//------------------------------// // Cry Me a River, Fetch Me a Straw // Story: 3:14 PM // by SugarPesticide //------------------------------// “Can I just ask why your eyes are red?” Pinkie wiped away a stray tear. “No.” “Spike, don’t ask awkward questions.” Twilight smiled as they neared Town Hall. “Ah, decorations! This shouldn’t be much of a problem. What could be problematic about decorations?” Pinkie cracked a smile, deciding not to mention how difficult a challenge streamers could pose when she was half-asleep. Then she wondered if it was possible to strangle herself with those streamers, and her smile flipped back into a little frown. Last loop she had holed herself up in Sugarcube Corner, locking her door and hiding under the covers with only Gummy for company. She hadn’t seen him in a while, so his presence had been comforting as they spent the day just lying there. Then night fell, and when the cold arrived she found she didn’t have the strength or will to move; she could only listen to Nightmare Moon’s laughter from outside as frostbite spread from head to hoof. And so, with a little shiver every now and then, she had decided to come out into the open air this time. There was an occasional sniffle as she remembered the taste of her own blood, and she found she was startled more easily by slight movements and noises, but she was managing to keep from falling apart completely. If we’re going to die either way, we might as well figure this out. But she couldn’t quite strike up enough confidence that this could be figured out. Ponies were so fragile, she realized. Even earth ponies, famed for their stamina and hardiness, could be laid low by the smallest of things. As her eyes roamed over the objects she was passing, thoughts about how they could kill her wormed into her brain. A unicorn’s levitation could hang her, given enough strength to lift her by the neck; a bush could hide thirsty thorns, eager to sink into her flesh; a banana could be shoved up her nose far enough for its stem to pierce her brain. Well, maybe that last one was a stretch. Bananas weren’t exactly threatening, even for fruits. Pinkie shook herself as they entered Town Hall. The decorations all seemed to be in order, just like when she’d brought the treats over the evening before the looping started. The skylights above allowed the sun to shine in, dancing over the banners and ribbons in ways that made their colors grow brighter still. In the midst of it all, a unicorn browsed through what remained, casually discarding most of the ribbons as she searched for that perfect color. She hummed to herself throughout the inspection, occasionally pulling out a needle to thread the keepers into a particular pattern. Pinkie tongued the roof of her mouth, imagining the taste of steel. With officious pointedness, Twilight cleared her throat, making the other unicorn jump. “Excuse me. You must be Rarity. I can see the decorations for the celebration are going fine, but I’d like to be sure.” The unicorn took a deep breath, regaining her composure in an instant. “Yes, that’s my name. Everything is going marvelously; I’m just finishing up here, and then everything should be just fine.” “Everything’s already fine,” Spike said dreamily. “Why, you’re too kind! You have to understand, though, that I’m doing my best, no more and no less.” Rarity ruffled his spines, provoking a dazed grin. “Who might you two be?” Twilight introduced herself and Spike, casting an odd look at the dragon’s goofy expression. “So good to meet you both! And …” Rarity looked to Pinkie. “You already live in Ponyville, I think?” “Yes. I’m Pinkie Pie.” “Ah, now I remember. You must be the mastermind behind those cupcakes my sister loves so much.” She tapped a needle to her chin, lips pursed in thought. “Neither of us have figured out how you managed to set so many colors in such a small space, so it must take quite a bit of talent to do so.” Pinkie threw up. A soup of greenish-brown acid carried the remains of whatever she’d been eating before the loops, burning her mouth as it came up and splashing around on the floor when it came down. It seeped into the discarded pile of ribbons, and a tinge of green stained them with a wet shine. Rarity shrieked, stiffening as her hooves were soaked. Twilight leapt out of the way, wide-eyed, while Spike pinched his nose. The sick feeling in Pinkie’s stomach remained even after the heaving had reduced to an irregular drip. Her eyes grew heavy with shame. “Ugh … I’m sorry.” Her voice was ragged, and vomit mingled with drool in a puddle at her hooves. “I don’t feel very well.” There was an unbearable moment of quiet. Dimly, she could hear Spike struggle to hide his gagging. Then something rubbed her withers, loosening the tension in her muscles. Through tears, Pinkie gazed up into sapphire eyes and a tight smile. “I, ah … can’t blame you for it.” Rarity’s voice couldn’t possibly have been more strained, as she did her best to not breathe in the fumes. “Even if it’s not ideal. Let’s … get you somewhere more suited for this sort of thing. That would be more comfortable, I think?” Pinkie nodded weakly. “Let me take you to my home.” Rarity lifted a soiled hoof and, after a long moment’s hesitation, brushed Pinkie’s soaked mane out of her face. The gesture was somewhat ruined by her grimace as she tried to shake off the filth. “I’ll help you clean up.” As the two ponies limped their way out of Town Hall, tracking vomit, Twilight managed to concentrate just long enough to vanish the foul liquid. “Well, that was interesting, all right,” she huffed, taking deep breaths. “Is there a single pony in this town that isn’t insane?” “Rarity’s not insane,” Spike managed to say, waving the air around his face. “Did you see what she's doing for Pinkie? She’s fantastic.” “She didn’t finish these decorations.” Twilight shook her head and lifted the remaining clean ribbons. “Somepony has to do it … Do you think it really matters what colors they are? Princess Celestia would probably prefer green and pink ribbons, don’t you think?” Spike bit his lip. He looked to the open doors. The water was warm, seeping into her coat as she scrubbed out the matted filth. She pulled steam into her lungs, soothing her sore throat and further relieving her of the terrible taste. “By all means, keep being thorough.” Rarity stood at the sink, washing her hooves for the twelfth time. “There’s no reason not to be as fresh as you can.” “Thank you,” Pinkie said. “Again. Though I’m not sure you needed to hose me off before we came inside.” “Oh, that was for sanitary reasons. And I wasn’t singling you out by doing so. Didn’t I also splash myself with all that cold water?” “You did,” Pinkie admitted, and her head tilted to the side. “I guess it wasn’t so bad. It is summer.” “That’s the spirit!” When they were properly washed, Rarity wrapped Pinkie’s mane in a fluffy towel, and the two of them went downstairs to the kitchen. Pinkie could see no sign of the wet hoofprints they had tracked inside. She supposed Rarity had found time to mop them up while she had been shivering in the tub. “I think we could both do with a nice, hot cup of tea.” Rarity rummaged in the pantry for tea bags. “What flavor do you prefer?” “Any flavor. As long as I can add lots of sugar.” “Dear, sugar is right out. It’s simply too sweet, and in the long run it does your health no favors. And with the short run, it’s even worse.” She smiled. “Honey would be a proper substitute, wouldn’t you agree?” Pinkie did agree, and soon they were seated at the table, sipping from their steaming teacups. A breeze wafted in from the open window, cooling the air inside to a comfortable level. There was a whiff of smoke, which piqued her curiosity a little. When the matter was brought up, Rarity waved a dismissive hoof. “That’s quite ordinary. It certainly has nothing to do with the rags I used to get rid of that filth earlier. Pay it no mind. Now, how are you feeling?” Pinkie swallowed her mouthful of tea, letting its sweet smoothness soothe her throat. “I feel a lot better. Thank you.” “It’s no problem. You were in need, and what sort of friend would I be if I didn’t drop everything to help?” “... We’re friends?” “Why, certainly! There’s a sort of trust that forms when two ponies see one another at their low points. An understanding, if you will.” Pinkie swirled her tea leaves around, suddenly finding them fascinating. “That makes sense.” “Oh, I don’t mean to imply we’re going to blackmail each other. Far from it! We each know that the other is capable of rising above great troubles. That’s certainly something worthy of respect, isn’t it?” “Yeah, it is.” Rarity smiled and began to discuss her dreams of fashion and fame, clearly eager to relate them now that she had a friendly ear to confide in. Pinkie smiled and nodded, trying not to think of how futile it was to rise above death by forks. The moon was high in the sky by the time the two ponies returned to Town Hall. Many others were also converging here, eager to see their princess grace Ponyville with her presence. Rarity was still talking about Canterlot, and Pinkie, though she tried to listen, couldn’t help but feel a creeping dread at the fact that she was about to encounter Nightmare Moon again. When they stepped inside, though, all thoughts fled from their minds. They could only gape at the sight laid out before them: vivid ribbons of every color were strewn across rafters, hanging from the ceiling and touching every wall in a tentacle-like quest for an embrace. The ribbons were tied to each other, creating a vast web that encompassed nearly the full volume of the room. There was barely enough room to walk beneath the rampage of rainbow. The balcony on the far side of the room was hidden from view by the interweaving abomination. “... The decorations,” Rarity whispered. A strand of her mane sprung out of place. “I forgot to finish the decorations.” “It’s not so bad,” Pinkie lied. She had the strangest feeling that if she tried to relax, the web of colors would slip through her eyes and wreak havoc from within. “I’ve got to wonder, though. Who did this?” As if on cue, Twilight trotted over, dusted in glitter and matted with glue. “It’s perfect!” she said, beaming. “Princess Celestia needs as much of a glamorous atmosphere as possible for something like the Summer Sun Celebration. She’s never had anything like it in other celebrations, so this is the perfect chance to let her know how much we appreciate her!” When Rarity spoke, her words hissed. “What have you done?” “I’ve made things perfect, of course! It was pretty challenging at first, but once I realized I didn’t have to get rid of all my ideas, it was simple!” Pinkie eyed the terrible tangle. “It doesn’t look simple.” “Exactly!” Twilight tried to clap her hooves, but they stuck together. She tumbled forward, snagging a ribbon on her horn as she fell. “Oof!” The ribbon pulled at another ribbon, and that ribbon pulled two more. Pinkie and Rarity, unable to move, watched in fascination as eventually the entire web detached, hung in the air for a moment, and then floated down in an unstoppable inevitability. “I should’ve thought of that,” Twilight admitted, eyes watering. As the ribbons fell, they coiled around Pinkie’s neck and hooves in an oddly specific arrangement. Panic set in, and she flailed to free herself, but her only reward was becoming further entangled. Dimly, she heard Twilight and Rarity’s cries of annoyance, but they were muffled by the ribbons as they buried her in a tacky pile. She still didn’t know what it was like to be strangled by streamers. If it was anything like being strangled by ribbons, though, she wasn’t keen on finding out. ∞ “Spike,” Pinkie said, “I want you to finish these decorations.” Spike gave her an odd look in between gazes at the departing Rarity. “But that’s nothing like spending time with her.” “It’ll be fine.” Pinkie nodded to Twilight. “We’ll handle it.” She rocked a little on her hooves. “Well … okay,” she managed to say. “I don’t know if I completely trust Spike’s sense of aesthetics, but he hasn’t steered me wrong yet.” Pinkie watched her go. “It’s not his sense of aesthetics that’s untrustworthy.” “What?” “Nothing! Go talk about magic or something!” She looked to Spike, eyes pleading. “You know, I bet Rarity’ll be really impressed if you can get this done.” With a sigh, he gathered the scattered ribbons. “Okay. I’ll deal with this frilly stuff … for her.” Pinkie hid her relief, but it was a close thing. She patted Spike’s spines in thanks, then trotted outside, relishing in the start of a humming sound from the dragon as he went to work. “Right …” She looked around, but the unicorns had already disappeared from view. “I guess I could follow them, but that might be weird. Which wouldn’t help my image.” She rubbed her chin, face turned to the cloudless sky. “What other ponies could I get to know?” The ponies around her, unhearing, went about their business. A filly scampered after a colt, and both were laughing. They passed a unicorn who paused frequently to check the progress of the sun; Pinkie considered going after her, but she didn’t even glance her way. Farther away, two earth ponies whispered to each other as they passed a third, who frowned. A flash of pink caught her eye. Some distance away, a lone pegasus was making her careful way along the streets, deftly avoiding eye contact with all other ponies. She practically skulked, though it was difficult to tell whether that was because of her personality or the bag of feed draped across her back. Pinkie’s eyes lit up. “Of course! Butterfly! Twilight was with her those other times when we met. They’ll probably find each other again, and we can meet up that way.” Saying such, she happily trotted after the pegasus, blissfully unaware of the eyes watching her progress.