//------------------------------//
// The Melancholy of Pinkie Pie, Chapter 1 
// Story: The Melancholy of Pinkie Pie 
// by Kris Overstreet 
//------------------------------//


The Melancholy of Pinkie Pie
by Kris Overstreet

a blending of The Melancholy of Haruhi Suzumiya by Nagaru Tanigawa
and My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic developed by Lauren Faust

Chapter 1


I never had any trouble with Canter Claus. A single stallion who delivered presents to millions of foals and fillies in a single night? Who knew whether you'd been bad or good without ever seeing you? Yeah, right! I saw through that malarkey right away, even if I never said so to anypony.

But there were other things I wanted to believe in. I wanted to believe in aliens and monsters and strange and wonderful creatures. I wanted to believe in time travelers visiting the past to put right what once went wrong. I wanted to believe in magical fillies who could save the world for love and justice.

But most of all, I wanted to believe in friendship. 

And yet, as I went through middle school, I learned that friendship, like all the other things, was an illusion. It was a fairy-tale made up to get little kids to get along with each other. I saw the playmates of my foalhood grow hard and distant, as getting ahead and succeeding became all-important. Sports weren't about having fun or playing fair anymore, but about whether or not you won. People hung out together not because they liked each other or wanted to help one another, but because they thought they could get some advantage out of knowing them. 

And the aliens, the monsters, the time travelers, and the magic never showed up.

Yep, by the day I enrolled in North High School, I'd given up on all of it- magic, fun, and friendship- as nothing more than a lie. You couldn't live like that every day. You had to live in the real world, where everypony fought everypony else just to survive.


I wasn't particularly eager my first day of high school. My little sis woke me up as usual, and I put on the uniform of the new school with no particular care or interest. I trotted over to the train station, rode three stops away from home, and began climbing the hill that led from the station up to North High School. I heard one unicorn colt muttering about how steep it was and how annoying it was going to be every day for the next three years. Get over yourself! To me it was- well, not a light trot exactly, but nothing to grumble about. Exercise will do you good, skinny!

North High School wasn't anything unusual. It was your standard, slightly sub-standard, public high school. It was a place for people who either couldn't afford or weren't brainy enough for the private college-prep academies at the bottom of the hill. That said, the gates and walls were bright and shiny in the spring morning light, and the new building almost blocked the view of the older, slightly shabby school, which had been converted into offices and meeting and rehearsal rooms for the school's clubs and sports teams. You probably wouldn't get into the best colleges with a North High School degree, but you still had a chance at a pretty good one, provided you got lucky in your draw of teachers.

Of course, just my luck, I got stuck in Class 1-6, with the hoofball coach as homeroom teacher. How is doing laps around the track going to prepare me for college admission exams?

Anyway, on that first day, in that first class session of my high school career, we had the usual introductions. Like most of the other students, I stumbled through the formula, giving my name, mentioning the family farm my granny still ran up in the mountains north of town, and listing a few hobbies. I really don't remember my exact words, and even if I did, neither would you after I told you. It was the same stuff as every school I could ever remember attending.

Then I sat down, and the pony in the desk behind me stood up.

"From Rock Garden Middle School, Pinkamena Diane Pie. I find ordinary ponies boring. If you are an alien, time traveler, or magic user, come see me. If not, don't be a downer. That is all!"

She remained standing there in her desk long enough for everypony, even that hoofball coach, to stare gape-jawed at her. She was a bit smaller than me, but not much, with a long, dead straight pink mane hanging over one eye and a determined-looking scowl on her face. Her coat was a lighter shade of pink, but I doubt any stallion would be able to tell the difference between that and her mane. The cutie mark printed on her skirt was three party balloons- not, I thought, the sort of thing that would appear on the flank of a teenage filly.

My cutie mark? Three apples. Apples run in my family, and they're a nice, sensible mark to have. Apples are the cornerstone of our food supply, you know- but anyway.

Eventually Miss Pie sat down, and the next student in line stumbled his way through the worn-out formula. The class returned to normal, more or less. No aliens, no time travelers, no wizards or witches showed up. Eventually the day ended and I walked back down that hill to the train station and home.

I had no idea that five short sentences would change my life forever.


Technically Miss Pie hadn't changed my life yet, though her introduction is one I'll remember after I'm pushing up daisies. What changed my life came a few weeks later.

In the meantime, though, Miss Pie had become the talk of the class- not just my class, but the entire freshman class. A few days after the introduction, I brought up the subject with a filly I knew from my middle school and the mare who sat behind her.

"You mean Pinkie Pie? Stay away from her, girl," the other mare said. "She's nothing but trouble." That was Bon Bon, an off-white earth pony with blue and pink mane. 

"Why? I think she's rather interesting." That was Lyra, a cyan unicorn with white streaks in her mane. "A little bit childish, but-"

"I went to middle school with her," Bon Bon said. "She drove everypony there nuts. She was always doing one weird thing after another. She nearly got expelled once when she tried to launch fireworks off the school roof. She never did explain how she got up there in the first place!"

"Who in Tarnation would think that was a good idea?" I asked.

"I'm telling you, that's how Pinkie Pie is!" Bon Bon said. "Why, she hadn't been in school three months before she started causing trouble! Do you remember seeing in the newspapers how somepony drew a bunch of strange chalk lines on the hoofball field?"

"She did that?" Lyra asked.

"Of course! She ADMITTED to doing it! Even told the teachers how she got the groundskeeper shed unlocked and stashed the chalker and sacks of lime until after dark. But whenever anypony asked her why she did it, she'd just look at them like the person asking was the biggest idiot alive. It's NOT a foalish question!"

I wonder how many times you asked it, and in what tone, I thought to myself, feeling a little sorry for the all-pink pony. 

"Now, if you want to know about a filly to hang around with," Bon Bon said, "you should check out Trixie Lulamoon."

I glanced up to the front of the room, where the sky-blue unicorn was chatting with a couple of other classmates, who seemed to hang on her every word.

"Intelligence, looks, great grades," Bon Bon said, "and she lives in an expensive condo. An A++ for networking potential!"

"Do you grade everyone in this school like that?" Lyra asked. 

"Well, of course! How else can you know who to try to become friends with?" Bon Bon pointed a hoof over to the window, where Pinkie Pie sat staring out at the courtyard. "Pinkie Pie would be at least an A, if she wasn't so crazy!"

Well, my mind knew that Bon Bon was right, but my heart just couldn't let it sit there. As the days went past I noticed that nopony- absolutely nopony- spoke to Pinkie Pie. (Teachers don't count, our sports-obsessed homeroom teacher especially.) Despite this I began hearing more about Pinkie- how she was joining one club or sports team after another, for example. She'd stay with them for one day, and then she'd move on. She never actually quit a club- at least, she never asked for her name to be taken off the membership list, and none of the clubs kicked her out.

That was really strange. As individuals, the whole school seemed to avoid her, but every club wanted Pinkie Pie if they could get her. She was a natural athlete, even by earth pony standards- I saw her leaving other ponies in the dust during athletics, and it was all I could do to keep ahead of her in races. She was quick at learning anything and everything- except for Trixie she had the best grades in our class from the start, despite apparently paying no attention at all. The club presidents, when they weren't calling her strange, were calling her the "all-utility mare." 

To put it simple-like, the clubs wanted her because she could do anything... but nopony wanted to hang out with her, because, well, she could do ANYTHING. 

And then, about a month after the first term began, I committed the act that forever entangled me in the affairs of Pinkie Pie. Who knows how my school career, my entire life, might have gone if I had been just another student avoiding the strange pony, ignoring her even as she sat just one desk behind... no. I just ain't that kind of pony. I don't think I could remain Applejack and still ignore an obviously lonely and dissatisfied pony. 

So, before classes, I turned in my seat and said, "So, what does your cutie mark mean?"

I swear I did not know so much air could be inhaled by one pony. That astonished gasp must have lasted five or six seconds. Finally, having made her point (I guess), she took out a watch, noted the time, and then pulled out a pencil and did some quick sums on a piece of paper. "Twenty-nine days, twenty-two hours, forty-seven minutes," she said. "That's how long it's been since any student in this class has said a word to me." She slumped on her desk again, frowning. "Of course they say plenty ABOUT me. It's not like I have, you know, EARS or anything."

Ouch. I remembered the conversations I'd had during lunch or athletics with Bon Bon, with Lyra, and others about our class's mystery curled in an enigma wrapped inside cotton candy. "Er, um, I'm sorry about that."

"It's OK," Pinkie said. "But the interesting thing is, I can't calculate how long it's been since anypony asked me about my cutie mark. You know why that is? Because nopony EVER asked. Nopony cared. Nopony noticed."

"Well, I noticed," I said. "Just like I noticed the ribbons in your mane."

Pinkie looked at me suspiciously. "What about them?"

"On Mondays you don't have any ribbons," I said. "On Tuesdays, one ribbon. On Wednesdays, two. On Thursdays, three ribbons. On Friday, four. I guess you have five ribbons on Saturday and six on Sunday."

"I put a ribbon in my tail on Saturdays," Pinkie said flatly, "and on Sunday I braid my mane."

"You braid your mane?" Picking things up with hooves can be done, and of course we learn to write and stuff, but delicate things like braiding hair are a lot tougher. "That must really be a pain."

"I don't mind," Pinkie said flatly, and that killed the conversation.

I didn't find out about her cutie mark that day, and every time I tried to bring up the subject in the week that followed the conversation played out. It didn't exactly feel like Pinkie was avoiding the subject- she just didn't seem to care. Every time I talked with her, it seemed like she was doing it only to be kind to me somehow- as if she had something on her mind and didn't want to be interrupted. She wasn't quite rude or callous, but it was pretty clear I was only being tolerated.

One thing I noticed: the day after that first conversation, she stopped wearing the ribbons. She came to class the next day with her mane considerably shorter. It was still pretty long, lanky and straight, but now you could see both eyes when you looked at her- distracted, sad, impatient eyes. 

And then, almost exactly a week after that first conversation, Pinkie was the one to begin the talking. As I sat down in my desk she said, "I'm so BOOOOOOOOORED. I thought high school would be different from middle school."

"What's wrong with it?" I asked quietly. 

"Everything's wrong!" she snapped. "For the first time we get to choose our electives, our activities, guide our own destinies! And yet everypony walks along in the same old grumpy rut, never trying anything new or exciting or mysterious!"

"That's kind of a lot to ask of a public high school," I said. 

"But it's no fun!" Pinkie said. "My special talent is fun! That's what my cutie mark means! But fun's no fun if it's just one! And nopony else here is having fun." She slumped forward, putting her muzzle on one hoof. "The sports teams don't have any fun- they don't think of anything except winning, and if they don't win all the time they're miserable. The clubs aren't any good either- everypony's either thinking about their careers after school or just trying to hang out with the cool people."

"You know," I said, and then followed those fatal words, "most normal people have to make their own fun. It won't just come to you, you know."

For a second I thought Pinkie was going to deliver one of those not-quite-cut-offs that ended our brief conversations. Then something strange happened. For the first time I saw Pinkie's eyes slowly widen from their narrow glare into bigger, shinier eyes than I'd ever seen on anything other than a plush toy. And then her mane, that long, straight, dull pink mane, stood on end and... poofed. I don't know what else to call it. Not a lock of it hung down-it all floated above her head and neck in a light, curly, cotton-candy mass. 

"YES! What a BUH-RILLIANT idea! Applejack, you're the greatest!" Immediately she bolted out of the desk and dashed to the classroom door. She stopped, turned around, dashed back to me and grabbed my tail. "Come ON!" she said, gritting her teeth as she dragged me backwards out of my desk, out the door, and down the hall.

That was it. If I could draw a line in history and call it "the point of no return", it would be that point. Before I said those words, things could have been different. After that my life ran on rails, and the name of the line was the Pinkie Pie Friendship Express.


"So here are the rules."

We were ditching homeroom, sitting in the courtyard at a table. I had a copy of the student rulebook, and I was turning the pages with a pencil in my teeth.

"A new club needs a minimum of five members. It needs a faculty advisor. It needs a mission statement describing the purpose of the club and the kind of activities it will host. And then it needs authorization from the student council." 

"That's all wrong!" Pinkie said, waving a hoof dismissively at the rulebook. "Look, I'll take care of the REAL important things. You can take care of this boring stuff if it matters to you."

What? This was Pinkie's club-to-be, not mine! I was already a member of a club- the Go Home Early, See My Family and Get Work Done Club. None of the after-school activities interested me nearly as much as seeing Apple Bloom and Big MacIntosh and doing things for myself. 

"I'll see you at lunch!" Pinkie shouted, galloping off before I could protest. Already I could feel a pit opening under my hooves. I don't know why I got the registration form from the student council office. Maybe I already knew I was doomed, deep down somehow. I've never been any good at lying, even to myself. 

Anyway, as soon as the bell rang for lunch Pinkie reappeared from wherever she'd gone, grabbed one of my hooves in both her forehooves, and began tugging me towards the door, dancing on her hind hooves all the time. "C'mon! C'mon! I've found the first important thing and it's PERFECT!"

What can you do when you're confronted by an unstoppable force of nature? You miss lunch, that's what you do.

Pinkie half-pulled, half-led me across the walkway from the new building into the old building, down halls and past rehearsal rooms, club rooms, and storage for disused, unloved leftovers of clubs past. Finally we ended up at a room with a sign saying LITERATURE above it. 

"Why are we here, Pinkie?"

"This is it!" Pinkie said. "This is our new clubroom!" She opened the door and threw it wide, gesturing inside. "And see? It even comes free with our first new club member!"

There was an ancient brown chalkboard on one wall, and a bookshelf mostly but not entirely full of books along the wall. An older, uninsulated window faced out onto the courtyard, looking just around the new building so you could see the front gate. Some empty tables and folding chairs sat in the middle of the room, dusty from disuse.

And in the corner by the window, in one of the folding chairs, sat a purple unicorn reading a book. For a few seconds she continued to read, paying us no mind; finally, she looked up, brushing back her deep purple lavender-streaked mane with one hoof, and stared expressionlessly at us through her glasses. 

"Pinkie," I said, "this is the Literature Club's room."

"Not really!" Pinkie smiled. "All the members graduated at the end of last term, and Twilight Sparkle here was the only freshman to sign up. I'm sure she won't mind if we take over!"

"Have you tried asking?" Pinkie was beginning to wear my patience thin, and I've never been known as a patient filly.

"Oh, I'm sure it's understood!" Pinkie waved. "I've got to go find more members! I'll be back soon!" She was out the door before I could say a word, and I was left alone with the purple mare, whose eyes had gone back to her reading.

"Um... so, what are you reading?" I asked.

The purple mare- what was her name? Twilight, that's right- held it up briefly so I could see the title: Foster's Home for Imaginary Friends.  

"Um... yeah," I said lamely. "How is it?"

"Unique," she said, in a voice so soft that it wasn't quite a whisper but might as well have been.

"Um... yeah." A smarter pony than me would have found some more meaningful comeback. Then again, maybe a smarter pony would have read that book. "Listen... do you mind, well... you know your club's about to get hijacked by a crazy filly, right?"

"I do not mind."

I could have asked, "Where is the key," and she could have answered, "Under the doormat," in the same soft, indifferent tone. 

"Only, you see," I said, trying not to be unfair to either Twilight or Pinkie, "I did mention she's a bit crazy, right?"

Twilight shrugged and went back to reading.

I stood there, watching her read, trying to find the right words. Pinkie Pie's not a bad pony, really, but she's different, really really different, and I don't think she understands that there are certain boundaries that normal polite ponies aren't supposed to cross. I don't want any innocent ponies to get caught up in this, so all you have to do is say the word and all of this can come to a complete stop right now. That's what I could have said, if I'd had two weeks to think. 

As it turned out, I didn't even have twenty minutes.

The door slammed open again, and Pinkie Pie stepped in, hauling on what looked like a fishing rod and reel. "It's a whopper!" she shouted, and reeled in a flapping, screaming yellow pegasus with pink hair, hooked by her school blouse and terrified out of her mind. "Look what I caught, AJ!"

"Pinkie Pie, what do you think you're doing!" My patience snapped at just about that point, but Pinkie didn't hear the warning growl in my voice. 

"Silly! I'm recruiting new members! This is Fluttershy Posey, junior! I caught her swimming around the Calligraphy Club!" Pinkie made a face. "Boy, what a bunch of dully-fuddy-duddies they are! And their ink tastes terrible!"

A junior? This mare was a year older than us? Now we really were in trouble!

"Of course, she's going to have to quit Calligraphy!" Pinkie continued. "I've got something much more fun for her! She's going to be our new club mascot!"

"What."

"Well, look at her!" Pinkie swung the fishing pole around, and I looked square in the eyes of the frightened, timid pegasus. "See how cute she is? How adorable? How vulnerable? I'm sure mysterious things will just seek us out right and left with her around!"

Fluttershy spoke. "M-m-m-mysterious things?" Wait, I take it back. That wasn't speaking. That was a squeak on the very edge of hearing.

"Excuse me," I said, "but are you seriously suggesting we use another pony as BAIT?"

"Well, duh!" Pinkie said, gesturing to the fishing pole and the hook that still half-held the hovering pegasus suspended in the air.

Okay, I admit I walked into that one.

Then I noticed that Fluttershy had gone rigid. She was staring directly at Twilight Sparkle, who hadn't looked up from her book even once while the screaming and shouting had gone on. If anything she looked more frightened than ever.

"That's enough, Pinkie," I said. "You're going to take this poor mare back wherever you got her from, and you're going to apologize to her and everypony there, or I'll-"

"Um."

Fluttershy's voice stopped me before I could finish my ultimatum.

"If Twilight Sparkle is here... then I don't mind... staying... with you?"

Well, that took the wind out of my sails real quick. 

"Yes!" Pinkie shouted. "Welcome to the SOP Brigade!"

"The what?" I asked. "What the hay is the-"

"THERE YOU ARE!"

This wasn't going to be my day for completing sentences, was it?

A sky-blue pegasus with spiky rainbow-colored mane and tail hovered in the doorway. "So you thought you could get away from a single-digit card holder of the Fluttershy Fan Club? Dream on, sister!"

"Hey, I caught her fair and square!" Pinkie said. 

"Excuse me," I asked, "Fluttershy fan club?"

"You're not the first pony to trouble Fluttershy!" the other pegasus said. "Dozens, nay hundreds of ponies watch over her from afar! Her beauty and compassion are so great they're spoken of in other schools!" The pegasus crossed her forehooves and said, "Why, she's the second most awesome pony in this whole school, after me!"

"Then where's your fan club?" I couldn't help asking.

"I'm so awesome I don't NEED a fan club!" the pegasus said. "It's just, you know, understood."

"Rainbow," Fluttershy said quietly, "it's all right. I'd like to stay with these fillies-"

"WHAT?" The blue pegasus almost hit the ceiling.

"-if you don't mind?" Fluttershy squeaked.

"Of course you're staying!" Pinkie Pie grinned the grin of a filly who's had one too many cupcakes... and then one more... and then another... and then licked the mixing bowl clean. "You're a member of the SOP Brigade now!"

"I repeat," I said, though I hadn't got it out the first time, "what the hay is the SOP Brigade?"

"That's the name of our club, silly! 

"Saving the World By
"Overloading It with Fun with
"Pinkamena Diane Pie!"

"Overloading it with fun, huh?" The blue pegasus cracked a smile at that. "Sounds a lot better than boring old calligraphy. Okay, I'm in! Rainbow Dash, nice to meet ya!" As she settled down to the floor, she added, "Um, how are we going to do that, exactly?"

"Simple!" Pinkie grinned. "By finding aliens, time travelers and magic users- and having FUN with them!"

The only jaw that didn't drop was Twilight Sparkle's. She was still nose down in her book.

"Now I've got to make arrangements!" Pinkie gasped, lowering Fluttershy to the floor and tossing away the fishing rod. "We've GOT to have a club party when afternoon classes are over! It's the first meeting of the SOP Brigade! I've got to get cake and punch and balloons- I wonder if anypony in the music appreciation club is a DJ? The wind ensemble wouldn't fit in the room, and anyway they don't have any good dance music..."

Pinkie kept jabbering on, but the three of us- Fluttershy, Rainbow and I- looked at each other. Rainbow was grinning, Fluttershy was cringing, and I don't know what I looked like. All I knew was, I'd let myself get lassoed into more chaos than I'd ever imagined.

Later I would find out... it was more chaos than I could EVER imagine.


To Be Continued