In the surgery, Pinkamena Diane Pie shifted, sneezed, then went from comatose to vibrantly aware in about four-tenths of a second.
As usual.
Her right temple twinged. That wasn't nice. The room she was in smelled like the clinic in Ponyville. That wasn't nice either. The bed she was on was uncomfortable, so she stuck a foreleg out and groped for the floor. Then she poked an eye over the side.
My, the floor was a looong way down!
The thump jolted Twilight out of her funk; she didn't so much trot as totter to investigate. The sight of Pinky facefaulted into the wooden floor with her tail in the air was quickly replaced with the sight of her friend bouncing back upright and spitting out dust.
“Ecch! What's with this place, all this dust and stuff? And why's everything high off the ground too? Hey Twilight! Whmmmmfph!”
Pinkie's further enquiries about Twilight's obvious lack of sleep – and grooming – and just what was that creature on the other bed – was effectively stopped by the ferocity of the hug the unicorn gave her. Any tighter and Doc Mitchell would have bet his last cap he'd have to fix up some broken ribs. The fairly incoherent and borderline hysterical babbling probably helped as well since, for once, Pinky couldn't get a word in edgeways.
The door opening directed his attention to Applejack, who'd arrived bearing Twilight's breakfast in a bucket. He recognised the packaging of some Dandy Boy apples and one Instamash – the ponies didn't eat meat, natch – along with a bundle of some of the prairie grasses.
The sooner the caravan from New Vegas arrived with the sharecroppers' harvest the better. Dandy Boys in his opinion tasted less like proper apples than horse apples.
“Whm fuh hmm?” she mumbled around the handle, before looking into the surgery. After a brief pause to comprehend what she was seeing – and hearing – she deposited the bucket, blurted something about telling the others, then galloped out the door to the old schoolhouse where the others had made camp.
The old man chuckled, shaking his head, then walked over to where a unicorn was asphyxiating a pony.
“Twilight!” he called, laying a hand on her shoulder and shaking, “You better let your friend breathe before she croaks!”
This statement negotiated Twilight's relief and sidestepped her hysteria, finally registering and causing her to release her Ursa-Major-class hug on Pinky Pie enough that, when the earth pony finally managed to draw breath, she doubled in girth before deflating in a rush of even more questions.
“Sheesh Twi' – what the hay's going on? – Who's – what's that? – Where are we – I mean first we're in the library and then in that old house and then I remember this sort of owie like something hit me in the head and then I woke up here and can you hear somepony coming?”
Mitchell turned his head to the front door, where the sound of a small stampede was approaching. “I'd say Applejack just gave the others the good news.”
A cyan blur whipped into the surgery and came to a halt, sending a small shockwave of dust and loose objects onward as it turned into... oh yeah, Rainbow Dash. “Pinky! You are awake!”
Mitchell couldn't for the life of him figure out how those small wings managed to keep a pony that size aloft. He would later give up and accept Twilight's explanation of magic.
The other three also poked their heads through the door, and the thought of six excited ponies in his surgery, potentially knocking things over and possibly interfering with poor old Haversack Joe, spurred him to act.
“Okay ladies!” he called, causing the three to stop and look at him, “I don't know about you, but I'd be lettin' my other patient get his rest. Anyway, uh... Pinky Pie wasn't it? How about comin' over and checkin' on the Vig-O-Matic here?”
“Vig-O-what?” Pinkie just stared at him, then at the elderly machine. “Okey-dokey-lokey!”
The pony trotted over to the machine, looked it over, nudged the control stick with her muzzle and then looked back. “Hey Twilight! What's this thing do?”
It took some advice, and Mitchell was impressed by what an 'Earth pony' could do when manipulating items with her lips. The card that eventually emerged had her scores pegged for Charisma and Luck, and most of the ponies followed her and him into his lounge.
At least the air didn't smell like burning electrics in there. Guess there was somethin' to Mr New Vegas' braggin' after all.
“Have a seat,” the old man instructed Pinkie with a gesture to the couch, while settling his old bones into a chair next to an old music stand. Sure enough, the pony didn't so much climb onto the old piece of furniture as bounce, making it creak alarmingly.
“OK! Now what?”
“All right. I'm gonna say a word. I want you to say the first thing that comes to mind.” He paused. “Dog.”
The pony blinked once, then, “Diamond! Like the Diamond Dogs!” She turned to Rarity, who was already looking a little strained. “Remember Rarity? And they caught you and we were all...”
“Whoa back there missy!” He touched her on the shoulder and found himself looking into two huge eyes full of excitement and energy. Better not let this one try Jet.
“Got a second word for you. House.”
“Cake! I really could do with some you got any? And Mr and Mrs Cake let me help out especially with making our famous cupcakes and – ooh another one?”
“Yup. Night.”
“PARTY!” Mitchell winced at the sudden exuberant yell. “I mean what's a party without the coloured lanterns and even fireworks and besides everyone's too busy all day for parties and hey! We're gonna have one right once I'm okay to go right guys –”
“As soon as we make sure everything's fine in your head,” and he shot a look at Applejack – she'd made a noticeable face at that. “Here's word number four. Bandit.”
“Guards! Not that anyone's seen any bandits 'cos we're so close to the Everfree Forest and anypony dumb enough to try hiding in there has got such a think coming I mean have you seen some of the monsters in there? Like we're talking monsters with five heads and manticores and hey remember that Ursa Major which was all HRRRARGHH!”
The sight of a small pink pony pretending to be what he guessed was something like a bear, or maybe one of those yao guais he'd heard of was, in Doc Mitchell's eyes, one of the strangest things he'd ever seen. Only the resigned looks on the ponies behind her suggested that this was normal behaviour. For her.
“Hold up there, momma bear,” he admonished, but Pinkie was too engrossed in her impressions to notice. It was then that the lavender unicorn trotted over and deliberately jabbed her in the flank with her horn.
“YOW! Hey! Twilight! What was that for?” Pinkie Pie dropped to all fours before rubbing the sore spot with a forehoof.
“The Doc's got one more.” Twilight shot him an apologetic look.
“Sure do: Mother.”
“Rock! We lived on a rock farm, see? And one day there was this loud bang full of colour and –”
“Okay! Whoa back there! You can tell me your exciting stories sometime later, right? Now...”
Pinkie and the other ponies watched as he bent over stiffly, extracted a stack of cards from under his chair, and put them on the stand alongside him.
“Okay. Now I got a few statements. I want you to tell me how much they sound like something you'd say.” He gestured at the card, which showed what was apparently supposed to be a human, in some sort of ragged robe, turning away from a fire and a wheel. “I'm slow to –”
Everypony's head jerked up at the sound of a groan from the surgery, followed by mumbling.
“Never mind,” the old man said, stuffing the cards back under his chair, “I think I'd better see to my other patient, uh, ladies.”
“What other patient?” Pinkie was about to follow until she felt a pressure on her tail. Investigation revealed this was because both Twilight and Raindow Dash were biting it.
“Best give the doc there some room, sugarcube,” Applejack explained, “and besides, we haven't shown you our new digs have we?”
“New digs? What new digs and where are –”
Applejack ignored her and picked up the breakfast bucket. “Laft wun fere'f a woffen affle,” she mumbled around the handle before heading out the door.
Haversack Joe woke to the sound of floorboards shaking from the progress of a pronking pony. Because when Pinkamena Diane Pie was in high spirits, she didn't prance. Nor bounce like a cartoon skunk.
She pronked.