//------------------------------//
// When You Wish Upon a Star 
// Story: My Little Pony Disney Tales (#2) - Pinkie Pie-nocchio 
// by Blue Paratroopa 
//------------------------------//

	Long ago, in a far-away village, a young dragon wandered the streets, looking for somewhere to spend the night, just like he did every night. From village to village he went, seeking out food and companionship. Sadly, he usually found nothing.
“Scrounging is the worst,” he muttered to himself. He fell to his little knees, threw back his arms and shouted to the heavens: “Why, oh, why must I roam as I do? Will I ever find a place I can call my home?”
“No!” somepony shouted in the distance. “Now, shut up! It’s late!”
The dragon grumbled to himself, but kept walking. “Nopony around here has any appreciation for the dramatics.”
But what that pony had said was true, at least partially. It was late. Most of the houses were dark. Still, one little shop had its lights on. With a hopeful smile, the dragon knocked on the door. An elderly pony answered a moment later.
“Hello, ma’m,” the dragon said shyly. “My name is Spike and I was hoping to find a place to spend the night…would you…?”
“Of course!” the old pony cried. “You’ve got yerself a nice, honest face, and I don’t usually turn folks away. Ya see, I once heard a tale of an enchantress, see, who was turned away by this nasty prince from Mar-ee, and he was turned into a hideous--”
“Mar-ee?” repeated Spike.
“Yep, like Par-ee, but with Mare. I don’t get it, either. Oh, that reminds me. I didn’t give you my name. I’m Granny Smith.”
“Nice to meet you,” said Spike. “Do your grandfoals live around here?”
“Oh no,” Granny Smith said with a hint of sadness. She feigned a smile. “I ain’t never had any grandfoals. Not of my own at least. I’m a toymaker. I considered being an apple farmer, but the land ain’t right around here. So I figgered, if I can’t feed the children, I might as well make ‘em happy a different way. Why, lookie over here. It’s my newest puppet.”
She pointed to a table where a lovely white cat lay.
“Wow,” marveled Spike, “it’s so realistic.”
He gave the cat a poke, only for it to spring to live, scratching like wild.
Granny Smith chuckled. “No, no, no, that’s Opaescencel. She don’t take kindly to strangers at first, but she usually warms up to ‘em later.”
Spike came out from hiding from the angry cat and scanned the rest of the table. Amidst the tools and paint, there lay a filly-sized, pink puppet.
“There she is,” said Granny. “Whaddaya think, Spike?”
“She’s great!” cried Spike in amazement. “Nice craftsmanship, much better than the cat!”
Opal hissed.
“She’s also really, uh, pink,” Spike added.
“That’s it!” exclaimed Granny. “I’d snap my fingers if I had ‘em! I was considerin’ the name Applejack, but I like the pink angle. I’ll call her Pinkie Pie-nocchio!”
Spike and Opal shared a skeptic glance, then shrugged. Granny Smith made her, she should have the right to name her, after all.
“Well,” Granny yawned, “I’m gettin’ mighty tired. I think it’s time to hit the hay. Figuratively speakin’ of course. We’ve got hay for breakfast, if you want.”
“Beggars can’t be choosers,” said Spike. “I’m about ready for bed, too.”
“Got a spare one upstairs,” said Granny, pointing towards the staircase. Spike nodded, thanked Granny again, and headed up to go to sleep.
As Spike was getting comfortable, he heard Granny talking to Opal downstairs.
“He seems like a nice enough dragon,” she was saying. “Maybe he wouldn’t mind testing out some toys. I tell you, though, Opal, I wish…wait a second, I just remembered! It’s such a nice night out, why don’t you open the window for ol’ Granny Smith?”
Spike heard an annoyed yowl in return, followed by the creak of a window opening (one that needed some oil, he might have added).
“Why, lookit that!” Granny cried. “It’s the wishin’ star! You know what I wish? I wish Pinkie Pie-nocchio was a real filly! Wouldn’t that be nice?”
“Nice,” Spike said to himself, “but not likely. Still, it can’t hurt to wish, I guess.”
Spike lay in bed for a few minutes, then felt a tad thirsty. Granny Smith wouldn’t mind if he got a quick drink of water, would she? No, of course not. And if he crept downstairs quietly enough, he might not even wake her.
So down Spike went. Just as he was finishing his drink, a bright light shot in through the window. Spike gasped and hid behind a shelf. A glowing figure approached the puppet.
“My, my,” said a heavenly voice, “what a lovely puppet! My applause to this kindly toymaker.”
Spike peeked out and nearly fainted. It was the Purple Fairy! He had heard about her before, but never had he seen her! She was a knockout! What a unicorn! He could have fainted from joy, but then he’d probably never get a chance to see her again! He tried his hardest to stay conscious, as he listened to her continue.
“I have heard your wish, Granny Smith,” the Fairy said to the sleeping old pony. “You’ve been so wonderful to all the children of the village…I believe you should be rewarded.”
Her horn glowed and the pink puppet instantly came to life!
“Wow!” she cried. “I can move! I can talk! I’m real!”
“Not yet,” said the Fairy.
“Oh…” Pinkie Pie-nocchio said, disappointed.
“But you can be,” continued the Fairy. “If you can figure out the difference between right and wrong, and listen to your conscience…”
“What’s that?” asked Pinkie.
“Now’s my chance to impress the Fairy!” Spike thought to himself. He ran out from his hiding place and waved his hand. “I know, Miss Fairy! A conscience is what tells you what to do and what not to do!”
“That’s right,” the Fairy said warmly. “You’re Spike the Dragon, aren’t you?”
Spike blushed. “Gosh, you know my name, Miss Fairy?”
“Oh, please, call me Rarity.”
Spike blushed harder.
“You know,” said Rarity, after thinking for a second, “I believe you could be a fine conscience to Pinkie Pie-nocchio here.”
“Oooh!” cried Pinkie.
Spike was a little taken aback. “Me? You really think so? Well…uh…I’d hate to disappoint a real fairy, especially one so beautil—uh, I mean, yes! I’d love to do it!”
“Excellent,” said Rarity. “In that case, you’re in charge, Spike. I wish you the best of luck!” With that, she disappeared in a brilliant flash.
“Wow…” Spike whispered. He turned to Pinkie, happily. “Did you hear that? She knows my name and everything!”
“Yeah, she seems really neat!” agreed Pinkie. She playfully narrowed her eyes and added, “you sly dog, you.”
Spike blinked, and realized he was talking to a living puppet. “Uh, so…now what, I wonder? I’ve gotta teach you right from wrong, don’t I?”
“That’s what the Fairy said,” nodded Pinkie. “Wanna sing about it?”
“Sure, why not?” Spike shrugged.
(To the tune of “Give a Little Whistle” from Pinocchio)
SPIKE: Well, two rights don’t make a wrong
Two wrongs won’t make a right
Least as far as I know
Least as far as I know

But I’m here to help you out
And get you through each night
Least as far as I know
Least as far as I know

I was entrusted here
By Miss Rarity
I will not fail her or you
PINKIE: No you won’t!
SPIKE: Right!

So I’ll teach you right from wrong
That’s what I’m gonna do
Together we can do it
Together we can do it
At least as far I know
It is true!

“What’s all that singin’?” came the voice of Granny Smith. “I’m tryin’ to sleep!”
“Well, you’re not trying hard enough!” laughed Pinkie, before Spike absent-mindedly shoved her out of the way and ran over to Granny’s bed.
“Granny Smith!” cried Spike. “I almost forgot! There was this Fairy! She was purple! The...uh…the Purple Fairy, that was her name! Well, her name was Rarity! And she…she…”
“What kinda dream did you have?” chuckled Granny Smith. She stopped chuckling when Pinkie jumped into her lap.
“Hi, Granny!” she sang. “It’s a girl! Congratulations!”
Granny gasped. “Spike! Opal! Do you see—”
“They see with their eyes, of course,” laughed Pinkie. “What do you see with?”
Opal screeched in fear and dove under the bed.
“You weren’t dreamin’!” Granny Smith realized. “Unless I’m the one who’s dreamin’!”
Pinkie squeezed her cheeks. “This is the closest to pinching I can do!” grinned the pink pony. “You awake?”
“Yes! YES!” Granny happily replied and gave Pinkie a huge hug. “My little Pinkie Pie-nocchio! Alive!”
“And I’ll be a real pony someday,” said Pinkie, “if I listen to my conscience. That’s Spike over there.”
Spike and Pinkie explained everything to Granny Smith. Opal even came out after a while to listen to the story as well.
“This is so wonderful!” Granny sighed, contently. “But…it doesn’t change the fact that I’m still sleepy. How ‘bout we all go back to bed and tomorrow Spike can take Pinkie to school?”
“School?” whined Spike. “You mean I have to go too?”
“It’s what a good conscience would do,” explained Granny. “You wanna make me and the Purple Fairy proud, doncha?”
Spike nodded reluctantly. Pinkie nodded, too, more happily. “I can’t wait!” she yawned.