Pound didn’t expect any big changes to happen because Colgate died. Apparently, neither did anypony else; the streets were still deserted for the entirety of the night.
But the next day, Pound noticed a crowd gathering in an alleyway. Curiosity overcame him, and he walked over.
A dentist lay on the ground, dead. He had clearly been in a fight, and likely with another dentist; he still had the sticks with numbing gel in his mouth, and the forceps in his hands held a tooth that didn’t seem to fit in his own mouth.
That in and of itself wasn’t entirely strange.
What was strange was the fact that this scene was repeated all over Ponyville. Bodies of the dentists littered the alleyways and streets. Most were bloodied and showed signs of being in a fight.
“What happened?” Pound asked, taking in the carnage.
He jumped at motion behind him. Pinkie stood on a dumpster, looking dramatically into the distance. “Clearly there was an epic battle,” she began. “Without Colgate in charge, the dentists fought amongst themselves for power; but behold, it was in vain. And thus it was that the dentists did infight, and did kill each other, bringing peace once again to the land.”
She hopped off and skipped away. Pound watched as she left. More accurately, his eyes drifted lower to around her bouncing tail as she flounced away.
Hot did not override crazy.
But to be perfectly honest, she wasn't that crazy, was she? Nah. Not at all. A crazy mare wouldn’t have been able to bake as well as she could. A crazy mare wouldn’t have been able to She was totally still on the market.
That made the next conversation Pound had to have with her quite awkward indeed.
* * *
That afternoon, Pound was busy thinking, trying to figure out how he would start this conversation when he suddenly sensed a presence behind him.
“Hey Pound, why do you look so down?” Pinkie grabbed his wings and spread them, as if hoping to literally lift him off the ground.
Pound sighed and tugged his wings free. “The papers I signed, to get you out of there… they say you have to go back.”
Pinkie didn't seem to understand. “Get out of where and back where?”
“Back to the asylum,” Pound said, chewing on his lower lip. “I only got you a temporary release into my custody. I'm sorry. Permanent release would have taken too long; I needed you out as quick as possible.”
“Pound,” Pinkie said slowly, resting a hand on his shoulder, “I can't go back.”
“You have to,” Pound said.
“But I can't,” Pinkie stressed. “I was trapped in there for seventeen years, three months, two days, fourteen hours, forty-five minutes, and thirty-seven seconds. Do you know how many parties I've missed? How many ponies have been sad because I was stuck in there? How many presents have gone un-given and how many cakes have gone un-baken and how many songs have gone unsung? Pound, I can't go back. I just can't.”
“You saved the town. You got rid of the dentists. My sister was avenged. Can’t that be enough?” Pound pleaded.
“No,” Pinkie said. “Not enough. Never enough. Ponies haven’t laughed in far too long. That can’t be allowed to go on.” She stood up and faced the window and looked out dramatically. “No, I must do what I was born to do: bring laughter to the world!”
Pound stood up. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I have to take you back. Or else they’ll track you down.”
Pinkie slowly turned around. Her eyes widened slightly, her mouth curled up in a crazy smile, and Pound took an instinctive step back. “Pound,” she said, taking a tiny step forward. “I’m not going back. And I’ll do anything I have to to make sure I won’t.”
Pound Cake reached behind himself, scrabbling for something, anything, to defend himself with. Finding nothing, he turned and looked and found a spatula just out of reach. He grabbed for it and raised it, but when he looked back, he saw nothing but pink. Pinkie had been faster; she’d already closed the gap.
Pound was certain that this was how he was going to die.
And then something soft pressed against his lips. Pinkie’s hands drifted up his back, exploring gently as her body leaned against his. One took hold of the base of a wing, pulling gently; the other kept going upwards until it reached his mane, where it dug in and took hold, pulling his head back and forcing him upwards into the kiss.
Not that he needed much impelling, that is.
And then Pinkie gently slid her tongue between his lips, and Pound’s brain overloaded as she gently but purposefully explored his mouth, brushing along the front of his teeth and pressing against his tongue.
Suddenly, she pulled away and with a quick sweep of her hoof, took his knees out and dropped him onto his flank. “Good bye, Pound,” Pinkie said pleasantly as she waved. “Hopefully we'll see each other again soon!”
Pound burbled something that might have been words somewhere in the mental process, but found himself powerless to do anything else but stare blankly into the distance as Pinkie bounced happily out of the bakery, taking with her an enormous stack of cupcakes.
Hot overrode crazy. Hot definitely overrode crazy.
* * *
Pound wandered through the hospital in a bit of a daze. He felt like he needed to see his sister, even if it may have been to just brag about having made out with a hot, crazy mare. She wouldn’t have been conscious, but she might have understood. It was a twin thing.
He wasn’t expecting Redheart to brighten at the sight of him, especially since last time she’d nearly wet herself in fear.
“Pound!” she said. “You’re here to see your sister?”
“Yeah…?”
“Good! Go ahead!” she said, with a wide smile and an eager wave.
Pound frowned, but continued up the stairs.
When he pushed open the doors, his eyes widened and his wings extended in surprise. Pumpkin’s room was full of balloons. Literally full. He had to push his way through them. Cards littered the tables, all of them brightly-colored and glittery. Pound whistled appreciatively as he playfully punched a few back. “It's like seventeen years of birthdays crammed into one room.”
“It is.”
Pound whirled around, wings flaring at this strange new… wait…
His jaw dropped. “P- Pumpkin?”
Sure enough, his sister sat up in her bed, a smile on her face. “Yep!”
Pound rushed over and grabbed her in a tight hug, burying his face in her shoulder. Pumpkin was ok. She was ok.
“You’re back,” he said numbly. “How did…?”
“It was Pinkie Pie,” Pumpkin answered. “I swear it was her. I thought I was dreaming until I realized that the balloons were real.” She reached out a fist and lightly punched one.
Pound breathed a silent sigh of relief that Pinkie had managed to escape. He leaned over and picked a card up, and cracked a smile at the writing on the inside.
“Laughter is always the best medicine!”
“She left plenty of cupcakes, do you want one?” Pumpkin lit her horn and floated one over, and Pound gratefully accepted it.
“So, it’s all because of Pinkie Pie,” Pound murmured. “I wonder where she is now.”
* * *
A yellow stallion with a dark brown mane sat at the mental hospital. He wore slippers and a robe, and he stared blankly at the wall.
“Life is not a party,” he moaned in despair.
He got up and walked back outside, in the protected dome area. Being on one of the higher levels of the institution, he was permitted to wander a bit by himself, as long as he stayed on the level.
He walked over and rested his head against the padded wall. “Life is not a party,” he mumbled, repeating his sad mantra.
“Life is a party, Cheese.”
He looked up. He knew that voice. He turned around to see Pinkie Pie, hands crossed behind her back.
“Life is a party,” she repeated, stepping closer to him and resting a hand on his shoulder. “And I need your help to make sure everypony gets the party they deserve.”
Cheese Sandwich licked his lips. Pinkie was back. Pinkie Pie. Pinkie was back. Pinkie was good. Pinkie was party. Was… was life…? “I- I want to,” he said, “but I don't know if I can. You've been gone for so long.”
“Seventeen years, three months, two days, fourteen hours, forty-five minutes, and thirty-seven seconds,” Pinkie confirmed.
“I couldn't do it without you; and now it's been so long, I might have forgotten how,” Cheese said mournfully. He hadn't meant to; but Pinkie's incarceration had really done a number on him.
“I know you can remember,” Pinkie said, bringing her other hand forward. She pressed the rubber chicken into his hands with a hopeful smile.
“Boneless?” Cheese said, a slow smile spreading across his face.
“I think we're up to Boneless V by now,” Pinkie admitted, “but yes.”
Cheese clasped Boneless V to his chest, relishing the squeak he made, then slid him around his neck like a rubber boa. “Yes,” he repeated. “Life is a party.”
Pinkie stretched out her hand. “Come with me,” she said. “Let's go make it awesome.”
Cheese Sandwich took her hand, and the two sprinted off into the night. Angry shouts and furious guards chased them, unicorns shot stunning spells and pegasi flew overhead, and even one mare who barked like a dog followed them, but neither cared.
Life was a party. And it was time to throw the biggest party yet.