shocked the journalist. Was this an employee of theirs? Did this happen everyday? He tried not to imagine the amount of bits in damage she caused if she was.
Once the pink pony finished her little story, Mr, Cake pointed the mare in my direction. At a speed that would make a lightning bolt proud, she ran up to Top Story and beamed, “Hi, I'm Pinkie Pie! How are you? Are you the one that's going to interview me?” She shook the white flour out of her main and body, getting most of it on the journalist. Mrs. Cake gasped but the stallion just held up a hoof to calm her and dusted himself off.
“Yes I am. It's nice to meet you, my name is Top Story,” he simply responded, proffering her a hoof.
Pinkie vigorously shook it, and the reporter felt his entire body shake for several seconds. When she finished the mare continued, “Oh good, because I am really looking forward to talking to you. I have so much to say.”
Top did not doubt this statement. He sighed and retrieved a quill and pad from his saddle bag, “Okay, well I'll start with the first question.”
“Questions? Oh my gosh is this a guessing game? I love guessing games! I'll go first. What do I have in my pocket?” Pinkie's voice rose in tempo.
Top sighed, “No, this is not a game. These are interview questions. First off, what made you decide you wanted to break this record?”
The pink pony looked a little crestfallen, but she took a deep breath and then began, “Well, I was baking some cupcakes here at Sugarcube Corner where I work, when Dinky Doo came in with her mother Ditzy. Well while Dinky Doo was eating a cupcake, Ditzy was telling me that Dinky Doo's daddy, Eddie Bo, wasn't coming in to visit little Dinky, but that was okay because she and her daughter were going to the carnival this weekend with Roy Brown. She said Roy is really sweet and calls Dinky his little Rinky Dinky Doo.”
“I said 'Awww,' then I said, 'speaking of sweet do you want a Sugar Cube?' Then Blueberry Hill was reading the paper and that a pony named Domino Fats just broke the sugar cube eating world record last weekend and I said, 'Ohmygosh, that is really cool' and she said, 'I bet you could do that Pinkie Pie...”
The reporter wrote down what he could, but he had trouble keeping up. After Pinkie finally ran out of breath, he held up a hoof to stop her. This signal went unnoticed.
“...so there was a guy this morning that said tomato soup could be served cold, can you believe that?”
“Alright, next question,” Top wondered where tomato soup came from, “how did you feel when you broke the record?”
“Oh by the way, it was a party invitation.”
“Do what?”
“The answer to my question was a party invitation, see?” She reached into what seemed like thin air and produced a yellow invitation to a party written in pink marker.
“That is uh...very nice. But please answer my question. How did you feel when you broke the record?”
“Bloated...and hyper!”
Full and normal, he wrote. “What did you do after it was over?”
“I had a party! I celebrated my new record. I danced all night long, and played pin-the-tail-on-the-pony. Oh my gosh, it was so fun. We spun spike, the baby dragon I talked about, around and let him have his turn at pin-the-tail-on-the-pony. He got so disoriented that he started going the wrong way, and before anybody could stop him, he pinned the tail right on Rarity's flank!” The pink filly started giggling, grabbing her stomach and kicking her hind feet. Tears formed in her tightly shut eyes.
“You see, it's really funny because Spike has a crush on Rarity, I know, a baby dragon liking a unicorn, weird right? But anyway, Rarity was so embarrassed and shocked that she screamed and left the party. It took all of us to get her to finally come back so we could explain what happened. Oh and poor Spike, he was so sad. He got Rarity this heart shaped cookie, oh it was the cutest thing, but Rarity being Rarity didn't take it right off, you see...”
“Okay I got it,” Top cut her off again. He would swear that her motor mouth had an infinite supply of fuel and was going to make his ears bleed. “You had a party, I think that about covers it.” He finished taking some last notes before he put away my pad and quill.
“You mean we are already done? I didn't even get the chance to tell you about my Gryphon pinata.”
“To be honest with you, my column isn't very big. So I didn't really need that much information to write my story. If I was writing something for the front page, it would be a different. However, I think I have enough with the few notes that I did take.”
“Oh, would you like to stick around for some strawberry cupcakes? I am making some this evening, they'll be really good!”
Top threw his saddlebag over his back, “No need, as I said I have all of the information required to write the column.”
The pink pony's shoulders slumped. She looked down at her hind hooves that were under the table. For a moment she looked up and held the reporter in her glistening gaze, which he purposefully averted. Her slightly rounded belly was thrown out as she heaved a gusty sigh, “Oh, okay then. I guess...uh...thank you for interviewing me.”
Her words were very slow and sad. Each syllable was a steel wire that pulled against the reporter's heart. He had learned how to ignore such things, and rose from his seat. The little pink pony sniffed as she rose, and slowly walked toward a staircase toward the back of the shop.
Top popped his neck and slid out of his chair. The sniffling must have caught the Cakes' ears because they were throwing accusatory glances toward him. Oh well, it was over and done. Now all he had to do was write the little report, receive his paltry pay for the job, and get ready for the next job, just like he had done the time before, and the time before that.
The double doors were getting closer, but his feet felt like lead. He closed his eyes and saw those big, sad blue eyes staring at him again, tears leaking from the corners. Looking back, he saw Pinkie walking up the steps, ready to disappear. Why was he still there? He needed to leave. He needed to get to work on his story. He turned around but found that moving his hooves took a lot of effort.
“Did you forget anything?” Mrs. Cake, the squat blue mare, asked him pointedly.
Those steely wires were starting to cut into his heart. Top snorted, “Yes, there were a few questions I forgot to ask.” He turned toward the staircase, “Ms. Pie, if it is okay, may I ask you a few more questions?”
The poofy maned female quickly turned around and stuck her head out of the opening of the staircase. A smile erupted on her face, “Oh of course, but hang on I have to do something first.”
The girl began to hop down the stairs, singing to herself. When she hit the floor she bolted into the kitchen and began to gather some baked goods. Pies, slices of cake, doughnuts, muffins, and various candies were stacked or placed in bowls on her back. She slowly teetered over to the table, carefully balancing the delectables on her back. When she made it she placed them on the table in a whirlwind and was sitting back in the chair she was in before Top could blink. He didn't notice but she had also refilled his coffee and replaced it in front of his spot at the table.
Pinkie was innocently sipping sarsaparilla through a straw as Top sat down.
Pinkie placed her bottle down and begin, “So what questions did you have for me?”
The reporter was trying to adjust his ears to her rapid talking speed again. He dropped his saddlebag to the floor and retrieved his quill and pad, “Well, I uh...I wanted to know more.”
“Know more about what? The moon? Ancient History? How to bake a cake?”
“Oh none of that.”
“Oh that's good,” she giggled, “cause I'd have to get Twilight for that stuff, well except for that last one. I'm good at making cakes. You should have seen the one I made at my last party. It looked like a strawberry cake but it tasted like lemon!”
“Lemon cake?”
“Yeah, I wanted to do something different. So what did you want to know about?”
“Well uh,” the reporter sighed and bit his lower lip. The only reason he had called her over was because...he really didn't know. All he knew is that he really didn't have any questions for the rambunctious pony to answer. “You,” he said finally, “I want to know about you.”
This elicited a giggle from Pinkie, “Well duh, of course you want to know about me! Who else are you interviewing? Anything in particular?”
“Um, whatever you want to tell me.”
A pout came to her face, “That doesn't help me much.”
Top wrapped his hoof against the table, “Everything, tell me everything.”
“Everything? Are you sure? That might take a while.”
“I have the time if you do.”
“I do, where do you want me to start?”
“Oh, how about the beginning?”
“The very beginning?”
“Absolutely.”
Pinkie grinned, “Okay, I was conceived in a small house on a rock farm.”
My mouth dropped, and the blue mare in the shop exclaimed in exasperation, “Pinky!” Mr Cake, the lanky yellow stallion, wore a small smile.
“I didn't mean at the absolute beginning,” said the reporter, regaining his composure.
Pinkie giggled, “Well you did say start at the very beginning.”
“Okay, I did walk into that one. How about you start at your fillyhood.”
The young mare fixed a faux pout on her face, “Oh okay...if I have to.”