The Truth About "Pokey" Pierce
Part 8: In which things become truly grim
Pierce beat his temples with his hooves, trying to force the answer out of his head and onto the paper in front of him. Math had never come easy to the blue pony, but Canker had taught him the importance of accurate record-keeping. Eventually, he managed to total the long list of numbers. The answer came as no surprise, but that made it no less unwelcome.
For the month of April, Pierce had broken up or curtailed 62 separate events. Another four had escaped his notice until it was too late, and an unknown number (Pierce always estimated it at double the number of confirmed misses) had never reached his attention at all. Adding up the number of ponies at each event and how long said events had lasted, over 1,500 total pony-hours were lost to large-group social recreation this month. Even assuming the parties he’d missed had mostly been small ones (which were much easier to conceal), the number was staggering. And it was going up each month.
Things had been growing worse and worse since Canker passed away. More parties, and larger ones at that. Pierce couldn’t keep up. And he knew exactly who was to blame.
He added up the check-marks in the column labeled “PP?” There were 41 in all. Nearly two-thirds of the parties in the last month had been planned or hosted by Pinkie Pie. Pierce scowled at the paper, but the numbers were clear: without Pinkie, parties in Ponyville would still be at manageable levels.
What kind of a special talent is partying, anyway? he fumed to himself. Pinkie had been a source of constant irritation for him and Canker since he’d first taken the job as DPM field agent, but things had gotten progressively worse in the year since the old stallion had taken ill and passed away. Acting alone, Pierce simply wasn’t able to keep up.
As Pierce compared the numbers from month to month, he reached a conclusion: something had to be done about Pinkie Pie and her incessant parties.
He looked at the clock; it was already past midnight. He stood up with a sigh, knowing he had to get to sleep soon. Pinkie had a pancake breakfast scheduled for seven tomorrow morning, and he’d need to be up at least a few hours before that if he wanted to do his job properly. Still, he made a note in his planner before heading off to bed. If he had some time tomorrow, he really needed to start thinking of some way to slow Pinkie Pie down.
*****
It was past midnight, but Pinkie was not yet asleep. She still had work to do if she wanted to be ready for the pancake breakfast tomorrow! Not getting ready for the breakfast itself, of course; the dishes were cleaned, the tables were set out, the batter was mixed and ready. No, she still had work to do in order to protect her party from Pokey.
She reviewed the protective measures she’d taken so far: the tripwires and bells had been set up in a ring around Sugarcube Corner, the doors (front and back) were not only locked, but had chairs wedged under the door handles, the windows were all closed and shuttered, the chimney flue was shut...what could she have forgotten?
Pinkie had a feeling that Pokey would get in anyway; he always did. Still, she’d taken every precaution she could think of, short of digging a moat around the building. She really wished the Cakes hadn’t stopped her from building one, but no point worrying about that now. She just had to hope the defences she’d set up would hold off Pokey until morning.
What kind of special talent is ruining parties, anyway? she huffed to herself, stifling a yawn with one hoof. She decided she would booby-trap the first-story storeroom, then turn in for the night. She’d already set up a cot in the storage cellar; there was no way she was going to leave her party site undefended. In any case, it was way past her bedtime, and tomorrow was another big day.
*****
It was the early hours before dawn when the visitor arrived in Ponyville. The streets were empty, and the town lay silent before her, oblivious of her coming. Of course, even if she had arrived in the middle of the day, nopony would have seen her. She preferred to remain in the background whenever possible. Still, if what she’d heard from her predecessor as any indication, the goings-on in this town would necessitate her involvement.
She made her way towards the downtown and found a quiet, out-of-the-way place from which she could look down on the main square in peace. Reports were one thing, but there was no substitute for firsthoof observation.
*****
It was still an hour before dawn. Pierce stood in Sugarcube Corner’s foyer, examining his surroundings. Now that he was inside, it looked like the rest of the job would be easy enough; he just had to dirty up the dishes, dump out the batter, and hide the milk and eggs so that Pinkie and the Cakes couldn’t quickly whip up another batch. Knowing from past experience that the eggs were kept in the storage cellar, he began to made his way downstairs.
As he opened the basement door, he heard a soft snirk below him, followed by giggling. Instantly, Pierce froze. From the basement, he heard a voice, unmistakably that of Pinkie Pie, speaking in a lazy slur to another pony.
“No, no...you can’t do it lengthwise...but what about the bun?...”
Pierce, curiosity overcoming his native caution, began to slowly descend the staircase. Years of practice allowed him to make his way down with hardly a sound.
“I know, you silly filly...well fine, don’t take my advice then...”
Reaching the bottom of the stairs, Pierce waited a moment for his eyes to adjust to the low light, then dared a quick glance into the storeroom. Amid the dim shadows, he could just make out the slumbering form of Pinkie Pie, stretched out on her cot.
“Well, then...don’t blame ME when you lose the hot-dog eating championship...”
Despite himself, Pierce smiled.
He slowly worked his way back up the stairs, considering his options. He couldn’t do anything about the contents of the cellar while Pinkie was down there, obviously. And he’d have to be extra careful while going about his work with her sleeping right below his hooves. Still, he’d pulled off harder jobs than this. He headed towards the storeroom.
Then he stopped. Not because of the booby-trap; he’d already guessed from the slight press at the center of the door that there was probably a stack of pans or dishes or somesuch piled against the far side, ready to fall out with a clatter if he wasn’t careful. No, something had just occurred to him.
Pinkie was here. Asleep. And the streets of Ponyville were still empty. That meant...
Pierce departed without a whisper, leaving the breakfast preparations undisturbed. Careful not to catch the tripwire with his hooves, he made his way towards Pinkie’s home.
*****
The newcomer to Ponyville took a moment to peek through the windows of the bakery, confirming what she had seen from her hiding place. The blue unicorn had entered, puttered around for a few minutes, and then left without doing anything. Very strange.
With a mental shrug, she slipped away after the young stallion. Whatever he was up to, she wanted to see it with her own eyes.
*****
Pierce entered Pinkie Pie’s home, closing the door behind him with a soft click. He considered turning on the lights, but opted against it. It was unlikely anypony would notice, but it wasn’t worth taking the chance. Besides, the predawn gave just enough illumination for him to see by; in his line of work, he was used to dealing with poor light. He looked around the small house.
There was only one story. The front door had led him straight into the living room. To his left was a combined dining room/kitchen. To his right was a hallway, lined by three doors.
Pierce quickly discovered that two of the rooms were a tiny bathroom and a near-empty guestroom. These he dismissed at once. The third door, however, led to Pinkie’s bedroom. He walked in, looking about in all directions.
He could barely see anything in the dark. The one window was facing west, and a heavy pair of curtains blocked what little light might have seeped in from it. Pierce had no intention of opening the shades. He also didn’t want to use anything bright enough to be seen by anypony outside, which ruled out turning on the lights or illuminating the room with his horn. Luckily, he came prepared.
Reaching into his small work-bag, he produced a wax candle with a bronze holder. Lighting it, he examined the room.
Had the room belonged to anypony other than Pinkie, he might have been more surprised by its contents. As it was, he merely found most of the items filling the room bizarre.
The walls were painted day-glow pink. A bed sat against one wall, its sheets festooned with various equipomorphic candies. The rest of the room was mostly filled with boxes: streamers, balloons, signs...there was even a large box of fireworks near the door.
I don’t think I’d want to sleep in the same room as a crate of explosives, though Pierce. This pony is crazy! Nevertheless, he focused on what he’d come here for.
To call the room a mess was an understatement. There was barely any floor visible beneath the stacks of party supplies and other scattered detritus. Pierce hoped this wouldn’t take much time.
*****
The pancake breakfast was going off without a hitch. Well, other than the fact that Mr. Cake had set off Pinkie’s tripwire and almost given himself a heart attack. And then had been locked outside until Pinkie got up and unblocked the front door. And then had nearly been crushed beneath an avalanche of mixing bowls when he’d tried to get into the storeroom. But other than that, everything was going swimmingly.
Pinkie tried her best not to worry, but found her normal jollity under assault. Even though there was nothing she could do about it now, she was afraid that Pokey would show up and somehow ruin everything. Surely he’d known about the breakfast? He seemed to hear about every party in town. He hadn’t just decided to take the morning off, had he?
She pushed aside her worries, smiling as she ladled another batch of pancakes onto the griddle. One nagging concern remained, however:
Pokey always tries to ruin every party he hears about. Every single one. If he’s not here...
Unbidden, the thought ran through her mind: I hope he’s okay.
*****
At last, Pierce found what he was looking for. It was a miniature footlocker, hidden beneath the bed by piles of party supplies. Shaking it, he heard the distinctive rattle of coins; inside were Pinkie’s life savings.
The plan he’d hit upon back at Sugarcube Corner was simple: if Pinkie didn’t have any money, how could she afford to keep throwing parties? At the very least, it would buy Pierce a few months while she struggled to make up for her unexpected shortfall. He had no doubt that Canker would have approved of his improvising.
Still, this was crossing a new line. Breaking up parties was one thing, but what he was contemplating was out-and-out thievery. He was prepared to play the villain, but robbing a pony who’s only sin was excessive celebrations? Maybe he should give this some more thought. Of course, he was already here, and the money was right here in his hooves...
With a sigh, Pierce put the footlocker back. Whatever else he was, he wasn’t a thief. He’d go back to the rickety shack he’d inherited from Canker and think of some other plan-
Suddenly, something grabbed him by the tail. Startled, Pierce yelped, dropping the candle in his surprise.
Time seemed to slow down while he watched, helpless to act, as the candle tumbled through the air...
...and landed in the box of fireworks.
With a roar, rockets began to shoot out of the box in all directions. Panicking, Pierce ran headlong for the exit, explosions ripping through the hall above and around him. As he dived towards the door handle, a concussive blast shook him. Then, everything went black.
*****
At that same moment, the mare who had followed him from Sugarcube Corner suddenly vanished from the spot she’d been standing, leaving nothing but a brief flash of light in her wake.
*****
When she heard the dull rumbles from the west, Pinkie wondered if the weather team had messed up again. She was pretty sure today was supposed to be clear skies. It wasn’t until she saw the black clouds rising up from the ground, until she heard the blaring of sirens, that she realized there was a fire.
As the rumbling intensified, she felt a sudden pit in her stomach; there was only one house to the west that was likely to have explosives stored inside. Abandoning her duties as breakfast host, she rushed towards the smoke.
By the time she reached her home, the whole structure was ablaze. The fireponies had apparently given her house up for lost, and were devoting their energy to preventing the flames from spreading to neighboring buildings. Without a second thought, Pinkie ran towards her home.
As she charged across the street, a pair of strong hooves wrapped around her, arresting her movement. “Hold up there, Miss Pie! You need to stay back, that house could collapse any moment!”
Pinkie squirmed in the grasp of the firepony. “But Gummy’s in there! Did you get him out? Have you seen him?”
“Is that your cat or something?”
“No, he’s an alligator! He’s about this big,” she gestured with her hooves, “and he’s green with purple eyes, and he...” She finally turned and looked at the firepony holding her, tears in her eyes. “...You haven’t seen him, have you?”
The stallion shook his head. “I’ll keep my eyes open, but you need to promise me you’ll stay away from the house if I let you go. Okay?”
“...Okay.”
He released her, and immediately went back to work cordoning off the site. As a crowd of onlookers gathered, Pinkie sat down in the middle of the street and watched her home burn to the ground.
Her friends gathered around her, offering their sympathy and condolences. Mrs. Cake sat by her a while, and told her that she could stay in C.J.’s old room at Sugarcube Corner as long as she needed. One of the fireponies eventually approached her, and asked her a few questions about how the blaze could have started.
Pinkie asked each of them if they had seen Gummy. Nopony had.
*****
Pierce blinked the stars out of his eyes. He had thought for sure he was dead. He’d heard a blast, then suddenly felt as if his whole body was on fire...he looked around, his vision slowly swimming into focus.
To his surprise, he was back home in his shack. His coat and mane were singed, but he was otherwise unharmed.
Standing directly in front of him was a very angry looking brown unicorn. She glared at him with a ferocity he hadn’t seen since Canker died.
“Now that you’re awake, Mr. Pierce, you’re going to tell me exactly what’s going on around here. And it had better be good.”