Pinkie always loved to watch dramatic moments in movies; she loved just as much, to enact such a dramatic run like she was in an action film. But she always remembered the reason why she ran, flashes of a shaking, timid Fluttershy, blushing profusely, scratching her neck and hiding behind her mane all of these images crossed Pinkie’s mind, and they broke her heart, Pinkie clinched her teeth harder and just ran faster until her lungs burned, all with a single thought in mind, the pink mare must become a character, to change Fluttershy.
Pinkie started to sweat as she cantered closer and closer to Sugarcube corner. By the time she arrived to the small building that looked like it was covered in confectionary, she was panting, her tongue sticking out and the poor mare was weaving.
Pinkie then burst through the door with a very determined and almost a heroic look on her face, at least it was when she caught her breath. So much so, that even rays of sunshine, burst through the door with her.
At that moment, In Pinkie’s head there was a triumphant orchestral score, announcing her arrival. This greatly caught the attention of Mrs. Cake, a rather large, turquoise earth pony with a slick of pink hair resting on top of her head. She studied the pink mare for a moment. “How did it go, Pinkie?” Pinkie just brought her eyes down to slits.
“Not well enough, Mrs. Cake. I need to execute new plan, and for that, I need my super-secret weapon! Pinkie just stared at Mrs Cake a little more. The dramatic Pinkie Pie must inform her employer and surrogate mother the gravity of this situation. No words needed to be said at that moment. Pinkie cantered up the stairs to get herself ready for her plan. With that, Mrs. Cake went back to tendering to her batch of cupcakes, checking their quality and making slight adjustments here and there.
Once the cupcakes were close to perfection, she decided to let them bake for a little while longer. Before grabbing a large yellow bowl and the necessary ingredients needed for Pinkie to have her batch of cupcakes, flour, sugar, butter and milk. That Pinkie is going to need all the help she can get, but even in Pinkie’s mood swings, she’s got such a good heart, the turquoise pony thought to herself.
Mrs Cake smiled a little, for just that moment letting her pride for the young mare wash over her for just a moment, before applying the ingredients and mixing them together with excellent timing and skill. There was a knock on the door, and when it opened, there he was, Mr Cake, fatigued, but smiling. “I got all the supplies we need, Honeybun. He announced, sweating profusely. The smile that Mrs Cake had grew wider, walking out of the kitchen, still the bowl and wooden spoon in hooves beaming that smile right across to the yellow stallion. “I hope it wasn’t too heavy for you, dear.”
Mr Cake chuckled a little at the comment, finally relaxing after a hard day’s work of negotiations and pulling a multitude amounts of apples, flour, sugar and many over pieces of ingredients, and the odd piece of confectionary and other fruits that were simply beyond counting. He looked at the all the supplies and ingredients, his legs were shaking, but Mr Cake couldn’t help but smile, tipping his hat over to Big Mac in his gratitude. “Thanks a lot there, Mac.” The large maroon stallion gave a polite nod and a simple “Eeyup” before taking his leave.
Mr Cake turned himself back round to Mrs Cake. Stumbling a little, but capable of walking over to his wife and give a small peck on her cheek. Such of a romantic gesture of Mrs Cake always made her blush and giggle like a teenage filly, and that time was no exception. The baker couldn’t imagine being with anypony else.
Pinkie Pie couldn’t help but smile at the dialogue between the two cakes, watching from the stairs. She remembered the day the loving couple took her in when she left the rock farm. The memories of what she said to her parents “I need to do this, it’s like I’m meant to do this, I love you both, and I’ll always keep in touch, and Mr and Mrs Cake, you have no idea, how much this means to me. Thank you both so super-duper much.” To her, that was a sad day, yet, a happy day at the same time.
She trotted into her room where she would prepare herself for her new plan.
She took in her surroundings of her large pink room, full of streamers and multi-coloured balloons everywhere she looked, the true personification of Pinkie Pie herself. After getting lost in such a beautiful room she shook her head and hit her head a little, rousing herself from her self-imposed trance. C’mon, Pinks! The Pink mare thought to herself. Fluttershy needs you!
She finally focused, and accessed a part of her mind that as all of her acting knowledge, from Shakesmare, to Stalintrotiski and with one exhale, knew what kind of character she needed to play to help her yellow Pegasus friend. She needed to become a rival. With gritted teeth followed by a deep exhale. Pinkie contemplated each part of the plan carefully I’ll make Flutters happy and fulfilled, even if I have to pretend to be a Meany Pants for a while to do it! The bubbly mare thought to herself.
She looked through every certificate and trophy, with every picture she had holding such exquisite, prizes gleaming of the sunlight coming from her window, acknowledging her acting talent. She analysed each one searching for inspiration, until a light bulb suddenly appeared above her, illuminating a yellow glow. It only took her a few seconds to notice that the bulb was still hanging above her, so she clicked off the light and picked the bulb from the air, carefully by her hooves, and placed it on a nearby wooden desk, and bounced towards her wardrobe, with a unwavering smile. Her plan might just work, or at least, she hoped.
She carefully opened the wardrobe door, with precision and skill, inch by inch. When there was enough room to fit herself through, she slid through inside the door and rummaged inside. She grabbed a red cloak and her old moustache, She understood that her audience wouldn’t appreciate her decisions without comedic value, For Pinkie, that is an imperative part of the plan. She eventually squeezed out of her overflowing wardrobe and heaved the door shut.
“Hmm… I may have to buy a padlock from The Quill and Sofa soon, I don’t know how much the old thing could take. She scratched her chin in thought, before dismissing it. That could be resolved later. Right now, she needs to get into the right character. She trotted over to a rainbow coloured mirror that Rarity and Rainbow Dash got her for her birthday a while back. It came in handy in situations like this. She then placed her top hat on her head and her curly moustache on her upper lip. With that, she cleared her throat.
Pinkie tried to imagine how Rarity would talk, to the extent where she would imitate her mannerisms right down to her laugh, if she could. Pinkie was sure Rarity wouldn’t mind that the pink mare would use the beautiful unicorn’s accent as a template for a while. It’s just an act after all.
Slowly, through the night, she perfected her character. It was only until the moon was full, where Pinkie had almost completed her character. She perfected the Canterlotian accent, the best she could muster, and now, all she needed was a name for her alter ego. “The Great and Powerful Pinks? Nah, I wouldn’t want a lawsuit. Flamingo? No. That name won’t work either.” She scratched her head, closed her eyes, and thoughts of Fluttershy surfaced, “I’m doing this for Flutters, she needs me.
She needs a worthy rival for her to compete against.” Suddenly a gasp and a flash of inspiration appeared in her eyes. “I shall become, “Pinktella!” In truth, Pinkie knew that her name wasn’t truly Italian, but it would suffice for her, it sounded good. So, she put her top hat and her moustache back onto the desk and she smiled at the mirror, proud of her recent progress.
She gave an immense yawn before making her way back to her bed. She hopped onto the soft, bouncy bed, and immersed herself in her bed sheets, sighing contently, and letting herself just drift away. Covering herself in her blankets, her smile never leaving her face.