~Pinkieviduality~
Chapter 1.3 – Table manners.
This chapter is available as a "synthesized" audio book:
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Pinkie vibrated in place, both out of anticipation and impatience.
The nice pony had told her to sit at the table and wait for the fun to come.
Well, she hadn't phrased it exactly like that. Nevertheless, fun was fun – in this case, edible fun!
“Eh, sorry, everypony. Dinner will be ready in just a moment.” Tight Rope briefly stuck her head out the wagon's window to address the group.
“In the meantime, why don't you get to know each other a little better?” With a wink at Pinkie, she disappeared back into the kitchen.
Pinkie Pie looked at the table's other occupants.
Despite sitting opposite to her, the griffin seemed quite set on paying more attention to his claws rather than Pinkie. The zebra off to the other side of the table was leaning back on her chair, staring off into space. She didn't even react (much) when Pinkie waved a hoof through her field of vision.
Pinkie looked from one to the other and back again, none of them saying anything.
All in all, it was quite dull. It did not stay that way for more than twenty seconds.
Deciding to follow Tight Rope's suggestion of making introductions, Pinkie settled for starting up a conversation herself, and walked over to the griffin. Naturally, she took the shortest route. Straight across the table.
The griffin's eyes were ripped away from his claws when two pink forelegs stepped into his field of vision. With a shrill squawk of surprise he scooted backwards in his chair, which subsequently fell over, resulting in the griffin flailing both his forearms and wings in a failed attempt to prevent getting deposited on the ground.
-/-
Geoffrey looked up, still dazed from the impact – only to see the crazy pony's face inches away from his own.
“Oh dear merciful heavens above–“
Geoffrey instinctively pressed himself further to the ground in an attempt to distance himself as much as possible. Five more inches was better than nothing, right?
On his elbows he slowly edged himself away from the mare. His left claw slipped on a muddy spot, and with a wince he again landed on his back.
Alas, his efforts had remained fruitless – if anything, the mare's face had grown even closer. Her expression stretched into an unsettlingly wide smile. He gulped. After what that mad-pony had done to poor Marianne, there truly was no telling what she would do next!
“Hi, I'm Pinkie Pie! I'm the... uh... the Pinkie Pie of this circus!”
“Uh– Oh– Err– ...Hi?”
The pony stretched out a hoof and grabbed his forelimb, shaking it fiercely. After a few seconds she let go, and the rattled griffon fell on his back for a third time. The next thing he knew Geoffrey found himself in the middle of an interrogation.
“Who are you?”
“I-I'm Geoffrey–”
“What do you do?”
“I perform with Marianne–”
“Who's that? Is it her?” The pink pony pointed at the zebra.
“N-No, Marianne is the manticore–”
“Why do you wear glasses?”
“I'm farsighted, I can't read without–”
“Why are your feathers so shiny?”
“I-I use a special lotion for extra gloss – W-why am I telling you this?!”
“Because I asked, duh!” The mare giggled to herself.
A stifled snort came from the other end of the table. Geoffrey's yellow beak turned bright red in embarrassment.
“F-feather care is important”, he protested feebly.
Only once the pink face had removed itself from his neck-feathers did he manage to stand up, dusting himself off.
His chair still lay tipped over on the floor, and for a moment he stood at the table dumbly staring at the pink pony sitting on it smiling at him.
Now he felt a little silly – the pony had just wanted to introduce herself and get to know him. Had he not been so overwhelmed he would probably have given more sensible answers as well.
It wasn't like she'd straight-out jumped on his back and tried to get a piggy-back ride – unlike with Marianne.
That flustered him. Why would she do that anyway? He should definitely ask her.
Then again, it wouldn't be very polite to go about accusing her up front. He'd certainly need to preface his question with something a little less hostile.
“Okay, now I'd like to ask a few questions myself”, Geoffrey ventured. “So, Miss... uh–“
Drat, he'd been so befuddled when the mare introduced herself that his brain had failed to process the name accordingly.
“Uhm, I'm sorry, what was your name again?” He grinned sheepishly.
At this, the pink mare's muzzle scrunched up in concentration, and she assumed a thinking pose.
“Oh! Is this a quiz? Wait, wait, I know this one! Is it Flappleshack? Flutterbow? Rainlight Sharkle? No wait wait I got this! Applepink? Shybow-jack? No, wait, it was something with a pie... Come on, Pinkie Pie, you've studied this! Oh wait, silly me – the answer is 'Pinkie Pie'! I'm Pinkie Pie – uh, I mean, I'm The Real Pinkie Pie!”
“O... kay.” Geoffrey's wasn't really certain where this was going – but sure enough, he had gotten an answer. So it was only sensible to keep going.
“So, Miss... Pinkie Pie, where are you from?”
The answer to this question was a hoof stretched out into the general direction of the setting sun and a cheerful exclamation of “Over there!”
“Erm, would you mind being a bit more specific?”
Pinkie gave an affirmative hum. Then she moved her hoof two and a half inches to the left.
“Uh, never mind.”
Geoffrey never got a chance to ask his actual question. One second, the pink pony was right in front of him – the next, she had disappeared. Confused, he blinked away the pink afterimage and looked about only to find her now face to face with a disgruntled Zenya.
The zebra straightened her posture and cleared her throat, presumably in response to something Pinkie Pie had asked.
“It is illusions and wonder, under which my job description falls under. The heart of my art lies in the mystic. ...And special effects.”
She slouched back in her seat, and finished with a dismissive wave of her hoof.
“Hihi, that rhymed”, Pinkie Pie giggled. “Except for that last bit.”
“Meh.” Zenya shrugged.
-/-
Further questions were stalled by Tight Rope's arrival with a large tray balanced on her back.
She took one look at the scene, and laughed out loud.
“Pinkie Pie, could you please move aside? I'd like to put the food on the table.”
With a clatter, a large plate of various salads and a bowl with a steaming soup landed in front of her. Pinkie examined the food.
The major part of the plate consisted of green and purple-white leaves of varying sizes and textures, some thin-cut, light-green circle-shapes, several black and red berries as well as a cluster of thin orange stripes mixed up with the other food. It all was tied together by a thick, white sauce. Pinkie regarded the food with interest and sniffed at the plate. It didn't smell too bad.
Shrugging, Pinkie Pie ate the food and slurped down the soup before moving on to the next plate.
“What the – HEY!”
She had barely just wrapped her tongue around the outer rim of the plate, when the outcry rattled her ears.
Pinkie's entire body seized up completely.
Too recent was the experience, too vivid her imagination.
She didn't dare to look up, didn't want to see the oncoming train that surely was about to turn her into a pitiful pile of pink pony-puree.
Didn't want to hear the accusations she couldn't understand, that wormed their way into her very being, and somehow took away the fun from within.
She didn't want to look. But she did. She couldn't help it.
Slowly, very slowly, her eyes crept down the length of her tongue. Further down the length of her tongue. More tongue. Even more tongue. Tongue wrapped around the plate. The actual plate itself. A striped zebra-torso. A striped zebra-neck. A mouth edged in a not-smile. Nostrils. Two eyes looking back at her. A single eyebrow raised. Two pointy ears – no wait, too far, back down a bit.
Two narrowing eyes looking back at her.
“Hooves off my food!” grouched Zenya, and yanked the bowl out of her grasp.
Her tongue rolled back into her mouth, flapping a few times before settling.
Silence reigned.
Pinkie Pie did not dare move so much as a single muscle. She did not even breathe.
Fear lingered. Was it over? Any second now, the shouting was gonna start, wasn't it?
And then – it didn't.
Noticing Pinkie looking her way, Zenya narrowed her eyes and slid both plate and bowl closer to herself, out of Pinkie's reach.
And that was it.
She didn't shout, she didn't say anything. She just ate the food, and kept it close to herself.
Pinkie Pie held her breath.
Though since doing so prior, she had precious little air left in her lungs, and thus the silence's tyrannical reign of terror came to a premature end with a loud gasp for air.
Phew!
That wasn't so bad. Scary, yes – but it was over now.
Flooded with relief, Pinkie sank back into her chair.
Then she went on to the next plate.
Only that by the time her tongue had gotten to where it should've been, it wasn't there anymore. Geoffrey had yanked it up, away from her.
Hey, no fair!
Pinkie flexed the appendage, snapping, twisting and stretching to get the food – but Geoffrey dodged, over and over again, always keeping the treat just out of tongue's reach.
“I-I-I didn't know p-p-ponies could do that! Why didn't I know p-ponies could do that?!” Geoffrey shrieked.
“That's amazin'! There's gotta be a way to put that in an act!” Tight Rope gushed.
Zenya stared. Massaged her temples. Stared again. Blinked. She eventually gave her verdict by applying hoof to face.
Desperate to avoid the snaky tongue, Geoffrey's non-verbal pleads for help finally shook Tight Rope from her stupor.
However, the others' reactions were lost to Pinkie Pie, intently focused on achieving her prize.
Tight Rope's call went unnoticed – only, once Pinkie felt a hoof tapping her on the shoulder did she turn around.
“Pinkie Pie, what...” Tight Rope paused, momentarily distracted when Pinkie's tongue slurped back into her mouth in one fell swoop. The self-made circus director blinked away the faint afterimages of gold coins from her eyes, then continued. “Pinkie, what are you doing?”
“Eating yummy stuff!” Pinkie happily responded. “But he keeps it away from me!” She pointed at Geoffrey, pouting. “And she won't let me have any!” She pointed at Zenya, huffing.
“Oh, hey, there's another one!” Pinkie Pie exclaimed, seeing a fourth plate previously gone unnoticed.
She jumped right up on the table to get to it quickly, before anypony else could snatch it away. About to dive into the bowl head-first, she was blocked off by a green foreleg.
“Pinkie!” Tight Rope exclaimed. “That's – that's my food!”
“Huh?” Pinkie Pie was confused. Tight had stopped her from eating the yummy food! But that didn't make sense. Tight Rope was a nice pony!
Tight must've sensed her confusion, because she tried to explain herself.
“Pinkie, you can't... you can't just...” Tight halted, visibly struggling to form a sentence. “You can't just eat other ponies' food!”
“Huh? I... can't?” Pinkie Pie tilted her head.
She couldn't eat other ponies' food? Why not? What did that even mean?
Well, Zenya had certainly gotten scary when she'd tried to, so that would explain it. Ponies got scary when you tried to eat the food that was standing in front of them. Okay, got it.
With Zenya she wasn't so sure, but Geoffrey was definitely not a pony. Maybe if she snuck up on him...
“Pinkie!” Tight had noticed her eying the griffin's plate. Her voice had taken on a sharper tone, if only for the briefest of moments.
Pinkie Pie immediately dove for cover.
After a few seconds of no shouting, she deemed it safe to peak out from under the table.
A somewhat befuddled Tight Rope was staring back down at her, blinking a couple of times.
Some more moments passed, then Pinkie jumped back up, with a relieved smile on her face.
Apparently, a pony shouting didn't always mean they also got scary.
Tight continued blinking, her thought-process thoroughly derailed. After a series of “uhs” and “errs”, she repeated her previous statement.
“You can't... eat other ponies food.” She scratched her neck, idly playing with the curls of her mane. “I don't get why you'd even...” She shook her head. “Are... are you still hungry...?”
Pinkie nodded rapidly. Well, duh!
“Oh. Uhm.” Tight Rope exchanged a glance with the rest of the group.
“There's going to be dessert later, anyway –“
“Dessert? That sounds fun!”
~ ~ ~
Time had passed.
After everything she'd gone through, she'd finally, finally gotten her food!
First, Tight Rope had insisted that she had to “eat her own food first”, before making dessert.
After that, Tight had insisted that Pinkie should apologize to Geoffrey and Zenya. To Geoffrey, especially, for scaring him.
Pinkie didn't understand how she could've scared the griffin, but said “sorry” anyway, then rushed after Tight to get more yummy food.
And, worst of all, then Tight had said that she needed to make the dessert. That had taken, like, forever!
So here she sat, after what surely must've been entire minutes of not having yummy food, staring down at a fresh plate of rolled up, brown-yellowy things called “pancakes”.
Pinkie Pie eyed the “pancakes” curiously, carefully measuring one of them up and down in her hooves. Then she stuffed all the pancakes into her mouth at once and chomped down.
However, what came next, Pinkie Pie had not anticipated.
“T-This... This...! This is... This...!” she stuttered, her thoughts battling for dominance to formulate the appropriate response to the sensory input.
Every single one of her taste buds blossomed into a beautiful flower.
Fireworks went off in her mouth, and Pinkie Pie wisely clamped her muzzle shut tight, lest to give the taste even the remote chance to escape.
Every taste she had ever experienced flashed behind closed eyelids.
A combo of soup and salad at the table. Some wild flowers. An apple or twenty back in Ponyville. A bunch of flowers she had found growing in different places. (The tastiest ones always grew right next to the buildings.) Something green and mushy from an overrun picnic-basket. Some more apples. A sandwich with hay-fries and salad she had found lying around on a plate sitting in front of a stallion making a frowny-face. (She had no idea what could possibly have had upset the stallion, but the food certainly could not have been the cause, as it had tasted quite delicious.)
And only then did she start chewing on the pancake. Utter bliss exploded onto her tongue.
It was literally the best food she had ever eaten in her entire life.
A thousand outcries of joy, a thousand hoops of happiness, a thousand songs on her lips – all of it was stuck in traffic, her brain barely in any state to even produce words by this point.
So, instead, she settled for a smile. A peaceful smile, one of absolute serenity, otherwise reserved for those in the process of experiencing an epiphany about the universe's inner workings and the meaning of life itself.
Tight Rope, the incredible, fun, most nice pony ever that had created The Best Food, turned around, and chuckled.
“So, guess you like 'em?”
“Glflglgabllgah,” Pinkie Pie sighed contently.
“Wow, you really like 'em!” Tight laughed. “Gotta remember to make those more often.”
“Glabbub...? M-m-more?” Pinkie Pie squeaked. The mere concept that the universe may contain more pancakes momentarily had slipped her mind.
A simple nod was all Pinkie needed.
And so, with the taste of pancake in her mouth, and the promise of a fun-filled future ahead, Pinkie Pie bounced with joy, all the while loudly proclaiming her merriment into the world.
The nice pony laughed, further fueling Pinkie's enthusiasm.
Life was fun!
She did not once spare a thought for the place called “Ponyville”, nor did she consider the other Pinkies.
After all, she was having fun! And that was all that mattered, right?
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